A/N This update comes to you despite the best efforts of Hurricane Isabel to disrupt my efforts. A word to the wise: If you want quick electrical repairs live next door to an military base. My apologies to the other 1.7 million who are still without power.

I read azntgr01's review for Chapter Four and thought I should repeat something that I mentioned in a previous story. I can update the story on a daily basis because I have already written the story, including the epilogue. I will still make some last minute changes when an inspiration hits me, but the story, for all practical purposes, is complete. One of these changes is a scene with Draco and Ginny, which was originally part of the previous chapter. However, Character Development forbids Draco from having a romantic encounter unless something embarrassing happens as a result. This is doubly true of Draco as Malcolm. Changing the incident permits me to humiliate Draco with ease.

Grizabella did ask an interesting question about Malcolm's accent. For the purposes of the story the answer is an obvious no, but the real life answer would be probably not. Most people are set in their speech patterns by the time they reach Malcolm's age. These patterns could still change if Malcolm was completely immersed in the English culture, but he maintains sufficient contact with his brothers and his American friends to reinforce his learned speech habits. This is not an arbitrary thing I'm making up. Seamus Finnigan was been at the school for two years longer than Malcolm and hasn't lost his Irish accent.

I should note with interest that Nob, the English house elf, now speaks with an American accent since he took human form. I should also note that Nob is not based on the character of Egg, but on one of the flashback scenes that show little Malcolm.



CHAPTER FIVE: MUGGLES AND BIRTHDAYS


"It won't work," Lloyd decreed.

"Of course it will," Malcolm insisted. "You have to trust me on this."

"I trust Malcolm," Dabney said. "I've never had any problem with his ideas."

"I . . . have," Stevie said. "Count . . . me . . . out."

"Me too," Cynthia said. "I've already had my heart broken once."

"That leaves you," Malcolm said to the last member of the party, a red haired boy known only as Eraserhead, who looked remarkably like his nickname.

"I don't know," Eraserhead said thoughtfully. "It could work with the proper application. We should ask, first."

"Lloyd, you ask."

"It was your idea, Malcolm."

"Actually it was Dabney's. I only did the calculations."

"OK. I'll ask."

Dabney walked up to a fat man sitting in the waiting area. "Excuse me, Sir. Are you taking the flight to London."

"What concern is it of yours?" Vernon Dursley answered angrily. "If you must know, I'm returning home from a business trip."

"My friends and I were doing some calculations. We figured that a properly proportioned blockage with a weight of at least 450 pounds would be sufficient in case one of the passenger doors should accidentally open in flight. How much do you weigh? And please be honest."

*

Reese shook his head in annoyance, then kicked sand at Draco of the fun of it. Draco barely reacted. "Malcolm, what's wrong with you? You've been a real jerk since the Weasleys left."

"Well, you've been a jerk since before I was born," Draco yelled back. "I'm not in the mood, Reese. Go bother Dewey. He's trying to build a sand castle."

"Good idea," Reese said and ran down the beach to find Dewey.

[I wonder how far he'll run before he realizes I pointed him in the wrong direction?]

Draco lay down sullenly in his thoughts, oblivious to the people around him, the waves crashing on the shore, or the five year old boy who was burying him in the sand.

Ginny was sitting next to him in his thoughts. She had told him that she was going away for the rest of the summer. And then she told Draco, whom she thought was Malcolm, her most secret thoughts.

"I don't see him, Malcolm. Why did he leave? Do you know? Was it because of me?"

"Who are we talking about?"

Ginny gave him a sad smile. "Draco. I miss him."

[WHAT?]

"Can I tell you a secret, Malcolm? But you have to promise never to tell anybody."

"I'd promise you anything," Draco said, giving her a confident smile. "You know that"

Ginny squeezed his hand in appreciation. "I love Draco Malfoy," she whispered.

Draco's heart raced at the words. "Why didn't you tell him?"

Ginny frowned.

"How do you know I didn't tell him?"

"Because he would have told me," Malcolm answered smoothly. "After all, he is my best friend at school."

Ginny relaxed. "I wanted to tell him. I know it sounds stupid. You know we can never be together and it becomes more impossible every day. But I wanted him to know that I saw something in him, a possibility, and I fell in love with what might have been." She laughed to herself. "It sounds stupid."

"It sounds wonderful," Draco assured her. "You would have made him the happiest man in the world if you had told him that."

