Chapter 21: Not Again

Dewey was tired but still decided to get up for lunch. He did not regret the extra gift of being free from taking Friday's classes. It gave him a chance to make up for being awake all night. He stumbled up to the Great Hall, one of the last to arrive, sat down, reached for a sandwich and saw Professor Snape standing before him.

"Sir?"

"Did we have fun last night?"

Dewey smiled. "I caught the snitch. We won."

"You should have changed your clothes. What is that red smear on your blue robes?"

He angled his head to try and see. "That must have been Phillippa. She says lipstick makes her look older. At least that's what I think she said. I don't speak French."

"An understandable difficulty." Snape smiled. "And while we are speaking of difficulties, your brother is in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey wants to talk to you about him. By all means, eat something first."

"What happened, Sir?"

"Someone pulled a prank on him. And did not get the results he expected."

"Is Malcolm OK?"

Severus Snape actually grinned. "I think you will find it amusing. I know I did."

Dewey dropped the sandwich back on the plate. What he had been told had unnerved him. What could possibly have happened? Then Dewey picked up the sandwich again and began to eat. If Snape thought it was amusing then it couldn't be that serious.

After the second sandwich, and a second glass of pumpkin juice, the young Slytherin made his way to the infirmary to find out what had happened. When he was told, his first reaction was, "You must be joking."

Malcolm sat up in bed looking curiously at everything around him, as though nothing was familiar. He saw the blond boy with the crew cut walking up to him.

"Nice robes."

"Thanks, Malcolm."

"Huh, oh yeah, your welcome." Malcolm stared at his brother. "Let me guess. Is your name . . . Dewey?"

"Yes, it is. That's very good, Malcolm. You do know you ARE Malcolm."

"Yeah, they told me. I mean, yes, I know."

"And do you know who I am."

"Yeah, I just guessed it. Dewey." A pause. "Oh, wait. I understand. You're my brother."

Dewey smiled. "Right again."

"Are you really my brother?"

"Same mother. Same father. Yes, Malcolm. I'm really your brother. And so is Reese. And so is Francis. Do you remember them?"

"Of course I do. Do you think I'm an idiot or something?"

Dewey smiled.

Malcolm snarled. "You really are a jerk."

Dewey smiled again. "Now, that's the Malcolm I know."

Malcolm frowned. "I'm really supposed to act like that?"

Dewey turned around to look at Madam Pomfrey. "Do I have to answer that honestly?"

"Can I get out of here?" Malcolm asked. "You said I was completely healthy."

Madam Pomfrey motioned for him to stay in the bed. "We want you to meet a couple more students first. It would not be a good idea to let you walk around with anyone knowing what happened. It's not a good time."

"OK. Then let me meet them."

"Meet whom," Draco Malfoy asked as he walked into the room.

"Mister Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey said quickly.

"I am aware of what happened, Madam Pomfrey. I only need to ask Malcolm a quick question."

As Madam Pomfrey pondered how Draco would already know, the boy walked quickly to Malcolm's side and whispered.

"Cousin, I need to know, with two possible confluxes concentrating on the matrix of the spell, how do I control alternating the conditions from only one source of one of the confluxes."

"Cousin?" Malcolm asked. "I don't know. Use crazy glue?"

Draco stared at Malcolm and backed away. "I apologize, Madam Pomfrey. I was misinformed. What exactly has happened to Malcolm?"

"Mister Creevey will be here shortly. I'll explain it to both of you at the same time."

"Madam Pomfrey," Dewey asked. "Do you mind if I go back to my house and change?"

"Go ahead, Dewey. You should have time."

"Thanks. Bye Malcolm."

"Yeah, bye. Hey, Dewey. I think you cut yourself or something. There's blood on your robe there."

"It's not blood. It's lipstick." Dewey grinned.

"How old are you?"

"Hello . . . Malcolm . . . Do . . . You . . . Know . . . Who . . . I . . . Am?"

"I'm tempted to say Stevie."

"I'm Colin Creevey."

"Then why are you talking like that? It makes you sound stupid?"

"I thought you couldn't understand very well."

"Look, I'm not too sure about what's going on, but I'm not stupid. This is all just really confusing. And it's kinda cool too, when you think about it. I heard about the Quidditch game tomorrow. I WANT to be there."

