Chapter Five: To Diagon Alley

Malcolm stared in disbelief. "Are you telling me that the best thing about my life is that my hair is brown?"

"Malcolm," Fred grinned widely. "Everyone knows about the Boy-Who-Lived but no one, except us, knows that's who you are. You can live a normal life without everyone bothering you."

"What about Hagrid?" Malcolm asked. "He knows about me. He's the one who told me my mom and dad were telling the truth. And he gave me my letter."

Fred and George shrugged. "Sorry, Malcolm. We guess you are doomed."

"I'm back," Arthur Weasley said after he reappeared. "It was rather easy."

I know this sounds stupid but I have to ask this question.

"Mister Weasley. Where do I live?"

"You live at Home, Malcolm. It seems that the floo network wasn't set up properly. Your parents gave their home the name Home by mistake. On an interesting note, a five-year-old boy became angry at his friend and tried to use the network to return home and . . ."

". . . and he ended up at my house?"

"Exactly. Normally he would have received some minor burns and learned his lesson, but that's beside the point."

"So all I have to do is to say Home and I can go home?"

"Not exactly," Mister Weasley said. "Your fireplace was connected for one trip and one return only."

"That's not a problem," Mrs. Weasley said. "Malcolm can stay here until they fix things."

"Um," Malcolm asked. "How long is that going to take?"

"This is Friday, and we are heading into the weekend," Mr. Weasley pointed out. "It will probably be taken care of the first thing Monday morning."

"You mean I'm stuck here all weekend?" Malcolm asked angrily.

Hey, I'm stuck in a house full of wizards for the entire weekend. A house full of MAGIC.

"This is so cool," Malcolm said appreciatively.

"Won't," the five-year-old boy said.

"Fine," Lois responded, "Then you can starve if you want to. This is what we're eating, so tough it or tough luck."

The boy looked at the plate in front of him and frowned. Nothing was working with this woman. He tried crying, throwing a tantrum and throwing things. That lasted only a second because the older boy came up and offered him a knuckle sandwich. As a last resort the boy tried stubbornness. Giving up in defeat, he began to eat his supper.

"And when you're done, you can take a bath," Lois said. "You're so dirty I'd swear you were one of my own kids."

The boy looked up in shock. This was too much. He was supposed to be spoiled. He was supposed to be able to do whatever he wanted. He looked Lois in the eye, determined to make his position known. "Yes, Ma'am," he said weakly. The smile she gave him was too much to fight against.

"Dewey," Hal suggested, "Why don't you let, uh, him use some of your special soap. I'm sure he'd like a bubble bath."

"No," Dewey said. "It's bad enough Reese uses it without asking."

"I don't," Reese insisted in a horrified voice. "I would never stoop to anything so childish." He looked at Dewey. "And you weren't supposed to tell."

Hal shrugged as he cut a piece of meatloaf. "Your secret's safe with me." He paused to chew then asked, "Honey, what is his name, anyway."

"Don't know," Lois said between bites. "I never asked." She turned to the boy. "And only use one capful. I'm tired of soap bubbles all over the floor."

The boy nodded.

"Just a few more minutes," Mrs. Weasley said as Malcolm stood on the stool with his arms spread out. She continued to make marks where the hems and cuffs should be while the young boy prayed for salvation.

Let me be honest. This is a lot better than if I was home. At least there's no jelly in the pockets. And I did find this toffee. I'll save it for later.

"There you are," Molly Weasley said two hours later. "Now you have all your school robes. Isn't that wonderful, Malcolm?"

"That's great, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks a lot."

Yeah, I love having my morning wasted.

"Ron," Mrs., Weasley called out cheerfully. "I'm ready for you."

"Aw, Mom," Ron complained. "We were about to play some Quidditch." Ron completed his statement by putting his broom down climbing on the stool that Malcolm had vacated.

"Malcolm," Fred asked, as he came down the stairs, "would you like to take Ron's place?"

Malcolm looked at Ron, who gave him a trapped look, and turned back to face the twins.

"Sure. What are you doing?"

