Beautiful Illusion

PROLOGUE

***

"What would you say
If I can't play the hero tonight?"

***

There was no way that he could refuse. Those dazzling cerulean eyes staring penetratingly at him from across the desk were so full of confidence and light, safe in the knowledge that Harry would do the right thing, make the selfless decision, put the needs of others ahead of his own. To extinguish that light would be brutal.

Dumbledore must have known that he would do it. He was a safe bet, of course he was. After all, this was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Would Always Do The Right Thing.

Dumbledore would never know just how close Harry came to refusing him at that moment. It was perhaps the hardest decision Harry had ever made in his life, but at the same time, that decision had already been made for him. What he was being asked to do went against everything he had been taught to value and cherish; honesty, trust, loyalty...and love.

How could he do this to me? How could he put me in this position? Haven't I done enough already?

Thoughts such as these swirled around Harry's head, filling his brain with such tumultuous chaos that he couldn't distinguish the truth from the distortion.

Haven't I done enough already?

But he knew that he would never have "done enough." There would always be one more task, one more hurdle that he would have to overcome in order to reach that elusive goal of finally having "done enough." Never mind that he had already fought through, and survived, more encounters with Voldemort than any other witch or wizard alive; never mind that he was the one who had brought Cedric to his death at Voldemort's hands, and had to try and comprehend that fact every day of his life; never mind that he was the one who had to live with the knowledge that he had to either die, or become a murderer to live.

As the cerulean eyes in front of him became a blur, these bitter musings turned to a recollection of the events that had transpired in order for Harry to be sitting here now, pondering a question that he already knew the only answer to.

***

Life at Privet Drive was never what you could call riveting. It wasn't even remotely interesting. But Harry had to admit that this summer, life at his relative's house had hit new levels of monotony.

The letters that he had received from Ron and Hermione were cheerful and full of news, but they were obviously holding back, trying not to let on how much fun they were having. He appreciated the thought, but good as their intentions were, their letters only served to increase his sense of inadequacy. Didn't they think that he could handle the fact that they were a happy couple having a fun vacation together while he wasted away in Privet Drive? That wasn't to say that he wasn't absolutely delighted for his two friends. It's about time you two got your act together; he recalled thinking when they broke the news to him, flushed and happy, just before the holidays had started. He just wished that they would be more honest with him and not constantly try to make him feel as though they would be having much more fun if he was there. He knew this wasn't true; holidays had only started two weeks ago, and they were so smitten with each other that he knew they appreciated the time alone together.

Sitting at his windowsill, looking out at the black bitumen road, with its lines of brilliant white in the middle, Harry admitted to himself that he really wasn't sure how he was going to survive this summer without going crazy.

A distant speck of darkness in the otherwise clear azure sky drew Harry's attention away from the road. As it drew closer, he could make out the familiar shape of a handsome tawny owl.

What could a school owl be coming to me for? he wondered. It was far too early for the normal start of year letters and Hagrid was on vacation with Madame Maxime, so he wouldn't be using a school owl. Grinning to himself, he wondered where those two were spending their summer break. He could just picture the attention that they would draw to themselves at a normal holiday destination. The owl startled him out of these thoughts as it alighted on Harry's windowsill with a soft flutter of feathers, bringing with it the smell of mice and bird droppings. Untying the creamy parchment joined to the bird's leg, the mystery of who was writing to Harry was soon solved. The thin, elegant writing used to pen the address could only belong to one person.

Why would Professor Dumbledore be writing to me? He pondered this puzzling question as the parchment unfurled in his fingers, revealing a brief letter penned in the Headmaster's familiar script.

Dear Harry,

I trust that you are safe and well. (You know I am, thought Harry. It's not as though you haven't had Order members keeping an eye on me 24/7). I am sorry to intrude upon your vacation, but I must beg a little of your valuable time. If it is agreeable to you, I will arrive shortly at your Uncle's house to transport you to Hogwarts for a brief discussion in my office. I do not think that I need to tell you that this meeting is to be kept in the utmost confidentiality, Harry. I am awaiting your reply.

Professor Dumbledore.

Well, that's weird, thought Harry. A discussion in his office, just a few weeks after summer break had begun? That sounded ominous, to say the least. Somewhat apprehensively, Harry grabbed a fresh piece of parchment off his desk and scrawled "OK. See you soon, Harry." He then tied the parchment onto the owl's waiting brown leg and watched it fly off into the distance, until it was but a speck on the horizon.

