A/N: FF.Net decided to be rude this morning and I was unable to log on. My apologizes to all of you early readers. Next time I will send a nasty e-mail to let them know how upset I was.

Colibi asked about the events the first years were referring to. They were described in Life is Unfair, Chapter 26 which has the droll title, "A Stroll Trough the Park"

As an aside, I do hate grammatical errors. I use every means, including a twelve year old proofreader who will laugh at the obvious mistakes, and yet I will still find them after I have posted the story. And the worst part is that they seem so obvious. C'est la Vie.


CHAPTER THIRTY: THICK AND THIN


Malcolm was updating his notebook when Professor Vector walked in.

"Madam Pomfrey gave me the report on my prospective student."

"Oh? Is it anyone I know?"

Sinistra looked curiously at Malcolm. "I am talking about Michael Davies."

[Yeah, the Ravenclaw. His brother is Roger Davies, one of their chasers. The kid tries hard but he's basically an idiot. He's good at casting spells though.]

"To the shame of a full half dozen teachers you were right. Although to be fair, they have been forced to concentrate on other matters. Malcolm, what is wrong? I would have thought you would be happy."

"I'm not sure I understand why I should be happy," Malcolm said with a sense of confusion.

"A modest Malcolm?" Professor Vector grinned. "After everything I've seen and heard, I am surprised, and pleasantly so. All of his teachers are to be given a copy of the report and here is yours."

Malcolm took the parchment and opened it out of curiosity.

[Reading disorder . . . steps to take . . . teacher's requirements . . . Malcolm is the idiot.]

"It seems so obvious," Malcolm said. "I can't believe that, um. . . ."

"That someone didn't notice this sooner? Blame Davies. He does a very good act of playing the fool. He must have perfected it before he came here." She patted his shoulder. "You were insightful, and extremely tactful. Except for your brother, I don't think any other student will know about this, unless Davies tells them himself."

"Professor Vector, I don't really deserve any credit."

"For obvious reasons, we can't give you any credit, and thus the matter is closed. The boy had a problem. Now he has solutions. He has a reading disorder, but it is one we know how to deal with. He will have a heavier workload from now on, but he will be better off for it."

"And everyone will make fun of him if they find out." Malcolm looked up. "Am I being pessimistic?"

"You are, but you are learning. Is this your journal?"

"Professor Binns floated through the classroom and told me to keep one or he'd tell Professor Dippet."

"And he will," Professor Vector said. "Dippet always listens to him."

"Um, Professor. I thought Dippet was dead."

"He is, but his portrait is in the headmaster's office to give advice as needed. "Dippet and Binns were good friends when they both were alive."

"You knew Professor Binns when he was alive?"

"I was in his class. And Malcolm, death did nothing to change his teaching habits. In his prime, the man could put an entire class to sleep in ten minutes or less."

"Professor, do you know him fairly well?"

"Well enough for knowing him, alive and dead for almost eighty years."

Malcolm licked his lips in anticipation. "Do you know how he's related to me. You know. How far back."

Vector smiled. "He never told you? I'm not surprised. If I am correct, and I'm sure I am, you are descended through his youngest granddaughter, who would have been your grandmother."

[That makes him my great-great-grandfather. And he has to be on my Dad's side because, well, you read about my other Grandmother.]

"Thanks for telling me. And to think, I had enough of a resemblance that he recognized me as a relative."

"That's wrong, Malcolm. He didn't recognize you at all. He recognized Dewey."

"Dewey?"

"Yes. He even showed us a picture of himself as a child. He had a house elf fetch his old album. They could have been identical twins."

Malcolm shook his head. "I will never look at Professor Binns the same way again."

"Why don't we get something to eat," Vector suggested. "If anyone sees us talking it is because you want to keep up with your Arithmancy."

"I do feel better," Malcolm admitted, "since talking to you."

As they walked down the corridor, Vector said, "Perhaps you should visit me to learn how to teach. It seems you could use some help."