"But they told me . . . "

"I know what they told you. They keep telling me. I'm Malcolm. I'm a wizard. I'm in Gryffindor. And act as normal as possible so nobody knows that anything is wrong with me. What did I leave out?"

Colin smirked. "Don't act as normal as possible or they'll think something IS wrong with you."

"That's really funny. Who writes your material? Look, Nurse. It's Madam Pomfrey, right? Why don't we do a test run. I'll go down to dinner. I'll eat. And I'll come back here claiming I don't feel well."

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "We'll let the Assistant Headmistress decide."

"I'll decide, thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Professor Dumbledore."

"I received Minerva's owl and returned as quickly as I could. Is this the boy in question? Or course it is. Who else would have such problems. Good Afternoon, Malcolm. Are you well rested after last night?"

"Last Night?" Malcolm looked confused.

"Last Night. You went to a big party. Everyone is going to ask you about it. What will you tell them?"

"I was sick and couldn't go?"

"No, Malcolm. You went. Many people saw you dress in your finest clothes. Not a few of them saw you leave. What you tell them is that you and Gabrielle broke up."

"Who's Gabrielle?"

"A girl you were very fond of. But if you tell everyone that the two of you broke up, they will understand why you don't want to talk."

Malcolm nodded. "Hey, that is a cool story. I went to this really great party just to have my girl friend dump me . . . or did I dump here."

"You're heartbroken. She dumped you."

"Okay, so anybody asks, she dumped me so get out of my face."

Dumbledore smiled. "That should do fine. And should you do something unmalcolmish, the other students will understand. Colin, your good friend and housemate, and your brother Dewey, will help you find your way around the school." He waved his hand and a change of clothes appeared. "You are free to go."

"That's great." Malcolm looked up. "Excuse me, Sir. They told me you're, like, the greatest wizard around? Do you know how to, you know, solve this problem?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I do, indeed. It is simplicity itself. All of this is the result of a spell. All you need to do is use your wand to cancel the spell. Then the problem is solved."

Malcolm smiled. "Then why don't we just do that? Where's my wand?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "My dear boy, you have just touched on the crux of the problem. It seems that you have no wand."

Malcolm's smile faded as he said one word. "Oh."

"Careful, that's Ginny Weasley." Dewey whispered.

"Nice girl. Does she hate me or something?"

"No, she loves you."

"Great."

"Just like a brother. She has six of them. She knows what she's talking about."

"Bummer."

Ginny smiled as she saw Malcolm and excused herself from Dean to run over and hug him. "What happened? Tell me everything."

"We broke up," Malcolm said with a nervous smile.

"But?" Ginny stepped back, stunned. "I'm sorry, Malcolm." Suddenly uncomfortable, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "We'll talk later."

Malcolm watched as Ginny walked back to Dean. She whispered to him, then they both looked back and gave him a polite wave. Malcolm waved back and they walked away.

"Don't sound too happy next time," Colin suggested. "That took Ginny off guard."

"I'll try crying next time," Malcolm offered. "I was trying for nervous irony, and personally, I think it worked."

Dewey shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think it matters. Everyone knows you ended up in the infirmary when you came back. You probably could laugh while you said it."

"We're here," Colin said as they approached the Great Hall. "I'll check inside." He opened the door. "It's empty."

"It's not dinner, yet?"

"Not for another three hours," Dewey explained. "But you're supposed to be familiar with the Great Hall."

"Fine," Malcolm said as he walked through the door that Colin held open for him. "I'll look around and . . ."

Dewey and Colin nodded at each other. Malcolm was displaying the same reaction everyone else did when they saw the Hall for the first time.

"And you managed to get in?" Hector Filch asked.

"Yeah," Reese answered.

"How?"

"Once we got onto the school grounds, we walked up to the main doors, opened 'em, and went in. It's not as easy as using the fireplace but Malcolm already told me they stopped that."

"And where is Anthony."

"I think he forgot how to get out. I think he's trapped over there."

As Hector Filch fumed, Professor Binns seemed confused.

"You there, the quiet boy," the professor said as he pointed to Anthony. "You like to hide yourself. Are you paying attention?"

Anthony sat up and smiled. "Oh, yes, Professor Binns."