***

Albus Dumbledore smiled as he turned the corner onto Privet Drive. The smile did not reach his eyes. The ever-present twinkle in his cerulean gaze was gone, to be replaced by a look of mild concern. He did not want this for Harry; he could never want this for Harry. He knew that what he was about to ask him to do would be almost impossible for the boy to comprehend. However, it had to be done. There were too many lives at stake, and Albus knew that Harry was the only one who could complete this mission.

Sighing, he walked smartly up to the Dursleys' front door and rapped quickly on it, twice.

***

"So, Professor, what did you want to talk to me about?" Harry's eager and slightly puzzled tone of voice drew a sigh from the elderly man. They had just entered his office after apparating from Privet Drive. Fortunately for both of them, the Dursleys had been out. Dumbledore, ever prepared, had produced a note from his pocket (presumably informing the Dursleys of their nephew's safety and whereabouts) and left it on the spotless kitchen bench. Then they had departed for Dumbledore's office. Harry, being too young to apparate, had held onto the Headmaster's arm and shut his eyes against the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed until he thought he would burst. Needless to say, it had been a relief for Harry to finally reach the comfort of Dumbledore's plush office chairs.

"Please, Harry, be seated." Harry sat down, his feeling of apprehension suddenly increasing tenfold at Dumbledore's grave tone. What could he possibly have done to warrant a meeting in the middle of his vacation? He didn't recall breaking any (major) rules before the holidays and he had been extremely well behaved so far during his break, considering that he had only left the solitude of his room to eat and go to the bathroom.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking why are we having this meeting here? I mean, wouldn't it have been, er, easier, to have this talk somewhere...more convenient?"

"Ah, Harry, it is of the utmost importance that this talk be held in privacy. I could not risk being overheard and frankly, I feel that here is where we are most likely to be able to have this conversation without being overheard by unwanted ears." Here Dumbledore settled back into his chair and surveyed Harry through his trademark half-moon glasses. Harry thought that he detected a ray of...could it be sympathy? from those bright eyes as they locked gazes with his own.

"It was not my wish to ever have a conversation like this with you, Harry. The last thing that I would want is to add to your already heavy burden in life. I regret that you have to hear this, but I can only hope that you will listen objectively to what I have to say, and clearly consider what I am going to ask you before giving me an answer. Do you understand, Harry?"

"I...I think so, sir." The hesitant reply elicited another look from those piercing eyes.

"What I am about to say may be hard for you to hear."

"It's alright sir, I can handle it." Whatever it is, thought Harry. He was growing slightly impatient with Dumbledore's uncharacteristic beating around the bush.

"You understand that we have had members of the Order tracking most of Voldemort's inner circle for quite some time now. Recently, I received intelligence that he and his Death Eaters are planning an attack. This attack will be unlike the others that they have conducted in the past, for the reason that their aim is not to kill, or capture. It is to control. You may be thinking at this point "Voldemort already has the Imperius curse, what else does he need to control others?" Up until recently, you would have been correct in making that assumption. However, and for all of our sakes I hope that I am mistaken, it is my belief that Voldemort has almost succeeded in creating a potion that will aid him in this goal. This potion is terrible for many reasons, Harry. It achieves mindless control, and leaves the body as a lifeless shell, with no purpose or spirit once the victim has outworn their usefulness. And do you know how it does this, Harry? It feeds on every happy, positive thought, feeling and memory within the victim and uses these to manipulate the victim. It is, in essence, a form of torture that has no cure. The more the victim tries to fight, the stronger the power and control of the potion."

"But...but sir, that sounds like...like what the Dementors do?" Harry's insides were turning to ice at the very thought.

"Exceptionally astute, as always, Harry. I believe that that is indeed where Voldemort got the idea from."

"That sounds horrible, sir, but I'm afraid that I still don't quite understand why you're telling me all of this."

"Ahhh." At Harry's words the wise, wrinkled old face appeared to crumple slightly. "We come to the part of our little chat that I have been dreading. The reason that I am telling you all of this, Harry, is because it is my hope that you can be an integral part of stopping this mindless torture of innocent people. Without your help, the consequences if the potion is allowed to be completed could be disastrous, not just for our world, but for the Muggle world as well."

Feeling incredibly nervous and inadequate at this moment, Harry tugged at his collar and felt drops of cold, glistening sweat on his neck. How could Dumbledore expect him, a fifteen-year-old boy, to counteract the devious and meticulous plans of the most Evil wizard the world had ever seen?

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore continued in his monologue.

"You may be thinking to yourself at this point "What could I possibly do to stop this?" Well, Harry, the answer to that is, very much indeed. More than anybody else could, in fact. I am not to be outdone by Voldemort in the art of inventing new potions, and Professor Snape has kindly assisted me in perfecting one that I do believe will be most helpful to our cause."

