"How do you feel?" Draco asked.
"Hollow," Malcolm answered, "I don't believe she left me like that."
"At least you can fly a broom," Draco offered.
"Yeah, but now I don't want to. I always think of Gabrielle sitting somewhere and telling Jean Paul how amusing I was."
Draco smiled at his friend. "Don't worry. You'll live. I've been through worse."
Malcolm looked back at Draco and said, "Thanks, that does help."
"Good," Draco said, "now that you've agreed to join the living again, I wanted to give you a warning. For your sake, it might be best to keep your distance from Potter. I've been hearing things."
"What kind of things," Malcolm asked, "I know you've been saying a lot of things about him."
"It's keeps us at a distance," Draco said, "and I can judge other people that way, by where they stand between us, you know, watching which way the wind blows. And right now the wind is blowing from Gryffindor."
"That's a curious phrase," Malcolm said, carefully.
"Yes it is," Draco said, "Take it as a hint that I won't tell everything I know. I'll keep my secrets. I will tell you that things are happening, but I don't know what. I do know that Potter is involved, and that it won't be good. And Malcolm, warn anyone that you think will listen. Potter is not safe to be around."
[I think I've learned how to spell Paranoia with a D.]
"I appreciate the warning, Draco, but everyone is already walking on their toes around him. We already know enough to be careful."
"I hope you're right," Draco said.
*
"Everyone will listen attentively," Professor Snape said to the third year Potions class, "I will explain this once, and once only, I am giving each of you a potion. You will identify the potion, and mix the counter potion. It is not enough to know how to prepare potions, you must be able to recognize the potions you have. Think of this as a preparation for your final exam."
"Excuse me, Sir," a Slytherin asked, "I think I'm developing a spring cold."
"How terrible. You may go see Madam Pomfrey . . . after you have finished," Snape replied, then added in a raised voice, "and no student will be excused for any reason. No one may leave until everyone is finished. There will be no exceptions." He then turned to Malcolm and said, "You are to see Professor McGonagall. I believe you are going to a Birthday Party."
Severus Snape smiled inwardly, as Malcolm blushed with embarrassment, and the rest of the class glared at him for getting special treatment.
[He could have told me before class that McGonagall wanted to see me this early.]
*
"Owww," Malcolm said as Professor McGonagall hit a snag while combing his hair.
"If I had thought about it, I would have given you a haircut," Minerva McGonagall said. "But there isn't time now. And I told you to wear the Tan Dress Robes. The ones that match your feathers."
"I'm sorry," Malcolm said, "but I'm only going to this party as an owl. I already promised I wouldn't change back for any reason. Why are you putting me through all of this?"
"Because I know you through and through, boy," McGonagall said. "You will do everything to keep your word, but something will happen, some perfectly good reason, and you will break your promise. You can count on that happening the same way you can count on the sun shining during the day."
"It doesn't always happen," Malcolm complained.
"You are right, and sometimes there is a solar eclipse," McGonagall said, "but I will see that you are prepared, just in case. Now, change those robes, and be quick about it. Rebecca Dutton is celebrating her first birthday with her new parents, and wants the owl who found them for her to be there. The Dutton live in the borderlands, so they are not that far away, but I want you to be there ON TIME."
*
"Is the window open?" Rebecca asked nervously.
"I'll check again, `Becca," her father said, "Yes, it's still open."
"Your friend isn't even due for another half hour, honey," Mrs. Dutton said, "Don't worry about it."
"Maybe he got eaten," Mikey said, "that would be great. They might not find the body for years."
"Michael," Mrs. Dutton said, "That wasn't very nice."
"It's better than saying he just didn't show up," Mikey said with a pout.
"Watch out," Mr. Dutton called out, as a half-grown tawny owl flew through the open window and dropped a small package on the table. It then flew to a chair to perch, and nuzzled an ear when Rebecca came to pet him. The Duttons were amazed at how much torture the owl could withstand as six eight-year-olds ganged up on him.
It was a wonderful party. Malcolm would interfere with the other children, so that Rebecca would win at musical chairs. And Rebecca loved the chocolate mouse that Malcolm gave her. Even Mikey admitted that he was the best owl ever. Then, Professor McGonagall's prediction came true.
Rebecca was blowing out the candles on her cake. Just before she did, she looked at Malcolm and said, "I wish you were a real boy so I could give you a real hug." She turned around, and blew out all eight candles, and the other children gasped and pointed.
The girl turned around, and saw a handsome boy of twelve standing there. "Are you real?" she asked.
"Real enough for a hug," Malcolm said, as he knelt down to be at the same height.
*
"I told you, Albus," McGonagall said, "He'll find a way every time."
"Of course, I believe you, Malcolm," Albus said, "but what will you do three years from now, if she comes to Hogwarts. We can't make you sleep in the owlery, just to amuse just one little girl."
"I assure you, it would amuse more than just one little girl," McGonagall said.
"I'm sorry, Sir," Malcolm said, "It won't happen again."
[They don't have to laugh like that.]
"I believe you, Malcolm," Albus said with a wide grin. Then he added, "Before you go, I am curious. From whom did you get tonight's detention?"
"Professor Flitwick, Sir. He doesn't like the fact that I refer to Professor Binns as the dead guy."
As Malcolm left, Minerva turned to Albus and asked, "how did you know he had detention tonight."
"I didn't," Albus said, "since it was Malcolm, I merely made an obvious assumption."
