A/N: I just thought I'd note that I finally finished writing the final chapter. It only took me three complete drafts to get one I liked. On the other hand, it took me most of a month to work everything out. I don't think I'll bother with final chapters anymore.

Chapter 28: Back at School

"I never thanked you for the reeds," Dewey told Anthony. "How did you know I played saxophone?"

"You look like you do," Anthony lied, hiding his surprise.

"Did you tell anyone?"

"I didn't think I should. You never told anyone."

"Not my brothers. I told Piama and she probably told Francis, but I know nobody told Malcolm or Reese. They haven't made any jokes about it."

"Then the jokes on them." Anthony was now curious. "If we ever get the chance, I'd like to hear you play."

"I'll work on it," Dewey promised.

Albus Dumbledore approached the boy in the Glen Levitt blazer before he could leave the school.

"It is Anthony, isn't it."

"Yes, Professor. I was invited to spend the holiday."

Dumbledore smiled. "How much a year and a half can change a boy, or more correctly a young man. I was curious as to how your life was going, since your change of stature."

Anthony's answer was subdued. "I don't have many friends, now. But then, I suppose I didn't have many friends to begin with. To be honest, Sir, most of them are at your school and not my own."

"Then feel free to come by and visit any chance you can. Although I fear you won't have many chances. May I walk you out."

"Thank you, Sir. Am I putting you out?"

"Quite the opposite. I am putting you out."

"I suppose you are at that." As they walked down the steps from the main doors, Anthony paused briefly. "Headmaster, I can't help but hear about things."

"They are all probably true. Our world is not safe at the moment, nor is your world truly safe, either. But we try to hold things together." They continued down the path.

"The Chosen One. Is that true? They tell me that boy, Potter, in Euan's house, is the one."

"They have been saying that about Harry Potter since the day his parents died. But you are a perceptive young man. I will tell you this, Anthony. No one has asked the question: Who chose him? "

"I know he's marked by his scar . . ."

"You are quite perceptive. As a wizard, you would go far in our world."

"That's kind of you to say, Sir. But the truth be known, I'm not. If I were, someone would have told me . . . years ago."

"But you are comfortable around magic. That should count for something."

"I was taught that magic is not to be feared. Better to fear the magician."

Albus clapped his hands together. "A simple truth that so few can see. For that, I officially invite you to our next Quidditch Match."

"I would like that."

"I will inform your headmaster. And please let him know that I send him my congratulations. Have they set a date?"

"I wouldn't know, Sir. They were going abroad for the holiday to discuss the matter. That was all I could overhear. Not that I was eavesdropping. I just happened to be close by."

"Just happened?"

"I was the server for the dinner where Headmaster Filch proposed."

"Then it was information honestly obtained."

"May I ask, Sir. I don't mean to be rude. But I noticed your hand."

Albus held out his hand which looked withered and burned. "It was necessary. Greater good came from taking this injury than if I had let it pass."

"Are you speaking philosophically?"

"As a realist. There are many choices that come before each of us in our lives. But we must learn to see past the immediate gain or loss to see what is truly gained or lost. I could cite several examples."

"I know of one, Sir. Taking easy money instead of responsibility."

"And how does responsibility fit you."

"I work in the kitchen for most of my free time. I can't see what the future has in store for me, but, before, I could not see a future at all."

"The future is always in eternal fog. It only becomes clear when we are near the end." Albus's eyes twinkled. "I always find comfort knowing that there still are a few things I don't know. And here we are."

Albus passed Anthony into the hands of the Aurors who in turn led him to a limousine. With his good hand, he waved goodbye to the boy. Then he turned to walk back to the school. He had to prepare for his meeting with another young man.

As for Anthony, the last time he had talk to the headmaster it was with anger and fear. This time, it was as though they were equals. It was a strange feeling for a boy in his situation. It was at about the halfway point back to the school he began to look at his hand. "A greater good?" he pondered.

Malcolm was waiting as Draco left the Great Hall after breakfast. "How did it go, yesterday? Did you wow them?"

Draco sneered as he turned toward the main doors. "I will have you know, Malcolm, that apparating is still difficult to do if you've never done it before."

"But you know how it's done," Malcolm said, holding the door open.

"Yes, I know. And if I managed to do it right away, people might suspect I was already doing it. That I might have been doing it."

