The Deceit Of A Lifetime

Harry had become used to visits to the headmaster’s office. Each year, he seemed to find himself there more and more often. This time, however, he was not alone. His two best friends, Ron and Hermione, had gotten dragged down there with him. He had a lot of ideas as to why Dumbledore wanted to see them, and none of the options seemed very appealing from his perspective.

“So how are you feeling, Harry?” said Dumbledore inquisitively, pulling a candy from the dish on his desk before pushing it forward, offering some to his young guests. They all politely declined his offer.

“I’m doing alright, sir,” he replied neutrally. “As well as can be expected, considering that my friends have been hurt by Death Eaters.” Harry did his best to contain the anger that was burning within him as a result of the attack, but was only partially successful.

“Of course,” Dumbledore replied. “All those involved were apprehended, Harry. There will be justice.” Dumbledore could tell from the skeptical look on Harry’s face that he didn’t have much faith in the Ministry’s sense of justice, but was proud of the boy for not speaking that thought. “Now, the reason I brought you here.”

“And why are we here, sir?” dictated Hermione.

“I have some unfortunate news,” Dumbledore replied. Ron balked visibly, but Hermione and Harry were able to contain their expressions. “The Ministry of Magic has decided that it is no longer safe for you to attend Hogwarts, Harry. You are being transferred.”

Ron and Harry were on their feet in a minute. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?!” growled Ron angrily, his face turning dark red.

“I thought you said this was the safest place for me!” yelled Harry.

Hermione was still in her seat, but after a few moments of Dumbledore’s silence, an expression of understanding graced her fair features. “The Ministry thinks it safer for everyone else if you’re not here, Harry,” she said.

Dumbledore only nodded at her.

“And you’re going to stand by and let it happen!” spat Ron. His tone and posture were venomous. If one didn’t know any better, it looked very much like he would pounce on the aged headmaster and pummel him to death at the drop of a hat.

Harry collapsed into his chair, lowering his head and taking off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes in frustration, not sure of what to think of the situation. Many questions came to the young boy’s mind, but he blurted out the first one he could wrap his mind around. “Where will I go, Professor?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Dumbledore’s gaze swept across all three of the young people in the room, before finally settling back on Harry. “We made every attempt to keep you in the country,” he began. He paused when all three audibly gasped, but smiled slightly when none interrupted, “but the Ministry insists you be transferred as far away as possible. They have decided it would be most appropriate, and perhaps safer for you, to attend an American school.”

The look of abject horror was apparent on all three of their faces. Never since they met had they ever expected to go anywhere other than Hogwarts. More importantly, they never thought they would be separated.

It was Hermione who spoke first. “But sir, he will be alone where nobody knows him, with no friends and nobody to rely on,” she said. The complex nature of her statement provided enough explanation, she felt, so she didn’t elaborate.

“Not exactly,” replied Dumbledore. He noticed the looks of confusion on all three faces, but raised a hand to stop them from speaking. “The two of you will be going with him.”

Ron looked relieved, but Hermione looked even more surprised, if that were possible. However, she didn’t say anything further.

Harry was still collapsed in the chair, shaking his head slightly, still trying to grasp the situation. Hermione was still surprised, but had moved to Harry’s side and was gently running her hands up and down his arm, trying to comfort him. Ron had moved to the corner of the office and was still quite red in the face.

“I realize this is a big change, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore began, “but you will have your friends to help you with the transition.” Dumbledore silently hoped that the sympathy he felt for the boy and his friends was coming through in his voice.

Harry suddenly stood up, nodded at the headmaster and abruptly turned and walked out the door. After a curious look between the two, Ron and Hermione were quickly up on their feet and following him, wherever he went.

None of the three noticed the slight upward curve of Dumbledore’s lips as the three of them left the office.

***************************************

Draco had been surprised to find that, when he got back to the school, all of his belongings had been packed, and his withdrawal papers had been finished. When he had recovered his things, a dark envelope with a seal he didn’t recognize had been among them. It included information on his ‘new identity.’

He was now standing at Hogsmeade station, but he wasn’t waiting for the train. In fact, he was waiting for one of the Teaching Assistants from his new school. Apparently, the school that Potter had been transferred to. He had been told they would arrive 20 minutes ago, and was getting seriously angry at the lateness. However, it did give him a chance to look over his new appearance in his mirror.

The glamour charms that had been in the paperwork weren’t even all that powerful. He’d already learned them from his father. In Draco’s opinion, the slight changes weren’t even enough to fool anyone.

His hair was slightly shorter than usual, and had been changed from it’s normal platinum blonde to a more natural looking light honey color. His eye color was changed from grey to light blue. Additionally, he had gained a couple inches of height, and his voice had been dropped an octave, and the tone changed slightly.

Just as Draco began putting the mirror away, he felt someone bump into him from behind. He turned around and pulled himself to his full height, sneering angrily at the slightly taller, 20-something standing behind him. “What the bloody hell are you doing, you imbecile?” he hissed angrily.

The stern look he got from the person he bumped into told him immediately who it was. “I suggest you watch your tongue, young man,” replied the teaching assistant in a voice which belied his age. “Am I to presume you’re Drake Walker?”

Draco only nodded in response.

“Very well, let’s go,” commanded the assistant, grabbing Draco’s arm and heading off to one edge of the platform.

“Is it really safe to apparate that far?” Draco snorted derisively.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” came the growled reply. The teacher grabbed Draco’s arm again and, with just a slight crack, they both disappeared.