CHAPTER 2: RELATIVE EXPERIENCES

This story starts with a dream. It will come as no surprise to the reader that the dreamer is a fourteen-year-old boy named Malcolm. Malcolm is no ordinary boy. He is a genius, with an IQ listed at 165. He has a photographic memory. He also has the uncanny ability to perform the most complicated mathematical computations faster than the problem can be entered into a computer.

Malcolm is also a wizard. And he is no ordinary wizard either. He has already taught an accredited course at one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world. He is a registered animagus. He has been at the top of his class so far in every year. (Except for the year he took off to teach.) Malcolm also has the special gift that he can see a spell being performed and figure out, on his own, how it is being done.

It is obvious that everyone should be amazed at this boy's abilities, especially at such a young age. But Malcolm has one problem that prevents him from using his abilities to their utmost potential. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life.

Now it should be told that the previous statement is not completely true. There is one thing that Malcolm does want more than anything else. He wants to be normal. And therein lies the problem. Malcolm has absolutely no idea what it means to be normal. And that is part of the reason why he is having this dream.

It is a wistful dream. Fireplaces are burning merrily. Images of the past float through his mind. Then the dream becomes crystal clear. Malcolm is outside. It is bright and warm. Ron Weasley is there, looking at Malcolm. He is smiling. His hand is on Malcolm's shoulder and he says, quite clearly, "Life is good."

Malcolm wakes up in a cold sweat.

That was scary. Being friends with Ron. I hate nightmares like that.

He looked up as the door to the bedroom suddenly opened and his mother walked in. She sat down on the bed next to him and felt his forehead, then whispered so as not to wake the others.

"Malcolm? I heard a strange noise."

"Just a bad dream, Mom. I'm okay. Really."

Lois looked at her son sternly. "It's all that candy you ate before going to bed. Tell me about it."

"It's stupid. I dreamt Ron Weasley was being really nice to me."

"And that scared you."

"He's never nice to me. Especially after all those tricks I pulled on him."

"You probably miss the old house and all that room. You dreamt about Ron because you know you can't go back there."

"That's the weird part, Mom. We were here, like in the backyard or something."

Lois smiled. "That makes it easier to explain. You're afraid about how things are going to be now that we're back, and you're picturing your worst fears."

Malcolm smiled, and stifled a laugh. "Thanks, Mom. Uh, why were you up?"

"An owl came by. It dropped off a two-page letter on what to do if we're attacked by dark wizards. I'll show it to you in the morning."

And morning came. Malcolm ate his breakfast, then walked out in the backyard to read the letter from the Ministry. He knew he would not be followed because Mom had told them to clean the yard today.

"What is this nonsense?"

Seriously. I'm in the United States. Does the Ministry of Magic really expect me to follow these rules? I mean, what are the odds of Voldemort showing up on my doorstep?

"Ahem. Malcolm."

The fourteen-year-old wizard froze as his face paled.

Apparently they're pretty good.

Malcolm slowly turned around and gave a lopsided smile. "Oh, hi Mister Voldemort. Nice weather we're having."

Voldemort looked around Malcolm's backyard. The weeds were blooming everywhere. The flies were buzzing around the assorted pieces of trash thrown willy-nilly. To say the grass needed mowing would have been a gross understatement.

"Malcolm, I do not care about the weather, but something has come up that I felt best to discuss with you personally. It concerns your lineage."

Malcolm's face expressed surprise.

I'm very good at that.

"Do you mean that Nott was telling the truth? We really are related?"

Voldemort smiled. "I apologize, Malcolm. I should have realized you were smart enough to see through that horrid little man's tissue of lies. He told your brother those things because he wanted you to think better of me."

Malcolm blushed at the compliment. "There's no need to apologize, Sir. And if that was Nott's intention, to get me to like you better, then he was wasting his time. Honestly, Sir, I couldn't think more highly of you even if it turned out that you were really my father."

I hope he hasn't seen Star Wars or he'll see through that line in a minute.

"Thank you, Malcolm." Voldemort let out a condescending laugh. "If that ever turns out to be true, I'll even rename you, 'Luke'."

Then again, maybe not.

"WOW! MALCOLM. IS THAT HIM?"

Malcolm sneered at the figure that came through the back door. "Yeah, Dewey. That's him. Lord Voldemort, this is my little brother, Dewey."

Dewey ran up to Voldemort and held out his hand. The Dark Lord, with a bemused look, shook the young boy's hand.

