DISCLAIMER: I do not claim ownership of Harry Potter, Malcolm in the Middle or anything that isn't mine. That should about cover it.
A/N: This is set in book six.
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MALCOLM IN THE MIDDLE OF HOGWARTS
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CHAPTER ONE – Fireworks
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"This is all your fault Dewey."
"MY FAULT! You're the one that said it was a good idea to test the fire retardancy of Mum's car seats."
"It was a good idea." Reese retorted. "You're the one that used too much kerosene."
"Will you guys shut up? The sooner we finish sorting out this crap the sooner I can stop spending my holidays with you." Malcolm's head had emerged from behind a teetering pile of old newspapers in the Wilkersons garage.
"Fine." Dewey moved over to help Malcolm separate two old bikes so entangled it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
"Fine." Reese went to other side of the garage. He was looking around for something to hit when he stumbled upon an old wardrobe. Tall, dark brown with a large brass handle he moved to open the door and see what was inside when he had better idea.
"He glanced across at his brothers and caught Malcolms attention. He pointed at Dewey, pointed at the wardrobe then made shoving and locking motions. It took Malcolm another two repetitions for him to get it, but when it finally came to the unusually slow intellectual his mouth cracked in a mischievious grin.
With one swift movement he had Dewey's hands pinned behind his back with one hand, the other clamped tightly over his mouth. Reese leapt over a pile of old clothes and lifted Dewey's legs. Malcolm and Reese carried Dewey like he was on a spit roast over to the old wardrobe. With Malcolm grasping Dewey's underarms and Reese still clutching his legs, the two older brothers began to swing their younger sibling.
"One."
"Two."
"Thr-"
"MALCOLM! DEWEY! REESE! GET INSIDE FOR DINNER! YOU CAN FINISH CLEANING UP THAT CRAPHOLE TOMORROW!"
Dewey sighed, relieved. For once he was glad his overbearing mother had interrupted one of his brothers schemes. Reese and Malcolm shrugged before dropping Dewey onto the dusty garage floor. He knew it would be no use complaining. He'd just get beaten up for it later.
The boys shoveled down their bangers and mash before trooping upstairs to their beds. They were under strict orders of 'nothing fun' until the garage was spotless. Dewey crashed early, but Malcolm and Reese stayed up devising a plan to make tomorrow a little more interesting.
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They were roused from slumber at seven o'clock by Lois's grating voice.
"Get up! Come on! You've got work to do today." She was rewarded for her efforts with indistinguishable muttering.
"Bleargh." Reese sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"That's right. Up." Reese sank back onto the bed and promptly returned to sleep. "Oh no you don't." Lois left the boys room and came back with a jug of ice cold water, which she promptly poured over Reese. His shrieks could be heard next door.
"AAHHHHH! AAAHHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU CRAZY WOMAN!" Malcolm and Dewey sat up, retreating to the corners of their beds in fear.
Lois smiled, satisfied by his reaction.
"Well I couldn't get you to wake any other way. Now, strip the bed and put the mattress outside so it dries off. And get back in that garage. I want it spotless by six o'clock. "
The boys quickly dressed and moved the matrress before traipsing back to the garage. Lois stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, watching them start off. After about five minutes she left to start the housework. Reese and Malcolm seized their chance. Malcolm started sorting through a pile of board games, separating the ones with missing pieces from the undamaged ones. Dewey went over to help him and the two younger siblings sat in amicable (or so Dewey thought) silence.
Reese crept up behind Dewey and silently removed a firecracker from his pocket and placed it about two feet behind Dewey. Malcolm was sneakily watching out of the corner of his eye, and as he saw Reese pull out his lighter and moved closer to the wick, he moved, making like he was searching for more games. Dewey continued sorting, humming happily.
Reese lit the wick then ran backwards. A tremendous bang sounded thoughout the small garage and Dewey jumped, screaming, headfirst into the old wardrobe Malcolm and Reese had tried to throw him in the day before. He slumped to the floor and Malcolm rushed to check him. His face paled noticeably.
"He's unconscious. Shit." To add to the boys panic they heard Lois storming through the house.
"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR FIVE MINUTES AND YOU JUST CAN'T HELP YOURSELVES CAN YOU? YOU HAVE TO MAKE AS MUCH BLOODY NOISE AS POSSIBLE!" Reese stared at Malcolm, eyes wide with fear.
"What are we going to do? She'll kill us!"
"Um, um I don't know! Wait…" His eyes were darting around erratically, finally settling upon the large old wardrobe Dewey had knocked himself out with.
"Quick, into the wardrobe!" When Reese didn't move Malcolm shoved him in the back. "Come on, pick up and Dewey and we'll get into the wardrobe." The back door slammed and they heard their mother's angry footsteps on the walkway from the back door to the garage. In much the same way as the day before, Reese and Malcolm hauled up their younger brother and dragged him into the old wardrobe. They had just followed him in and shut the door when they heard the motorised garage door slowly rolling up. Malcolm whispered that they should move further back into the wardrobe. It seemed larger inside than you could have guessed from looking at the outside.
