A/N: I must admit that I don't understand computers at times. A few days ago, Phoenix Flight pointed out that chapter 30 did not exist. When I checked, some fifteen hours later, everything was fine. I put it down to timing, as I had only just posted the story. Then this weekend, Jungluer made the same comment about chapter 32. I initially made the same assumption, but when I checked it out, one hour after posting, I received the same message. However, my stats showed that several people had accessed the chapter already. I reloaded the chapter and then received a couple of other e-mails about problems but eventually these things worked themselves out. If there is a problem, the truth is I have no idea what it is.

As for as the previous chapter goes, I must express my own confusion. Some of you readers are confused by it and some of you claim that it cleared things up. Because I am the author all I can say is that I'm happy all of you are still reading this. Here's hoping for the best as I present the next chapter:



CHAPTER THIRTYTHREE: THEY LEFT US HERE TO CARRY ON


As Malcolm was fond of saying, chaos reigned supreme in the weeks following the Weasley Twins' departure. Malcolm would frequently travel down that corridor simply to fly past Filch while he was carrying students across in his pontoon boat. Umbridge made no pretense about teaching her classes as she was forced to run to and fro dealing with every problem.

When the Weasley's Skivving Snackboxes proved immensely popular, Umbridge personally sought Madam Pomfrey's help. Thanks to a timely word from a friendly owl she was able to righteously complain that Umbridge had already used up all of her supplies, and she could make no more potions until well after the end of term.

Malcolm's favorite story was about two of the first years. It was whispered that three members of the Inquisitorial Squad had confronted one of the first years and decided to ask him a few question, when another First Year appeared out of nowhere, and surprised them. Professor Flitwick appeared on the scene moments later, attracted by the shouting. It seems that both of first years cast different spells at the same Inquisitor, with interesting results.

No names were mentioned but one of the Sytherin chasers ended up in the infirmary looking like a human corn flake.

*

"What is it, Mrs. Norris?" Malcolm asked as the cat, clearly frightened, jumped into his arms."

"Malcolm," Peeves said happily. "You've caught her for me."

"Wait. No," Malcolm said as he understood. "You're not putting her in a suit of armor again."

"I have to," Peeves insisted. "I promised the Weasley Twins."

"You're just using that as an excuse."

"It's a wonderful excuse. The cat, please."

"No, she hates being trapped in a suit of armor."

Peeves smiled. "We can compromise."

*

"May I sit here," Anthony asked.

"Sure," Neville said, making room for him.

"Thanks. I'm not popular here anymore, but my headmaster made me come anyway."

"A clever punishment," Neville said. "What did you do wrong?"

"I was brutally honest about the Keeper's skill at the last game. I should have been more tactful."

"I know that. What did you do at your school that they made you come?"

"I told someone that Reese was my friend. You know, Malcolm's brother."

Neville grinned broadly. "I have the honor of being the first student at Hogwarts to meet Reese. I have never met or heard of a friend of his. Did you try apologizing?"

"I even tried begging. They still made me come."

Neville ignored the statement. "To the first years. They're the ones you insulted."

"Oh, them. No. They don't want to talk to me. And what could I say? Excuse me, I acted like a jerk because I don't have any friends, because . . ." Anthony stopped, his face white. "I - I didn't mean that. It slipped out."

Neville acted as casually as he could. "Of course you have friends. You said Reese was your friend. And I know that Ginny was being rough on you the last time you were here. That's why you were in a bad mood. I still consider us to be friends."

"Yeah," Euan said from behind them. "And our team did lose because of her brother's winning skills as a Keeper."

"They're almost as good as his winning personality," Matt added, "but why would you take the word of a bunch of midgets?"

Anthony turned around to look at the two first years. "I'm sorry for what I said."

"Not as sorry as you will be," Euan told him. "The match is starting soon and you have to cheer for Gryffindor."

*

"HELP!" Malcolm yelled.

"Malcolm?" It was Argus Filch. "Are you in that suit of armor? Is Mrs. Norris with you?"

"Yes and yes," Malcolm replied.

The visor opened and Malcolm could see light. Then he heard Filch's voice. "Pass Mrs. Norris out to me, then we can get you out of that suit of armor."

With difficulty Malcolm managed to make room for Mrs. Norris to get by his head. Argus Filch helped her out and sat her on the floor. Malcolm listened, but could not here any sound.

"Mr. Filch? Mr. Filch?

"HELP!" Malcolm yelled.

*

"This is it," Ginny said as they mounted their brooms. "Good luck, Ron."

Ron nervously took his position and the final Quidditch game with Ravenclaw began. He was telling himself to relax when suddenly Roger Davies was in front of him and throwing the quaffle. Ron made a feeble attempt but the inevitable happened anyway.

