A/N A quick note to Vmorticia. I wasn't thinking about that. I kept concentrating on spelling. Thanks for picking that up. I've made the proper changes..


CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL


"Mom, you have to let me come home," Reese shouted into the phone. "This place is terrible."

"Reese, you've only been there one day. Classes haven't even started yet."

"But Mom, they're sending me to Orientation. They want to make me Chinese or something. Mom ? Mom?"

*

"Hem, Hem," Professor Umbridge began. "Welcome to your first day of education in the proper method of Defense against the Dark Arts. For today's class, I want all of you to open your books and read Chapter One. Are there any questions? Malcolm?"

"Professor, Is there going to be a test on this."

Umbridge took umbrage at that remark. "I would assume that, since it is the class lesson you will be expected at some point to show that you have read the text thoroughly. Are there any other questions? Malcolm."

"Is there going to be a test today, because I forgot to bring my quill."

"Malcolm, why don't you see me after class. You can use mine, to show me how well you've learned."

[I'm on her good side already.]

*

Severus Snape swept into the classroom.. He took the role and looked up when he was done. The first years from Gryffindor and Slytherin were sitting quietly waiting for him to say something. Then he began his standard introduction.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death . . ."

"Professor."

Snape looked at the waving hand in disgust. "What is it, Dewey?"

"Stop who's death, Sir?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said you were going to stop her death. I just wanted to know who's going to die. Is it her?"

Dewey pointed at one girl arbitrarily. It was a Gryffindor named Jenny. She stood up and looked at Snape with sudden apprehension.

"Am I going to die, Professor?"

"No, you are not going to die."

"That's right," Dewey shouted, "Professor Snape is going to save you."

"Save her, Professor," another Slytherin boy shouted as encouragement.

Several others took up the shout and Jenny ran in tears to Professor Snape. "Please save me. I don't want to die."

"You are perfectly safe," the Potions Professor said as he patted the girl on the back. "Please return to your seat."

"He did it," someone shouted and the entire class cheered as Jenny dried her eyes and sat down again.

Severus Snape looked out over the class and saw twenty worshipful faces waiting for him to begin the lesson. He was more afraid than he had ever been in his life.

"It was horrible," he explained to the Headmaster after the class was over. "All of them payed attention to every word I said. One student even asked how many house points he lost for answering a question wrong. I felt . . . trapped."

"There, there, Severus," Albus said consolingly. "You can't make every student hate you. This had to happen someday."

"It's HIS fault," Snape insisted. "We should never have let him into this school. We should never have let his brother into this school. We should have deported the whole family the first time they ever came to this country. We should have . . ."

"Please calm down, Severus. This is only a small matter. He is only one student." Albus whispered into his ear. "And he will graduate in only 2,495 days."

"Did Malcolm tell you that?"

"I overheard him telling his friends. I thought you would find the figure amusing."

"I will let you know in 2,496 days.

*

"Who can name the six wives of Henry VIII? Reese?"

"My brother."

The History Professor stared over the edge of his glasses at the American boy. "I don't understand your answer."

"You asked me who would know the names of the wives of Henry whatever. My brother would. He smart when it comes to things like that."

"Actually, Reese, " the teacher said as the students snickered, "I wanted to know if you could name his six wives."

No way. The only reason I even know he had six wives is because my dad went through this Rick Wakeman phase two years ago. He loved that album and listened to it constantly until I used it as a frisbee. You know, they don't fly as well as you might think."

"Reese, how much do you know about British history?"

"Get Real. I've only been living here for a couple of months. I just found out two weeks ago that you had a Queen."

*

"Hem, Hem," Professor Umbridge began. "Welcome to your first day of education in the proper method of Defense Against the Dark Arts. For today's class, I want all of you to open your books and read Chapter One. Are there any questions? Dewey? Your brother is that boy, Malcolm?"

"Yes Ma'am," Dewey said and sadly lowered his hand. "I suppose I shouldn't bother to ask any questions."

Umbridge took interest in that remark. "Why do you say that?"

"Well." Dewey squirmed in his seat. "You said you knew Malcolm. If I go asking questions, you'll think I'm a troublemaker."