*
As Malcolm walked to the detention room, he noticed Argus Filch cleaning someone's spilled potion of the floor. Then he thought about what Dumbledore said about not being the 'old guy' that Reese had mentioned. He turned down the corridor toward Filch.
"Excuse me, Mr. Filch," Malcolm asked politely, "would you be considered old?"
Argus Filch looked up, and said, as politely as possible, "Malcolm, if you do not leave this instant, I will personally undertake an effort to forget the ban on chaining students to the dungeon walls, and then I will misplace the key after I lock you in."
"Thank You, Sir," Malcolm said, as he quickly left.
*
"Dennis, what are you doing here?" Malcolm asked, as he walked into detention.
"Professor Binns gave me detention. He doesn't like the fact that I refer to Professor Flitwick as the short guy."
[I can relate to that.]
"Oh, Malcolm, what a surprise," Professor Snape said as he walked in, "I was told how you and your associate like making up new names for the teachers. I have the perfect task for such creative minds. Sit here and watch this pot of water until it boils."
"There's no flame underneath the pot, Sir," Malcolm said.
"Then you will probably be sitting there for quite a while," Snape said.
After detention was over, Malcolm walked over to the Potions Professor and asked, "Would you be considered old?"
"Malcolm, I've spent the last two hours with you. I feel ancient. But the answer is no. Now, Go Away."
*
"I must say, Malcolm, you have a good memory for dates," Professor Binns said, "but you still have a problem drawing comparisons. It should be obvious why the Goblin Revolts are linked to the Collapse of the Byzantium League."
"But they happened 150 years apart," Malcolm said.
"You need to learn more than facts, Malcolm. You have to develop the ability to understand that there is a why, as well as a what." Professor Binns looked at the boy sitting in front of him, and asked, "Is that girl still bothering you?"
"No," Malcolm said, "that was over a month ago. I got this problem I'm trying to work out, and my brother Reese said to ask either Peeves or the old guy about something. Peeves laughs at me, and to make matter's worse, Dumbledore says he knows who the old guy is, but he won't tell me."
"I was rather old when I died," Professor Binns offered, "you could try asking me."
"Thanks, Professor, but you're already dead. It couldn't be you."
Professor Binns gave the boy a ghostly smile and said, "Good Luck, then, in your search, Malcolm. I'm sure that if you look at the problem properly, the answer will be as easy to find as the nose on your face."
"Thanks for your confidence, Professor," Malcolm said, and he gathered his belongings and left for his next class.
In the empty classroom, Professor Binns said, loudly, "As easy to find as the nose on your face." Making the appropriate gestures, he began saying, "Nose, Face. Nose, Face . . . "
Peeves, floating in the corner, began laughing while flipping over end to end.
*
"Hello, Mom," Francis said into the phone.
"Mom is not here, this is Nob," a frightened voice said.
"What's wrong, Nob? Did anything happen?"
"Nob did something wrong,"
"I did something wrong," Francis corrected.
"What did Francis do?" Nob asked.
"Francis did nothing, I mean, I did nothing. Nob, don't you know anything about pronouns?"
"House Elves do not use pronouns, Only people do." Nob explained.
"Didn't Mom tell you that you were a person?" Francis asked.
"Yes," Nob said in confusion.
"Okay, now, what did you do wrong."
"Nob ate . . . "
"Excuse me," Francis said, "Who ate?"
"Uh . . . I . . . ate," Nob said with nervous excitement. "I ate some ice cream. Dewey said we could. Then . . . he . . . told . . . me . . . we . . . weren't allowed to. Nob used three pronouns in one sentence!"
"That's great, Nob," Francis complemented, "and you don't have to pause between words like that. Nob, let me explain what happened. Dewey lied to you, so that you could be blamed for eating the ice cream."
"It will spoil my dinner," Nob said.
"No, you'll just eat less." Francis said, "I can get you out of this, Nob, but you have to lie."
"Nob cannot lie," Nob said with horror.
"Of course you can," Francis assured him. "People lie all the time. You're a person, so that means you can lie. And don't forget to use pronouns."
"I . . . cannot lie," Nob said.
"Yes you can," Francis said, "In fact, You just did. You lied to yourself."
"Nob can lie?" Nob asked in wonder.
"Try it," Francis suggested, "All you need to do is practice. What color shirt are you wearing?"
"Blue," Nob answered, "with squiggly lines on it."
"I remember that shirt," Francis said, "That was my favorite shirt when I was your age. I didn't know Mom still had it. Nob, tell me you are wearing a red shirt."
"Nob . . . sorry . . . I . . . will be right back."
"No, Nob, Don't go and put on a red shirt, just tell me that you're wearing a red shirt."
"I can't," Nob cried.
"Yes you can," Francis said, "let's try it one word at a time. Say 'My'."
"My."
"Shirt."
"Shirt."
"Is."
"Is."
"Red . . . C`mon Nob, say it . . . Red . . . it's only a word. Say it . . . Red . . . Red . . ."
"R-Red," Nob said, almost in tears.
"You did it, Nob. You told your first lie. You're practically part of the family now. All you have to do now is wait until Mom confronts you. Just tell her you know nothing about it. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Nob said excitedly, "I understand. I will lie like you told me. Thank You, Francis, Thank You."
Nob hung up the phone in a state of excitement. Francis had told him. He was almost part of the family. All he had to do was to tell a lie. And after he told the lie, he would try out that precious word he had learned. MOM.