"And what year did the first goblin revolt begin?"

"1492?"

"You're one of the Perkins boys. I can tell. Your brother has the same attitude. For the next class, try reading the book before you come."

"Yes, Sir," Anthony answered.

"Mornin' Frank."

Francis eyed his house elf with suspicion. "What did you do now?"

"We were just . . . Well, let's talk private." Pecos Tim turned around and waved to the half dozen kids who were following him. "Y'all wait here while them varmints mount up the horses for us."

Tim followed Francis into the ranch house and his demeanor suddenly changed.

"Master, Timmy is so sorry. Timmy did not mean to do what he did."

"Timmy, just tell me what happened. There are six kids out there and you started out with eight. Where are the other two?"

"Timmy was doing rope tricks in the parlor."

Francis fumed. "Yes he was."

"And Timmy asked for two volunteers."

"And?" Francis knew he wasn't going to like this.

"And Timmy had a fun idea. Master said Timmy should try and think of things that he could do and that children would like . . ."

"And tell me about them first," Francis concluded. "What happened to them?"

"Timmy lassoed them and used his magic to swing them around." Timmy was smiling in the vain hope that Francis might be happy about what he heard next. "And Timmy flooed the fireplace . . ."

Francis moaned as he understood. "And where are they?"

"Timmy does not know? Timmy did not pay attention when he let them pick their . . . places they wanted to go."

"And which two were they?"

"The Ambrose boy, and the Perez girl."

Francis groaned. "The Ambrose kid is the nephew of the British Minister of Magic."

"Former," Timmy added helpfully, then cringed at Francis's look. His help wasn't helping.

"And you do know that the Perez girl is the GRANDDAUGHTER of the Spanish Minister."

"Should Timmy punish himself?"

"NO. Timmy should make sure Six children have a wonderful time WITHOUT ANY USE OF MAGIC."

Timmy ran out the door and immediately stopped. Pecos Tim sauntered to the lead horse to lead the remaining children on a ride along the trail.

"Otto," Francis said cheerfully. "I've got a question for you. Just something I was curious about. Say somebody uses the fireplace to go somewhere, and you wanted to know where they went, how would you do that."

"Oh, dat is easy. You follow dem."

"How?"

"Francis, you know so little about some things. Just throw in der powder und step in. If dis happened a vhile back, if der is a new fire or somevone else used der fireplace, den you can do nothing."

"Oh, thanks. I was curious." Francis turned away then turned back to Otto as though he just remembered something. "I need to use the fireplace to go see my mom. I'll be back within the hour. Is it being used?"

Otto shook his head. "Not since you went der dis morning." He looked up and smiled. "Dis is your chance to try vhat I told you."

"But I used the fireplace to come back. Won't that affect it?"

"No. Go ahead. Try it. You'll see."

"Thanks. I will."

Francis happily went to the fireplace and threw in some floo powder. He stepped in without saying anything and was whisked away. He stepped out of the fireplace to see something unexpected.

"It's about time you showed up. I'm not running a nursery you know."

"It's not my fault, Mom. I came as soon as I found out what happened. The kids were playing and they got too close to the fireplace. Timmy magicked some floo powder so they wouldn't get hurt, then waited two hours to tell me. He thought I wouldn't yell as much if he waited until after lunch but I spotted him."

"You should just get rid of him," Lois exclaimed.

"I can't. I own him. We tried freeing him but he always cries when we do that. And he likes what he's doing. And Otto likes him. Business is up, for the off season. A lot of European families like the idea of a couple of weeks together in the middle of nowhere."

Lois laughed derisively. "I bet they prefer being together. Do their folks know yet?"

"Timmy took the rest of the kids horseback riding. That gives me a half hour before anyone notices."

"Good. They're in the backyard with Nob."

"Shouldn't Nob be in school?"

"Yeah. But they're having medieval folk dancing and Nob didn't tell me he needed a costume. So he stayed home sick." Lois smirked. "I know he planned it, but he'd probably ditch school if I gave him Malcolm's old costume. That's what Malcolm did."

Francis walked out into the yard from the kitchen door. Nob looked up, as did the two nine-year-olds.

"Great. We can play two on two. Rosita, you get Francis. Nigel, ready for some real play."

