A/N: Let me thank everyone first for reading and for reviewing. Mandraco mentioned being verbose. Which brings to mind the question: Why is abbreviated such a long word?

I wanted to make note that I said I was going to have some fun with this story. I also mentioned that I deliberately ripped off a plot device from an EERIE, INDIANA (pop. 16661) episode. Everyone should understand what I meant within the next 150 words.

A side note to Phoenix Skyborne: This also explains why Malcolm has been acting so funny.

Chapter 22: Been There, Done That

"Professor?"

Malcolm looked at the opening door while Gabrielle giggled. "What?"

"Professor McGonagall's around the corner. She wants to talk to you, privately. She didn't say what it was about."

Malcolm sighed. "I'll be right back." He followed the boy who ran to the end of the hall and disappeared to the right.

"I'll wait here," Gabrielle said, and closed the door as Malcolm left.

Nott, from his hiding spot on the left, signaled the boys that Malcolm was coming and that Gabrielle was watching. As Malcolm turned the corner, all three boys, their wands ready, each casting a different jinx. As Malcolm's arm went up, Nott used his wand to cast the Imperious Curse on him. There was a flash and Malcolm was standing there. He looked at the three boys. Then the pain hit him and he let out a short scream. "AHHH."

"CUT"

The director was out of his chair in an instant. "Get the doctor up here. NOW. And find out what that flash was." He and others ran up to the young Gryffindor. "Frankie, where does it hurt."

"W- What?" Malcolm asked in confusion."

"Head injury," someone suggested.

The director turned around. "Where's the damn doctor."

"Here." The doctor took Malcolm's chin in his hand. "Hold still, lad. Does it hurt anywhere?" He began running his hand over Malcolm's head to see if there were any bumps or abrasions. He knocked Malcolm's hat off causing someone to mutter, "Didn't notice that. We'd have to reshoot the scene anyway."

The doctor looked at Malcolm. "Where does it hurt?

"It was just a sharp pain. It's gone already."

"Frankie," the doctor asked. "Where was the pain?"

"The back of my head. Just above my neck. And . . . my name's Malcolm."

Everyone froze as Malcolm said that. The doctor muttered "Could have hurt his head.. Possibly a concussion. But I can't find any bumps or bruises." The director nodded. And Malcolm looked up. There were cameras in front of him. Like for movies. There was a directional microphone above him. And no ceiling to the hallway. Nor was there any opposite wall.

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto.

"I feel a little dizzy," Malcolm asked. "Could I sit down."

"Sure," the doctor said.

Someone shouted. "Break, twenty minutes." as the Director and the doctor led Malcolm to a chair. Malcolm's guess was right. He was led to a chair with the name printed on it: Frankie Muniz.

At least I know who I am. At least who I'm supposed to be.

Malcolm sat down and someone handed him a glass of water and two pills. "They're aspirin," the doctor assured him. Malcolm took the pills and drank the water greedily.

"Thanks. I think the water helped more than anything."

"That's good to hear, but I need to ask you a few questions."

"Shoot?"

"Your name is?"

"Frankie. Frankie Muniz. Although sometimes I call myself Malcolm when something weird happens."

'Then you remember what you said?"

"Yeah. For a moment there, all I could think of was staying in character. Could I ask a question."

"Go ahead."

"I'm not sure if I'm up to doing anything more today."

"Those are my orders." The doctor gave him a friendly smile.

The director smiled as well. "You have tomorrow off as well. We want you at your best, Frankie, and we still have to figure out what happened to you."

"And why half the fuses blew," one of the techs noted."

"Am I free then as well?" a familiar voice asked."

"These were supposed to be the scenes between the two of you," the director noted. "That's a yes, Daniel."

"Good. I'll put in a call about doing one of those interviews." Malcolm looked as Harry Potter shook the director's hand. "And I'll give Frankie a lift back to his hotel, if that will help."

"You have my permission," the doctor said, giving Malcolm a strong warning to call for help at once if he felt 'unusual' in anyway."

