Draco cheerfully greeted his father, "You do remember Malcolm."
"A pleasure," Lucius Malfoy said with honest sincerity as he greeted his young guest. Turning to Dewey, he asked, condescendingly, "And who are you, young man?"
"Could I really have gotten here by saying Diagon Alley?" Dewey asked.
"That's my brother, Dewey," Malcolm said, "My mom made me take him along."
"Yes," Lucius said, as he stared at his uninvited guest, "We can find a place for him."
"Do you have any dungeons?" Malcolm asked Draco, who nodded smiling.
"I can take care of him, Father," Draco offered, "That will give you a chance to talk privately."
Draco led Dewey out of the room, while the young boy asked, excitedly, "Do you really have a dungeon?"
"And how was your first year of schooling, Malcolm? I've heard several good things about you."
"It was fun, Sir," Malcolm said, "Especially with Draco there."
Lucius chuckled, and said, "I have several things to thank you for. You talked my son out of his plan with the dementors, and probably saved his life. It was a bold plan, but foolish, and I am glad he listened to your advice. I appreciate the help you give him. If I may ask about the Weasley girl, is there any hope for a relationship between the two?"
[I remember the plan. Get her to like him and tick off her folks. The problem is they already have a relationship with each other. If you can define attempting to murder each other with insults as a relationship.]
"I think so," Malcolm said, "Mr. Weasley thinks that it might be good for Draco."
Lucius gave a look showing that he was hoist by his own petard. "What will happen, will happen," he said with regret.
Changing the subject, he told Malcolm, "I've discussed your situation with a few of my friends, and they would like to meet you. If they are as impressed with you as I am, they will consider sponsoring your education. Do you know what that means?"
[Everything but money, I bet.]
Lucius laughed lightly as he said, "It means that you will have everything you'll need for a proper education. Tuition, books, Miscellaneous expenses, they will all be taken care of."
[I was right.]
"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Malfoy," Malcolm said, "but why me? I'm not a pureblood wizard."
"That's been taken care of," Lucius said, "Don't even give it a second thought."
[Why do I have the feeling I was just lied to?]
Malcolm hesitated, then brought up a new subject, "I need to ask you, Mister Malfoy, uh, Ginny told me about a diary . . . "
Lucius gave him a look of surprise, which changed to a mixture of pride and sadness. "That is the one thing that endears you to me, Malcolm. Anyone else would have heard that story and condemned me. But you waited. You held your judgement until you heard all of the facts. I can't help but admire your fairness."
Lucius showed Malcolm to a seat, and continued, "I will assume she told you the entire story, so you know that the diary was not intended for her. Of course, if I had known how powerful that book was, I would have kept it locked up. My goal was to deliberately humiliate someone I despised. I don't know if you can relate to that." Lucius gave Malcolm a conspiratorial wink. Remembering Pansy Parkinson, Malcolm returned the wink.
"As I was saying," Lucius continued, "I did not understand the power of that book. I can only be grateful to the Potter boy, and I hate admitting that, for what he did." Lucius took up a lecturing voice, and said, "Don't think that I wasn't punished for what I did, Malcolm. I was, harshly but fairly. That is why I am no longer on the School Board. Add to that the indignity of having my house searched, and several heirlooms confiscated because of their potential for misuse. I won't bother mentioning the fines I had to pay. They were hefty, but nothing I couldn't afford. I think the worst was the public embarrassment. I am still trying to recover from that."
Lucius smiled at Malcolm and said, "If you would rather have nothing to do with me, I understand, and I won't hold it against you. If you like, I will even let people know that your friendship with Draco does not extend to me. It will keep you at a safe distance."
[Wow. He is smooth. I've got to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he admitted it. It's more than I would have done.]
Malcolm laughed a little, and said, "I don't think knowing you will hurt my reputation at all."
"I don't know if that is a good thing, or a bad thing," Lucius said with a laugh of his own, "but I promise this. If you accept the offer my friends make, it will give you an advantage in the wizarding world, for whatever goal you strive for."
"Like money?" Malcolm asked, hopefully.
Lucius laughed at the look on Malcolm's face. He was a greedy little b . . . oy after his own heart. "In the long run, yes, but don't hold your breath," Lucius said, cheerfully. He turned to his wife, Narcissa, who was walking into the parlor, and told her, "Darling, please let me introduce you to our young protege, Malcolm."
"The pleasure is mine," Narcissa said, as she greeted Malcolm. She then leaned over and told him, "your little brother is charming. Thank you for bringing him along."
"You're welcome," Malcolm said carefully.
"I don't want to wear it," Dewey yelled, as Malcolm force-dressed him in the robe.
"I don't care," Malcolm yelled back, "This is a fancy house, and everyone here dresses this way." Finished, he dragged Dewey to a full length mirror.
"I look like a girl," Dewey complained, as he looked at himself in the mirror.
"You look fine," Malcolm said, "everyone is wearing robes."
"I still look like a girl," Dewey complained, "I hate this place."
"Dewey," Malcolm yelled, "Five minutes ago, you loved this place. Make up your mind."
Narcissa Malfoy walked in on them, demanding to know what the yelling was all about. She saw Dewey crying and knelt in front of him. "What is wrong, my little darling? Please tell Aunt Narcissa."
Through his sobs, Dewey told her, "Malcolm says these robes make me look like a girl."
"I did not, You lying little creep," Malcolm yelled.
Narcissa turned her head sharply to look at Malcolm. "How dare you," she said angrily. "As smart as you are, you should know to appreciate your family, and not torment your brother for a cheap laugh." She turned back to Dewey and said, more cheerfully, "Malcolm doesn't know what he's talking about. You are quite the dashing figure in those robes, you handsome little devil."
