Disclaimer – JKR owns the world and all the characters from the books. I'm just building a few castles in her sandbox.

Chapter 3

The rest of the shopping was done with less drama. The apothecary was more than middling odd, and smelled like the devil's rubbish bin. Malcolm's nose was watering and he was working on a thumping good headache before he'd been able to purchase a used cauldron and potion tools. He was also able to find some used robes at Madame Malkin's that weren't too shabby. At least black didn't show wear that easily. The admission letter mentioned being able to bring a pet, but he didn't have any place to keep it before the term started, so he decided not to get one.

Malcolm was being very cautious with the contents of the pouch Dumbledore had given him. This was supposed to cover his needs for the term, so it made sense to conserve his resources. He did splurge a tiny bit on the dragonhide gloves. He got a good sturdy pair with metal fittings on the back and knuckles. If he needed protective gloves, he didn't want to take any chances.

The last big purchase was his textbooks. Flourish and Blotts fortunately had a large used book section, half of the books by some bloke named Lockhart. Malcolm went through this with care, and found some heavily discounted copies of most of his required books that at least had sound bindings. The headmaster looked questioningly at the damaged covers, but Malcolm caught his eye.

"Can I trade some of these coins for pounds? I mean, muggle money?"

"That can be done at Gringott's. Is there something you wanted to buy?"

"Yeah, if I can get a pick up a couple of rolls of duct tape from a hardware store, I can patch up the covers on these. Not to mention it might be a good idea if people at the Center couldn't read the titles."

The old man blinked. "You could just keep them in your trunk until you leave," he said carefully.

"No way," Malcolm said firmly. "I'm behind enough as it is. I only have a month to revise before start of term."

The old man nodded, and his eyes seemed to be twinkling faster. "I think that can be arranged, Mister Smith." He is clever as well as resourceful. I will need to keep an eye on this one.

Once he'd double-checked his list to make sure he had everything, the old man lead him to Gringott's, which was evidently a bank of some sort. Unlike any bank Malcolm had ever seen, this one was staffed by gnarled-looking humanoids that were even shorter than he was. It took all his experience living in an embassy compound to keep from staring and embarrassing himself. As they eventually reached the front of the line, the Headmaster hung back, letting Malcolm initiate the conversation. The boy had a feeling he was still being tested in some way.

The 'teller' eyed him for a moment before Malcolm cleared his throat. "Er, hello. I was wondering what the exchange rate on, um, galleons, is it? Yes, galleons to pounds."

The creature consulted a parchment fixed to the counter at his elbow. "That will be seven and three-quarter pounds per galleon."

Malcolm blinked as he reached into his shrinking money-pouch. That was a lot of money per galleon. He swallowed as he got a better idea of what the items he'd purchased today had cost. I'm definitely glad I went for the used books!

Fortunately, his guide did not object to a short detour into muggle London. While he was at the hardware store, Dumbledore peered at the rack of different-sized screws with curious delight. Malcolm shook his head and also picked up a sturdy padlock for his footlocker as well. There wasn't a lot of privacy where he was staying right then, and he could tell from what the old man said that the Wizards valued their secrecy. The knowing smile the old man aimed at him at the register confirmed this.

Malcolm had been stewing just that morning, wondering what the hell he was going to do next. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his chances at Hogwarts.

He also picked up a simple sewing kit to patch up his robes. He resolved to look for magic that could do the same thing. His mother had been gone for as long as he could remember, so he'd learned to do simple repairs for himself. It didn't mean he liked to do it.

The sun was low in the sky when the Headmaster returned him to the Placement Center.

Malcolm swallowed. "I appreciate you taking the time to show me around today."

The old man waved his hand. "Tosh, I have little to occupy my days during the summer breaks. The staff and I trade off on these little errands as they present themselves. Now," he said, abruptly changing the topic of conversation, "the paperwork should be arranged for you to join us on the first of September. You will also receive a letter with your ticket. I trust you will retain sufficient funds to arrange transportation to the Kings crossing station?"

Malcolm nodded. He couldn't recall ever having that many pounds in his pocket before. What were these people playing at, if they gave every scholarship student a bag of money and told them to have at it? It's a wonder they didn't have half of them blow the money before they spent a knut on books. Maybe that was part of the test? The nasty, suspicious, and usually correct part of his mind mused. He narrowed his eyes at the old man, "I'm sure I will manage to hold onto the money I was so graciously given."

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Smith. I look forward to seeing you on the first."

Actually, the headmaster saw him again a bit sooner than he expected.

A message from the ministry arrived via owl to his office on the third weekend in August. He frowned as he unrolled the parchment.

The Office of Improper Use of Magic had detected a surge at the location of a prospective Hogwarts student. At this point, the ministry was not sure whether the student in question had received his wand yet, and should therefore be subject to disciplinary action if it had been used, or whether it was simply a case of accidental magic. An inquiry was sent to Hogwarts, as they tended to tread very lightly around muggle government institutions, lest they do even more harm to the Statute of Secrecy.

