A/N: I said I would no longer comment on things I know nothing about. As a result, I have nothing to say.

Chapter 11: The Muggle World

Time passed with steady monotony. When he did not go out, Moody taught Draco to play chess. Once Draco mastered the basics, he learned wizards' chess. It was played the same way but the pieces physically attacked each other. Draco also learned, in an embarrassing fashion, that the pieces could even refuse to move. He asked to go back to the muggle version until he understood the game better.

Draco had the idea of teaching Moody how to play poker. After an hour of playing, Moody asked how much more money he had to win in order to lose the game.

Draco also had several tasks. He would read the Daily Prophet every day, looking for any articles that might be about him or Hogwarts in any way. He then had to note the inaccuracies between the articles and what he knew. It gave him something to do beside reading books, even though he was still reading. It also helped him keep current with what was going on at the school. Theories were being thrown around about all the possible causes. And there was frequent mention of someone still on the grounds who could be involved. Sometimes the articles referred to an adult who had befriended "The Malfoy". Moody told him his guess was correct. They were talking about Rubeus Hagrid.

Moody also kept him informed about the basics of what he had discovered. There were wizards watching the various muggles that Draco knew, but it was not a serious problem. The main reason was that the Ministry of Magic wanted to know what happened to "The Malfoy" in case Draco had revealed the existence of magic to anyone. Otherwise, no one seemed to care.

He also mentioned that the muggle newspapers were talking about Saint Brutus. After a spot of trouble with the press, the school announced that "a recently missing boy had been returned." Draco laughed. The school was covering up their problem, and he was in no position to call them liars.

Early February was when things changed. It was shortly after noon when Moody came back. He was dressed as usual with an eyepatch over his magical eye, and his prosthetic spelled to look like the muggle version. Draco could read the man well enough by now to know that he was excited about something. He walked over to Draco and handed him a newspaper. He said there was an article in there that would be of interest.

Curious, Draco took the newspaper. It was the London Times. And on the front page was a picture of a group of protestors. Below it was the headline, "Outcry Over Missing Youth".

"Miss Carmichael?" She was in the foreground of the picture, as clear as day. Like everyone else, she was looking to the right of the photographer. And she was holding a sign. It was so incongruous that he could only stare. The sign she was holding said, "SHOW US".

Draco's eyes finally moved. Of the dozen people he could see clearly, out of who knew how many, he knew half of them from the neighbourhood. Nigel, still pimply at sixteen, was standing next to Miss Carmichael. His hand was raised in a fist and he was shouting something. Draco had never seen him in such a rage. Two other faces particularly caught his eye. Mahresa. And her mother. It was as though all of Grimauld Place, all of Grimauld Square, had risen up.

Draco looked up at Moody, mouthing the word, "Me?" When Moody nodded, Draco turned back to the newspaper and began to read:

"What originated yesterday as a small protest vigil by a handful of people became a near riot at the CID barracks in Scotland Yard. Sparked by an early morning announcement that the investigation of Saint Brutus Academy was officially ended, the half dozen protesters grew to a crowd of hundreds by afternoon. While no arrests were made, detours were erected to compensate evening traffic as the crowd refused to disperse."

While the article went into detail, the main points were simple to follow. An unnamed student had escaped from Saint Brutus and, the school claimed, had recently been returned. The student was being kept in isolation for a period of time to 'readjust'. Despite being an open and shut case, someone petitioned to see the boy in question, which was denied because the person was not directly related.

A protest began outside the gates of Saint Brutus after the boy's parole officer was refused permission to interview the boy. In such circumstances, an interview would have been routine. The protest became a vigil, and a formal petition was issued to the government. The matter was then turned over to CID. In what was supposed to be a diplomatic gesture, detectives asked those gathered at the school to move, offering them a permit to hold their vigil near CID headquarters now that they were taking responsibility of the matter. That was two days ago. The day after that, a detective held a conference, claiming to have interviewed the boy and said the matter was officially closed. After a series of questions, the vigil group demanded that the boy be shown to them as proof. The article closed with a statement that the boy had an obvious birthmark which the detective in question admitted that he had not seen.

"They asked about me scar?"