Lee Jordan announced the score and Ron turned away from the Gryffindors in shame. Unfortunately, he was now looking at the Slytherins who began to sing. In the middle of the crowd stood Dewey, his mouth closed. When their eyes met, Dewey shrugged his shoulders. Ron nodded in response. Dewey was right. It didn't matter what he did.

"Dewey's right," Ron said to nobody, a thin smile forming on his lips. "It doesn't matter. It's a only game. And I'll play any way I feel like." He saw the Ravenclaw, Bradley, approaching with the quaffle, and unconsciously smirked. Bradley suddenly threw the quaffle at a different post then the one his was aiming for. And Ron blocked it.

*

"He blocked it,"someone yelled, and the Gryffindors cheered.

Neville and Anthony both paused as they noticed the Slytherins raising their voices in an effort to make sure that the save was a fluke.

"We need our own song," Neville said resentfully.

"We have one," Anthony said.

"What do you mean?" Three voices asked him.

"We did this in club football. The other team would have a chant. We'd change the words and chant them back. It was great fun."

"How do we start?"

"I know," Euan said. "Like that line, 'He can't block a single thing.' We make it. "He can block anything."

"Let's give it a go," Neville said and drew some stares when he began to sing, "Weasley is our King / He DIDN"T let the quaffle in . . ."

Three voices joined him by the end of the first verse. Thirty joined in by the end of the second verse.

*

Ron had a chance to relax after making a quick save. That was when he noticed the singing was coming from a different direction. Then he noticed the words, and smiled. The smile never left his face as the quaffle came in his direction again. He felt exactly like the words they were singing. He felt like he could do anything.

*

"That was a good game," Dewey said.

"Your team lost," Malcolm told him.

"My friend won. That's more important." Dewey looked at Malcolm. "Are you going to do it?"

[The weird thing is I know what he's asking me about.]

"Yeah, maybe. I think I've got all the pieces. Did you see Anthony at the match?"

Dewey groaned. "I saw Reese. That was enough. He and Millicent made eyes at each other all during the game."

"Well, Anthony was there."

"Is that important?"

"I was already thinking along those lines. Seeing him reminded me of something."

"Malcolm?"

"Yeah?"

"I know generally what we're talking about, but what exactly are we talking about."

"I need to talk to someone first, Dewey. If she agrees, I'll tell you the entire plan. Until then, shut up."

*

"Are you sure about this?" Professor Vector asked.

"Yeah," Malcolm said strongly. "I've never stood up for anything before. I just don't care about Umbridge anymore. I want to do something because it's right."

"Are you sure you don't want to show off."

[Of course I do. Think of everyone's reaction if I pull this off.]

"That's always part of it," Malcolm said, "but it's like Hermione told me. It's the principle of the thing."

"Aren't you afraid of what Umbridge might do?"

"I'm sure I know what she'll do. That's why I need your help."

Professor Vector smiled at her Great-Grandson. "Then you shall have it."

*

It was on a clear sunny day in early June, Malcolm was prepared for his grand finale. He confidently walked into the Defense class and sat down as forty first years took their seats, their wands resting on their desks in easy reach.

Michael Davies was sitting in the front row, with a piece of cardboard that had a long thin line cut out of the middle of it. "It's to read with," he explained proudly to the girl next to him. "The words always jumble up on me. This way I can read them one line at a time."

Malcolm stood up and handed out the final exam and told everyone they had one hour.

"Hem. Hem. One hour for what?"

Everyone grew deadly silent while Malcolm slowly turned around.

[I been saying "In for a penny, in for a pound." This is where I find out how much money I've saved up.]

"I'm giving them a final exam. It seems you couldn't be bothered."

"This is foolish nonsense, you horrid boy. I knew I was a fool to trust you."

"That's not true," Dewey shouted from the back of the room. "You were a fool to trust me."

Dewey glared at her with as much anger as she glared at him.

Umbridge spoke quietly but clearly. "I will deal with you, later. You will regret ever crossing my path."

"I can't lipread either," Dewey said lightly. "I made up all those secret reports I gave you."

"Come here NOW," Umbridge demanded.

"No, I quit," Dewey yelled, and ran out of the room before the headmistress could react. Umbridge turned back to the other students and began walking along the front row, grabbing exam papers and tearing them up. "There will be none of this nonsense," she yelled, "I will see all of you punished. And what is THIS?" She was holding Davies's reading aid.

"It's mine. I need that," Davies cried.

Umbridge tore it to shreds. "If you are too stupid to read properly, you deserve to fail. And you will fail MY exam."