"That's ridiculous. Some people have a knack for magic."

"So speaks the youngest known animagus."

"Second youngest. There's that kid in Japan who can change into a mouse, and he's still younger than when I first changed."

"Then you haven't been reading the Daily Prophet. He was demonstrating his abilities to some friends, and neglected to consider the neighbor's cat."

Malcolm looked surprised. "That's . . . "

Draco laughed. "That's why underage wizards are discouraged from using magic. It was a stupid way to die."

"I was going to say it's a disgusting way to die."

"I suppose it depends on your point of view. Undoubtedly, the cat wasn't disgusted by it at all."

"Can we change the subject."

"I already did. We're talking about apparating and how difficult it is. Remember?"

"Well, this time it's going in a different direction. I just realized we're passing Hagrid's hut. If he see's me, I'm trapped."

"Is he still all golly-woggle because you gave him a Christmas present? Insult him a few times. He'll get over it." Draco sniffed. "I hate February. I prefer my cold with ice and snow, not slush puddles and dampness."

"You wanted to walk outside to talk with me."

"I need your help. It's about Potter. He heard me arguing with Vincent. I have him and Greg watching out for me. They don't like it, but I can't tell them what I'm doing."

That's one of the weird things about Draco. In public, they're always Crabbe and Goyle but in private he always uses their first names.

"I don't know. Maybe it's because they don't like wearing dresses."

Draco looked coldly at Malcolm. Considering the weather, it wasn't difficult. Then he shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose you would know about that. But Greg actually enjoys it. He loves teasing the boys when we walk by. He even told me that he would love to get into a broom closet with one of them just to see their reaction when he changed back."

I was about to say that sounds sick, but I would love to be there to see that.

Draco looked at Malcolm. "No comments."

"I was thinking that would be pretty funny."

"And what do you think I should do."

"Keep walking. If we stand here any longer, Hagrid might spot us and invite us in for tea."

"Malcolm," Hagrid called cheerfully from his doorway. "I saw ye standin' out there. Ye got one of yer little friends wit' ye?"

"Uh, yeah, Hagrid. But it's my cousin, Draco. We were just leaving."

"I understand," Hagrid said with mixed emotions. "I jus' thought ye might like some tea."

Draco groaned. "It's starting to rain. It's not supposed to rain today."

"C'mon." Malcolm grabbed Draco and pulled him toward Hagrid's hut. They reached cover, just before the rain came pouring down. "Hagrid," Malcolm said in a pleading voice. "We would like to come in for tea, if you let us."

"Malcolm," Draco hissed.

"It's your choice," Malcolm hissed back. "Tea with Hagrid or walk back in the rain." Before Draco could say anything, he added, "He's family."

"Wait," Draco said loudly. "How is Hagrid part of our family?"

Hagrid couldn't help but laugh. "Don' go aroun' tellin' people that, Malcolm. Me havin' any relationship to a Malfoy."

Malcolm was smiling. "But you do, Hagrid. You're godfather to his cousin, Norbert."

Harry was looking at the Maurader's Map intensely. Ron was standing next to him.

"There they are, Harry. Crabbe and Goyle are in their dorm room. But I can't find Malfoy. Do you think he disappeared again."

"Not without his lookouts. He wouldn't take the chance."

"He knows you heard him," Ron pointed out. "He might have, just to trip us up."

"He might, but . . ."

"What is it?"

"I just noticed. There are three dots in Hagrid's hut."

"He made some new friends. I mean, I do like Hagrid but . . . Harry?"

Harry Potter stared in disbelief. Draco Malfoy and his cousin were in Hagrid's hut.

Ron looked at the names and then at Harry's expression. "Maybe they're putting him under the Imperious curse. We should warn someone."

"Ron, do you honestly believe that? If it were just Malfoy, but not with Malcolm there."

"You're right, Harry, that's not Malcolm's style."

"What could they be doing?"

"I don' mind clearin' the air," Hagrid said strongly as he handed Draco his cup of tea, "but you are the reason I don' have Norbert anymore. You an' yer snitchin'."

"Then there was a dragon," Draco said with a feeling of triumph. "And you would have had your dragon if Potter hadn't been so stuck up about keeping it a secret."