Who should I call? I know. AUNTIE EM. AUNTIE EM.

"Can you walk?" Daniel asked.

"I'm a little wobbly, but I can make it."

"That's good," Daniel noted as they walked out of the sound stage and to a trailer. "I'll meet you back here after I change out of wardrobe."

Malcolm nodded. This was obviously his trailer, and he was expected to do the same.

It does feel weird. These are obviously my clothes. They fit perfectly. But I've never seen them before. And I found my wallet and passport. You know what? I've got credit cards.

There was a knock on the door. Malcolm, assuming it was Daniel, opened it.

"You okay," Dewey asked. "Someone said there was an accident."

"Yeah, I'm fine. A little shook up, that's all. They're not sure what happened."

"My dad's talking to the doctor, so he knows what to tell your mom."

This is interesting. We're not related. I have to assume that everyone in my family is an actor, too. And this Frankie's mom is (Home?). I'm not going to be able to hide what happened. But what happens if I tell the truth?

"Well, I'm off the rest of the day, and tomorrow. Just to make sure. I think I scared them."

"Frankie, is it true that you told the doctor you were Malcolm?"

"Nooo. I told the director I was Malcolm. Get your facts straight."

"Hi, Erik," Daniel said as he returned. "Came to get the real story."

"Yeah. It's not everyday they close the set and start running. I heard one of the techs say all the lighting went haywire."

Malcolm remembered what he had heard. "One of them said half the fuses were blown."

"Ewww." Erik said as he shook himself. "I guess you're lucky it was just a bunch of lights. That would shake me up, too. Dad wants to know if you'll be fine in the trailer until we're done shooting?"

"I'm taking him home," Daniel said. "And Linwood told me that he's already talked to Frankie's mom."

"That's cool. Frankie, see you back at the hotel." Erik waved goodbye as he walked back to his sound stage. He was met by a man, Malcolm guessed it was his father, and they started talking. The man waved to Malcolm, and took Erik back inside.

Dewey is Erik. Harry is Daniel. And Linwood? Probably the director's name. But it sounds like someone I should know.

Malcolm followed Daniel from the trailers across to the parking lot, nervous about making any mistakes.

"Lead on, MacDuff," Malcolm said cheerfully.

"That's Radcliffe," Daniel said with amusement. "You never get names correctly."

"It was a joke."

"I know," Daniel said in a terrible fake New Yorker accent. "It's by dat guy. Da writer. Bill wassisname."

"Tut, tut, dear boy," Malcolm countered with his best impersonation of Draco. "The names may be wrong but at least I remember them." he sniffed at the air. "Colonials. How droll."

"That was good."

"I practiced."

"I'll stick to upper class twit, then?" Daniel said, eyeing Malcolm carefully.

"Monty Python. I bought a dead parrot because of them. Is this your car? Nice? I like convertibles."

Daniel nodded and told him to get in. He failed to remind Frankie that he had given him a ride in his car only the day before. And he had tried the twit remark on him the first day on the set. Frankie seemed to be acting normal but things weren't adding up. He would call the studio later. He would see Frankie home first.

"Hey," A voice called out. "Dan, You're off?"

"Rupert. An accident on the set. We're off till Sunday."

"Then you're heading out tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it. What's up with you? I thought you only had pickups?"

"I guess it's your accident. They called the rain schedule. Ron and Hermione meet Reese and Dewey."

The shouting match done. Dan put the car in drive and headed off the lot. As they pulled out onto the connector, he decided to try a hunch. "It must be fun having a show with brothers."

Okay. This was a movie set. And I must do a TV show. Think. Got it. This is some kind of special. It's probably for TV but we're on a movie lot because that's where his sets are.

"It's a lot of fun. But this is a real treat. A movie studio is a lot different than what we're used to."

Daniel smiled as he nodded his head. Accurate in detail, but again a strange remark from somebody who had made three movies already. Or was it four.

"My character doesn't have any brothers, or any family for that matter. They're all dead, except for a godfather."