"It's great meeting you in person, Mister Voldemort, Sir because Cousin Draco's told me so much about you and the things you're trying to do and I think it's really great that you're trying to get rid of the riffraff and I'm also in Slytherin you know, so that's why Uncle Lucius showed me his dark mark, well he didn't exactly show me, he was taking a shower when I walked in to use his bathroom last Christmas, and he yelled at me, and I told him Draco was using my bathroom, and he threw me out anyway but I saw his tattoo and Mom says I can't get one until I'm old enough but I'd really like one anyway." Dewey paused for breath. "Do you have anything in red?"

Voldemort pulled the boy's hand off of him. "I'll look into it and get back to you." He turned to Malcolm. "Remember, Malcolm. If anyone asks . . ."

"I know. Regretfully, it was a lie."

"No. Just tell them it was a lie." He glared at Dewey's worshipful face. "There is no need for regret."

There was a loud crack as the Dark Lord disapparated.

"Are you okay?" Malcolm asked hurriedly.

"I think I wet myself."

"I don't think he noticed. Dewey? Why red?" Malcolm asked. "Why not blue?"

Dewey snickered. "That's a good idea. Then we could have pink for girls."

"Ahem."

Malcolm and Dewey both froze in abject fear.

"I told you boys to clean up this yard once and for all. Where's Reese?"

"Mom, he said he was getting the lawn mower."

Lois, holding her wand, pointed to the object next to the doorway. "This lawn mower?"

It's time to think fast.

"Dewey," Malcolm said loudly with authority. "Start mowing the lawn and I'll go get Reese."

"MALCOLM, GET BACK HERE?" Lois called to no avail. She turned to Dewey and pointed her wand at him. "I'm not letting you go anywhere, mister, so don't even think about it."

"Mom. I promise not to tell anyone that you're not really a witch if you let me go to the park instead."

Lois waved him away, frowning as Dewey ran out of the yard. "Those boys are as bad as their father. HAL, THE LAWN NEEDS MOWING." A pause. "HAL." In the distance, she heard a car starting up. "I swear. He's just as bad as the boys."

She walked over to the hall closet and opened the door. With one hand she pushed the coats and jackets aside, revealing a brown-haired boy age seven. "Nob, I know a great game that we can play," Lois said sweetly. "How would you like to operate a muggle machine? Have you ever used a lawn mower?"

"Twenty dollars."

"Ten."

"Fifteen."

"Okay, but you have to rake the yard as well."

"Deal."

As Nob went out to mow the lawn, Lois smiled to herself. She would wait until he was done to let him know that the money will be put into his college fund.

Draco snarled as he looked at the dismal beach. The dementors had mucked up a perfectly good holiday. At least he hadn't decided to vacation in the west country. He heard about the giants. He walked back slowly to his rental and a smile crossed his face as he approached the hedge that blocked the view of the house next door.

The blond haired boy smiled as he stuck his head through the hedge. "Good Morning, Neighbor."

"Draco?" Ginny quickly looked around. "You can't come here. What if somebody sees you?"

"Then you have to sneak out. I'll see you at the beach. The usual spot."

Ginny shook her head. "Can't. You know what happened. Everyone's getting nervous. Things have already started to happen."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ginny smirked. "You don't even know. I'd make any wager you ran directly to the beach from King's Cross Station and stayed there the entire time."

"And you'd win." Draco tried to slip through the hedge.

Ginny's smirking face became serious. "You need to read the papers. You'll see. The weather . . ."

"Yeah, it's been bad the last couple of days but it may clear up." He smiled devilishly. "It's always sunshine when you are there."

Ginny ignored his last remark. "No, Draco. It won't. The Dementors. They've fled Azkaban. They're all over the place. That's what's been causing all this mist."

Draco laughed. "It's settled, then. I'm off to visit relatives in the States. It should be safe there." He slipped back through the hedge, then poked his head back in. "Ginny, if you have any American friends, you might consider visiting them."

Ginny grabbed his head and gave Draco a kiss. "You always have such wonderful ideas."

After Draco left, Ginny sighed to herself and turned around to head back to the Burrow. She would have to think of a way she could visit Malcolm, even if only for a couple of days. Her best argument was that he was in America, and it was still safe there.

Narcissa Malfoy followed the house elf to the reception room to greet whomever it was that had arrived via the fireplace. She in turn was followed by a man who was also curious as to whom the guest would be. Narcissa was not surprised nor amused by the young man she met.

"Reese, you had better have a very good explanation for being here. Your timing is dreadful."