Moody gave the boy a vicious smile. "Correct. Someone asked the detective if the boy was injured about the face or had any scars. The detective admitted the boy had minor bruises but . . ." he pointed at Draco's forehead, ". . . NO scars."

Without pausing to explain, Draco was told to grab his coat. They were going out.

The idea of getting out of the house was one that Draco had dwelt on during the slow weeks. And suddenly he had too? He asked no questions but bound up the stairs for his coat. He had it on before he reached the bottom of the stairs. Moody was holding out a cap for him to wear. He said it should be all the disguise he would need. Draco looked at the design. It was a football club.

"Manchester City? Whot's wrong wit' Arsenal?"

"It's your disguise. It shows that you're not local. Not that anyone might recognize you, yet."

"Yet?"

Draco understood after a second. The article in the paper was talking about him, but did not give his name or show a picture. He was still anonymous.

He followed Moody out of the house, regretting that the man made it a point to walk fast. It was the first chance he had to look around. When they reached a copse of trees, Moody asked if he ever apparated before. Draco told him no. Moody told him to grab his arm and step with him as he cast the spell. Draco did, feeling as though he was being squeezed then just as suddenly released. Moody cast a quick look around, then looked at his pocket watch. Satisfied, he ushered Draco out of the alleyway and into a nearby pub. At the last minute Draco was told he was his nephew, Dan, in town for a few days to visit Uncle Al. Draco couldn't help but grin.

"Usual, Al?" the bar man asked, casting a curious glance at Draco, who was looking around with curiosity of his own. About half the tables and most of the bar were full.

"Thanks, Mac," Moody replied as he claimed a table near the television. "This is my nephew. The one I told you about."

"So you're Dan?" the barman asked.

"Pull me a pint, too," Draco replied.

The barman laughed, "In your dreams, mate." He placed the pint on the bar along with a bottle of lemonade.

"And Two Fish and Chips, Mac?" Moody asked.

"Some will be fresh up in ten minutes."

Satisfied, Moody sat down with Draco. He looked at his watch and turned to watch the telly. Draco watched without interest for a few minutes, mostly looking instead at the decor of the pub which was mostly framed football posters. Once the food arrived, he picked up the fish and bit into it. Then he gulped his lemonade because the fish was hot. As he swallowed, he saw Moody nod to him. The news was coming on. This was something Draco would want to watch.

Foreign news, nothing unusual. Domestic news, all normal except for the protest in London. Draco ate slowly as he watched. He knew the protest would be of interest to him.

And the protest story appeared. A group outside the Saint Brutus Academy. And it wasn't a group of rich people. Just the opposite. Miss Carmichael was the best dressed person in the mob.

That was Nigel near the front, with Mahresa. And Dudley! And they were all following . . . "Mick?"

"You know him?" The man at the next table asked, casually.

"Yeah, um," Draco tried to think fast. "'e's a mechanic. Fixed me dad's car."

"Bad thing," the lady with him said. "My sister lives near that school." She looked at Moody. "She says the boy was his age."

"Whot happened?" Draco dared to ask.

The man laughed. "Up and disappeared a while back. That school claims they got him but they won't show him to anybody."

"People are saying they killed him," the lady added as gossip, "and they're trying to hush it up."

The serving girl came by with a second pint for Moody. As she sat it down and took the empty glass, she added, "Stinks if you ask me. My Jack tells me they won't even show 'im to the cops."

As the news turned to another story, so did the conversation. Draco looked up at Moody to see the man smiling. Draco knew why. The man would soon tell him the next part of his plan.

Draco was watching the crowd carefully from a safe distance. He felt more nervous and out of place than ever before. Especially about being recognized. Not that anyone would. Not with the grey anorak and blue bobble hat. Again, Moody assured him that the disguise was simple. A pair of glasses, round wire rims with plain lenses, made it perfect. No one would give a second look at the nerdy boy with his uncle.

"'ow'd you manage this?" Draco asked, adding, 'Uncle Al'.

"When you're dealing with a group, it's easier than dealing with one person."

"An' you got 'em to march on Saint Brutus?"

"They did that on their own. Same as their coming back today. The ones that left. We're merely taking advantage of a useful situation. What I did was have a friend apply a mental push to the man in charge of the school. The idea had already been suggested but no one at the top wanted to do anything yet."