"But he . . ." Malcolm stopped in his tracks. He thought he had understood. This was another universe. One where they were actors portraying the people they were in their own world. But that wasn't quite true. They were not portraying exactly the same people.

"But he?" Daniel asked. There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

How many goofs have I made already. I bet this isn't the first time I've been in this car. Let's test this out.

"I was about to say, 'but he died.' But that would be wrong."

"That was in the fifth book. But we're only on the fourth movie. I guess it could go either way. Anyway, I was going to ask, about your show. Your brother, the one who plays Reese . . . what's his name again?"

Dang. He does suspect.

"Reese? He's . . . That's funny. I don't remember. It's like my brain is sleeping." Malcolm put a tremble into his voice. "Harry, I mean, Dan. Did I say anything else that was weird? Like about the car?"

Daniel's voice held both worry and relief. "You forgot I gave you a ride yesterday. And, um, Frankie. The first day we met, I also made the remark about the upper class twit, and I had to explain it to you."

"That one, I was goofing on you. My brothers and me had a good laugh about it afterwards . . . I mean . . . Sorry."

"Don't worry. I'll call the doctor when we get back. Maybe take you in for a checkup."

"Thanks."

Daniel grabbed a CD. "Let's have some music. You told me you liked these guys." He put in a CD, and relaxed when Malcolm started singing along with the lyrics. The American boy was only shook up. There was nothing to worry about.

I don't know who these guys are but this CD is really cool. Le Sorcerers Mal did this song twice last night. Opening the first set, and as an encore.

"Parent Alert," Dan said helpfully.

"Hi, Mom," Malcolm said to the stranger walking toward him.

"I knew I should have come today," the woman said. "Frankie, what happened."

"I don't know. It left me dazed. And I seem to be confused about a few things, It's clearing up slowly. And I'm feeling tired."

The last line was the truth. As far as Malcolm could tell, at this point he had been up for almost thirty hours straight.

"Thanks for helping him out," Mrs. Muniz told Daniel.

"My pleasure. Frankie was right about being confused, but he seems to know what he's doing wrong. I was going to call the doctor."

"No head injuries."

"Doctor says he's fine."

Mrs. Muniz nodded thoughtfully. "We'll put you to bed, Francisco. You know the way."

Yeah, I have my room key. And calling me Francisco. That's parent talk for do it or else.

"Okay."

"I'll be in to check on you. I want to talk to Daniel, first."

Malcolm walked to his room, which was a suite with a kitchen area. He took a quick look in the refrigerator then examined both bedrooms. He found which one was his and searched the room thoroughly, finding out very little except for his taste in music. He did find pajamas and dressed quickly for bed. The last thing he did was stick his wand beneath his pillow. Whatever else that was going on in his life, he was exhausted. He was asleep by the time his 'mother' came in to check on him. And he slept through until early morning.

Malcolm knew it was early, but at least he was no longer tired. He could finally think straight and listed everything he knew. It wasn't much. He had no idea who he was except that he was an actor and he played Malcolm in a TV show. His guess was that his family were also actors and had no actual relationship. One good note: He was no longer related to Reese.

He was an actor? That meant that he was rich. He decided he could get used to that. And since he was an actor, that meant he was no longer a wizard. Malcolm stopped. But he still had his wand?

I've got it. This isn't an alternate reality. My life hasn't suddenly changed. This is an Alternate WORLD. You know, the philosophical implications alone are staggering.

Malcolm reached for his wand. If he was here, that meant that this kid, Frankie, was in his world. But what was he to do. He held up his wand. He needed to test something, but it needed to be a small test. He concentrated, not saying a word. A pinpoint of light appeared on the tip. He could still perform magic.

Malcolm's mind was racing. Did this world have magic? Was it the same type that he used? Or was magic only illusion in this world? Just as Malcolm's life was in this world. There was no doubt about what he had to do, only how to do it. Malcolm would find a way back. He had to. Even if, by some fluke, Gabrielle also existed in this world.

