IDENTITY CRISIS

Tom sat at a fold-up table, in-between takes, doing the lessons his tutor left for him. It was like any other day on the set, filming, breaking, food, make-up and hair ladies flitting about, fretting over he and the other movie children. He looked up from his Algebra and saw Dan being instructed on how he should look on his broom while filming the next Quidditch scene. Tom laughed inwardly; Dan was a good guy. They got along really well. He was glad to get along with everyone on the set, because it made everything that much more fun. He loved playing Draco Malfoy in the movies, mainly because he was so unlike Malfoy himself. But there were the sneers and comments he got in the street from ignorant Potterfans who figured he must be exactly like a Malfoy.

Tom realized his legs were seizing up, so he stood and stretched. He decided that he was hungry after all and he made his way over to the food table. Grabbing a bun, he wandered around aimlessly for a moment, trying to look busy so he wouldn't get caught putting off his lessons. He glanced himself in the mirror, and, smiling, meandered over to get a better look (still clutching the half-eaten bun). He was highly amused at how different he looked in his robes and wearing head oil. And he was also very amused at all the girls who giggled uncontrollably on set when he walked past (he never told Lynette about this; he didn't want her fretting, because he loved her and didn't want any of these girls anyway). He stared at his sexy blonde self in the mirror for a moment, thinking. He mocked his own Draco-sneer, burst out laughing, and started to turn away, when he heard a voice.

"Who are you and what are you laughing at, you good-looking yet obsolete piece of filthy Muggle-scum?" It asked calmly, as if commenting on the weather. Tom looked around, searching for the voice. No one was near enough for him to have heard.

"I am losing my mind," Tom whispered, shaking his head. He started to turn away.

"You? Mind? Muggles don't have minds," said the voice. Tom looked around.

"Over here, idiot," said the sneering drawl. Tom jumped and scanned the room wildly, turning to the direction of the voice.

He was looking at the mirror.

"WHAT?!" he cried hysterically.

For his reflection, which had once been himself goggling back at him, had changed. It was now sneering, it's pale eyes icy. The posture was proud, arms folded across the black robe chest, chin tilted at an arrogant angle.

"What?" Tom asked again weakly.

"Tsk tsk. No brains at all, Muggles," said the reflection-that-was-not-Tom's-reflection. Suddenly, it lunged out of the mirror, causing Tom to jump back about three feet, and grabbed Tom by the front of his robes. It grinned at him evilly for a moment, and then (scaring Tom completely shitless) thrust him as hard as it could into the mirror from which it came.

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

Bang.

"Woa! That was cool!" said Ron, ignoring his own singed eyebrows. Harry laughed, but Hermione gave him an exasperated eyeroll.

"Ron, you say that everytime you build an Exploding Snap card house and it explodes in your face." Harry laughed harder. Ron ignored her. He looked around. It was a glorious August Saturday, their last Saturday before the start of their sixth year at Hogwarts. The atmosphere at the Burrow was cheery; everyone was in a good mood, thanks to Mrs. Weasley's great cooking, Bill and Charlie's visit, and Percy's out-of-town business trip for the Ministry. Without him standing around being stiff, everything was comfortable.

The sun was sinking ever lower in the sky, painting a spectacular show of hue across the sky. The blueish-violet faded to pink, faded to peach, faded to red and then gold. Ron was admiring the way Hermione's silhouette was beautifully outlined against the sky, throwing her into exaggerated detail, when he heard his mother calling.

"Alright you three, bed! We've got a big day tomorrow. Have any of you seen Ginny?" she added as an afterthought.

"Haven't seen her all day," said Harry, frowning slightly. "Have you guys?"

"No...." said Ron curiously.

"I saw her," said Hermione suddenly.

"Where, dear?"

"I saw her go off with Charlie, over that way...." She pointed to a cluster of trees off in a generally north-east direction.

"What...? When?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"This morning," said Hermione. Harry looked toward the wooded area. What should he see, but Ginny and Charlie, coming toward them out of the trees? He started to ask what they'd been doing, but he didn't need to.

"We've been practicing, right Ginny?" Charlied called heartily, clapping his flame-headed sister on the back. They were both filthy and they looked absolutely exhausted, but they both seemed pleased about something.

"Charlie says I'm doing really well," she said, looking around at them all.

"That's great, Ginny! I'm sure you'll make the team!" Harry said.

" That's wonderful, Ginny, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now all of you--yes, you too, Charlie--bed!"

Suddenly feeling tired, they all made their way up to bed, looking foreward to visiting Kings Cross the next day.

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

Draco looked around him. He was amused by what he saw. It seemed that this was a very fake Muggle impersonation of Hogwarts (even though he had no idea how Muggles knew about Hogwarts--probably that blarty old bugger, Dumbledore, he thought). There were Muggles everywhere, though they were dressed as Hogwarts students. Off from him a little way were three people--whom he automatically didn't like--who looked horribly like three Hogwarts students he could recall all too clearly. Red hair, hand-me down robe costume, he must be impersonating a Weasley. Bushy hair, big teeth. Granger, no doubt. And next to them....dark hair, glasses, and--was it? How could it be-- a scar. How could this Muggle boy have a scar exactly the same...as Potter's?

Now feeling thoroughly curious, he made his way toward the location of these three people. He tried to seem innocent. He looked on with what appeared to be mild interest as a man (dressed as a Muggle and sitting in a chair that read " DIRECTOR") yelled "Action!" and a familiar scene played out in front of him. Why, this was fourth year at Hogwarts...these three people, who had been joking and calling each other "Rue", "Em" and "Dan" just a moment ago, were now acting exactly as Potter and his posse did, right down to the way they blinked. Draco leaned in to hear more easily, furrowing his perfect brow.

" Who are you going with?" said the Weasley-who-was-not-a-Weasley. The imitation Hermione spoke up.

" Someone, okay?" she said uncomfortably.

So....they were acting the way the real Granger, Weasley and Potter had when it was time for the Yule Ball and Granger hadn't wanted to tell them that her date was Viktor Krum. Very curious, Draco was now thoroughly interested in finding out what this was all about. The man in the chair looked at him suddenly.

"Tom!" he beckoned Draco over. Okay...so that Muggle who looked like me is called Tom.....Draco went over to the man in the chair. "You're up next; we're filming the Quidditch World Cup Top Box scene next."

"Okay," Draco said distractedly. So...they were filming...he'd heard about films. Movies...moving pictures that told a story on a big flat screen. They were telling a story about the magical world? So the guy who he'd pitched back into that mirror had been an actor, portraying Draco....

And a plan dawned on him. A wonderful, awful plan. He grinned evilly. "Okay, I'm coming!" he called back to the man in the chair.

This is going to be hilarious, he thought.