"Really. I was always afraid . . . that he . . . felt differently."

"You sounded like Stevie there for a minute," Draco said, and they both smiled. "I know how Draco feels about you."

"Malcolm! Draco told you?"

"Not me, but," he paused. "Do you remember the last time the two of you talked. You thought you were alone."

"Malcolm? You spied on us."

"Ginny, when I walked there, I was hoping the three of us could talk, the way we did before . . ." Draco paused. "The conversation clearly told me it should be a party of two."

[Hey, I could have been listening. I mean Malcolm could have. Heck, you know what I mean.]

Draco paused, looking meaningfully into Ginny's eyes. "After you left, he thought he was alone. He looked down on the grave, and he said, "Woe unto me for I love a fair maiden / but fate has decreed we shall ere be apart / My heart is given to a grief so dear / for I love the one I can never have."

Draco looked away and wryly shook his head. "It was a bad poem, and he made it up on the spot, um, I think. But he feels the same way."

"Thank you, Malcolm," Ginny said appreciatively. "I can live my life now, knowing that I wasn't a complete fool."

She kissed him on the cheek, then got up and ran into the water for a swim. Draco went to put his hand on his cheek, to touch the spot where her lips touched him, but he could not move his arm.

Draco slowly awoke from his daydream to find he could not move at all except to turn his head and wiggle his toes. He opened his eyes to discover that he was covered from neck to ankles by a huge pyramid shaped pile of wet sand.

"Stop shaking," Nob called out from the other side, "I'm trying to smooth out the top."

"Nob? What did you do?"

"NOB," Reese called, "TIME TO GO HOME."

"OKAY," Nob called back, and ran off after Reese.

"NOB! REESE!" Draco yelled but to no avail. Then he saw another familiar figure. "Dewey, You've got to help me."

"Sure, I'll let Mom know you'll be late." Dewey ran off to join his brothers.

*

"And you claim that you work for the government, Mr. Winter."

"Yes, I do, Dorene."

"But you can't tell me what you do."

"I'm an administrator."

"In what department."

"I'm between assignments."

"But you have to work somewhere. What am I paying my taxes for? I just want to know why you're babysitting that crazy boy, Malcolm. DABNEY, don't talk to that boy. He's dangerous."

David Winter was at his wit's end. Dabney's mother was driving him up the wall with her questions. It wouldn't have been so bad if she were nice about it, but she was acting like an inquisitor at a trial.

"Dorene, can you keep a secret? Malcolm is not crazy. We are secretly using him as part of a secret government project to secretly determine what the enemy is secretly doing. This trip is to see if he can still integrate himself with normal people, but we want to keep that a secret."

"That is a load of bull," Dorene replied. "Why don't you tell the truth for once."

"Fine, you're a loud-mouthed bore with the intelligence of a ground bezoar." David Winter called to the steward and ordered another drink. It was going to be a long flight.

*

"There's that guy again," Lloyd pointed out as Vernon Dursley exited the onboard facility. He saw the two boys standing there, and scowled at them. Malcolm laughed unintentionally, and apologized just as quickly, earning another scowl. As Dursley turned his back on them, Lloyd attempted the impossible. He tried to be cool. "He's only a muggle, Malcolm. I wouldn't worry."

Vernon stopped and slowly turned around, his face completely red. "You're one of them, aren't you?" he hissed. "The whole lot of you are, I'll wager. Why don't you just fly to London on your brooms."

"Um, I can't fly a broom," Malcolm said, worried by the man's expression.

"It's his medication," Lloyd said, with equal fear, and less sense.

"Uff, Uff," Vernon said with great effort and walked away. He returned to his seat and asked the steward for a drink.

"You are quite the heavy drinker," the Steward said a short while later as he served Vernon his fifth drink. "Almost as much as the man in the next section."

"What man?" Vernon asked.

"The one who is the chaperone to those two boys you've been complaining about."

"Put his next drink on my tab," Vernon said generously.

*

[I've got to do something. Somebody will come eventually. I know.]

Draco lay under the pile of sand on the deserted beach and began to sing, "A thousand bottles of beer on the wall / a thousand bottles of beer / take one down and pass it around / Nine hundred and ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall."

*

"You're drunk, Mr. Winter."

"And you're ugly, Dorene," David said as he tossed off his next drink, "and thank you Winston Churchill for that wonderful anecdote."