Albus Dumbledore thought for a moment before writing his reply. The escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban had created no small amount of work the last two weeks. Trying to keep a talented wizard out of a place he knew as well as the back of his hand was a difficult, if not impossible task. Some of the measures the Ministry wanted to take were personally unacceptable, but he had little choice if the fugitive was not captured soon.

On the other hand, the wards were recalibrated, the grounds had been thoroughly inspected, and the staff had all been briefed. There was little to do at this point, and being cooperative with the ministry in one area could help with negotiations in others, or so he hoped.

So instead of owling them, he used his fireplace to make a floo-call directly to the Ministry. Mafalda was surprised when he offered to make a direct inquiry, but when he explained he'd worked with the muggles there earlier in the summer she was more than happy to let him take care of things. There are few things that warm a bureaucrat's heart more than someone else willing to take responsibility and clean up a mess for them.

When he arrived at the Placement Center, the muggle woman at the desk was a little surprised that he knew about the 'incident' already. Dumbledore smiled at her questions and asked if he could speak to Mr. Smith.

"He's been confined to his room while we talk to the other boys involved." She said in a low voice, obviously troubled.

"Thank you, miss…?"

"Rowling, sir. He, well, I know the director said he'd be going off to school in September. This isn't going to affect that, is it?"

"I don't know all the details, but why do you ask?"

"Well, sir, I know the other boys involved and… well, we shouldn't speak ill of any of the children here. Many have had quite a rough go of things. But the boy who got hurt, and the others, they have a bit of a reputation." She took a deep breath as her cheeks colored. "I am fairly certain that whatever happened, Malcolm didn't start it. I don't want to see this affect his chances, sir."

The old man's smile relaxed slightly. He'd hoped as much. "I'll have to make my own inquiry as to the facts of the situation," he said in a serious tone, but then continued in a lower voice, "But if you are correct, I doubt there will be any serious repercussions."

Malcolm looked up as the door opened. He was struck by déjà vu as the headmaster walked through it again. This time his stomach dropped toward his shoes.

"I don't know why they called you," he blurted out before he could think of something more intelligent to say.

"Actually, Mr. Smith, I was contacted by the Office of Improper Use of Magic. Is there something you'd like to tell me?" the Headmaster replied with a stern expression.

"What? But I didn't… I mean I didn't use any magic..." Malcolm's voice trailed off in confusion.

"Maybe, Mr. Smith, you should just tell me what happened earlier today."

"Right. Well, I came back from the showers and heard someone in my room. Not many kids in here over the summer, and I didn't have a roommate yet. So, I decided to walk up quietly and listen. I heard three voices, talking about seeing what I had hidden in my footlocker," his voice tightened. "I kicked the door open and told them to clear out before I called the matron. Instead Justin, the big one, pushed the door shut while the other two went for me. He said I'd been holding out on them, whatever the bloody hell that meant, and that I'd better give them the key or else." Malcolm shrugged. "The 'or else' sounded like a better idea."

"Mr. Smith, even when provoked, the Statute of Secrecy still holds."

Malcolm scowled. "But I didn't use any magic. Not that I know of anyway."

"You knocked out two larger boys and put a third on the infirmary? How as this accomplished?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Jujitsu."

Dumbledore just looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"It's er, a muggle martial art. Sort of like bare-handed fighting." He shrugged again. "They weren't very good, considering all the things they've been up to with the other inmates here. I honestly don't know why the Office of Improprieties thinks I was using magic."

Dumbledore looked at the boy standing before him. Nothing about his stance or demeanor suggested deceit, but his mind was closed in and not as easily read. I have allowed myself to be deceived before, at great cost to myself and more to those around me.

"Be that as it may, we cannot afford to have any more incidents, Mr. Smith."

Malcolm said something in a low voice, no more than a whisper.

"What was that, Mr. Smith?"

"I said, then you need to take them." He pulled a small key out of this pocket and unlocked the footlocker. He began stacking taped-up books on the foot of his bed. "Take the books and the wand and the cauldron with you. I'll just leave the lock off and let them go through my stuff."

"Mr. Smith."

"If I'm not going to be allowed to defend myself," he hissed. "Then I don't have much choice do I?"

"Mr. Smith."

"I know," he interrupted, "your school, your rules. I'll play along. Hopefully the thieves here will leave me a set of robes for the train ride."

"Malcolm," Dumbledore said in a sharper tone.

The boy stopped, holding out his money pouch to the Headmaster. The old man shook his head and reached out, closing the boy's fingers around the bag. The boy flinched a little at the contact but looked up, questioningly. "I was going to suggest," he said quietly, "that if it was less than safe here, that you could come out to the school a bit early. Our new Care of Magical Creatures instructor, Professor Hagrid, could do with some assistance getting his lesson plans ready. Would you be interested in helping him?"

Malcolm had everything repacked in his footlocker before Dumbledore finished speaking.

A/N – Okay, starting to pick up a little speed here. It's trickier than I thought, trying to fit everything into canon and keep it essentially "off-stage". Please review if you have any comments or questions.