"Grab Ron's broom and we'll show you."

Great. Now I'm stuck helping them do their house chores.

"Sorry, boys," Arthur Weasley said as he came out of the kitchen. "I have to take Malcolm to Diagon Alley. He still has to get his wand."

Thank you, God. No work for me.

"Thanks, Mister Weasley," Malcolm said after Percy and the twins left the house.

Arthur gave him a curious look. "I take it you don't like Quidditch."

"I don't like any kind of work," Malcolm answered honestly.

Arthur chuckled. "Malcolm, Quidditch isn't work. It's a Wizard Sport."

Malcolm gave him a confused look. "Then what are the brooms for?"

"How else are you going to fly?" Arthur laughed.

Malcolm looked longingly out the back door, then turned back to Arthur who was holding out a ladle. "What's this?" he asked curiously as he went to take it.

"Just hold on for a second, Malcolm," Arthur explained as he looked at his watch. "Three, Two, One."

And Malcolm said, "AAAHHHH."

"What the heck was that?" Malcolm asked when the world stopped spinning. "I felt like someone was trying to punch my belly button by going through my back."

"It was only a portkey," Arthur explained. "You don't have to be so dramatic about it. Really, Malcolm, you have no sense of proportion." He opened the door to Ollivander's Wand Shop and ushered Malcolm inside. Malcolm looked around the small room he was in, with a lone chair in the middle and shelves filled with small boxes lining the walls. A small bell rang somewhere in the back of the store and an old man appeared, his silver eyes lighting up when he saw his customers.

"It was only a matter of time until you showed your face, Malcolm."

"You know who I am?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Hagrid saw fit to inform me of your change of name, and change of features. Your face is still your father's, though your eyes are from your mother."

Malcolm was surprised. "You knew my parents?"

Ollivander smiled. "I first met them when they were your age. Your father favored a mahogany wand, which is good for transfiguration. Your mother had a gift for charms and she chose a wand of Willow, nice and swishy. Of course the wand chooses the wizard, young Malcolm. And you are here to find out which wand will choose you."

Malcolm watched as Ollivander snapped his fingers and a measuring tape began to measure various parts of his body. Arm Length. Distance between ears. Length of fingers. When the tape went to measure the width of his nostrils, Malcolm had enough and grabbed the tape, and tried to throw it away. By the time Ollivander returned, the tape had wrapped itself around Malcolm's hand and was measuring the distance between his knuckles just to spite him.

Ollivander snapped his fingers and the tape flew away out of Malcolm's reach. "It does tend to get over zealous," he apologized as he handed Malcolm a wand. "Here. Maple, Twelve Inches, Unicorn Hair." When Malcolm stared at it, he added, "Give it a wave."

Malcolm waved the wand and was surprised when green sparks flew out of the tip.

"No, that won't do," Ollivander said as he took the wand and gave Malcolm another. Malcolm waved it with similar results. The third wand did no better. By the twenty-seventh wand, Arthur had already excused himself. He needed to stop by the bank and would be back before Malcolm was finished. The remark did not give Malcolm confidence.

"I wonder," Ollivander said at one point, after wand forty three, and went into the back room. He came back with a dusty black box, and opened it, handing the wand to Malcolm. "Try this one. Holly and Phoenix Feather. A supple wand."

"It feels different," Malcolm said as he took the wand. He waved it and was surprised to see a stream of red and gold stars come from the tip of the wand. "That was great."

Ollivander was not smiling. "And with that wand you will do great things, Malcolm."

"How do you know that?"

Ollivander pointed to Malcolm's scar. "Because of that. The phoenix whose feather resides in your wand gave only one other. Its brother resides in the wand that gave you that scar. That man, whose name we do not speak, did many great things. They were Terrible, but they were Great."

"Thank you for creeping me out," Malcolm said.

Ollivander smiled, which for some reason did not improve Malcolm's mood. "I thought it was something you should know. Should I put the wand back in its box, or will you carry it with you?"