Still holding Dewey, the two older brothers backed up and found themselves behind the rack of thick coats. Expected to find solid wood at their backs, they were surprised to find more coats. Except these coats looked different. They weren't fur trimmed and leather, but brightly coloured and long. Dropping Dewey's bottom half, Reese pulled out a red one and held it in front of him.
"Hey Malcolm, look at this!" He held it in front of him and looked down at it, puzzled. "What is it?"
Malcolm was equally as confused.
"I don't know. It looks like… no it can't be." He frowned in concentration.
"Can't be what?"
"They look like… robes." Malcolm seemed to have confused himself even more. "Why would this wardrobe be full of robes?"
Reese guffawed. "I don't know. This wardrobe is weird." He picked up a purple one and said "Look Malcolm, your colour."
"Shut up Reese it is not. I think we should get out of here. This is too weird."
"No lets keep going. Look, its like a whole FOREST of robes." Reese started pushing through the robes, leaving Malcolm to drag Dewey by the armpits.
As they walked through the robes, Malcolm noticed that it was like going forward in time. The robes at the front where they'd first come in were very old compared to the ones towards the back. Not just the age of the materials, but the styles were historically different. Some had lace collars and cuffs, others wouldn't have looked out of place as bathrobes.
Eventually they came to the back of the wardrobe and found a door identical to the one they'd came through. Reese reached out to turn the knob but Malcolm stopped him.
"Reese," he said calmly. "I think we should go back the way we came. I don't think that door opens into our garage." He eyes the door suspiciously. Reese seemed to consider his words for a moment before turning the knob. He peered out the door before jumping onto the dusty floor.
"Oh my god Malcolm! You have to see this." Malcolm sighed as he followed Reese out the door, still clutching Dewey. They were standing in a vast room with a ceiling so high they couldn't distinguish its colour. He heard the door slam shut behind him. The room was cluttered with so much junk it looked like a heaven for unwanted garage sale items. Malcolm noticed that theirs was not the only wardrobe. He saw that on top of another wardrobe was a stone bust with a silvery grey wig and a crown atop its head. 'How odd.' Malcolm thought. He noticed that Reese looked about to wander off down a path through the rubble.
"Ok Reese its time to go." Reese just turned and glared at him.
"Since when are you the king of the world? I'm the oldest and I say we explore around a bit. Look at all this crap, there's bound to something worthwhile in here." Malcolm rested the unconscious form of Dewey against the wardrobe and strode over to Reese. Reese might be a few years older, but Malcolm was catching up in height.
"We have no idea where we are! If we stay any longer who knows what could happen. We have to get Dewey back home! Look at him! He's unconscious for gods sake!" The boys were yelling now.
"He'll survive. Come on Malcolm, live a little!"
"I'm living right now! I don't know much longer I'll last if we stay here though!"
"Pussy!"
"Jerk!"
"Wuss!"
"Manipulative arsehole!"
Reese looked like a stunned mullet. Malcolm could almost see his train of thought. 'manipulative?… hey look something shiny…' Malcolm rolled his eyes and opened the wardrobe door.
"I'm going. And I'm taking Dewey with me. You can stay here and play Indiana Jones if you want but I'm leaving." With that he stepped back into the wardrobe. He turned around and dragged Dewey up by the underarms and started backing though the first row of coats.
His back hit something solid. With a cry of distress he dropped his younger brother and swivelled, coming face to wood with the back of the wardrobe.
"Oh no! Oh no! Ohmygodohmygod!" He leapt over Dewey and ran around to the back of the wardrobe and started banging on it. Nothing happened. He ran back around the front and banged on it from the inside. Again, nothing. He jumped back out and lay flat on the floor, banging his arms and kicking his legs, yelling incoherent nonsense. Reese came running back from the path he'd wandered down and stared at his brother having a tantrum on the floor.
"What the hell…? Malcolm! What the hell is wrong?"
Malcolm looked up from his screaming fit and yelled at Reese.
"Wardrobe… wood…back…robes…can't…stuck!"
"Slow down. Think about each word before you say it."
"The wardrobe has a back. There's only one row of robes there. I can't get through."
Reese went and pushed through the robes again. He found only the solid wooden backing of the wardrobe. Eyes wide, he turned to stare at Malcolm and for once the two brothers were thinking the exact same thing.
"We're stuck here."
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A/N: Hmmm…. Where can the boys be? ;) LOL my sister just advised me that I should disclaim ownership of Narnia, so here it is: I don't own Narnia either. I really like this story idea but I want to see what you guys think. So, should I continue it? Let me know!