"This is compliments of someone who shares your sympathies," the steward said softly as he served the next drink.

"And who would that be," Dorene asked angrily.

"Almost anybody," David answered and tossed off the drink in one shot. "I'll have another one, my good man."

"Haven't you had enough?" Dorene demanded.

"NO, I can still hear you."

Mr. Herkabe came up. "Dorene, I will be more than happy to trade places with this drunk."

"DONE," David Winter shouted as he struggled out of his seat, and walked away.

"Thank you, Lionel," Dorene said. "There is at least one gentleman on this plane."

"Stuff it, Dorene," Herkabe said, "Your son is the weak link on this team and you know it. I just can't stand that Alphonse fellow."

Despite what he had just said, he still put his hand on her knee, and Dorene smiled.

*

"Lloyd, why did you say that about my medication."

"Ginny, that student nurse, told me. She said that's the excuse she gives when you want to fly a broom at the Institute. I just want to know how that guy knew you were crazy."

"Look . . . behind . . . you," Stevie whispered.

[Did you see that? Dabney's mom and the new teacher making eyes at each other. I never felt sorry for a Krelboyne before.]

"We have to do something. That Herkabe is getting out of hand. Why do you guys put up with it?"

"He's . . . the . . . teacher," Stevie explained.

"He's a jerk."

"He's still the teacher," Cynthia said.

"He's not a good one," Malcolm said.

"What . . . are . . . you . . . thinking of . . . doing?"

"Teaching the teacher," Malcolm said. "Lesson one will be respect."

*

"Eight bottles of beer on the wall/ Eight bottles of . . ."

Draco's revery was cut short by the sound of a dune buggy pulling up.

"Here's another one, Jim. This one's an artist."

"What's this make, Carl? Number five."

"Six, if you count that couple as two."

"You mean the ones with all those children. First time I've been cussed for diggin' someone out of the sand."

"I got kids of me own," Carl admitted. "I know what they were feeling, They finally had an excuse not to do anything."

"Excuse me?" Draco said. "Could you get me out of here."

"That's our job, Sonny. That's why we're here."

"Well?" Draco asked pointedly.

"You're somethin' special. I mean, it's a pyramid an' all. We're waitin' for Ethel to come down with the camera and take a picture first."

*

"You must be Eraserhead's brother," David said as he sat down.

"Alphonse," the young man said, laughing at his brother's nickname. "I thought you were drunk. You had, what, ten Vodka Tonics."

"Interesting thing, Vodka," David said with amusement. "You can't see it or smell it in a drink. You only know it's there when you taste it."

"How many did you have?"

"One, and I had that little bottle refilled with water nine times. That, and good acting, made the trip bearable so far."

"And that flask you drank out of had nothing to do with it? I saw you drink out of the flask and in three steps you were sober again."

"A magic drink that makes you sober in one second? I don't think so."

Alphonse nodded. "How intelligent is ground bezoar?"

David Winter looked thoughtfully at his new companion. "I don't think intelligence has anything to do with it."

Alphonse nodded again. "I was curious when that English gentleman mentioned a portkey. I realized it was because he didn't see me. And I have noticed how agile Stevie is with his wheelchair."

"What are you getting at?

"Do you really fly around on a broom?"

A look of understanding and comradery passed between the two men.

"I do not," David answered firmly. "I have a bad back."

Alphonse smiled. "I also understand why you keep magic a secret. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"But you want something."

Alphonse nodded. "I want to know what you can do with magic. Then I want to figure out how to do it without magic."

"It is a pleasure meeting you, Alphonse."

As the two relaxed, Alphonse noticed the far away look in David's eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"Teaching a lesson," David said. "Nothing you would be interested in?"

"Try me," Alphonse suggested, "I've been sitting next to Herkabe all the time you were sitting with Dabney's mother."

"Lesson One," David said conspiratorially, "Respect."

*

"Happy Birthday, Dewey," Lois said as she placed the homemade cake on the table, complete with ten burning candles.

"Thanks, Mom. Is that chocolate cake?"

"Double Fudge chocolate cake," Hal answered. "Your favorite."

"You make that every year," Dewey whimpered. "I hate chocolate cake."

"Who cares," Reese said. "I like it."

"Don't worry," Lois told Dewey. "Next year we'll ask you first."

"You said that last year," Dewey replied but no one was listening.

"What's double fudge?" Nob asked as he grabbed a piece of cake."