"Sorry, Aunt Narcissa. Say, Mister Weasley, does your wife know you're here?"

"Reese," Arthur said angrily, "I am here on business, and I don't like your attitude."

Reese smirked. "It's okay. I know how to keep a secret. I won't even mention it to Uncle Lucius when I write to him . . . if you play your cards right."

Arthur was livid. "Reese, you are an idiot. I am here because your Uncle was arrested. It's my job. I'm searching the entire house for anything that might be associated with Dark Magic."

Reese giggled. "Especially the bedrooms?"

Narcissa smiled with a wicked look in her eyes as she patted Arthur Weasley's arm. "Yes dear. Artie's doing a thorough job. Especially in the bedrooms."

Arthur's voice was like ice. "Be careful, Narcissa. What will your friends do if they think there is some kind of relationship between us. How will they react to your consorting with a 'blood traitor'?"

Narcissa's smile vanished. "You have made your point." She turned to Reese. "And why are you here."

Reese suddenly became nervous. "Is he a cop?"

"A what?" Narcissa frowned.

Arthur smiled. "Yes, Reese. I am a cop. And I'm searching the house for evidence of anything suspicious. Why are you here?"

"I'm, uh, looking for Draco. Um, He's not in jail, is he?"

Arthur continued to smile. "Not yet."

"Oh, um, okay. I'll just be going then."

Arthur stopped the boy from leaving. "First off, Reese. Why are you here? Or should I ask your mother."

"NO. Then she'll make me mow the lawn." His voice was full of fear and horror. "You don't know what it's like. There are things back there that have been growing for years."

"They're called trees," Arthur said offhandedly. "Go home, Reese. NOW."

Reese turned to the fire place, called out the name of his house, and stepped into the flames. As both Narcissa Malfoy and Arthur Weasley put out the fire, Arthur reminded Reese that he needed to use the floo powder first.

"Calm . . . down . . . Malcolm."

"I can't, Stevie. He was standing right behind me. I was rambling things off the top of my head. I almost . . ."

Malcolm started scratching himself on the chest again. It was a nervous habit he had developed over a year before. Stevie moved his wheelchair so he was in front of Malcolm and grabbed his hand. After a quick look around the park to see if anyone was watching, he then levitated his wheelchair until he could look Malcolm in the eyes.

"This . . . isn't like . . . you. You're . . . stronger . . . than that."

"I should be, but . . . he scares me. I was fine when I was talking to him but when he left, that's when the shock hit me."

"It was scary," Dewey said from behind, as Malcolm and Stevie jumped. "And no one's watching." Dewey looked carefully at his older brother. "Malcolm, are you okay?"

"I'm better. How are you?"

"I got away from Mom, but I'm still wet. Do you think he noticed?"

Malcolm smirked. "I doubt it. You were so obnoxious I think he just wanted to get away from you." A pause. Malcolm frowned. "Dewey, don't you think that's strange. He came personally to tell me that we weren't related."

"He's nuts," Dewey admitted. "And I'd let everyone know if I found out I wasn't related to you." A pause. Dewey frowned. "He could've just sent you an owl. It was really dangerous for him to come here."

"For him or for us?"

A popping noise was heard. The boys turned to see who it was. A man in a three-piece suit.

"Hi, Mister Winter."

"Hi, Mister Winter."

"Hi, Mister . . . Winter."

David Winter scowled at the three of them. "Do you realize, Malcolm? Stevie, lower your wheelchair. People might be watching. Do you know, Malcolm, I was thinking only five minutes ago that I was the luckiest man in the world. Not only am I the American Consul for Wizardry to the Court of Saint James, a very good friend had just informed me of a wonderful house that is available for rent, a house you are familiar with. I immediately came home to inform my wife when my former supervisor called me. Do any of you know why?"

Dewey raised his hand. "Illegal use of magic?"

"Very good, Dewey. And I was told that Malcolm was the smart one. Malcolm, do you want to tell me what particular bit of magic we're talking about?"

Malcolm frowned as though in concentration. "Apparation?"

"My, My," David said condescendingly, "that took some thought. Couldn't you think of a good enough excuse? Where did you apparate to? Stevie's house? Or directly to the park?"

He doesn't know about Mom and her wand.

"It wasn't me, Sir. I'm not old enough and I never had lessons or anything. It was an adult." Malcolm smiled sincerely. "Don't you know about Mom's wand?"