A low voice was heard behind her. "Get out of my classroom."

Umbridge turned around to see Malcolm standing at her desk, his wand drawn.

"Yeah, get out," Michael Davies shouted, and Umbridge turned back to strike him. As her hand came down, the stunning spell knocked her back against the wall.

Everyone is the class froze in place. Malcolm had cast a spell that he had taught them, but he had done it without moving or saying a word. Umbridge recovered quickly but now looked at Malcolm with a sense of fear. It was small satisfaction that she ran from the room without regard for dignity, slamming the door behind her.

"Reparo," Malcolm shouted. The simple piece of cardboard reformed itself and Malcolm returned it to it's owner. One by one, he repaired the torn test papers and returned them to the students. "You have one hour."

*

As Malcolm made the last note in his journal, he looked up. "Thank you for coming. I will try to get your grades to you as soon as possible."

The door opened, and several of the first years gasped.

"I see you have already finished," Professor Snape said casually.

"Yes Sir."

"Gather all of those papers together and come with me."

"Excuse me, Sir," Rose Zeller asked.

Snape looked at her without any kindness. "This class is clearly over. You have no cause to be here. All of you will leave. NOW." He turned toward the door. "Malcolm, you will follow me."

*

That evening, Malcolm stood defiantly in the Headmistress's makeshift office. Professor Umbridge had recovered her composer and was grinning malevolently. Behind her was an Auror from the Ministry, one Malcolm had never seen before.

"I have good news for you, young man. When you leave here you will be going home. To the United States. It seems that thoughtful friends have made the effort to rebuild your house, so that you no longer need to live on government charity. But there will be a few changes before you leave. Severus, will you get the door?"

Snape, his lip twitching, opened the door and stepped aside to let Professor McGonagall enter. The American Consul, David Winter, followed her in."

"Hi, Mr. Winter."

"Don't bother, Malcolm. I've been told what you've done. I am only here to take you home."

"I didn't feel like staying anyway."

"Hem. Hem." Professor Umbridge stood up, not that it made a difference. "Everyone here knows what you've done, Malcolm. And there can only be one recourse. Give me your wand."

"So you can break it?" Malcolm asked.

"Obviously." Her smile widened.

"Let me save you the trouble," Malcolm sneered. "I've been doing everything else for you." He pulled his wand out, snapped it in two and threw the pieces on her desk."

"That was a nice touch," David Winter said without amusement. "It's time to go."

"Not yet," Umbridge said. "There is one more thing." She gestured, and the Auror pulled out his wand and pointed it directly at Malcolm. "OBLIVATE."

The force of the spell knocked Malcolm to the ground as everyone else stared in shock.

"That was uncalled for," David Winter said tonelessly. "That constitutes an attack on an American citizen."

"Then file a complaint with the Ministry," Professor Umbridge said casually. "The Minister himself approved the decision to erase ALL memory of magic from the boy."

David Winter's look changed to one of horror. "You have REMOVED three years of memories from this boy. Do you know what that will do to someone his age. He would have been better off if you had killed him."

"Nonsense," Umbridge said. "That boy deliberately attacked a teacher, and not only a teacher but the headmistress of this school. What I have done is to remove his violent tendencies. Permanently. Take him out of here."

Professor McGonagall gave Umbridge a look of pure hatred then went to help the Consul remove Malcolm from the room.

"Severus," Umbridge asked pleasantly as they left, "what did you do with those papers that Malcolm had?"

Snape's face was a stone mask. "I disposed of them in a proper fashion. I assumed you would consider them useless."

"Thank you, Severus. It's nice to know that there is at least one teacher in this school that I can rely upon."

The Potions Professor said nothing but left the room. As he did so, Draco Malfoy came running in, but Snape did not bother waiting to find out why.

*

David Winter thanked Professor McGonagall for her help once they had reached the entrance. Malcolm was still dazed but could walk under his own power, although he showed no signs of being aware of his surroundings.

"It's horrible," McGonagall lamented. "Three years of his life ripped from his mind. Please let me know if there is anything I can do."

"Get rid of that madwoman," David said emotionlessly.

"It isn't that easy," McGonagall admitted, "but we are trying."

"I know," David admitted. "We hear things in the States, but now that I'm here . . ."

"Mr. Winter," a young voice called, and Dewey came running out of the broom closet near the Great Hall."

"Hem. Hem." Umbridge said from the top of the staircase overlooking the entrance hall. "I will take care of you, young man, after I have seen your brother leave this school."

Davis Winter drew his wand, and the Auror drew his in response.

