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

Chapter 14

Malcolm was on pins and needles for the week following his conversation with Professor Snape. At breakfast the following day, he noticed that Draco was being very careful not to use his left hand for anything, even having Pansy help him cut his food. There were no immediate reprisals against him, so it appeared that the professor believed his story.

On the down side, it wasn't clear if Dumbledore had even received the message he'd sent with Perren's owl. Hagrid reappeared at the staff table, much to Malfoy's vocal disgust, but he was very subdued and wouldn't meet Malcolm's eye. He maneuvered to walk past the professor in the halls a couple of times, but the gigantic man didn't seem interested in talking. Malcolm considered owling him a note, but since the man never got mail at breakfast it would raise too many suspicions. In the end, he decided to let Hagrid let him know if he wanted to talk or ask about Brimstone. Malcolm couldn't really blame him if he wanted to steer clear of Slytherins after what had happened.

Of greater worry to Malcolm were his classes. He took detailed notes, studied hard, and did well on the theoretical portions. However, when it came time to work on practical applications, he was absolute rubbish with a wand. Maybe one time in ten could he get a spell to work properly. Each time it worked, that little taste of success was immediately replaced by bitter failure as his next attempt invariably failed. His professors coached him constantly on wand motions, pronunciation, and visualizations. Nothing seemed to help.

His friends were very careful not to say anything, but Malcolm found himself growing increasingly frustrated with his failures. His written scores help keep his grades up, but if it weren't for that occasional flash of competence, he might as well have been a squib like his father.

At least in potions he didn't have to worry. Success there was determined by the ability to concentrate and follow directions. Seeing how the magical properties associated with each ingredient combined to produce a specific effect was also intriguing – rather like solving a complicated puzzle. On the other hand, the house bias he was warned to watch out for with McGonagall was more than evident in Professor Snape's behavior. It was a little embarrassing to see how obvious he was about it. The man ridiculed the Gryffindor students they shared the class with, and extravagantly praised anything Malcolm or his friends accomplished.

Malcolm recalled his late night conversation with his head of house a little too clearly to ever take what he said at face value. Tobey also distrusted the man, thinking his words were spoken sarcastically. At first, Perren and Patricia enjoyed the encouragement, but after a while it started to make them uncomfortable as well. Of them all, Annalise was the only one who ignored the man, going about her tasks with a regal lack of acknowledgement of his words. Despite their reactions, the Gryffindors were soon glaring at them, obviously blaming them for playing some role in Snape's behavior.

Feeding Brimstone and teaching him a few simple games was a welcome distraction from his frustrations. The puppy was soon walking, and fortunately proved to be easy to train. Perren nicked a dented old bedpan from the infirmary and Patricia placed a scentless charm on it after it was placed in the back corner of their dormitory room. Eventually, the hellhound grew less skittish with Malcolm's friends and would submit to the occasional petting. It still, however, demanded Malcolm's lap any time he sat on his bed to read.

Perren was another distraction. The normally friendly and outgoing boy made an effort to lighten any conversation. However, he was also regularly receiving owls from his parents. He never talked about what was in the letters, but he would grow very quiet after reading each one. Within a day he would be back to normal, but each time it would be worse. Malcolm saw him write back to them the first few times, but it appeared that he'd stopped doing even that after a while. He noticed with some amusement that Patricia, who normally nagged him constantly about his study habits and 'frivolous ways', got very quiet on those topics when he received a letter from home.

Malcolm finally got some answers to his own questions after a charms class a few days before Halloween. He'd spent the better part of two hours trying to levitate a bloody feather, and no matter how he tried to vary his pronunciation of Wingardium Leviosa, the ruddy thing sat on his desk like it'd been glued on. By the end of the class he was ready to pound his head against the desk in frustration and Professor Flitwick asked him to stay after class. The pitying looks from his friends were bad enough – he at least knew they meant well. The smirks from the departing Ravenclaws, however, were intolerable.

He ground his teeth and tried to master his anger as the last of the students filed out. He put his books in his bag, but left it on his desk as he walked to the front of the classroom. The diminutive professor had an uncharacteristically grave expression on his face.