"A frien'? You got mates?"

Moody gave Draco a friendly whack on the head. "Of course not. He's a former business associate." He casually flicked his hand toward the brown stone wall about thirty feet from the gate. "I believe you've met him. He agreed to help on the condition that he could come and watch the results."

"'e brought 'is own frien'," Draco noted. By the wall, on the edge of the crowd, was the man who had escorted Draco from Hogwarts. And sitting on his haunches next to Shacklebolt was Sirius Black's dog. As though they were listening, they turned and looked at him, both Shacklebolt and the dog. The man then looked down at the dog which stood up and walked over.

"T'ought ya din't do much," Draco said to Moody as the dog sat down again, this time next to him. It was meant in anger, but it didn't sound like that. Nor was there any anger left by the time he finished. His hand had moved and deliberately patted the dog on the head. It used to watch him, but now it was watching out for him. "Stupid," he said to himself.

"Were you talking to me?"

"Whot? No. Jus' thinkin' out loud is all."

"And what's stupid?" Moody asked.

"Me," Draco admitted. "Been scared for weeks 'cause I din't know what to do. Scared this stupid plan won't work. An' now I'm fine." Draco giggled. "I got me a dog an' Bob's yer Uncle." Draco looked down at the dog and his eyes bulged. "Tha' dog jus' winked at me."

"Not surprised," Moody admitted. "That's one smart dog. And don't worry. We're all here to nudge the plan to make sure it does work." He leaned down and whispered some final instructions. As Draco listened, he saw someone with the police glance in his direction and pause. It was Inspector Givens. Draco wasn't sure but he thought he saw the man smile before turning away. Draco looked up.

"Uncle Al?"

"He knows. It was Black's idea. Said we could trust the man to help us."

"Do what?"

"Should be obvious. To keep them from dragging you back inside that . . . place."

They watched as the crowd continued to grow. It was more than the neighbourhood. Social groups sent supporters now that the news cameras were out. And a fair number of people came by just to be there.

As the eleventh hour approached, signs of movement could be seen from the main building. Draco knew this because someone near the gates shouted that they were coming out. Three men appeared shortly on the other side of the gate as the police took their position, making a solid line between the protestors and the makeshift platform holding a podium riddled with microphones. Other police also kept the crowd from interfering with the press and blocking the line of sight of the cameras.

The gate opened and one of the men stepped forward and mounted the platform to stand at the podium. It was the doctor who had examined Draco.

The boy smiled. That was the mental nudge. The situation demanded a formal statement. And the man who would deliver it would be the one who would recognize a certain blond boy with a scar on his forehead.

"We are here today to set to rest a certain matter of a boy who is being detained at our facility," the doctor said, reading from a script. "Because of certain emotional problems on the part of the boy in question, he will not be paraded in front of everyone simply as entertainment. It IS for his safety and health that he is being held in isolation. Questions about his identity are scurrilous and their only purpose is provocation. CID has already confirmed his identity. Furthermore, qualified doctors have been invited to examine him and help in his recovery. Once he has regained his health, physically and mentally, he, like all the other students, may have visitors according to our standard procedures."

Draco was already moving forward. The dog paced him as he walked briskly along the edge of the crowd. Once they reached the line of police, he turned and began walking between them and the front of the crowd, the dog between him and the police. Everyone was eyeing him carefully. The doctor had finished saying "standard procedures" when the dog suddenly twisted in place and began growling and snapping its teeth. The policemen in that spot jumped back in surprise, and a prepared Draco jumped through the gap. One policeman grabbed Draco's anorak, and was left holding it. Draco ran up the half flight of steps and pulled off the cap.

"'scuse me, Doc," Draco said as he pushed into the surprised man. "I ain't comin' out 'cause I ain't gone back in yet." He smiled to himself as the words echoed from the speakers set up for the crowd.

Draco stood to the side of the podium so that the press had a clear view of him, putting his hand in his pocket to hide what he had stolen. When he looked at Mick, who was gobsmacked, he couldn't help but grin wildly. Someone shouted a cheer, and Draco saw Nigel, his fist in the air, his face now filled with as much joy as it had anger in that picture. And Miss Carmichael. She had a simple smile, as though he had merely walked into her office to ask her something. She raised her hands and began to clap. Someone else picked up on it and the applause spread. Draco basked in his moment of glory.