"Let me cut the cake first," Lois insisted. "And use a plate."

"Oh, and here's your present, Son," Hal said as he handed Dewey a small package. "It's that new book you wanted to look at."

Dewey unwrapped the present quickly, then frowned. "This is the one you bought for me last week, with my own money."

"Is it?"

"Well, now you have two copies, in case you lose one," Lois told him.

"Why is Dewey crying?" Nob asked.

"This is the worst birthday I've ever had," Dewey sobbed.

Reese smirked. "He says that every year, Nob. Don't let it bother you. Later on, we'll show you how we give birthday smacks."

Draco watched the entire scene with amusement.

[I know I should feel sorry for him, but it IS Dewey.]

*

Hermione nudged Ginny as Dewey walked past their room with another load of trash he had cleaned out. "Do you think Harry will come to his birthday party today? I haven't heard from him yet, and it is July 31."

Dewey walked by as though he had not heard a word. He met Ron who was coming out of another room with a load of trash of his own. "It's going to be a great party, Dewey. Have you ever been to a wizards birthday party. Harry will love it . . . if he shows up."

"I can come?" Dewey asked.

"You're a guest," Ron said softly as they tiptoed past the portraits. "You have to come, but don't worry You'll have a great time."

Dewey finished with his last pile of trash and went to the kitchen where Molly Weasley was putting up decorations while the cake was baking. Sirius Black was filling the cold box with butterbear and soft drinks of all kinds. He smiled at Dewey. "It's going to be a great party."

"I know Harry will love it," Dewey said evenly. Sirius gave him a quick smile as Molly winked.

Dewey finished all of his chores, and took his much needed bath. He put on his best robes and went to the kitchen for the birthday party. As he walked in the crowded room, he looked up to see Harry Potter standing by the door.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Dewey said as cheerfully as he could.

Harry blurred and became the Metamorphmagus known as Tonks. "Wotcher, Dewey. Potter couldn't make it. It looks like we're not having a party after all."

"That's all right," Molly Weasley sighed as she held up a white frosted cake. I misspelled Harry's name, anyway. He would have been angry about that."

"Wait," Hermione said as though she had remembered something. "Dewey, isn't today your birthday as well?"

"Yeah," Dewey said carefully.

"A marvelous idea," Arthur Weasley said. "We'll make this his birthday party instead. Do you like Lemon Swirl Cake, Dewey?"

"It . . . It's my favorite."

"It's settled then," Molly Weasley said as she sat the cake on the table in front of the surprised boy. Surrounded by eleven candles were the words, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEWEY, in constantly changing red, yellow, green and blue colors.

"Make a wish," Ron said encouragingly.

Dewey closed his eyes and made a wish. He then blew out all of the candles. At that moment, an owl flew in though an open window and dropped an envelope on top of the cake. It was addressed to The Birthday Boy, In The Kitchen, 12 Grimmauld Place.

Dewey opened the letter. "I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm going to Hogwarts." Then he began to cry.

"What's wrong, dear?" Molly asked.

"This is the best birthday I've ever had," Dewey sobbed.

"And we haven't yet given him his presents," Tonks complained.

*

"Trust me," Malcolm told Mr. Herkabe as they walked through Heathrow Airport. "I've been going to school here for the past two years. I know how these people are."

"I wouldn't call it a school," Herkabe said rudely.

Malcolm ignored the comment. "It doesn't matter. I know the British slang. That's how you compliment a stranger and let them know you need help."

"I'd ask," Dennis offered, "but I'm only a wee lad. We don't like that."

Malcolm nodded. "Look, Mr. Herkabe, if you don't believe me, try it on . . . oh, that guy there. I know he lives around here."

Lionel Herkabe glared at Malcolm and the boy who was his medical coordinator. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and approached the overweight gentleman that Malcolm pointed out.

"Excuse me, Sir. You seem a respectable muggle. Do you know . . ."

Vernon Dursley exploded in anger. "How dare you! Your sort have no decency. Walking around like you own the place, interfering with decent hard working normal people, expecting to do whatever you want. Why don't you climb on your broom and fly back where you came from."

Vernon walked off mollified by the brisk round of applause he received while Lionel Herkabe was forced to deal with several comments from others about 'cheeky Yanks' and 'arrogant Americans'. Lionel looked back at Malcolm who smiled innocently.

"Excuse me," An airport security officer said as he approached the group. "Which one of you was causing the disturbance?"