"This boy is also in my custody as the American Consul to the Court of St. James," David Winter said clearly. "If you attack him, it is an assault upon the United States Government." He looked directly at the Auror. "Put your wand away, or I will consider your action to be an attack."

The Auror hesitated, then lowered his hand. "I give you my word that I will take no action provided you leave with your two charges."

"Agreed," David Winter said, and ushered the two boys out of the school.

"Stop them," Umbridge demanded.

The Auror shook his head. "They are in the care and protection of the American Consul. International law forbids any interference with his actions unless they directly threaten anyone. Removing two unwanted students from this school does not qualify."

Umbridge nodded, but a thought had come to mind. She should consider a good time to take care of other business. Her eyes wandered toward the doors as they hung open, and she watched the light coming from Hagrid's hut.

*

"Where are we going," Dewey asked.

"To Hogsmeade for tonight," David Winter said. "We'll catch the Hogwarts Express in the morning, but your brother needs rest more than anything else."

"Is that why you're floating him along instead of letting him walk?"

"Yes, I'm taking him directly to the Three Broomsticks. We'll stay there for the night."

"You don't want to go there," Dewey cautioned. "It's too safe."

David smiled. "I think we want someplace safe. Don't you?"

Dewey shook his head. "No, we don't. We want the Hogs Head. It's not a safe place, and everybody snoops around and tries to find out your business."

"What you're saying is ridiculous, Dewey. Why would we want to go someplace that's not safe."

"Because it won't be safe for people to follow us. Mr. Winter, if anybody comes looking for us, the people who go to the Hogs Head will know about it just because they're nosey. And anybody who looks for us tonight won't want to be seen."

"Dewey, you are officially paranoid."

"Blame Malcolm."

David led the boys past the Three Broomstick and turned down the lane to the Hogs Head Tavern.

*

Malcolm awoke in the late morning on board a train. He was in a compartment, seated with a blanket thrown over him, and a pillow behind his head. There was a strange man sitting across from him, grinning.

"The prodigal son awakens."

"Who are you?"

"David Winter. I see you do not remember me. I'm with the American government."

[Something tells me that this is not normal.]

"American? As opposed too?"

"As opposed to the British government. Right now you are on a train heading south toward London. We should arrive shortly before noon."

"Okay. I'm on a train heading toward London. Where are my parents?"

"They're at your home, waiting for you."

"Why aren't they here? After all, I'm only eleven. And what am I doing here anyway."

David Winter paused. "Your family went on a vacation, do you remember that?"

Malcolm frowned. "It seems familiar but . . . I don't really remember."

David nodded. "You've had an accident, Malcolm. And it has taken you quite some time to recover. You aren't eleven anymore."

"I'm twelve?"

"Be prepared for a shock. You are thirteen, almost fourteen."

[I hate being right.]

Dewey walked into the compartment with some pumpkin pasties. He looked at his brother without smiling. "Good morning."

"Dewey?"

[That guy was telling the truth. It has been years.]

"Dewey, why are you here?"

"What did you tell him?" Dewey asked Mr. Winter.

"He had an accident and that it was three years later from when he last remembered anything."

"Okay," Dewey said, and turned to Malcolm. "I'm here to give you comfort when you awaken to the shock of your ordeal."

"Then why are you wearing a dress?"

"These are ROBES," Dewey answered angrily.

"They make you look like a girl," Malcolm answered snidely.

"At least he's normal," Dewey muttered.

"Hey, Dewey."

"Shut up, Malcolm," Dewey said angrily. "You're in a lot of trouble, and you don't know it." He shoved a pumpkin pasty at him. "Eat this. You're probably hungry."

Malcolm ate the pasty, and two more after that, staring curious at his younger brother but saying nothing. He then made things easier on everyone by falling asleep again.

*

"Can you walk," David Winter asked as he helped Malcolm to his feet.

"Yeah, but I feel strange."

"It's probably because you're taller than you remember. Don't try to walk fast. Concentrate on walking steadily.

[This is weird. My whole body feels the wrong size.]

Dewey, now in ordinary clothes, led the way from the train, and into Kings Cross Station proper, but Malcolm refused to keep his mouth shut.

"OH MY GOD. We just walked through a wall."

"No we didn't," David Winter said calmly.

"Yes we did," Malcolm insisted loudly. "We just came out of that wall right there."

"What's all this," a porter demanded. "What's the boy yelling about?"

"He's seeing things again," Dewey said in an annoyed voice.

"Seeing things?"

"We just walked through a solid wall," Malcolm claimed hysterically.

"The boy has just recovered from a long illness," David Winter explained. "He still suffers from delusions, but the doctor says they should soon pass."