Then someone ruined it.

The doctor angrily grabbed Draco's shoulder and called for the guards. Somehow, he forgot about the cameras and microphones. The crowd reacted at once. Draco recognized the mood. It was one step before riot. The doctor yanked Draco toward the steps. The crowd surged forward. The police linked arms in anticipation. The officer in charge called for backup and crowd dispersal. And one man suddenly stood in front of Draco and the Doctor, blocking their path. He did not look at Draco but glared directly over his head. And he spoke words that Draco was personally familiar with.

"You are under arrest."

"THIS BOY IS AN ESCAPED PRISONER."

"You have assaulted a minor without cause. You have falsified documentation related to a minor in your care. And you have deliberately lied to a police officer in the course of his duty." Inspector Givens smiled as the echoes from the microphones died away. "Will you cooperate or will I need to use force?"

Of a sudden, the doctor remembered where he was. He released Draco with a look of abject capitulation. The crowd cheered as Givens put the handcuffs on him and handed him over to a uniformed policeman.

"Where'd you come from?" Draco asked in delight.

"The questions is where did you go off to."

Draco shrugged. "Don't rightly know. Doctor gave me a shot of somethin' by mistake. Sicko-tropical stuff. Made me wonky."

Draco didn't have to look. He could hear the members of the press demanding to ask questions. Givens was glaring at him now. "We will discuss this in a more private venue."

"What's his name?" someone asked and nodded when they received an answer. As Draco stepped down from the platform, someone was sticking a microphone in his face. "Danny, isn't it. Do you remember anything about your escape?"

"None of that," Givens began to say.

"Don' know nuthin'," Draco said quickly. "Still got 'is keys though." He pulled the doctor's keys out of his pocket and held them up. Givens grabbed the keys and pushed Draco to a now waiting car. Another man, from CID, stopped them.

"I was shown someone that they claimed to be you. He was near comatose."

"Mumbles a lot 'bout bein' a good boy? I was told 'e'd been like that for months."

The man nodded and told Givens to get Draco out of there.

As Draco was ushered into the back of the police car, shouting erupted. Half the police were now screaming for the crowd to get out of the way. Draco watched in surprise as a ramtruck drove forward at high speed and smashed through the now closed gates. The detective, and most of the policemen present followed them into the school. Those police who remained made sure no protestors or reporters tried to follow. Draco looked out the side window when he saw a figure standing there. It was Shacklebolt. He had the same look that Mick had. That told Draco that this was no part of their plan.

"Whot happened?" Draco asked when Givens joined him in the back seat.

Givens was smiling. "I apologize, Draco. I know you don't like being used."

"You knew I'd be here."

Givens nodded. "And I knew you'd try to clear your name, which is impossible, of course."

"WHOT?"

Givens was laughing. The car was already moving when he calmed down enough to speak. "Did you ever hate anything enough to want to destroy it?"

"YOU 'ate Saint Brutus? You been there?"

"As a guest. But I've had business with too many of its graduates. Such a place plays well in political circles, but its best use is an excuse to increase our departmental budget. Personally, we can live without the extra work."

Draco nodded. It wasn't just Givens. That detective, too. And others. They conned the con. They sat around and waited for the right excuse, then pounced before their prey could react. The wizards wanted to keep Draco in the open, to keep their eye on him, and their plan handed Givens and his friends the chance to finally spring their trap.

"Draco, you can remove your glasses, now."

Draco was glued to the telly. Politicians who praised Saint Brutus six months ago were demanding full accountability. People like Mick were being interviewed, asked to tell their experiences. Nigel was talking to a reporter from the BBC, screaming actually. "I was sent there 'cause I stole food. I wen' in 'ungry an' came out a drug addict."

It was the third time he had seen that particular clip. Another popular clip was the mother of the barmy kid in that cell. All she did was cry about "what they did to my boy." He noticed that no one talked to the parents of the serious criminal cases. Not good for the ratings.

Finally, they showed again the clip with Mick. He seemed almost civilized, calm and in control. "Too many been hurt already," he was saying. "An' it's us that get hurt. Any posh gets caught they get a slap or a country club. It's gotta change an' it's gonna change."

