"Do you know what any of this is about?" Malcolm asked, almost running to keep up with Baddock.
"Only what I've already told you," Baddock said, as he raced down the road to Hogsmeade.
"We don't have to run," Malcolm said.
"That's true," Baddock replied, "But we're expected back within a certain amount of time. The quicker we get there, the more time we have to get back."
[He's thinking of hitting the candy store, I bet.]
As they entered Hogsmeade, Baddock pointed between two buildings, saying, "He should be waiting there."
The two boys turned the corner of the building, and stopped. A wizard he did not recognize, was pointing his wand directly at Malcolm. "Which one of you is Malcolm," he asked.
"We both are," Malcolm said, uncertain as to what was going on.
"He is," Malcolm Baddock said.
"Good," the wizard replied, then called out, "Stupify."
Malcolm slumped to the ground, unconscious. As Baddock watched passively, the wizard pulled Malcolm onto his broom. Smiling at the young Slytherin he said, "Go back, and make sure you've covered your tracks."
Baddock returned to the school, as the wizard flew off to the south.
*
Malcolm awoke feeling stiff. He also found his hands tied with rope, and his head covered with a cloth. He could breathe easily enough, but he couldn't see anything.
Almost at once, he was raised to his feet. His hands were untied, and the cloth removed, and he stood facing a man in a mask. The man raised his mask, briefly, to reveal that he was Lucius Malfoy.
"Are you hurt, Malcolm?" Lucius asked with concern.
"I'm a little sore, but I'll be all right," Malcolm said. "What happened?"
"A fool of a man brought you here," Lucius said, letting his anger show, "and he was too stupid to ask you to come. I found out that you were here only minutes ago. Please accept my apologies."
Malcolm looked around and asked, "Why are we in a cemetery? And why are you wearing a mask?"
[I'm not sure what happened, but it looks like they just finished fighting a small war here.]
Cheerfulness made itself felt in Lucius's voice, as he said, "A wonderful thing has happened, Malcolm. The Master has returned. And he would like to talk to you."
[I've watched too many horror movies. When somebody tells you the master has returned, it is not a good thing.]
"Come, Malcolm," Lucius said, as he escorted the still shaky boy though the gravestones to a group of waiting men, also masked. "The first thing you must learn is never to keep our master waiting. The second thing you must learn is that he rewards loyalty. Lord Voldemort is thinking of letting you become one of us, and at your age. It is a great honor."
Malcolm froze when he heard that name. For the past two years, he had heard stories about Voldemort, and his Death Eaters, and the things that they had done. For the past two months, Draco Malfoy had been warning him that He Who Must Not Be Named was plotting his return. And now, Malcolm was to meet him, face to face.
"He doesn't seem too pleased to meet me," a cold voice said, from the crowd of Death Eaters.
"He is still surprised, Master," Lucius said assuredly, "He only needs some time to adjust."
"Don't patronize me, Lucius" Voldemort said sternly, "After what has happened, I am not in the mood."
The thin figure separated from the group and walked over to Malcolm with painful slowness. Malcolm swallowed hard, as he looked on the white upon white face, with blood red eyes. The figure stopped in front of him, and looked, almost leered, at him.
"You don't look happy to see me at all," Voldemort said. He held out his hand, the cold touch of his fingers raising the boy's chin up, forcing Malcolm to look him in the eyes.
"Don't you want it, boy?" Voldemort said, in a spellbinding voice, "I can give you everything. Money. Power. Prestige. Whatever you want, it can be yours. All you have to do is call me 'Master.'"
"I'd like to go now," Malcolm said fearfully.
"But I want you to stay," Voldemort said with menace. "If you want to leave, you have to leave with me. Do you understand?"
Malcolm nodded, then asked weakly, "Why me?"
"Why not," came the reply, "You have all of the qualities I like, including a strong will. You are also young enough to be trained properly in the Dark Arts. I'm offering you a great honor, Malcolm. You can be the first of my new students. I promise that I will teach you well."
[Do you want to know how I feel right now? Remember that poster of the hawk diving at the mouse. It was called The Last Great Act of Defiance. The mouse just stood there, with his finger raised.]
"Are you talking to me?" Malcolm croaked, as he tried to talk. Less boldly, he repeated, "Are you talking to me?"