"I assure you," Dorene said boldly, "that it wasn't any of us. We're all good God fearing Americans who have only come to your country to prove that our children are better and smarter than yours." She looked around, horrified at the words that came out of her mouth. It was what she had meant to say but not the way she meant to say it. "I didn't mean to insult you but I just can't help it." Dorene closed her mouth again then tried sincerely to apologize. "It's just that it's so easy for me to find fault with anything you do."

The security officer nodded. He turned to Lionel. "And are you the gentleman who was harassing the other passengers? I can see you are." He turned to David Winter. "And you are?"

"David Winter, I'm with the State Department. I, and my assistant, Alphonse, are escorting these children to a Scholastic program as part of cultural exchange initiative. I don't know who these people are. They walked up to us as we left the arrival platform."

Dorene didn't dare say anything, Lionel was too shocked to speak and Malcolm had successfully threatened Dabney to keep his mouth shut. The security officer signaled for help.

"These officers will escort your party through customs, Mr. Winter." As they walked away, the officer turned to the two remaining adults. "If you will follow me."

*

"Mum?" Dennis said with mixed feelings as he exited customs.

"Say goodbye to your friends, Dennis. You're weekend with Malcolm ended a long time ago."

"But Mum . . ."

"Don't but Mummy, me, little mister. You have two minutes to say goodbye."

Dennis turned sheepishly. "Bye, Malcolm."

"I warned you Dennis. It was only a matter of time until your parents compared notes."

"We knew a long time ago," Dennis's mother said. "Lois explained everything to us that first day."

David Winter was confused. "Then why did you wait until now to say something?"

"Are you bonkers?" Dennis asked. "I spent a month touring the United States, and my parents didn't have to spend a pound."

[And now he's home and the party's over.]

David laughed. "And I thought you were the dummy of the group."

*

Malcolm had finished putting his clothes away when there was a knock on his hotel room door.

"I'll . . . get . . . it," his roommate said.

David Winter walked in with Alphonse. "Malcolm, I need to know what you did."

Malcolm looked at Alphonse and David nodded. "He figured it out on his own."

Alphonse smiled. "It was fun watching magic at work and knowing what it was."

David smiled as well. "Malcolm, what did you do to your teacher and how did you get around the restrictions on underage use of magic?"

Malcolm smiled in turn. "All I did was lie. I found out that fat guy knows about magic but hates it for some reason. I got Mr. Herkabe to arbitrarily approach him and call him a muggle." He looked curiously at his guardian. "You cast a befuddlement charm on Dabney's mom."

"Not any mere befuddlement charm. The spell caused her to say what she wanted but in the rudest terms possible."

"How can . . . you tell . . . if . . . it worked?" Stevie asked to general laughter.

"We work well together, Malcolm," David said and he held out his hand.

Malcolm took it. "We're on my home turf now. If you need any help, I know a couple of guys I can call."

*

"Francis," a familiar voice said.

"Eric? What are you doing here?"

"I finally got off work. That Lavernia is one mean . . ."

"I know. I met her."

"You're lucky you found another job. What are you doing?"

"I'm working for this guy Ralph."

Eric laughed. "The shaman? That guy doesn't do anything but sit around and mumble."

Francis took offense. "Yeah, well he also feeds me, gives me a warm place to sleep and pays me to do his chores."

Eric stared in surprise. "Do you mean that? Does he need more help?"

"I'll ask," Francis said. "Is Lavernia that bad?"

"She's worse than that."

"She's THAT bad?"

"She's even worse than that."

Francis put his hand on Eric's shoulder. "I'll say a prayer for you tonight."

"Thank you, Francis," Eric said as he began to cry. "Thank you, thank you."

"There, there," Francis said as he hugged Eric. "Just let it all out." He could only hope that no one was watching.

"HEY," someone yelled, "What are you two doing out there?"

"Hi, Pete. It's me, Francis."

"Yeah, you're the shaman's gopher. Who's your sweetheart?"

"That's not fair, Pete. Eric was telling me about his job with Lavernia."

Old Pete looked aghast. "I'm sorry, Eric. I didn't know. You just have a good cry, and when you're done, come inside and let your tears melt."

"You guys are great," Eric sobbed as he was transferred to Pete's shoulder and led to his cabin.

With them gone, Francis went back to his job of looking for snow worms. He had half a bucket already. At least he hoped he did.