"Box," Malcolm said quickly, and Ollivander put it away, giving the box back to Malcolm. "Um, Mr. Ollivander, How do I pay for this?"

"We wait for Arthur Weasley to return," Ollivander said, and began to put away the wands that had been pulled out.

After fifteen minutes a popping noise was heard, and Mr. Weasley returned. "Sorry about the delay," He said, "Went to Gringotts and found out Hagrid had left me the wrong key. Straightened it out soon enough. It was a set withdrawal anyway. Which is a pity. I do love riding those cars to the vaults." He handed over eight large gold coins to Ollivander, who handed a few smaller silver and bronze ones back.

As they left the shop, Malcolm asked about Gringotts.

"Oh, you mean a set withdrawal? That is when your parents make arrangements for a specific amount to be withdrawn. The idea is to prevent you from helping yourself, not that you're that type of person."

Yeah, I never do things like that.

"What about the cars? Why are they so great?"

Arthur grinned. "I don't mean automobiles or anything like that. It's only two benches attached to a frame with four steel wheels which sit on the rails. I love the way they whiz around the corners at high speed, and drop down the steep declines as though there's no bottom. I suppose it's still the little boy in me." Arthur emphasized the speed and the twisting of the tracks so well that Malcolm actually started to turn green. He ended his explanation with a question. "Would you like some Ice Cream before we return?"

Between the description of Gringotts and the memory of the portkey, Malcolm had no problem saying no. Arthur Weasley smiled and said he understood, that the excitement was too much. He then held out the portkey and Malcolm hesitated. He finally grabbed hold and discovered that knowing what was going to happen did not make him feel any better.

"Are you ready?" George asked as he showed Malcolm the broom. They had spirited him and Ron away before Molly Weasley could think of something else she needed the two boys for.

Malcolm looked nervously at the broom. Every other method of transportation he had tried involved scaring him to death. Now two boys Reese's age were trying to convince him that flying on a broom was fun. Malcolm nodded and listened to the instructions that Fred gave him, then Percy repeated. ("For good measure," he explained.)

"I'm ready," Malcolm said, and mounted the broom. He kicked off the way he was shown and leaned forward.

This is great. This is how I should travel. I wonder how fast I can go.

Malcolm tried to fly as fast as he could until he realized that he was too near the enclosing hedge. He did a quick reverse and headed back to where the Weasleys were watching him.

"That was great," Malcolm said, his face flushed. "How did I do?"

"Pretty good," Fred said noncommitally.

"For your first time," George added casually.

"Don't listen to them," Ron said, enthusiastically. "You were bloody brilliant. And that reverse! It was magnificent."

Percy put his arm on Malcolm's shoulder. "What Ron means is that you are obviously a natural when it comes to flying. Would you care to try your hand at a pickup game of Quidditch?"

Malcolm's eyes lit up, but he saw Ron's frown. "That means Ron can't play. Right?"

"Go ahead," Ron said, forcing a smile. "I want to see how good you really are. We'll switch off later."

Cool. Now I won't feel guilty.

For an hour, they flew around the makeshift hoop. Malcolm did not disguise the fact that he was enjoying himself. Even Ron was enjoying the scene by continually reminding himself that Malcolm had never been on a broom before. It was hard to believe just by watching him. It also helped Ron's mood that Fred and George traded off with him so that he had a chance to play as well.

"Time for dinner," Percy called, and everyone landed, for the walk back to the house.

"You were great," Ron kept repeating. Percy was saying the same thing. Fred and George, however, held back to have a private discussion. Ron couldn't help pointing out, "They play on the Quidditch team. I bet they're trying to figure out how to get you on the team as well."

"It's a waste of time," Percy told Malcolm. "First years aren't allowed to try out. And besides, you may not be put in Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?" Malcolm asked.

"It's one of the four houses at Hogwarts. The others are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. When you get to school you'll be sorted into one of the houses, and that's where you'll spend the next seven years."

"Our family always goes to Gryffindor," Ron stated. "If I don't get in, they'll disown me."