"I could. I didn't know who to ask. The truth is, when all of this started I didn't even know what to ask, or say."

"Now you do, so make good use of it."

"Professor, why are you helping me? I mean, I'm a powder keg ready to explode."

"An interesting analogy, but I think I know what you mean."

"Yeah. I'm trying to keep a secret with seventy other people involved. I'm not very good at conspiracies. Once I'm found out, that's it."

Professor Vector laughed. "With your history, isn't it a little late to think about the rules?"

"So why are you helping me?"

"You need help, Malcolm. Why are you teaching them? Could it be because they need to be taught? And don't worry about being found out. It doesn't make sense to most people, because they know what you are like. No one would believe 'that Gryffindor' . . ." Vector looked toward the staircase that led to the Great Hall. "Whatever is that noise?"

They both paused at the top of the staircase and looked down.

[That's Umbridge. Whatever is going on, she's enjoying this.]

As Malcolm looked down, he saw McGonagall walk over to a teacher he had rarely seen. The teacher was distraught, and was being continually harassed by remarks that Umbridge was making.

"Who is she?"

"Sybil Trelawney. She teaches Divination." Vector answered coldly. "Apparently Umbridge has decided to remove her from the staff in a very public fashion." A timely hand was placed on Malcolm's shoulder. "You asked me why I am helping. I would ask 'Why ask why?'"

Malcolm looked down in time to see the doors from the outside open wide. The hall seemed to grow quiet except for Trelawney's weeping and the consoling words of McGonagall. Dumbledore walked in, appearing as calm as if he was coming in for tea. Words were exchanged, and Malcolm watched the verbal sparring with interest. True to form he could not help but comment on it.

"Umbridge thinks she has the upper hand."

"She has," Vector pointed out. "She can do anything she wants."

"But she has to follow certain rules."

Professor Vector smiled, "Very observant, Malcolm Can you tell me why?"

"She's stupid."

"Could you be more specific?" Vector asked as Trelawney walked by, escorted by McGonagall. She gave them a polite nod.

"She doesn't understand that the rules don't mean anything."

Malcolm paused as Dumbledore announced the new Divination teacher, and a centaur walked into Hogwarts. "I wish I had taken Divinity."

"You wouldn't be able to attend anyway, Malcolm. Umbridge gave you the worst punishment possible. You have to sit in class all day and do nothing."

"But I'm not doing nothing."

Vector rolled her eyes. "Except ringing the death knell on the English language. I firmly believe the gravestone will read, 'stayed in America too long.'"

"Sorry," Malcolm grinned despite the situation.

"Back to our lesson, Malcolm. What did the headmaster do?"

"It's the old switch and bait routine," Malcolm said as Vector let out a mock groan. "He threw his authority in her face, by demanding that Trelawney stay. He knows that she's already thinking of her next letter to Fudge, and he brings in a centaur." Malcolm paused. "That was a beautiful move."

"It was," Vector agreed. "Removing Sybil will now be meaningless. She has removed a mouse to find a rat taking it's place. Albus may not realize it, but he has placed himself in great danger. Do you know why, Malcolm?"

"Um, She'll try to take over."

"I forgive you that remark, Malcolm. That has been her intention all along. But Albus has been blocking her path by throwing rules in her way. And Dear Dolores lives by the law. She has to continually write to the Minister to have each rule changed. But things are different. Dolores is afraid. She now understands that the law can defeat her. But she has followed the law this far and she will continue to do so."

Malcolm frowned. "I don't understand."

"Think about it for a while and you will. You understood everything else so far."

Malcolm nodded. "I've had time to think."

"And I will save you the effort, this one time. Professor Umbridge needs to remove Dumbledore but she needs a reason. She no longer wants proof. She will settle for doubt. Any reason, as long as it is a good one, will do She will look for any manner of violation that she can find, and she will tighten the rules to make violations that much easier to occur. Finding enough of them, or one the right size will be enough."