"Draco?" It was Inspector Givens.

"They got me name wrong," Draco told him. "Callin' me Danny Malloy."

"No matter. Thanks to what Nigel's telling them, and what's already come out about those three boys in the hospital wing, a runaway who turns himself in is not much of a story." He paused. "Do you remember this room?"

"Should I?"

"Years ago I sat with you, where you are now, and asked if you wanted more stew."

Draco shook his head. He didn't even remember the stew. "Sorry. Too long ago, I guess."

"No matter. Would you like a visitor or two?"

"Janice? Mick?"

"They're both too busy right now. But . . ."

He stepped aside to reveal a black woman with greying hair. Before he knew it, Draco was on his feet. He covered the distance between them in record time. And stood there, hugging Miss Carmichael for all he was worth. As she stroked his head, all he could think of was "I don't want to cry".

"You are no end of trouble," Miss Carmichael told him.

"I saw you in the papers," Draco answered, not letting go.

"And now you have to make the time I spent on you worth it."

Draco looked up and Miss Carmichael wiped away a tear from his cheek. "Anythin'."

"Let's sit down and talk."

Inspector Givens turned off the television and joined the other two at the table. The policeman at the door nodded and closed it behind him. Draco smiled and wiped his nose, waiting to find out what would happen.

"The girl I was told about?" Miss Carmichael asked.

Draco looked down. "Don't know what to say. Din't do anythin' wrong. Don't know why she did it."

"She assaulted you?"

"Kinda. She came on to me, then ripped 'er shirt open, then screamed I attacked 'er."

"Why would she do that?"

Draco paused as he tried to think of how to explain it. He opted for the truth.

"Don' know."

"Really?"

"Maybe she din't like me. Only thin' I can think of. Got t'rown out 'cause of it."

"I should mention one odd thing," Givens said. "Despite the original report I was given, no charges were ever filed. Which means that Draco is not accused of anything."

"I'm free to go?" Draco asked.

"Hardly. Not being in school, without a proper reason, is still a violation of your parole. Being expelled is not a proper reason."

Draco slumped.

"On the other hand," Givens said, grinning as Draco perked up, "we do have an alternative to sending you to another facility. Because of your cooperation in our investigation."

Draco nodded slowly. His cooperation was telling him everything he remembered about his time in Saint Brutus. But he also knew Inspector Givens. He wasn't going to like the alternative. "Whot?" he asked without hope.

"Someone in the Ministry likes you and has suggested you be put in custody of . . . one of their people. They were vague about who 'their people' were, but I personally know the man they've chosen to act as your guardian."

Draco moaned when Inspector Givens called for the guard to open the door. As his new legal guardian walked in, Draco asked, "Can't I go back to Saint Brutus?"

Sirius Black laughed the loudest.

Draco was being permitted to pay one last visit before leaving London. His new guardian escorted him to the familiar garage that housed two people, make that three, that he deeply cared for. Janice hugged him for all he was worth, then yelled at him for causing so much trouble. Mick also hugged him and told him he outdid everyone with his surprise appearance. Cheryl held out her hands to let him know that she wanted to be held by her new uncle.

When Janice demanded to know the truth about the lurid stories she had heard, it was Sirius Black who answered. Draco was unpopular, still, and had been set up. Certain people were trying to prove that very point but it could take time. Janice revealed her extensive vocabulary by commenting about what rich kids could do with a certain number of large objects.

But Draco had his own questions. About the protests and all the people. And mostly about Mick clearly being one of the leaders.

"T'wer Givens whot started it," Mick admitted. "'e was told to shut up an' 'e came aroun'. Told us everythin'." He smirked. "Even asked us to cause trouble."

"An' the people?" Draco asked. "You 'ad Miss Carmichael carryin' a sign."

"Made it 'erself. Said people don't listen to shoutin' but will still take the time to read. She's the one that talked all them charity folk inta joinin' us. Made us more'an jus' a bunch o' hooligans, she said."

"Always liked 'im," Janice said. "Givens, that is. Din't know 'ow much 'e cared."

"Planned it," Draco admitted. "That detective was in on it. Knew right off them school people was lyin'. Jus' needed an excuse." His smile told them who the excuse was.

