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

Chapter 7

Malcolm stumbled and almost fell to his knees as his stomach throbbed. So that was a Port-key. I'd just as soon be loaded into a catapult and thrown here from Hogwarts. He felt like someone had hooked a grappling hook into his guts and yanked him from Scotland to London.

He stepped out of the alcove behind the telephone booth and into the crowded train station. It felt almost surreal to be back in urban London after weeks at Hogwarts. I suppose it will be worse after term, he mused. He adjusted the worn backpack on his shoulder. It held a set of school robes and his lunch. He'd been told it was customary to change into his school robes while the train traveled to Hogsmead, probably to avoid freaking out the muggles.

He slowly made his way to platform nine, his black jeans and plain grey tee-shirt blending in with the crowd. He rolled his shoulders, trying to get the kinks out. Working for Professor Hagrid had definitely been good exercise, and it felt good to stretch. Maybe he would find a place to jog after term started. Nigel would be disgusted with him if he let himself go soft…

Malcolm swallowed as he cut that thought off. He didn't have time to deal with the past, or guilt, right now. Remember what he taught you, he snarled to himself, stay focused on the mission. Go to pieces on your own time, Smith. He straightened and took a deep breath. No way would he let him down now.

As he got closer to the gate, he saw more and more people that looked just a little bit… off. Some of them were wearing horrifically mis-matched color combinations. Others were wearing winter clothing and broiling in the mild September air. Surveying the crowd, Malcolm noticed that the older people tended to commit the worst sins against fashion. Yeah, I think I found the wizards.

As he eased toward the steel barrier between platforms nine and ten, where a lot of people seemed to want to stand, he noticed two long dark green cars pull up in front of the train station. Two serious-looking men got out of the cars before a crowd of red-haired people who were obviously related emerged. Their escorts scanned the crowd with a cool professionalism that Malcolm recognized immediately, even as it made his stomach lurch.

Malcolm turned and wove through the crowd. No one seemed to mind as they were all looking curiously at the cars. He leaned against the solid-seeming metal and next thing he knew he was stumbling side-ways onto a platform full of people and trunks. A bright red locomotive dominated the scene, puffs of white vapor drifting from the stack. There was a huge crowd of people milling about, most of them appearing to be parents seeing off their children.

He started walking toward the train, intent on getting a seat before it got crowded, since no one was bidding him goodbye. He jumped a little when a quartet of black-robed figures suddenly appeared in the crowd. I guess that's one way to avoid dealing with the muggles, Malcolm thought, taking in their richly-embroidered robes and jewelry. Two tall and powerful looking men, along with a very severe-looking woman, were accompanying a small girl with long, pale blond hair.

The taller of the two men looked about with a sneer. "…Can't even tell half of these people aren't filthy mudbloods, can you Ivar?"

The other robed man shook his head in disgust while their companion looked down at the little girl. "We have talked about your tasks this year, Anna. The curriculum here should not tax your abilities. I had better not receive any owls to the contrary. You will be contacted about what is to happen over the holidays."

Malcolm watched the girl pale out of the corner of his eye. He just wanted to get past these people without getting involved in a scene. He had no doubt they would disapprove of his jeans and shirt.

The train itself was swarming with kids and a few adults. He looked around, trying to find an empty compartment, and finally ducked into one near the front of the train. He pushed the door shut and locked it, leaning back against it. He wasn't sure why the crowd outside had made him so jittery. Maybe because they were all magical? The crowd outside in the train station had made me a little tense, but nothing like on the platform. He took a deep breath and blew it out. Those rich-looking wizards who'd teleported, or apparated onto the platform were definitely off-putting.

He straightened up and slung the bag off his shoulder. He pulled out his black robes and shook them out. He'd folded them with some care, so they weren't totally wrinkled. He pulled them over his head, wanting to feel more like he belonged where he was going. With a little wriggling and pulling, he got the black fabric settled over his shoulders, and the hems down to around his ankles. Madame Malkin had wanted to hem them a little lower, but Malcolm didn't relish tripping over them and cracking his skull.

Admittedly, with his robes on, and his wand in his hand, he felt a little more like a wizard and a little less like a fraud. He smiled as he realized that he was technically free to do magic now. He waved his wand and watched sparks and tiny black motes dance through the compartment. The first real grin he'd cracked since leaving Hogwarts spread across his face.