"Really," Dewey said, drying his eyes.
"Really," Narcissa said, "Why don't we go down to dinner now, so I can show you off to everyone" She added, sharply, "Your brother can join us when he's matured a little more. I'll send Draco by when it is time, Malcolm."
[I hate that scheming runt. On the other hand, I know where he hides Mr. Teddy.]
Twenty minutes later, Draco came by to find a very annoyed Malcolm, in the middle of the room, making plans out loud. He smiled at the reference to a teddy bear and sharp knives.
"Your brother is the center of attention," Draco said cheerfully, "And father is talking about getting rid of you, already. What did you do?"
"I let Dewey open his mouth," Malcolm complained, "He said he looked like a girl, and then he told your mom that I said it."
"I like the fact that he can cry on cue," Draco added.
They walked downstairs, and into the dining room, to find Dewey cheerfully talking to a couple of men, and showing off his new robes. Then Malcolm smiled as Dewey made a mistake.
"I hope your brother is half as wonderful as you are," MacNair said, as he patted the boy's head. "If he impresses us, he, and you, will have a bright future."
"He will," Dewey said, "He's smart. He even helped me pick out these robes."
[Mrs. Malfoy heard that. Goodbye little brother, your game is up.]
"Dewey," Narcissa said, "You said he told you, you looked like a girl."
"I'm sorry," Dewey said, "I never wore robes before, and I . . . " His voice trailed off as he debated whether to run or cry.
"You little imp," Narcissa laughed, "You should have told me."
[How does he do that? I can't do that. I get grounded. I get detention. I get arrested. He gets a hug and an extra cookie. Dewey isn't even cute. I don't care. I'm getting angry. When we get home, Mr. Teddy dies. And it won't be pretty.]
"Please Join me, young man," the old man, who called himself Osgoode, said, "We can talk about a few things during dinner."
As they sat down around the table, Malcolm between Draco and Osgoode, the old man showed Malcolm a piece of parchment, "This is a list of some of the students that our group sponsors." He rolled the parchment up and asked, "Do you think you are smart enough to get on this list?"
"Mr. Osgoode," Malcolm said, "There are 28 names on that parchment. If you add together the total number of days that each student has lived, the number is 148,736. The square of that number is 22,122,397,696, and its square root is 385.663. The square divided by the square root is 57,361,991.417377. The average age of the persons listed is 14 years, 6 months, and 18 days . . . "
"Stop," MacNair interrupted, "How can you know that?"
Malcolm smiled.
"I am impressed," the old man said. "You may be smart, but you are also clever. That was a wonderful little show." He turned to his young aide, and said, "MacNair, I don't know how you feel, but I am willing to add him to the list."
"His family history, alone, impressed me," MacNair said. "That, and the good things I've heard about him from the school."
"It does explain why Dumbledore was so quick to admit him," Lucius said. "You would have been a prize for any school, Malcolm."
Malcolm stared at Draco and at his father, wondering what was going on.
[I have to ask Draco. What's this about my family history?]
When the main course was served, Malcolm ended up staring at his plate, while Draco leaned over and asked, "Why aren't you eating?"
"Draco, what is this stuff. I don't even recognize any of it."
"That small greyish lump is a pate` of veal, I think, or it might be . . . no . . . I'm not sure, but it tastes like chicken. The vegetables are an oriental medley, I think." Draco stopped and said, "I don't really know either. I divide it into three categories, tastes like chicken, some kind of vegetable, and probably liver."
"This grey stuff is definitely liver," Malcolm said, stabbing a small piece of meat, "I'll try the 'tastes like chicken' one. Mmm. Not bad."
"I see you like the escargot, Malcolm," Narcissa Malfoy said politely.
[ Oh God. I just ate a snail.]
"Now, I remember," Draco said, grinning, "I keep forgetting my French. And by the way, don't ask about the pate`."
Malcolm looked around him as he ate. Osgoode was talking with Lucius and MacNair about how to deal with the idiots in the government. On the other side,
Draco and his mother were laughing at Dewey, as the boy tried to explain all about snails. Malcolm looked down at his plate of 'tastes like chicken,' and
decided he wasn't hungry.
"Did you get the sponsorship, Malcolm?" Lois asked.
"Yeah, Mom," Malcolm said, "but it was weird. It was like talking to a room full of lawyers. They never said what they meant. It's like they were telling me to let them be really nice to me or they'd be really mean."
"It's simple, Malcolm," Lois explained, "They are helping you, because they think that when you grow up you will help them. It's like when we spent all of that money to give Reese those flute lessons, and he broke his flute the first day, fighting with that tuba player. You'll do fine, Malcolm. Just don't break your flute."
[I remember that flute. Reese had to remain standing up for a week. It was great, especially during the last couple days when he became delusional because of lack of sleep. I still have those pictures hidden away.]
"Mom, doesn't it worry you that I can do magic?"
"Of course it does, Malcolm. It worried me when I found out that you were smarter than me, but I deal with it. Your learning how to use your talents, and I trust you to do your best. I worry about Reese ever graduating high school, and Francis getting his life together and Dewey's imaginary friend, Peeves."
"Peeves isn't imaginary, Mom. He's a poltergeist who lives at the school."
Lois smiled sweetly at her soon to be twelve-year-old son, and said, "You and Reese may divide all of Dewey's toys between you, and you have my permission to use those firecrackers the two of you have been hiding. The only rule is that Dewey is there when you light them."
"Thanks, Mom. I'll go tell Reese."