The Professor smiled her sweetest smile, and even tried to put some sincerity behind it. "Why don't you ask your question, and I'll tell you if it is a good question. If it isn't, I will explain why."

Dewey tried to smile at the encouragement. "I wanted to ask about the reading assignment."

"About whether or not there will be a test."

Dewey snorted. "No, that would be silly. Of course you'll test us at some point to see if we've learned anything."

Umbridge's smile became sincere without any effort.

Dewey asked his question. "You said that you wanted us to read the first chapter as part of the lesson. Will you explain things in the book that we don't understand, or are you going to teach us something else, just so we can appreciate opposing points of views. My teacher did that in my old school. It was nice for a week but after that I got tired about hearing about bad King John, and reading about how he was betrayed by history."

"That was a delightful question, Dewey, but a bit long-winded. This book, and the others I will have you read, will tell you the best way, in the experience of the Ministry, to fight against the Dark Arts. It is the belief of the Ministry that the best method to combat evil is a united front. And the best way to build a united front is to teach everyone of you to fight the same way."

"That's great," Dewey said with an infectious grin. "Thanks, Professor Umbridge. I'm sure glad I got you as a teacher. If the rest of my teachers are as great as you and Professor Snape, this school is going to be great."

"Oh, is Professor Snape a good teacher."

Yes, Ma'am. He's not as open as you are, smiling and stuff. He tries to look stern all the time but I've already learned to tell when he's happy about something. His lip twitches. At first I thought he might be like my neighbor. His lip would twitch whenever he forgot to take his medicine. But then Professor Snape asked me a question, and when I got it right, he told me and his lip started twitching. That's how I know."

"I will remember that, Dewey, and thank you for you confidence in me. Are there any other questions? Then begin reading."

*

"Do you believe that? He's getting someone to teach me, outside of class. That's inhuman." Reese was ready to hit someone but then he would have no one to talk to.

"I know," Anthony said with despair. "Even though I'm in a lower class, the headmaster thought I would make an excellent tutor."

"You're going to try and teach me?"

"No," Anthony admitted. "I talked to your brother, Dewey, and he told me the best way to handle this. I will do your homework for you, then give you a brief explanation of what it was about. All you have to do is give me your homework assignments every day. Also, help me out if someone tries to bully me."

"I can do that," Reese said, then stopped a passing student. "You're in all my classes aren't you."

"All of the standard ones," the student admitted carefully.

"Tell him what my homework is at the end of the day, everyday."

"Um," the student said as Bill and his gang passed by. Bill was about to say something to the student when he noticed Reese. Painful memories crossed his face and he waved his friends onward without making a remark.

"It's not a problem," the student said.

Satisfied, Reese walked off to find something that interested him.

"You'll still be able to do MY homework?" the student asked Anthony.

"It's not a problem. The price is still five a month per subject. Which one's do you need help with?"

"Almost all of them," the student said as he handed over a list and thirty pounds.

*

"Good Morning, Renakka," Francis said angrily as he showed up at the shaman's cabin.

"I see you had your life changing event," Ralph said with a grin.

"Don't try to turn my wrath by reminding me of something joyful," Francis said, "I have a few bones to pick with you. Why didn't you tell me your real name?"

"Because I prefer being called Ralph. It's a nickname most of the logger's use anyway. It's a comfy name."

Francis looked confused. "A comfy name?"

Ralph leaned forward in his chair. "Francis, can you possibly imagine a situation where somebody might say, 'Hey, Ralph, will you join me in a beer? Of course you could. Somebody named Ralph fits right in. I like fitting in."

"Okay, that makes sense. But why did you tell me you were rich?"

"Because I'm a shaman. If I told you I was poor and did this for a living, you would think I was a nut case. If I'm rich, I'm a fashionable eccentric. Plus if people think you have a lot of money, they pay attention. It worked on you."

"Um, yeah," Francis admitted, "But why did you tell me you were born in Brooklyn?"

"I got tired of telling people I was born in LA. Too many Californians kept coming up here and asking what part. We rarely get any New Yorkers up here."

"Ralph, where were you really born?"

"Right over there." He pointed to the corner where the bed was.

"You were born on that very bed?"

