A/N: I must begin with an apology to Ouatic7 for my misspelling. I attribute it to the fact that most of my author's notes are written between the time I eat breakfast and the time I leave for work. I'm surprised I haven't made more mistakes.

You also asked an interesting question about Harry as Malcolm. Is he a genius? The answer is yes. This is based upon McGonagall's remark in the Prisoner of Azkaban (Chapter 10 per the HP Lexicon) that Harry's father, James, was exceptionally bright. That Malcolm would show his intelligence is more a matter of nurture instead of nature. That is the result of Malcolm being raised in a loving yet dysfunctional family as opposed to Harry in an unloving and dysfunctional family.

As to Ron and Neville. After the incident with Fluffy, even if they do know the words they will never admit it.

I would also like to thank Romantic 2 for reviewing. Your reviews do give me pause to think about what I have written. I may not improve the current story very much, as it has already been written, but criticism always provide food for thought. You are right about one thing; this story is an infringement against Harryness, but I think that's the point of the story. If you really look at what's going on you will notice that for all his amusement Malcolm is not a nice person, unless he's faking it.

To raela koira I would like to say that this story is designed to be separate from the other Malcolm/Harry stories. Also, unlike Hogwarts in the Middle, this will not be a series of stories. I would like to say that the reason will become obvious as the story unfolds but that is not the case. This story was written at the behest of several people who liked the Malcolm series and did not want to wait for book six to come out. I won't even try to write Harry's, er, Malcolm's second year. There are other things I want to do.

My thanks to everyone who has read this story and especially those who have reviewed. And a special thanks to those who have read what appears to be a long and meandering Author's note.

Chapter Eleven: Hallowe'en

"Mail's here," Hermione noted, and the owls could be seen flying into the common room.

An owl swooped down and dropped a large package on the table in front of Malcolm. Surprisingly, it missed all the plates and goblets.

Mom did it. She said yes.

"Malcolm," Ron asked with excitement, "is that what I think it is?"

"Yep," Malcolm answered proudly as he read the attached letter. "Mom agreed to let me buy a broom. She had your dad pick it up for me."

"Let's open it," Hermione added, feeling the excitement.

As the paper wrapping was torn away, Ron's eyes lit up. "That's a Nimbus Two Thousand. They're the fastest brooms around."

"Do we have time to try it out before class," Malcolm asked.

"Only if you want company," Hermione noted, and pointed toward the Slytherin table.

The Slytherins were cheering as broom-shaped packages were delivered to the Quidditch players in their house. Malcolm noted with bitterness that a package landed in front of Draco Malfoy.

"It looks like someone bought their way onto the team."

Malcolm turned at Hermione's comment. It was as though she was reading his mind.

Remember, she convinced Dumbledore it would be fair to let ALL first years try out. And I can see one Slytherin grumbling. I bet he's the one who got bumped from the team.

"Malcolm," Ron shouted in a frustrated voice. "You have to tell her. That girl is following you everywhere." He turned in disgust and looked back at the fireplace.

Malcolm, sitting next to him on the couch, sighed.

"Look, Ron, if you have any ideas, let me know. If she complains when I tell her, I'm off the team. That's the deal."

Ron looked annoyed. "She's starting to ask me why I'm hanging around you. She thinks that I'm the one in the way."

Malcolm looked incredulous. "One more week. After the first game, I'll tell Hermione the truth."

"One more week? Tonight's the Hallowe'en feast. She wants to sit with us. WITH YOU, lover boy. Why couldn't you just promise not to bother her anymore?"

"Promise not to tell," Malcolm whispered.

"Sure," Ron whispered, his curiosity showing.

"It's the way she looks at me. It's like staring at a big puppy." Malcolm shuddered.

"MALCOLM, JUST TELL HER."

"RIGHT. JUST SHOUT OUT HERMIONE I TRICKED YOU. I HAVE TO BE NICE TO YOU TO PLAY QUIDDITCH."

"You don't have to shout," a third voice said.

Malcolm and Ron looked over to see Hermione standing there, tears forming in her eyes.

"I hate you, Malcolm."

Hermione ran from the common room and out of the Gryffindor Tower.

"You're right," Ron said. "She does have puppy dog eyes."

"And now I feel bad."

Ron put a reassuring hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "At least you can be honest with her. Now that she knows."

Malcolm looked surprised. "Who cares about being honest? Once she tells McGonagall what happened, I'll be thrown of the team."

Ron scowled. "Now I feel bad, too." Then he smiled. "At least we can enjoy the Hallowe'en party."

That's why I like Ron. He always says the right thing to make me feel better.

The two Gryffindors made their way to the Great Hall in anticipation of a good time. They happily sat down and began to fill their plates.

"Where's Hermione?" Seamus asked with a grin.

"Don't know," Malcolm answered with a smile.

"Don't care," Ron answered with a bigger smile.

Neville leaned over to talk to them. "Pavarti Patil says she saw Hermione run into the girl's bathroom. She was crying."

"She's such a bore," Ron replied. "Why should we care? Right Malcolm."

Then Malcolm began to stare at his plate.

"Malcolm?"

"Ron, I can't eat." Malcolm's voice seemed shaky. "I've lost my appetite. I might be sick."

Lavender Brown snickered from where she sat next to Neville. "Maybe it's your conscience. Did you do anything lately that you shouldn't have?"

Malcolm looked at Ron, and both boys began nodding their heads. "Sure, plenty of stuff. What's that got to do with anything?"

It can't be my conscience. I got rid of that thing years ago. Here, I'll eat something to prove it.

Malcolm reached onto his plate and picked up a muffin and took a bite.

Hmm. My mouth is dry. And I can't taste anything. Dang. Now I have to go find Hermione.