"Harry Potter's a decent sort in my book."

"Then I'll blame Weasley's influence. The first thing he did was turn Potter against me. I was there, that first day, offering my hand in friendship, and that Weasel makes a derogatory remark against me. What a big surprise. Potter then says he doesn't want anything to do with me."

"You had a dragon?" Malcolm asked.

"I'd have loved to have seen him," Draco said, half to himself.

Uh, oh. Dewey told me about this. Draco's having another one of those episodes.

"You may blame me," Draco told Hagrid, tears running down his cheek, "but they were the ones who turned on me. Weasley's Dad hates my father so Weasley hates me. And he got to be Potter's friend first. And badmouthed me from the beginning." His voice became small. "I just thought I could help."

Next he'll be talking about Ginny or Basil. I have to shut him up, somehow.

Malcolm jumped up and grabbed the tray off Hagrid's table.

"Here, Draco, have a cookie. You'll feel better."

"Thank you, Malcolm." He took a cookie and turned back to Hagrid. In his tearful voice he said, "Malcolm is the PROOF that not all Gryffindors are scum. And I'm proud that I'm related to such an incoherent rabble as HIS family." Then he bit into Hagrid's homemade cookie and said no more.

"Well," Hagrid said nervously. "Now I feel like the pot talkin' to the kettle."

All I can say is that I'm glad no one knows we're here.

Hermione looked across the library table in surprised. "Are you sure, Harry?"

"The map doesn't lie," Harry whispered back. "They're still in there. It's been at least two hours."

"It's a fiendish plot," Hermione explained. "Malfoy is trying to steal all your friends from you, one by one, and has decided to do it according to size. Do you understand what this means?"

Harry couldn't control his grin. "I haven't the foggiest."

"It means Dennis Creevey will be your last friend in the world."

"Seriously, Hermione. What could they be doing there?"

"It's raining. Maybe they stopped in for tea. They are related, technically."

"How?"

"Do you remember Nob?"

It was getting dark, but at least the rain had let up, when Draco and Malcolm finally said their goodbyes. Everyone was in a surprisingly good mood, the surprise being that they were all in a good mood.

"Ye hold to wha' ye said, Draco Malfoy, an' yer welcome back any time."

"Thank you, Hagrid. And I do mean that. I never thought of you or Buckbeak. It was just my urge to strike back at Potter. And I do see what you mean. We will never be friends, but I will give him the benefit of the doubt."

Malcolm smiled. "And thanks for telling me about the dragon. That was neat."

"An' don' either of you go tellin' anyone abou' that. Or the other thing."

Like I'm going to tell anyone he's hiding a giant spider behind his hut.

"We promise, Hagrid," Draco said with a warm feeling. "And thank you for the cookies." He patted his pocket.

"Off wi' the two of ye. Dinner's comin' up and ye need to get changed."

As they walked back to Hogwarts, Draco sighed. "That was a refreshing conversation, Malcolm. I learned a great deal."

"Yeah?"

"For example, had it been Ginny Weasley in our year instead of her misanthrope brother, I could have ended up with my own dragon. As friends, Hagrid would have been more than grateful to let me hide his pet on the manor grounds."

I believe that would have happened. In another dimension. Hmmm. That reminds me.

"And to think he's such an ingenious cook. He must have been the one to inspire your brother."

"Did you say cook? You mean his cookies?"

"I suppose you don't like hard taffy. Clever the way he adapted the candy with the cookie formula. You could chew on one of these for hours. Marvelous idea."

"Huh? Or yeah. Clever."

As February ended, the weather remained cold and wet, but also became windy. Hagrid was huddled over his fireplace when he heard a thump on the door. He opened it to find a heavily laden owl trying not to be blown away. The owl dropped the package into his arms and was gone. Whether by it's own volition or not, Hagrid never knew.

He closed the door against the wind and cold and opened the box. His eyes opened in surprise. It was a bearskin coat, made to fit. He put it on with pleasure, feeling the roominess inside the many pockets. And in one of them he found a note. "A fitting coat." The note was from someone in Slytherin. It was green parchment written on in silver ink. He recognized the handwriting as that of a recent guest.

Hagrid even appreciated the pun. The bearskin coat did fit him. And it was fitting that someone as big as a bear should have such a coat.