Malcolm was smart. He was very smart. And he knew he needed help. But whom. And how. That would wait for later. For now, he would take a morning walk. He would find out where he was, in England, and make his plans from there.

Malcolm was sitting on a bench outside the hotel, a handful of magazines beside him. He was leafing through them for all sorts of informational tidbits.

I like this one. TV TEEN. They have a picture of me without my shirt and all of my stats. I like the special notes. He likes rock, jazz and blondes. And they got my birthday wrong.

It only took a couple of the magazine to give him the basic information. He now knew all about his show. He was the star but there were other actors, and their names. He also read up on Daniel, who was even more popular. He was in the middle of making his fourth Harry Potter movie. Malcolm noted that the sixth book had also come out.

Malcolm also found out about the special. It was part of a charity deal. Advertisers bid for slots. The money would be divided amongst all the actors' charities. He noted with interest that Daniel's charity was called Demelza House. That was a curious name, because Demelza Robins was on the Quidditch team. Malcolm marked it down as coincidence.

Most important, Malcolm found out about the internet. And since Frankie was rich, and he was Frankie, logic dictated he should have a computer.

It's time to go back to my room and check all my drawers. I bet I have a laptop.

A car pulled up just as Malcolm was getting up. "Frankie. You're up early," Daniel called. "What's with all the magazines?"

"Just catching up on the junk they write about me." Malcolm climbed in. "What brings you here?"

"I promised your mother I'd take you down to London General for some tests. I was there when whatever happened, happened. And I'm going into London, anyway. I've got an interview. I won't bore you with the details." He looked at his watch. "I have about an hour before we have to leave."

"I'll let my . . . mom know. We can take off anytime," Malcolm offered.

I've noticed something about Daniel. He's not the same as Harry. I mean, besides the scar and having parents and being an actor instead of a wizard. He's a little taller than Harry. And I guess he weighs more. But he looks older too. I don't think we're on the same timeline. I think our worlds simply meshed at that one point.

"Frankie," Erik called from the entrance to the hotel. "You're up early. I thought you were off."

Erik's dad was there as well, and Frankie's mom. "I couldn't sleep any more. I thought I'd take a walk. Sorry, mom. I guess I should have told you."

"Yes. You should have." She looked at the bench. "And why those magazines? That's not like you."

She's right. It's not like me. I'm making mistakes and I can only act confused for so long. And I need help anyway. I'm going to do it.

"Mrs. Muniz, Dan, Erik, Mister . . . I don't know what your name is . . . there's something I have to tell all of you."

Frankie's mom reacted first. "Mrs. Muniz? And you've known the Sullivans for years. What's the meaning of this, Frankie?"

"I'm sorry but I'm not this Frankie kid. My name isn't Francisco Muniz. It's Malcolm . . ."

"It's okay," Mrs. Muniz told him as she stepped toward him.

Did you hear that tone? I'd better just forget about this plan.

"I apologize for forgetting a few things. Whatever happened made me seem a bit barmy. I'll be fine."

Daniel grabbed his arm. "Frankie. It's not just forgetting things. You're acting differently. And I don't mean as an actor."

Dang. Now they all think I really am nuts.

"Dan, honestly, there's nothing really wrong with me. I'm fine. You're taking me to the doctor anyway. He'll find me in perfect health."

Daniel looked clearly upset. "How can I make my point?" He smiled. "I know. Malcolm, you go to school. What year are you in?"

"Fourth. Why?"

Malcolm's face went white.

He called me Malcolm. And I fell for it. Now I have to do this, anyway.

"You see, Frankie," Daniel explained, "or should I call you Malcolm. You've identified with your character. And you told me you were a fourth year. In the States."

I completely missed that.

"You need to talk to someone about this," Daniel continued. "This is serious. I'll mention this to the doctors when we get there."

"You're right," Malcolm said clearly. "But you're wrong about me. I don't think I'm a TV character named Malcolm. My name IS Malcolm. I'm trying to pretend I'm this actor, Francisco Muniz, the one all of you call Frankie. But there's so much that I don't know about him. And his life is too different from mine for me to guess correctly."