"Robert DeNiro, Taxi Driver," Voldemort said, suddenly, then added mockingly, "Malcolm, you could have simply told me no. You didn't have to do a bad imitation of an old movie. I found that offensive."
"You watch movies?" Malcolm asked in surprise.
"I love the muggle cinema," Voldemort said, with an icy laugh, "It was one of my few diversions. Do you remember this one, Malcolm?" He pointed his wand at his hand, and a leather glove appeared on it, with knives attached to each of the fingers. "It's from a movie called Nightmare on Elm Street."
The Dark Lord grabbed Malcolm by his robes and lifted him off the ground. As he did this, he slashed his hand across the boy's chest, slicing the cloth, and cutting into the skin.
"Did that hurt?" Voldemort asked as the boy cried out. "No? Then tell me, does this hurt?" He brought the bladed hand across the boy's chest in the other direction.
[That mouse analogy was a good one, but I should have made him a cat.]
Malcolm caught his breath suddenly, as an idea came to him. Gasping out the words before he was cut again, he asked, "Did you ever watch the Three Stooges?"
"I don't believe I have," Voldemort said with amusement. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," Malcolm said, as he raised his arms above his head. Gravity caused him to fall through the remnants of his robes and onto the ground beneath. He pivoted, jumped into the air, and transformed into an owl, before Voldemort realized the trick.
"Avada Kedavra," the Dark Lord shouted angrily. The spell hit, instantly destroying the tombstone that Malcolm had flown behind, but Malcolm kept low, dodging between the tombstones and shrubs until he reached the trees at the edge of the cemetery, and was lost to pursuit.
"A stupid trick," Voldemort cursed, angrily, "and I fell for it. Why didn't anyone tell me he was an animagus?"
No one said a word. Finally Pettigrew admitted, "we thought you knew."
"It made all the papers," said one of the Death Eaters, probably Goyle.
Controlling his temper, The Dark Lord asked, "I know about the Imperious Curse. Is there anything else I should know about?"
"I think I told you about the moving staircases," Malfoy offered.
"And he entertains the children once a month at St. Mungo's," Nott added.
"Didn't Osgoode mention something about a doppleganger?" Pettigrew offered.
Voldemort smiled. "That gives me a wonderful idea, Wormtail. You have done me another service, today. MacNair, tell Osgoode that I need this boy, Renault."
"As you wish, Master," he said, and disapparated.
"Avery, We must teach the world a lesson now that I am restored. Contact our American comrades and have them kill Malcolm's family. Remind them to use the Dark Mark."
"I will take care of it, Master." Avery said, and he vanished.
"Master," one of the remaining Death Eaters asked, "What about the boy, Malcolm."
"It seems that Crouch was wrong," Voldemort said, "the boy cannot be manipulated as easily as he thought. But we don't have to worry about him anyway." The Dark Lord smiled as he looked at the bladed glove on his hand. "The poison should be working on him already. He will be dead within the hour." With a wave of dismissal he added, "It is time to go. I will contact you, when I need you again."
Popping noises were heard in the deserted cemetery, then there was silence, except for the lone hoot of an owl in the distance.
*
"I'm lost," thought Malcolm as he perched on the branch and tried to think. He was injured but he could still fly, but he had no idea where he was, and in which direction he should go. All he knew was that he could not stay there.
[Sometimes I am such an idiot. All I have to do is write a letter to somebody at school, then I can deliver the letter. All I need now is paper and ink.]
The tawny owl flew to the ground and changed back into human form, grunting at the pain. Malcolm took a few deep breaths, then pulled off his torn T-shirt, ripping a clean piece of cloth. Dabbing his fingers in the blood on his chest, he carefully wrote a short note: To A D Hi.
Malcolm transformed back into an owl and picked up the cloth with his beak. Flapping his wings to make sure they would still function, he then began flying North by North East, toward Hogwarts.
Shortly before dawn, an exhausted owl flew into the owlery, dropping the cloth it had held in its beak most of the night. It landed on a perch, and was immediately cozened by a white owl, as the others watched. Malcolm fell asleep, his head tucked under Hedwig's wing.
[Safe.]