"Come off it, Malcolm. I went to your house first. Your mother already told me that Dewey knows she's not a witch. And my guess is that he found out because you told him. Now, where did you apparate to?" He sniffed. "And what is that smell? It smells like . . ."

"I gotta go," Dewey said as he began to hurry away.

Actually, he already went.

"Don't."

Dewey stopped and turned around, trying not to look at David Winter. David pointed his wand. "There. The air feels fresher already. I apologize, Malcolm. It is obvious that I wrongfully accused you. Dewey, where did you apparate to and how did you ever learn to do it. Malcolm taught you. Didn't he?"

"It wasn't me. Honestly."

"This . . . is stupid," Stevie shouted. "Just . . . tell him . . . or I . . . will."

David turned back to Malcolm. "Who?"

"It should be whom," Malcolm said nervously as he began to scratch his chest, where the old scars crisscrossed.

David nodded. "Is it someone WHOM we should not talk about." Malcolm nodded. "Someone you once thought was related to you?" Malcolm nodded again. "Can you tell me what he wanted?"

"He, um, he said we weren't related. And then he left."

"Curious man." David gave Malcolm a knowing smile. "I'll mention it in passing to a friend of mine. I wouldn't worry about it."

That's really weird. I actually feel better now that he knows. Go figure.

Dewey tugged David's sleeve. "And thanks about, you know, my pants."

"I'm glad I could help. And I want to warn both of you. I know that everything is happening over there, but trouble can still find you, even if you don't go looking for it. Be careful."

"Um, Mister Winter."

David turned. "Yes, Malcolm?"

"I didn't say anything," Malcolm answered.

"I did," Malcolm's voice said from behind. David turned around to see Malcolm standing there. "I'm sorry to bother you but I just stopped by the house, and I ran into Nob. He likes me for some reason. And I was wondering . . ."

"Certainly, Draco. Finite Incantatum."

David waved his wand and Malcolm magically transformed back into Draco.

"Mister Winter, did you know that Aunt Lois isn't really a witch?"

David smiled. "Everyone knows that. Except Reese. I told her she can keep the wand if it helps keep him in line."

"Und you must be Francis," the fat bald old man with the mustache said as he shook his hand. "I am Otto und this in miene Frau, Gretchen. Welcome to Sleepy Hollow Ranch."

"Uh, thanks," Francis said. "Do you mind if I step out of the fireplace first? I think my wife's trying to follow me."

"Ya, sure. You come mit me und Gretchen vill wait for your wife. Won't you Liebsen?"

"Ya. You go mit Otto."

Francis thanked the frumpy looking woman and followed Otto through the lounge to the front door. "This is a really nice place you have here."

Otto beamed at the compliment. "Ven Gretchen und I retired, we bought dis place. It has been Vunderbar. I know you'll love it." He opened the door and waved Francis through. "Have you ever vorked on a ranch before?"

"This is the first time I've ever been on a ranch, except for one time when I was a kid."

Otto laughed. "Vell, you Americans always learn everything so quickly. You'll be a great Ranch Manager."

Francis stopped. "You're making me the Ranch MANAGER?"

"Ya. You see, Francis. You are der only American vorking on this ranch. It vould look better if you ver in charge. Und so you are."

Francis shook his head in disbelief, then looked up, then shook his head again. Otto was leading him to the horse corral.

"Und this is my pride and joy. Ve call her Peggy."

Francis nodded thoughtfully as he petted the horse just above the wing ridge. "It's short for Pegasus."

"Vhat do you mean? I named her after Gretchen. In America, she would be called Peggy. Dey are both nicknames for Margaret."

"Um, Otto. I think you should know. This horse is a boy."

"She is? How do you know?"

"Well, I looked."

Otto held up his hands to show Francis he should be quiet, then tiptoed back to the hotel to explain things to his wife. Francis looked at the horse which was looking back at him.

"How about we call you Pete until this whole thing is straightened out?"

The horse nodded. Then Francis looked up in surprise as the thought of giving the horse an apple suddenly popped into his head. He glared at the horse briefly.

"Sure. Why not. Where are they?"

A/N: Thanks to everyone for still being interested. Just a couple of comments in response to the reviews. Percy will not be making an appearance in this story. My apologies. Also, to Ouatic-7, the section of 'our story so far' is the first part of the story. If the story police disagree, I will argue the point. I love a good argument. But they did catch me doing that once. That's why the story, "Life is Unfair," begins with Chapter Two.

I should also apologize in advance. I may have taken some liberties with this story, but I wanted to have some fun.