He was settling down on the bench seat and wishing he'd packed one of his text books when the door latch rattled. Malcolm looked up and waited. Finally, there was a knock on the door. He sighed and got up to open it.

Standing in the aisle was the black-robed girl from the platform. Her hair was so blond it was almost white, and her ice-blue eyes were snapping angrily as she looked past him. "Planning to keep the whole compartment for yourself, were you?" she demanded.

Malcolm looked down at her, glad he was at least taller than she was. "I didn't feel like company," he said evenly.

"Well, you don't have that option," she snapped. "Most of the compartments are full, and I'm not going to sit cheek and jowl with a mob of hooligans so you can enjoy your solitude."

What a shrew! Malcolm thought to himself. "Fine, sit down. I wasn't aware we were so short of room, and how could I turn down such a gracious request." He pivoted, sweeping his arm in a mocking bid to enter.

She glared at him as she brushed past, but after twits like Justin at the Placement Center, he found her attitude to be only mildly snarky. She sat down with a flounce on the opposite side of the compartment from his bag. Malcolm left the door unlatched, feeling a little guilty if things were as crowded as she claimed, and clumped back to his seat.

"What are those things on your feet," she asked after a moment.

Malcolm crossed his legs and looked down at his boot, smiling. "These? Army issue combat boots. They're water-proof, insulated, and bloody near indestructible."

"I'd never wear muggle shoes," the girl gasped, looking actually horrified.

Malcolm shrugged. "Good thing it's my feet then. These things are tougher than dragon hide." He nodded toward her feet. "It's your skin if you spill something corrosive on those dainty slippers in potions."

She blinked. Malcolm swallowed his grin. It was kind of fun knocking her off balance like that. Obviously, the spoiled little rich girl didn't get out much.

The girl took a deep breath. "I fear we haven't been properly introduced. I am Annalise Dolohov," she said in a formal tone. She looked at him expectantly.

Is her name supposed to mean something to me? Malcolm smiled at her. "Pleased to meet you," he lied. "I'm Malcolm Smith."

She nodded, a little uncertainly. "Is that the pureblood Smiths from Lincolnshire?"

Malcolm shrugged, but his mind was racing. "I think so, originally. There's so many of us we tend to lose track of all the branches. It's all we can do to make sure we don't end up dating a close cousin."

Annalise's eyes were actually bulging a bit. "You don't… keep track of the family line?" she gasped, shocked.

"Nah. I suppose we're purebloods by that definition, but most of us have better things to do than obsess over genealogy."

What her reply to that would have been, Malcolm would never know, because they were interrupted by the compartment door opening again.

"Is there room in here?" a short, stocky boy with rumpled muddy blond hair asked. He was already in his robes, but they hung somewhat askew.

"Sure," Malcolm said graciously. Fair or not, Annalise's comments about hogging the compartment made him feel a little guilty.

The boy's hazel eyes flickered from Malcolm to Annalise, who was pointedly looking out the window at the thinning crowds at the train station. He walked over to Malcolm and stuck out his hand. "Tobias Rookwood, but call me Tobey or there's going to be a fight!" he growled the last part belligerently.

Malcolm snorted. "Then why don't you just introduce yourself as Tobey? My name is Smith, Malcolm Smith."

Tobey gripped his hand, squeezing a little harder than necessary. Malcolm smiled and squeezed back. "You have a point there. Maybe I just want to see who has the stones to call me Tobias."

"That's one way to make sure you get some exercise," Malcolm agreed. He dug the tip of his thumb into a pressure point on the boy's wrist and pushed hard. Tobey suddenly released his hand and for some reason they both laughed.

Annalise turned back from the window and looked at them both. "What is so amazingly funny?" she asked in a scathing tone. Malcolm and Tobey looked from her to each other and suddenly both had to stifle more laughter.

When he got himself under control again, Tobey asked "Do you two know how to play Exploding Snap?"

Annalise just turned and looked out the window again and Malcolm shook his head, smiling.

"Okay Mal," Tobey said evenly, rolling his eyes at Annalise, "I'll show you how it's done."