"Then we'll both talk to the doctors," Mrs. Muniz assured him. "They WILL know how to help."

Malcolm smiled. "I'm not Frankie. I'm Malcolm. And I AM a genius. I already know what to do. Because in my world, I'm a wizard. Harry Potter and I are in the same house. And that flash on the sound stage was a burst of magic as I changed places with Frankie."

No one was smiling anymore. "Maybe we should get going."

"Not yet. I'm going to prove it to all of you."

"Prove?"

"Magic."

"Let him," Erik suggested. "This should be fun."

Malcolm raised his arms and began flapping his wings. He flew up, circled a little, then landed on the windshield of Daniel's car and perched there, listening for reactions.

All I can hear is them gasping for air.

"That," Erik said, "was truly strange."

Malcolm pushed off the windshield and transformed. He was now standing next to the car. "Neat special effects, huh."

Daniel look scared. "Tha - That was real."

"I'm an animagus. And I deliver my own mail, too. It's a real hoot."

It worked. How could anyone be frightened by someone who just told a mediocre joke and followed it with a bad pun.

Frankie's mom asked in a shaky voice. "Is this a different reality or something?"

"I'm thinking parallel world. With a lot of differences."

"And you're really . . ." Asked Mister Sullivan.

"Malcolm. And Dewey and Reese are my brothers. And Francis, but he works on this ranch."

"He was fired. Then quit."

Malcolm nodded. "It sounds like Francis. But if that's from the TV show it hasn't happened yet. I was surprised to find out I'm not a wizard on my show?"

"No, you're just very strange." Erik was smiling.

"Am I that popular?"

Daniel shrugged his shoulder's. "Enough for us to do this special together. I think you're doing it more for the publicity, not that charity is a bad reason."

Figures he has top billing. Even at school it's always Harry, Harry, Harry. I get Snape telling me "Oh Goody. You're back," and he gets everyone calling him "The Chosen One."

Daniel looked at Malcolm, then at the others. "What do we do now?"

Mrs. Muniz took charge. "We go back to my apartment and discuss this. And we keep this between the five of us."

"We can afford to be late today, I think," Erik's dad told him as they walked back into the hotel.

No one spoke as they rode up in the elevator. The door opened to their floor.

"Frankie? What the hell was that? I was on the balcony an I saw you mrfghmr."

"Shut up, Reese," Malcolm said as he forced his hand over his brother's mouth. "And c'mon. You're number six."

"Quiet, Justin," Mrs. Muniz admonished. "Did anyone else see?"

"No, but . . ."

She opened the door. "Everyone in. Then we talk."

Justin nodded and followed everyone in. As soon as the door closed, "What the hell was that, Frankie?"

"It was me. And I'm not Frankie. That's what this is all about."

Erik grabbed Justin's hand. "He's the real Malcolm. And the real Malcolm goes to school with the real Harry Potter."

Malcolm nodded. "You figured that out."

"You showed up on his set. And you told us all that downstairs. Are you really a wizard?"

"Fourth year, Gryffindor."

"Cool."

Malcolm smiled. "If you think that's so cool, Dewey, then why are you in Slytherin?"

Erik's eyes lit up. "I'm a wizard, too?"

"And me," Justin asked.

Malcolm shook his head. "You're only a squib. But you're the head chef at the school next door and you're dating Millicent Bulstrode."

"You're making this up."

Malcolm jumped onto the back of the chair and perched there. He flew off the chair and landed with his feet back on the floor. "Do you still think I'm making this up."

"Malcolm." It was Mrs. Muniz. The worry was still in her voice. "If you're here, then where is Frankie?"

"Probably in the Great Hall having breakfast."

"Is it possible to get him back."

"I haven't figured that out yet. But I don't think he'll want to come back too quickly. There's a Quidditch match today. We're playing Slytherin."

It was Justin who spoke. "Frankie is SO lucky."