"Well, keep his quiet, then. He's scaring the healthy passengers." The porter watched them walk off. Out of curiosity, he patted the wall the boy pointed at to see if it was solid, then felt like a fool for doing so.

"I'm having delusions?" Malcolm asked. "Do you mean I'm seeing things that aren't there?"

"Of course you are, Malcolm," David assured him, "but it will pass. You will be back to normal in no time."

"This part is real, though? This is a train station?"

"Yes, it is and we are leaving. There is a car waiting for us. You do remember cars?"

[That was uncalled for. I mean, if he knew me that would be one thing.]

David walked Malcolm and Dewey from the Station and to the waiting limousine. "Take us to the airport, Ronnie," he said loudly and ushered the boys into the back seat. The driver nodded. As she pulled away, Dewey watched intently out the back window through a strange looking pair of binoculars until the station was out of sight.

"He believed you," Dewey said. "He's not following. He went back into the station."

David let out a sigh of relief.

"Wait a minute," Malcolm said. "Who believed what? What's going on?"

"You have a great many friends, Malcolm, and a fair number of enemies. It seems that your accident has stirred a small hornets nest. We were being followed by either a ministry agent who is loyal to a fault, or an antagonist who wanted to confirm that you are no longer useful. It doesn't matter which."

"An antagonist?"

"I'll explain when I have the chance, Malcolm. I happen to be busy. Dewey, we need the directions."

Dewey leaned forward as the chauffeur looked in the rear view mirror at him. "Ronnie, I think it's your third light you need to turn."

Ronnie gave her best smile. "Yes, Sir. Happy to help." She turned to David. "I don't get to play spy too often in my job."

"How many times have you done something like this?"

"This is my first."

"Glad we could be of service," David answered.

*

"We're close," Dewey said.

"Pull over. We should walk the rest of the way." David ordered, and Ronnie complied. He ushered the boys out of the limousine but before he closed the door, he said, "Remember, you drove straight to the airport. It was very boring. No one said a thing for the entire trip."

Ronnie laughed. "I'll tell them everything went normal. If I say to much, they'll ask questions."

As Ronnie drove away, Malcolm glared at David.

"Okay, Mister. I demand to know what's going on. What are you trying to do to me?"

"Nothing," David insisted. "I have Dewey here. Why would you think I was trying to do anything?"

"Because Dewey's here," Malcolm said. "If you were really from the American government you wouldn't have me dropped off in some lowlife section of town, especially if we really are in London."

David raised his head and looked up. He let out a sigh and looked back at Malcolm. "Do you want to know the truth?" Malcolm nodded. "We are going to a house of an old friend of yours that you have never met. We don't know where it is, but we're hoping to run into someone who does know. And if we don't find it, anything I tell you will not matter."

[I don't understand what he said, but his tone says he's scared. And look at Dewey. He keeps jumping at every small noise. And I don't think it has anything to do with the fact that I'm three years older than I was yesterday.]

"Lead on," Malcolm said nonchalantly.

"Dewey?" David said, and the eleven year old led the way to Grimmauld Place.

*

"Cryptic is good," Tonks said as she received the message. "What's all this mean?"

Kingsley smiled grimly. "It means something has happened, and I'm too busy."

"And all I need do is nick around to the hideout and see who shows up?"

"You now know as much as I do."

"I'm gone," Tonks said as she grabbed her broom. Ten minutes later she was covered by an invisibility spell and flying over the secret headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. She spotted two familiar children with an unfamiliar man, and landed in front of them, tripping as she made herself visible. "Wotcher, Malcolm."

"Watch yourself," Malcolm yelled in surprise as his stepped backward and tripped as well.

"Are you making fun of me?" Tonks asked as she stood up.

Dewey gave a sigh this time. "Malcolm, this is Tonks. Tonks, Malcolm doesn't remember you."

Malcolm picked himself off the ground. "And I don't think I want to. Where did you come from?"

David Winter gave a brief explanation and Tonks nodded. "That's what I like. An answer that doesn't tell you anything. Why are you here?"

David smiled. "We need a fireplace that isn't being watched, and a place to hide for a few hours."

"I'll let them yell at me later," Tonks said. "Dewey knows the drill. All of you hold hands and close your eyes. I'll lead the way."

"No," Malcolm said. "This is too stupid. I'm in a run down neighborhood, and now some bubblegum princess wants me to close my eyes. I want to know what the big surprise is going to be."

"Malcolm," Dewey said angrily, "you have to do this. If you don't, you'll ruin the plan."

"What are you talking about, you little runt?"

[He's not really that little anymore.]

"I can't tell you. Not out here."

"Why? Is this one of YOUR stupid plans?"

"No," Dewey hissed. "It's one of YOURS."