"Malcolm," he began. Professor Flitwick tended to use his first name when speaking personally, unlike most of the faculty. "I've noticed the, uh, difficulties you've been having in class lately."

"I know, professor, but I just don't understand it. I'm doing everything like it says in the book. As far as I can tell my concentration isn't lapsing, but it just doesn't work."

"I know. I don't think you are necessarily doing anything wrong, either," the small man said, slumping atop the stack of thick books piled in his chair.

Malcolm blinked. "So am I really a squib then?"

"No, my dear boy," Flitwick sighed,"I think it may be more complicated than that. Would you be willing to accompany me to the infirmary so we can conduct some tests?"

That sounded pretty ominous to Malcolm, but he just nodded and followed the man to see Madam Pomfrey.

Most of the school was at lunch or heading for the Great Hall, so the infirmary was eerily quiet. The nurse raised her eyebrows when Malcolm followed Professor Flitwick through the door. After a whispered consultation, both of them cast a long incantation and kept their wands pointed at him while the charms teacher had him try to levitate a conjured feather. Malcolm thought one end of the feather might have quivered, but it was probably just a trick of the light. He tried several times until he was about to growl in frustration.

Flitwick told him he could stop, but when Malcolm looked up, he noticed that both he and Madam Pomfrey had gone very pale. After a moment she bustled into her office and returned a moment later with a very grave-looking Albus Dumbledore. Malcolm was starting to have a very bad feeling about the whole thing. They had him repeat the exercise with the feather again, though it seemed like such a waste of time.

When Malcolm was done, the headmaster laid his hand on Flitwick's shoulder. "You were right to bring this to our attention, Filius." The old man was silent for a moment before speaking again. "Poppy, would it be possible to use your study for a moment? I need to inform Mr. Smith of a few things."

Malcolm followed Dumbledore into a small office crowded with shelves of potion bottles and anatomy charts.

"Mr. Smith," the Headmaster began, "as you know, magical children who are not born to magical parents still receive a letter from Hogwarts. Usually, their parents are happy to discover the reason for the unusual activities their children inadvertently cause with accidental magic, and consent to send their children here for training in how to channel their powers. If the parents do not agree on their child entering the magical world, they do consent to have… other… steps taken to ensure their child's safety."

"Other steps?" Malcolm asked slowly. The old man was unusually hesitant, and his obvious discomfort was sending chills down Malcolm's spine, collecting in the pit of his stomach.

"A binding is placed on the child's magical core, the intersection between their spirit, or consciousness and magic itself. This binding prevents them from inadvertently hurting someone if they become upset enough to trigger an accidental magic discharge. For those who do not wish to join us, eliminating that possibility is seen as a blessing. However, there are also other reasons to do the binding."

Dumbledore trailed off, looking into the distance. "The strength of the magical core determines how strong a wizard or witch will become. If someone with a strong core does not receive training at the proper time in their life, training that will help them channel that power, there can be grave consequences."

Malcolm felt his hands suddenly become cold and clammy. "Consequences?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Malcolm," Dumbledore said.

Malcolm looked up at the use of his first name, and saw a hint of sadness in those twinkling blue eyes. This does not sound good at all.

"Over the last couple of years, your magical core has become destabilized. It's possible that the traumatic events that led to your returning to England may have played some role in that. Your ability to form a connection to your core, to access your magic, seems tied to your emotional state, which you may have noticed. When you are relaxed and calm, you may perform magic normally. However, when you become upset or frustrated, your magic fails. Moreover, when your core is destabilized in such a fashion, it seems to absorb magic, rather that releasing it."

"That almost makes sense," Malcolm mused aloud. Now why is he so upset about that news to actually show it? he wondered. "Now, what's the bad news?" he asked flatly.

Dumbledore sighed. "When the destabilization has gotten this far, it will continue to get worse until your magical core collapses."

"And then I'll become a muggle?" Malcolm asked in a hollow voice.

"No," said the headmaster slowly, "and then you will die."

A/N:

Enough fluff and set-up – now we get into the major plot complications!

The Unicorn- Malcolm is not comfortable with the favoritism displayed by Snape. At all.