Malcolm looked up. "Me?"

"You are the right size. You could become very convenient to her."

Malcolm looked down as he tried to think. He never even noticed that the foyer was now empty. "What do I do?"

"What do you usually do? What did you do the last time?"

Malcolm paused as he understood what she was referring to

"When I was in trouble last year, I ran away."

"I know," Vector told him, "I heard the story. If I remember the recent article, Harry Potter ran away as well. You are in good company."

Malcolm snorted but without humor. "He didn't run away. He stayed and fought."

"I distinctly remember that he did not stay."

"He fought."

"He had to. And when he had the chance, he ran away. As you did, if I remember correctly."

"I didn't fight."

"Not with a wand, but I understand that you were quite rude. You did not even make an effort to be friendly."

"I made a bad first impression. It wouldn't have mattered."

"If you did not run away, you would have died, Malcolm. If Harry Potter had not run away, he would have died. He did it with more flare than you, but he did the same thing, for the same reason. He had to. He could not accept the other option."

Vector made a motion for Malcolm to walk with her down the stairs. "My suggestion is that you do the same thing you did the last time you had a serious problem."

Malcolm followed quietly and entered the Great Hall unnoticed by the few people remaining. Professor Vector ignored him as she walked to the teachers table and sat down to eat. Malcolm was lost in his own thoughts. The professor seemed almost to know what he was going to say before he said it. When he chanced to talk with her again she told him, "I have been through this before. I know what will happen."

"How will it end."

"That I do not know. I hope it will end well."

*

"Excuse me, Sir," the first year said.

Harry looked up from his homework. "You don't have to call me Sir. My name's Harry." He tried to give a convincing smile. "Is there a problem?"

"We wanted to know if we could talk to you."

"We?"

"The first years. About what happened?"

Ron gave a mock moaning noise, but Hermione stared in surprise.

"Did you read the Quibbler?" Harry asked, and the first year nodded. "Then you know what happened."

"Please, Sir. It isn't about you. It's . . ." His voice faltered.

"It's about Malcolm," Hermione said, guiltily. "I mentioned that you talked to him, afterward."

"When?"

"A week ago. They found out Malcolm was there. They cornered me, and I told them what I knew."

"We were hoping you would know what happened to him," the boy said.

Harry was half amused and half angry. "Why don't you ask Malcolm?"

"We did," the first year said. All he did was scratch his chest through his robes and call us stupid. Until Hermione told us, we didn't think anything about him scratching his chest. He always does that when he's worried."

"He didn't do it last year," Ron said. "Harry," he added, "You don't have to say anything. It's not important."

"Yeah," the boy said in a good imitation of Ron, "We're only first years. Just a bunch of midgets."

Ron's face went red while Hermione and Harry laughed. Harry looked at the first year, and their smiles faded together. "Where's Malcolm?"

The first year shrugged his shoulders.

"He's with Professor Vector," Hermione offered. "They were watching from the top of the stairs, during, um, dinner."

"That's it then," Harry said. "If you want to know, I'll tell you what he told me."

He walked over to the couch near the fireplace, which the first years had commandeered, and sat down when a place was made. Hermione and Ron followed. EJ and Amber looked up and joined the crowd out of curiosity, as did Dennis Creevey and a couple of others.

"I've told my story," Harry said, "You know what to expect. Malcolm's story is shorter, It shouldn't take much time. He was kidnaped, by means I do not need to tell you."

"We've already talked to Malcolm Baddock," Matthew Zeller said. "We know how that happened."

"Thorough little gits," Ron said.

"Well said, Ron," Hermione whispered.

"How to begin," Harry thought out loud. "Perhaps I should tell this exactly the way he told me. No," he paused, "I should begin the way he told the story the first time, or so he told me." Harry took a long pause.

"What happened?" Ron finally asked.

Harry looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Did you know that Voldemort is a movie buff?"