"Are you kidding. That bed is barely ten years old. But the bed I was born on was on that very spot. That's where my brother was born and my sister, both my little girls and my son." Ralph threw his hands in the air as he got up. "But times change. My first grandson was born in a hospital in Calgary, Alberta. My second one, by my other daughter, was born in a hospital in Denver, Colorado. Do you believe that? Denver."

"That's amazing. Both your daughters married and left? And your son?"

"He left and married. I'm a Shaman. He's a doctor. The family tradition takes a new turn. That's why I teach, Francis, to whoever wants to learn. Anyone with a spark of magic can learn to use it. Even you."

"Wait a minute. Are you saying that I can learn to do magic."

"You're enough like me, you could learn. It'll take time, but in ten years you could probably be able to make a fire just by using magic."

"Ten years? My brother Malcolm learned to do that in fifteen minutes."

Ralph smiled. "It just shows how much more magic he has than you do. Look at it this way. If you ever learn to do it, you'll save a fortune in matches. Is that worth something?"

Francis sat down. "Not really. A lot of places give matches away."

"It's your choice." Ralph waved him away. "If you still want to work for me, I will pay you."

"I never asked. How much are you paying me?"

"Room and board, for two now, and how about ten bucks a day, or two Galleons if you prefer."

"Where would I spend Galleons?"

"Oh, that's right. You don't want to learn any magic because you'll never do any of the fancy stuff. I'll pay you ten dollars a day for services rendered."

"Uh, Ralph. How hard is it. I mean, do I have to give up ten hours every day and all that."

"I'll pay you five dollars and one Galleon a day," Ralph said. "This is your first lesson. Magic is Real. Magic is real for you. Come back when you believe it. In the meantime, here's a list of thing to get from Lavernia's place. And this time, don't pick a fight with her."

"Wait a minute. She picked that fight, and I did manage to knock her out . . . at least they told me I did."

*

Miss Pembroke looked at her class and smiled. Most of them gave the standard answers, but there were a couple who had interesting ideas. "Nob, it's your turn. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I don't know. I never thought about it."

"You never thought about being an adult?"

"No."

"Why don't you try thinking about it now."

"Okay."

"And?"

"I'm thinking."

The teacher waited for a short while, then asked again.

"I'm still thinking."

"What do you like to do for fun? Maybe you can do something like that."

"I like to shout curses at my brothers. Can I get a job cursing people?"

Miss Pembroke smiled politely. "Why don't we talk about this after class, Nob?"

Nob frowned. He answered another question wrong.

*

"Hi, honey. I'm home," Hal shouted happily.

Lois shoved a letter in his face. "Did you know about this?"

"Yeah," Hal lied carefully. "I talked to Malcolm about it. He said he would take care of it."

"Why didn't you tell me? They're going to take Nob away from us because he isn't ours."

"Malcolm will take care of it." Hal said. "Oh, look at the time. I told the Weasleys I would check on their house."

Hal ran down the path to the Burrow quietly shouting, "Please be home. Please be home."

*

"You wanted to talk to me," Malcolm said as he entered Professor Umbridge's office.

"You asked a foolish question in class today. If you are supposed to be so smart, why don't you explain why?"

"Because . . ."

"I want you to write the reason down." She handed him a quill.

Malcolm took the quill and a piece of parchment. He dipped the quill in the inkwell and began to write. "Ow. What the hell was that." A sharp pain went through his wrist.

"Consider it a learning experience," Umbridge said with a smile. "Please continue to write your explanation."

"No."

"No?"

"You don't care what my reason is. You don't care if it's a good reason. You only care that I won't follow your plan. I refuse to take detention with you, or even take your class."

Umbridge smiled maliciously. "That is gross misconduct on your part, young man. That could be grounds for expulsion."

"Good. It's better than having to take half these stupid classes."

"Get back here, young man," Umbridge shouted to no avail as Malcolm transformed and flew out the open window.

*

"Enjoy your lunch," the assistant called out, and David Winter happily left to spend the afternoon outside. It was the perfect Washington day. Yesterday's rain solved the humidity problem but the temperature was still in the upper 80's. He took his time and walked to the Tidal Basin and found a lonely spot, well away from the tourists. That was where the owl found him.

