A/N: I wanted to respond to Shadowed Rains's review. Ron hates spiders because, when he was three, Fred and George changed his pet teddy bear into one. While he was holding it. The significance of this is that Ron does not want to even be near Lee Jordan's tarantula. I apologize but there is no special meaning.

I would also like to give a belated thanks to Saturn's Hikari who's review I somehow missed. She compared my writing style (favorably) to one of my favorite writers, Terry Prachett. I have every discworld novel he wrote, unless he just came out with a new one.

I would also like to repeat my usual thank you to everyone else who has read this, and especially to those who have reviewed. In closing, I hope all of you enjoy this next chapter.

Chapter Seven: The Hogwarts Express

Okay, this is the story. Ron and I have spent the last two hours talking about Quidditch, magic and anything else we could think of. Now we're bored. Either something happens or we eat the corned beef sandwiches his mom gave us, just for something to do.

"Excuse me," a round-faced boy said as he opened the compartment door. "Have you seen a toad? I've lost Trevor."

Let me clarify what I mean by something happening. It does not include lost frogs.

"Haven't seen one," Ron answered.

"If you do," the boy said, "could you let me know. My name's Neville."

"No problem," Malcolm nodded. "Return one lost frog to Neville."

"A toad."

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. "What's the difference?"

Neville paused. "I'm not sure. I think it has to do with size?"

"I think he's right," Ron admitted.

"Fine. Neville, if we see anything that hops, we'll let you know."

"Thanks," Neville said as he closed the door.

"That was exciting," Malcolm commented. He nodded to Ron's rat which was fast asleep. "Almost as exciting as Scabbers."

Ron sighed. "That's the problem with being the youngest brother. Everything is a hand-me-down. Dad's wand, George's robes (only because you have Fred's) and Percy's pet."

The compartment door opened again. "Food cart, dears. Do you want anything?"

"Yes," Malcolm said as he walked up to the cart. He looked for a Hershey bar but saw candies he had never heard of. "Ron, What's good."

"It doesn't matter. I don't have any money."

"I've got some," Malcolm said and reached into his pocket. "What can I get for this?"

"How much are the Chocolate Frogs?" Ron asked as he looked at the coins in Malcolm's hand.

The Cart Lady smiled. "If you have one more Knut, you can get two."

Malcolm shrugged. "I'll take one, and what can I get for the rest of the money?"

"To be honest, dear," the Cart Lady said with a sad smile, then gave a smirk when Malcolm held up an American quarter. "Fair enough." She handed each of them a Chocolate Frog and pocketed Malcolm's money.

"These aren't real frogs?" Malcolm asked.

"Course not," Ron said as he bit into his frog. "Besides," he added with surprising clarity in view of the fact that his mouth was filled with chocolate, "it's the cards you want. I've got all of them except Ptolemy and Agrippa. Dang, I've got Circe. I've already got a half dozen of her."

He learned the Dang from me.

"Hey. I've got Dumbledore." Malcolm waved at the figure on the card who smiled and waved back. He then read the back of the card about the twelve uses of dragons blood and Nicholas Flamel. "Ron, what's a Mugwump, in the world of magic? My letter said that he was a Supreme Mugwump."

"I don't know but it must be important if Dumbledore's one." Ron was curious. "Why did you ask 'in the world of magic'?"

"It's an American word, that's all. From 19th Century Politics. A mugwump is someone who tries to be on both sides of an issue. He's a fence straddler." At Ron's confused look, he added. "He sits on the fence with his mug on one side and his wump on the other."

Ron caught the joke and laughed. "It can't be that. Dumbledore is too important. He would never be a part of the group if it was something silly."

Malcolm nodded. He turned the card over and noticed that Dumbledore was gone. "He'll be back," Ron assured him as he put the card away.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." A bossy girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth was standing at the compartment door.

"Still haven't," Malcolm said.

"Are you the ones?" the girl asked.

"The ones what?"

"Who don't know the difference between a toad and a frog."

"No. We're the ones who don't care."

"Anyway, toads have rough skin and frogs have smooth skin. Now you know."

"We still don't care," Ron added, getting a frown from the girl in return.

"Fine. I hope you enjoy being ignorant." She began to close the door.

"HEY," Malcolm yelled and the girl paused. "If you're so smart, what's a Mugwump."

"It's an American term for a . . . Are you American?"

"No, and we know about the American term. What does it mean in the world of magic?"