It was supposed to be a serious moment. Ron was confused, but the look on Hermione's face was priceless.

"Malcolm awoke in the graveyard to find his bindings being removed. He found himself face to face with the man he now knows as his uncle, Lucius Malfoy, who told him something wonderful had happened. Malfoy joyfully led his nephew through the crowd of Death Eaters to meet the master . . ."

*

"How do you feel?" Hermione asked after the ordeal was over.

"Strange," Harry said "When I gave my interview, I remembered what I was feeling and I could add that. This was different. I remember what happened, what he told me, but I don't know what he was feeling. Can you imagine, Hermione? Ron?. He was already wounded and he made a joke. All I did was run around trying not to be killed, and he looked death in the face, literally, and laughed." He paused. "It makes you wonder why he called me the hero."

Hermione smiled sympathetically. "Maybe because 'Harry' the Hero sounds better."

"Thank you, Hermione. Now I know the truth. All of this is happening because my name is alliterative."

Ron smiled along with his friends. "I know what you mean, Harry. But after hearing what you've told us, I have to know. Who are the Three Stooges?"

*

Malcolm was sitting at his desk, again, as the day began to end. He had the homework graded, the journal updated, and he was making adjustments to his lesson plans. Professor Vector's lessons on teaching did not improve his workload but it gave him a framework. He had to admit that organization was not one of his key skills, but he had improved over the past month. Happily, his students seemed more attentive, although he didn't know why. He almost felt he should use the word intensive. He stood up to stretch his legs, and walked over to the window.

He heard the voices first. Every sound from the hallway was amplified to give enough warning that someone was coming. Had he been at the desk, he could have shoved the papers in a drawer and made some lame excuse. But Malcolm wasn't supposed to be there. All of his work was laid out, and he was across the room taking a short break to watch the sun set.

"Come this way, Junior Inquisitors," Umbridge was saying quite clearly. Malcolm looked up to see her through the window that she had put in the door on her first day. "I can explain everything I need from you in here, without fear of anyone overhearing." She did not see him because the enchanted window showed a dark empty classroom. The knob turned and . . .

White. Everything was white. No sound but a soft tuneless hum. Nothing to see but the color white, like a light shining over everything. Nothing to feel but a soft breeze that did not seem real.

Dark. The room was dark. Malcolm turned around and looked out the window. It was nighttime. It had been nighttime for a while because the moon which was to rise early was high in the southern sky. Malcolm turned back and looked at his desk. The papers were there, undisturbed. But he had seen Umbridge entering the room. He had seen Crabbe and Goyle behind her. He heard the voices.

[This is impossible.]

There was a noise beside him and he turned.

"Peeves? What did you do?"

"He did nothing," another voice said as Nearly Headless Nick floated into the room. The Grey Lady, house ghost for Ravenclaw, followed closely. "You can still feel it," she said. By one's and two's the remaining ghosts in the castle arrived, but none of them said anything to him after Nick's first remark. Malcolm called out several times, "What happened?" but none of the ghosts would answer. "Professor Binns," he called out, when the history Professor floated near, but he received no reply.

Nervous and scared, he called out, "Grandfather, help me."

Professor Binns paused, as though pulled out of a trance. "I am not your grandfather."

"You were Grandmother's Grandfather," Malcolm corrected.

"You should be more accurate."

"I was trying for polite."

"Very well. I will answer to Grandfather." The dreamy look began to return to his face.

"Grandfather, What happened?"

"It was here," he said happily. "You can still feel it." Then he floated off.

Malcolm went to his desk, the ghosts moving needlessly out of his way, and hurriedly put his papers in the drawer. He left quietly, and returned to an almost empty common room.

"Malcolm?" Amber said sleepily from the couch by the fireplace where she sat with EJ.

EJ looked over. "What happened, Malcolm? Pardon the phrase but you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I've seen all of them," Malcolm said and went to bed.

"Malcolm never does things by half-measures," EJ said, and Amber laughed into his shoulder.