Sirius Black smiled at a thought. "When we thought up our plan to have Draco show up, we didn't know what they were planning to do. Surprised us by far. Never expected mu . . . them to do anything about that school."

Janice looked at him curiously but shrugged her shoulders, then took Cheryl back into her own arms. Mick, however, was curious.

"You knew where Draco was?"

"By pure luck. An old friend of mine ran across him shortly after Draco escaped. He claims that Draco thought he was his father. Once he knew Draco would recover, and knew who he was, he contacted a few people he could trust." Black looked at Draco. "I'll be honest. I was not one of them."

"Right." Draco knew what Black was not saying. Moody had waited weeks before telling anyone.

"An' what 'appens to Draco, now."

Black sighed. "We resolved one problem but we still have another problem with schooling. With all of the publicity, any school in London is out of the question. But my associate, the same one who found him, is making arrangements."

Janice laughed. "An' 'ow'll 'e 'ave the time ta watch Draco."

Black smiled. "Conveniently, he's retired."

"I'm goin' back wit' Uncle Al?" Draco asked with a smile. The smile became a frown when he looked at Mick and Janice. It meant he wouldn't be seeing them again, perhaps for a long time.

When it was time for Sirius Black to leave with Draco, Janice followed them out.

"Need ta talk to you, Private," she told him. "This school he's goin' to. It another one like 'ogwarts."

"I don't know what you mean," Black admitted.

"I read up on it, you know. Library's got lists. All schools. Yours wasn't on any of 'em."

"That's easy enough to explain."

"Don' bother. 'cause I knew Draco was there. Outside Saint Brutus. Knew 'e was there when I saw you . . . I saw your dog sit next to 'im, that's 'ow I knew."

"You saw 'is dog?" Draco asked in surprise.

Janice barked a laugh. "Yeah. 'ad to force meself. Was 'ard to do." She turned to Black, giving him a pointed look. "Even saw you wit' your dog, once. That's 'ow I knew you . . . owned it."

Black nodded his head. "I should ask . . ."

Janice gave him a smile that was almost a sneer. "Don't worry. Din't tell anyone. Not even Draco. An' I 'ad a lot of things to tell. Like boxes flyin' out of lorries an' glasses o' milk fallin' an' not breakin'." She turned her head. "You're a lucky one, Draco."

And Draco remembered. It was his first week. He knocked his glass of milk off the table. He became instantly afraid of what they would do to him. When he heard a thunk, he looked down. The glass had landed right-side-up and not a drop had spilled. Janice picked it up and put it back on the table. And she told the frightened boy, "You're a lucky one, Draco."

He looked up as Janice asked. "What do I call you? A magician or somethin'?"

Sirius Black pulled out his wand. "We're called wizards. And the women are called witches."

"An' 'ogwarts teaches 'em magic."

Sirius Black nodded. He held his wand up and started to say something, but Janice spoke first.

"Let me tell you somethin', Mister Wizard Black," she said forcefully. "We ain't got much 'ere except what we make for ourselves. Draco's me brother, an' the only family I got after Mick an' Cheryl, not 'cause o' blood, but 'cause we made ourselves a family." Her eyes were tearing but the angry words still came out. "I know you can't understan' that, but 'round 'ere that's the way life is. An' I can't protect me brother anymore. I gotta rely on you. An' I want you to promise me you'll help Draco. I need you to promise . . . I love 'im."

Draco was surprised by the outburst, but when he looked at Black he noticed a strange expression, like the man had been hit in the face. Black lowered his wand and said something unexpected.

"I promise. I promise because I do understand."

"Right. I believe that," a certain blond boy said.

"Don't you dare," Janice snarled, taking Draco aback. "And you listen to 'im when 'e tells you stuff. I know more'an you think, Draco Malfoy. Now promise me."

"Fine. I'll listen to 'im."

"And trust 'im."

"Whot?" Draco laughed. "Fine. 'ow's this. I'll trust 'im in a pinch."

Janice smiled through her tears. "It's somethin' at least." She hugged him one final time. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Draco said, and began to walk away. "Janice?"

"Whot?"

"When ye said all that, 'bout family . . ."

"I meant it."

"Yeah, well . . . bye, Sis."