"What, no letter," David asked in amusement, then a horrid thought struck him. "Malcolm?"

"I need a favor," Malcolm said as he stood up..

"You do understand that you are only a few thousand miles away from your school."

"That's okay. I'll probably be expelled anyway. I ran out of detention."

David smiled wryly. "I'm sure you had a good reason."

"Yeah. I need an official letter from the Department of Health and Human Services stating that Nob's placement was forestalled because of our sudden necessary move, and that the British Government is supposed to supply confirmation."

"Malcolm, are you serious? You want the American government to admit that we were going to let you raise a house elf?"

"That's the cool part. He's not a house elf anymore. Remember? I even have a new picture."

David looked at the picture carefully. "Is this real? He has your smile . . . and your hair . . . AND you eyes? Malcolm, he turned himself into you?" David took a deep breath. "It is only your appearance, isn't it?"

"Mom has him check the grocery receipts to make sure the clerk didn't make a mistake."

David frowned. "Malcolm, do they know the truth about Nob? Do they know that he is really a house elf?"

"None of the forms asked us to list species. That's why I need the letter. If they think it's just a glitch, they'll back off. Otherwise, they'll take him because we don't have the proper forms."

"Fine. I'll talk to some friends." David Winter accepted the fact that he was doomed. "Who do we send the letter to, and how?"

Malcolm smiled. "Here's a copy of the letter they sent us. Just fax your letter to that address."

"Fax?"

"It's a muggle thing. Tell one of the secretaries and they'll take care of it."

"Fine. And Malcolm. Please return to school, immediately."

As Malcolm flew away, David frowned again. Those annoying muggles and their paper trails. He apparated back to his office. It would be best to get this done today while he still had time.

*

"Hem. Hem. You do know what that boy did, Professor Dumbledore. Why isn't he being expelled?"

"That is for his Head of House to decide. In this case, Professor McGonagall. She has told me that there are precedents in her house of students refusing to attend certain classes. She will act on those precedents. The far greater matter is that he refused detention. I assure you that once we find Malcolm, he will regret his actions."

Professor Umbridge sneered. "I doubt that boy will regret anything."

As she stormed off, Albus added softly, "I fear that you are right."

*

"Enid, look at this. It's a letter from the Americans, about that case of yours."

"Thanks, Mick." She read the letter carefully. "Have you read this. This is in response to the letter I mailed yesterday. I have never had a reply this quickly."

"I have read it, and it's a fine mess you have to deal with. Foster child and Witness Protection Service. Don't forget the secrecy clause."

Enid shook her head. "It's no problem at all. From the way this reads, they were going to adopt him, anyway. I'll start the proceedings. We will need to interview everyone in the family."

Mick smiled. "Aren't you happy you decided to work late?"

*

"Malcolm," Lois said. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, but I had to let you know. I took care of it."

"Of what?"

"Nob. Mr. Weasley said Dad was in a panic when he told him. I was lucky that the teacher who received his message found me so quickly. I talked David Winter into sending a form letter saying you have legal custody."

"And that was this afternoon? When Hal came home from work?

[The only good thing about the way Mom looks right now is that she isn't thinking about me.]

"I've got to go," Malcolm said, and flew away as quickly as he could.

*

"He's back?" Professor McGonagall asked the next morning.

"He came in about three in the morning," Albus said. "He fell asleep in the owlery."

"Why does he do these things? Sometimes I don't understand him."

"It is simple, Minerva. He told me during his first year. He doesn't trust us. He doesn't trust magic. He has the need to do things on his own."

"I'll start making a list," Professor McGonagall said. "I'm sure there are plenty of things he can do on his own."

"Please remember, Minerva. He had good personal reasons for what he did. Which reminds me. He spends a great deal of time in the owlery. I'm sure the owls would like a nice clean floor."

"I"ll add it to my list."

*

Professor Umbridge took her time writing her letter to the Minister. She then walked briskly to the owlery and grabbed one of the dozing school owls, tying the letter to its foot. "Off with you, you stupid bird. You can sleep later."

[What the . . . ?]

The owl squawked, then flew away with the letter.

Professor Umbridge smiled. Minister Fudge would help her deal with that recalcitrant. Malcolm. He would regret the day they ever met.