Malcolm smirked at the seriousness of the remark, but by that time they were back at the Burrow. Malcolm washed up as well as he could then sat down to eat. Mr. Weasley insisted that they sit together. Ron warned that his father was fascinated by muggles and was going to prove it.

"Malcolm," Arthur Weasley asked as he began passing the food around, "you seemed reluctant to use the portkey. I never thought to ask if you wanted to see anything at Diagon Alley."

"I did, but I realized I couldn't buy anything, so there wasn't much point in asking." Malcolm smiled to make it seem like he was serious.

"That reminds me," Arthur said, and took some coins out of his pocket. "There was some money left over. I suppose you can find a use for it." Malcolm held out his hand and Arthur handed him the coins. "That's one sickle, the silver one, and four knuts."

I have no idea how much that is, but I can bet it's not a lot.

"Um, thanks, Mr. Weasley."

"Don't mention it," Arthur said kindly. "Could you pass the potatoes? And tell me, does your family have any association with magic?"

"Only me," Malcolm said. "They knew who Hagrid was, but it was obvious it had been a long time since they saw him. I think he was the one who delivered me."

"Really? That doesn't sound right." Then Arthur smiled. "Oh, you mean to your house. I was thinking . . . Never mind."

"Dad," George interrupted. "Did you know Malcolm is a natural flyer?"

Arthur's eyes lit up. "How good is he?"

"Stop that," Molly said. "You can't plan out Malcolm's life for him."

"But Mom," Fred pointed out, "We stank last year. If we had someone like Malcolm, we could take the cup. He'd make a great Seeker."

Quidditch? They're talking about me joining the Quidditch team? But First Years never make the team?

"He won't make it on your say so," Molly said.

"You'd be best off talking to McGonagall," Arthur said. "Try and sneak Malcolm on a broom to show her how . . ."

"ARTHUR?" Molly said in a furious tone. "He hasn't even gone to the school. You don't know that he'll be put into Gryffindor." She turned to Malcolm. "Although it is the best house at Hogwarts. And I'm not saying that because it's my old house. Albus Dumbledore was in Gryffindor, too. Pass the peas, dear."

Malcolm passed the peas. "Who's Albus Dumbledore?"

"The headmaster," Arthur pointed out. "And the best we've had in a long time," he added expansively. "Not that we're trying to influence you, Malcolm."

"I know, Mister Weasley. It's just that if I don't get into Gryffindor, you'll never talk to me again."

"Yes we will," Fred replied with a grin.

With an identical grin, George added, "We just won't be polite about it."

And I bet you think they're joking.

It was Monday. Malcolm went out with Ron as early as possible and practiced flying. It was heaven. Finally, there was something about the world of magic that he actually liked. They returned to the Burrow for lunch and Malcolm noticed Mrs. Weasley with her head in the fireplace.

"Tell me that doesn't hurt."

Ron laughed. "Mum's talking to someone. I'll bet it's your mum."

Malcolm hesitated. "That means I'll be going home."

Ron smirked. "You sound like it's the end of the world."

"Ron, I hate traveling by the floo network." He paused. "I didn't care for the portkey, either. Or the Knight Bus. Could I borrow a broom and fly home?"

"To America? It would take days."

Malcolm groaned.

"It's settled," Mrs. Weasley said as she stood up. "Malcolm, I talked to your mother and she agreed to give you a choice of staying here until school starts . . ."

"YES."

That means I won't have to use that floo network again. I'll miss Mom and Dad but it's worth it. All right, I won't really miss Mom and Dad, but it's still worth it.

"That's great," Ron chimed in. He was clearly happy that his new friend would be staying.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "I'm glad you like it here, Malcolm. Now, all you have to do is return to your house and get the rest of your belongings and bring them back with you."

"What?" Malcolm shuddered at the thought of using the floo network twice in a row.

"You need your clothes," Mrs. Weasley explained. "You can't run around naked at school."

Malcolm forced himself to the fireplace as Mrs. Weasley gave him the floo powder and told him what to say. Malcolm did as he was instructed and stepped into the flames. His next word was, "AAAAHHHHH."