At this point, Dumbledore withdrew a small bottle of reddish-brown liquid from a drawer in his desk.

"Polyjuice Potion?" Harry exclaimed incredulously. What possible use could Polyjuice Potion have in defying Voldemort's nefarious plans?

"This is not Polyjuice Potion, Harry, but it is indeed very similar. One dose of this potion will enable the drinker to inhabit an entirely new identity for up to 6 days without another dose. So you see, unlike Polyjuice Potion, the drinker does not steal, for want of a better word, the identity of another living human being, but creates an entirely new one. You will find that this tends to eliminate that exasperating dependence on another person to maintain the façade. This potion, Harry, is the key to unraveling Lord Voldemort's plans."

"I...I'm afraid that I still don't quite understand what I have to do with all this, sir." Harry's confusion was growing by the minute, as was his annoyance at Dumbledore's apparent ambiguity as to his role.

"You, Harry, are going to deliver us information that is at the moment unattainable. Lucius Malfoy's name has cropped up in several briefings about this potion and it would appear that he is aware of the potion's whereabouts and components. It would also seem that he has revealed much, if not all, of this information to his son, Draco. You may wonder why he would entrust such invaluable information to a boy of fifteen, and you would be right to do so. I am of the opinion that Voldemort is testing Draco's loyalty. He would not believe that Draco would reveal the information to just anyone and would be reasonably confident that even if he did, he would not be telling anyone who was not already aware of the goings-on. However, I do believe that in making these assumptions, he has misjudged Draco's character. This is where you come in, Harry."

Here Dumbledore paused for a few moments, as if to collect his thoughts.

"The Malfoys take their summer vacation at a ski resort in New Zealand each year. Draco is left to his own devices and normally spends his time skiing and exploring the local scenery on his own. It will be your job to befriend him, gain his trust and then have him share what knowledge he has of the potion to you. You will of course be doing all of this under the disguise of the potion Professor Snape and I have developed. Not only is there apparently far too much enmity and dislike between you two for any sort of trust to be fostered without it, it is also impossible that you could complete this task as Harry Potter. The least of your troubles would be if Lucius cursed you on sight."

"No, you will undertake this task under a new identity. You will be a wealthy English boy who is taking summer vacation with his Uncle. I cannot stress how important it is that nobody, and I repeat, nobody, finds out about this plan. The consequences are too terrible to think of if we are found out. Now, there is just one final little problem, Harry. Young as Draco is, he is not to be taken lightly. I do not believe for a second that he would betray his Father's confidence to just anyone. He has not even told his closest friends. Therefore it would seem highly unlikely that he would reveal his secrets to you, even if you did succeed in becoming close, trusting friends. No, Harry, for this mission to succeed, I believe that you must make Draco trust you so implicitly and believe so strongly that you alone can help him for him to entrust you with the information. In other words, nothing short of him falling in love with you will be sufficient to procure the information we need."

At this sentence, all time seemed to slow and stop as Harry's mind began reeling with a discordant whirl of thoughts and feelings. Amidst the confusion, a pale, sneering face blossomed into his mind, staring at Hermione with a cold hatred as his lips formed the word "mudblood." Then that chilling gaze was fixed upon Ron, taunting him about his family and the financial woes that Ron so proudly tried to hide. How could he befriend, much less try to seduce, such a despicable creature as Draco Malfoy? How could he betray his friends and everything that he would like to think he stood for, for a person like him?

Suddenly, the image of Draco faded and changed, and Harry saw countless people under the influence of the potion. Weak, defeated, with no control over what they were doing. He saw the terror and despair in their eyes as they were forced to do Voldemort's bidding and the cloudy ice that seemed to creep up into their eyes and destroy all sparks of life within them. It was then that he knew he could not refuse. He never would have.

As he opened his mouth to give his answer, a new thought occurred to him, so blindingly obvious that Harry was stunned that it hadn't occurred to him earlier.

"Professor, Draco's a boy. I'm a boy. So I don't see how..." Harry trailed off, his emerald stare fixed upon Dumbledore's wise, lined face. The sad, solemn stare and the slight twist of his upper lip gave Harry the answer.

"Oh." How could he never have seen it before? He supposed that it was obvious, now that he thought about it. The abnormal obsession with his appearance, the girlish tendencies, the lack of dating, it was all so clear now that Harry actually thought about it. A few seconds passed in tense silence before Dumbledore spoke again.

"Well, Harry? I know that what I am asking of you may seem impossible. But, please, tell me that you'll try?"

Can I make Draco fall in love with me? Can I lie to everyone, including myself, to help protect others?

He could. He would.

"I will."

***