"Come on, Muchacho," Rosita called out, "Let's kick some butt."

Francis nodded. Rosita could speak English real good. "Okay, but just a short game. Twenty one?"

Dennis looked at Dewey from across the table. "I'm curious. Why are you at our table?"

"Malcolm had a bad shock. I 'm trying to help him. In case he tries to do something stupid."

Malcolm sat at his table with Dewey and Colin on either side of him. He smiled politely at everyone but said little, until he saw Ginny walking by with Dean.

"Um, Ginny."

"Hi, Malcolm. I am sorry about what happened."

"Me, too. But life goes on, if you know what I mean."

"You're not upset?"

"There are other girls out there. And some of them, I've never thought about. And maybe some of them never thought about me." Malcolm ignored Colin's stares and Dewey's whispering. "For example, would you like to join me for dinner. Move over Colin."

Ginny smiled sympathetically. "I'm with Dean."

"Ditch him," Malcolm suggested. "It's just that . . . I never realized how beautiful you are."

Behind him, Ron was choking on his pumpkin juice. Ginny simply patted Malcolm's cheek.

"Malcolm, I know it's not really you talking. You know how I think of you." She bent down and gave him a peck on the cheek. "But this is how I think of Dean."

Malcolm's face flushed as she and Dean kissed. Meanwhile, Ron, having cleared his throat, began choking on a second mouthful of pumpkin juice.

"She really doesn't care about me," Malcolm said as he shook his head.

"As a friend," Colin said consolingly, with a hint of brusqueness.

Dennis looked at Dewey from across the table. "I'm curious. WHY are you at our table?"

"I have no idea." Dewey got up and went back to the Slytherin table.

"Try not to show off," Colin suggested.

"Fine. I'll try to fit in." He saw Ron looking at him and waved. Ron mouthed "sod off," and Malcolm put his hand down. "Maybe I should just leave."

Malcolm turned around just as Harry was passing by.

"You look familiar. Wait, there's something about you that's different."

Harry stopped and looked down. "Not you, too. But why should I expect you to be the exception."

"Exception? For what?"

Harry expressed mock surprise. "Haven't you been reading those stories about me?"

"Yeah, I've read some. You should read some of the things they wrote about me. You point out your lies, I'll point out mine."

Harry gave an honest smile. "You would be familiar with that part."

"Yeah. Although they write about you more than they write about me. The reporters have to make more stuff up." Malcolm felt the need to say something serious. "I've read about you, and I like to think I've gotten to know you. I like you because of your attitude. You're always a professional. Regardless of what you do. And for all your fame you don't forget about the people around you. I bet nobody writes about that."

Harry clasped Malcolm's shoulder. "Thanks. Those were words I needed to hear."

Malcolm smiled, then snapped his fingers. "I know what's different about you. You look thinner. Is everything OK?"

Harry's smile was filled with appreciation. The words and concerns from this unexpected corner were a welcome gift. "Everything's fine. Better than I expected." His eyes caught Ron's. "Except the Team's Keeper has no confidence in himself. Any idea's on that."

"Ron. All I know is that he hates me. If I had to say anything nice to him, I'd have to lie."

"Lie?" Harry grinned from ear to ear. "THAT is an excellent idea."

The next day, Malcolm and Colin sat together in the stands waiting for the game to begin. With them were a suspicious Dennis Creevey, and the muggle boy, Anthony, who had still not managed to find his way back to Glen Levitt Academy. (Behind them by two rows were Hector Filch and his girlfriend, Enid. They would help Anthony after the match.)

"This is great," Malcolm told Colin as the two teams flew out into the pitch. His face was filled with anticipation. "Wait till I tell Justin about this."

Dennis frowned. Malcolm was acting strange, but why would he want to talk to Justin Finch-Fetchley. He would ask Malcolm after the match was over.

"Anthony is still here," Professor Flitwick noted. "I didn't say anything when he appeared in my class yesterday, as you asked."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Albus suggested he stay for the match. I know he explained the boy's unusual status. And we are still one short for Gryffindor."

This time, Flitwick nodded. "He said our newest student should be arriving soon. And I can't help but notice that Anthony is sitting with Malcolm. Is Malcolm still acting strangely?"

"He is?"

"Then I will expect a most unusual game?"