Hermione paused as though she was thinking, then walked into the compartment and sat across from Malcolm. "You talk like an American. Why is that?"

"I'll keep looking," Neville said inconspicuously and walked away.

"It confuses people. Do you know what a Mugwump is?"

"It's a debating group. Wizards and Witches meet and arbitrarily pick sides of an issue and argue for an hour. Then they switch sides and argue for another hour. And you aren't confusing anyone. You're only being contrary . . ."

"Malcolm."

" . . . Malcolm. I'm Hermione Granger. It's clearly not a false accent because you've made no effort to change it. And . . . what is that?"

"That's Scabber's. My rat. Pathetic, isn't he. I'm Ron Weasley."

"A pleasure," Hermione said in an offhand way. "Malcolm, how is it you are going to Hogwarts if you are an American."

"Uncle Albus insisted on it."

Heck, it's a lot more fun than the truth.

"Albus Dumbledore? How can he be your uncle? He's 150 years old."

"He's my Great Great Great Grand Uncle. He said he would enjoy having family around."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Then why is Ron laughing into his hand."

"He knows you don't believe me."

Hermione scowled as Malcolm laughed and unconsciously brushed the hair briefly from his forehead. Then her eyes lit up. "I KNOW who you are. I've read all about you. You're Harry . . ."

"No, I'm not. MY NAME IS MALCOLM."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said in surprise at the outburst. "I thought . . ."

"His parents changed his name when he was adopted." Ron offered.

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled." Malcolm tried to explain. "I have an uncle who has that . . . other name, and he's a real jerk. There's this kid, Harry Muniz, he met my uncle, and immediately demanded his name be changed to Frankie. I swear it's a true story."

Hermione was enthralled. "But aren't you supposed to . . ."

"Hair dye and contact lenses."

"Excuse me?"

"You wanted to know why my hair isn't black and why I don't wear glasses."

"No. I didn't know you were supposed to have black hair. Why do you use hair dye?"

"I don't."

Hermione smiled. "It must be because you grew up in America. You haven't made any sense at all." She stood up. "I should help Neville. At least I understand him." And she left.

As the door closed, Ron applauded. "That was bloody brilliant. You had her running in circles."

"I like the way she sat down like she owned the place," Malcolm said with false conviction.

The door opened again, and three boys looked inside. They did not look friendly.

"This was useless," the blond boy said. "Obviously the wrong compartment." He paused, then smirked, "Wait, I know you. Bright red hair and hand me down clothes. You must be a Weasley." With the disdain clear on his face, the boy turned to Malcolm. "You must be a cousin. Your hair is all wrong but your clothes are the same quality." He turned to his friends and added, "These two are pathetic."

"Those two?" Malcolm asked. "But they came with you. You must hate everybody." He said to the two taller boys. "Guys, I wouldn't take that from him if I were you."

The blond boy turned around in horror. "You're an American? How low has this school sunk that they would let one of you in?" His shock turned into a grin as he reached inside his robes. "Let's find out."

Malcolm jumped up and hit the boy. Ron jumped up and hit him again for good measure. Then they braced themselves for King and Kong to get past the blond boy and pummel them into the ground. At that point, one of them, possibly Kong, started screaming. A rat had jumped off the seat and bit his hand, and was holding on to it with its teeth. Scabbers Was Awake.

The boy with the rat screamed and shook his hand violently about, hitting both King and the blond boy in the process, until the rat went flying from his hand and hit the window. The rat slid down the glass and landed on the floor. The three boys, unsure of what they were dealing with, beat a hasty retreat. And Ron and Malcolm let out a shout of relief. Then, Ron reached down and gingerly picked up the limp body of his pet.

"I don't believe it?"

"Is he dead?"

"No," the disgusted voice replied. "He's asleep."

"I heard a scream?" Hermione was at the door again.

"Really?" Malcolm asked. "It wasn't from here. We were talking quietly until you opened the door to our compartment."

"The door was open when I arrived," Hermione said smugly.

"No, it wasn't," Ron added, taking his cue. "We watched you open it. You're acting barmy, you know."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, and turned to leave. She turned back and said to Ron, "Do you know? You have a smudge on your nose. Right there." When Ron scowled and rubbed his nose she smiled. "Besides, we're almost there. You'd best get ready."

"I think she hates us," Ron said as she left.

"Really? And I was on my best behavior."

# For those of you who are not familiar with Malcolm In The Middle, Frankie Muniz is the actor who plays Malcolm.