"Neville, did Pavarti happen to say which bathroom Hermione went to?"

Hermione sat in one of the stalls. Her eyes were red from crying. She had to stop because she had no more tears left. That was when she heard the footsteps.

"Who's there?"

"Hermione?"

"Malcolm?" Anger rose in her voice. "You're not supposed to be in the girl's bathroom."

"I wanted to apologize."

There. That should make me feel better. Umm. Nope. I guess I should try a little harder. I hate this conscience stuff.

"Hermione, I did something stupid. I know I shouldn't have lied to you. I know it was wrong."

Yeah. That sounded believable.

Hermione opened the door to the stall and looked at Malcolm. "You tricked me into thinking you liked me, just so you could play a stupid game." Her tone of voice told Malcolm to keep quiet. "You invited me to watch you fly a broom. You let me tutor you in charms. You had me helping you with your homework. You even gave me that box of cookies that your mother sent you." Hermione's voice had been gradually rising until she was now screaming. "AND NOW EVERYTHING IS FINE BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU WERE SORRY."

"I AM SORRY," Malcolm yelled back. "DO YOU THINK I WOULD DELIBERATELY WALK INTO THE GIRL'S BATHROOM FOR ANY OTHER REASON?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a cruel smile.

"Well, yeah, I would. Well, would I walk in empty handed?"

This conscience thing is really getting to me. I keep feeling worse and worse. How can I get rid of this thing?

"Hermione, I would have told you before, but I didn't want to hurt you."

"And now you do?"

"No. I don't want you to be hurt by what I did."

Okay. My conscience is getting to me, so since I can't get rid of the guilt I'll just build on it.

Hermione fumed. "YOU DON'T WANT ME TO BE HURT BECAUSE YOU LIED TO ME? BECAUSE YOU LED ME ON? BECAUSE YOU MADE ME A LAUGHING STOCK TO EVERYONE? I HATE YOU, MALCOLM."

"YEAH, WELL I HATE YOU, TOO. I TRIED TO FIND A WAY TO TELL YOU I DIDN'T LIKE YOU, BUT I KNEW YOU'D ACT LIKE THIS."

"AURGHH."

"DON'T GROWL AT ME, MALCOLM."

"I DON'T GROWL."

"AURGHH."

Both Malcolm and Hermione turned their heads to the entrance. Hermione immediately screamed and closed the stall door behind her. Malcolm simply stared.

And the troll said, "AURGHH."

"Stand back, fell beast," Malcolm said dramatically as he drew his wand.

"YAAAH-Umph," Malcolm said shortly afterward as he jumped out of the way of the troll's club.

"MALCOLM?" Hermione yelled in concern as she saw the boy she despised a moment before dive underneath the row of sinks. From her position on the floor she had a clear view of Malcolm and the troll's feet. The feet turned toward her. This time, she yelled in fear as she tried to crawl away from the troll's club. "MALCOLM?"

Malcolm looked up as the club narrowly missed Hermione. In an act of bravado, he charged the troll, literally running up the club, his wand out. The troll lifted its club, sending Malcolm flying toward its head. Malcolm hit the troll's nose and bounced off, landing hard on the floor. Looking up, he saw the troll looking at him in surprise. He also saw his wand sticking in one of its nostrils. Both troll and boy turned when they heard the noise.

"Ron?" Malcolm asked painfully when he saw his friend standing in the doorway.

"Um, I came to warm you about . . ." He pointed at you know what.

"Oh, thanks," Malcolm said gratefully, as though Ron's telling him actually made things better.

"MALCOLM!!!"

Hermione's voice distracted Malcolm. He looked over and she was looking above him. He looked up and saw the troll looking down at him. Then he saw the club start to descend.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Ron called out.

The club floated out of the troll's hand and over its head. The troll looked up just as the club dropped on its head with a sickening thud. The club fell next to Malcolm, missing him by two feet. Above him, the troll swayed, then fell backwards into what remained of the stalls.

"Is it dead?" Hermione asked.

"I wish," Malcolm said. "Let's get out of here and tell a teacher."

"Don't bother," Professor Snape said. He stood in the doorway behind Ron, with Professor McGonagall and Professor Quirrell.

"What happened?" McGonagall demanded.

"It was my fault, Professor," Hermione said humbly as she stood up. "I was trying to capture the troll by myself"

"That's not true," Malcolm said suddenly. "It's my fault. I lied to Hermione. She found out and ran away, right into the troll. I had to run after her."

All three Professors turned to look at Ron.

"All I did was save them from the troll. I don't even know what they were doing in the girls' bathroom."

McGonagall turned to Malcolm. "Young man . . ."

"It is my fault." Malcolm began to cry. "I never told her I didn't like her. Even when I gave her the cookies my mom made. And then she found out and I feel terrible. I tried apologizing and being honest and everything but I keep feeling worse."

"Young man," McGonagall said with more force as she leaned down and put a hand on his forehead. "Of course you feel terrible. You're burning with fever. We'll take you to Madam Pomfrey at once."

Professor Quirrell looked at Hermione as McGonagall helped Malcolm to his feet. "D-Did he really follow y-you in here to t-tell you that he d-didn't like you?"

"He's American," Hermione explained. "I think he was trying to be nice."

And that was it. I didn't have a bad conscience at all. Madam Pomfrey even said that as far as she could tell I didn't have any kind of conscience. It turns out the bad feeling, the dry mouth, the tasteless food, all of it was some bug I picked up. It should be gone in twenty-four hours.

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked.

"I can taste things now," Malcolm admitted as he lay in the bed.

"You scared us," Ron admitted. "Especially when you suddenly went white."

"And you're not my boyfriend anymore," Hermione told Malcolm.

"Just friends, now," Ron clarified. And all three friends smiled.