*
Madame Pomfrey followed Neville Longbottom as he led her back to the owlery. She passed Hagrid on her way, and convinced him to follow her. What they found was not pleasant. Drops of blood led from the open balcony to the perch where Malcolm sat, supported by a worried Hedwig. More blood was on the floor beneath the perch. Hermione Granger stood there staring, while Ginny Weasley was almost in tears. Both looked up in relief when they saw her arrive.
"I'm here to help," Poppy said soothingly to Hedwig as she reached out for Malcolm. Hedwig hooted softly, expressing her concern, but do not try to stop her. Poppy picked up the tawny owl, expecting a reaction, but he didn't stir. She paused briefly, expecting the worst, but felt the heartbeat, and saw the wounds.
"I have to change him back," Madam Pomfrey said, and lay Malcolm on the floor. As she cast the restoration spell, Malcolm transformed back, and the injuries became evident. Eight cuts, four shallow and four deep, crisscrossed his chest. Poppy waved her wand, and muttered, "Whoever cut him used a poisoned blade." She looked at Hagrid and said, "I need you to carry him for me. We have to get him to the infirmary now. And don't bother being careful."
"But what if I hurt him," Hagrid asked.
"Then we'll heal the injury," Poppy said forcefully, "Right now, time is the most important factor. Hagrid, I do need you to RUN to the infirmary."
*
"That was a very short nap," Dumbledore said, as the commotion died down.
"I'm sorry fer all the noise, Professor Dumbledore, Sir," Hagrid said, "but it was necessary."
"I know, Hagrid, and I thank you," Albus said, "I only wish this day would get better. Poppy, how is Malcolm?"
"He should win an award for being the luckiest boy alive," Madame Pomfrey said, shaking her head. "After everything that happened he will live. Albus, he was poisoned. One of those wonderful poisons that take their time and kill you in an hour instead of a few minutes. Fortunately, It doesn't work on owls, and Malcolm spent almost all of the time he was poisoned as an owl. He also has a few bruised ribs, but nothing else that is serious."
"That is good news," Albus said, and smiled to the three students standing by the door. "I think the three of you should leave now, and I thank all of you, very much."
"This was on the floor near the perch," Ginny said, and held out the dirty piece of cloth.
Albus looked at it, and nodded solemnly. "That was a clever trick. He kept his wits about him."
"What is that?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
"A letter that Malcolm wrote to me," Albus said, "a rather grim letter, when you think of the materials used, but it showed him the way to get back to us."
*
"Harry's still asleep," Molly Weasley said, "I thought I'd take a look at Malcolm. Ginny dotes on him, you know."
"He's fine," Madame Pomfrey said, sadly, "He'll sleep until tomorrow morning at the least."
"That's wonderful," Molly said, "but why are you sad? What happened?"
Poppy looked over to Albus, and Molly followed her gaze.
"It was the reason Poppy ran into Hagrid," Albus said, slowly, "He had a message from America about Malcolm's family. Their house was found completely destroyed, with the dark mark glowing above it. There were no bodies, and no signs of any survivors."
"Of course not," Molly said, grinning, "They're at the Burrow." Molly laughed as she saw Albus Dumbledore sit there with his mouth wide open.
"Molly," Dumbledore said, "I am . . . impressed. How did this happen?"
"Surely Ginny told you about the letter that their eldest boy sent Malcolm. She told me that she did."
"Indeed, she did. The letter was still in Crouch's pocket when I checked."
"Lois called us through the fireplace and asked what to do. Arthur, bless his soul, told them to grab their necessary belongings and stay with him for a few days, since the rest of us were away. He told me about it, but said to keep quiet until we were sure who we could trust. If I had known what happened, I would have told you sooner."
Albus hugged Molly, beaming at her. "Thank You," he said softly, "and thank your husband for me as well. That is the best piece of news I've heard yet."
"You're making me blush," Molly said, laughing. Then Poppy took a turn to give Molly her hug and thanks, when Molly giggled.
"What is it?" Albus asked curiously.
"It's silly, really," Molly said, "I was thinking I should tell Ginny that at least the Death Eaters found the right house."
As Molly Weasley left the partitioned area, Madam Pomfrey gave a confused look to Professor Dumbledore, who shrugged his shoulders. Sometimes, it was best not to ask people to explain things.
A/N: For those of you who don't remember, Molly is referring to her conversation with Draco at the Burrow. For those of you that do remember, I have just wasted 4 seconds of your time.