The Great Hall erupted when Harry and Draco walked in, wearing opposite House Colours to what the school expected of them. Accusations and questions alike were shot like arrows, puncturing the air, a swarm of lead-tipped words aimed against the unknown.

Harry nervously approached his friends, and gave a tiny smile. "Hey guys," he said.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," Ginny said, wand pointed aggressively at him. Hermione flushed a furious red.

"I'm not Malfoy," Harry quickly corrected, seeing both girls on the edge of cursing him.

"Blimey, Harry, is that you?" Ron asked, his heart knowing the answer before his mind as he automatically moved aside for his friend.

"Yeah," Harry said in Draco's light scoff. It embarrassed him, that his voice came out so superior. "Thanks," he added, softer, gratefully sitting next to Ron. Gryffindor protests lit like firecrackers along the table.

"Oh, MY GOD. Draco Malfoy. At our table. Ima gonna hurl."

Harry felt his lip curl unconsciously as he glared at the seventh year girl.

"Don't listen to them, Harry," Hermione said, uncomfortably. "And don't do that thing with your mouth, it's not you."

"What thing?"

But the roar of the Slytherin table drowned out the rest of the school, as Draco, appearing to be Harry Potter in full Slytherin regalia, sat down for breakfast with Crabbe and Goyle.

"Silence!" Dumbledore commanded, standing at the podium generally reserved for the opening and closing feasts. The students fell silent; Dumbledore gave a tiny glare over his shoulder at Professor Trelawny, whose Irish Coffee kept her inquisitive gossiping fuelled despite her surroundings. A deeply patient Professor Sprout gave her hand a squeeze, and, blinking several times, Professor Trelawny quieted and drank some more coffee.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said in a chipper voice. "As you may have noticed, there appears to be something of a role reversal happening today among two of our better-known sixth year boys."

"They have been afflicted by a creature known as The Switch, thought to be extinct, but hiding in our treasure-trove of a forest." He smiled, and adjusted his half-moon glasses. "Now, Mr. Potter is in the body of Draco Malfoy, and Mr. Malfoy is in the body of Harry Potter."

Shock rippled through the school, as students and professors alike instantly started questioning: What did this mean for the "The Chosen One"? Was the prophecy nullified? Did it simply follow Harry's mind and soul, or did Draco transmute both fate and body? Some of the Slytherins were staring at Draco, greed in their eyes, whispering among potential allies how they would be rewarded if they delivered him to their parents.

"As you all know, these are dangerous times. Knowledge of Mr. Malfoy's condition beyond the safety of Hogwarts could put his life to risk. Therefore, I must ask you all to forgive me."

And with that, a blinding white light filled the room with a thunderous clap. It cleared as quickly as it came. Harry looked around, and noticed that everyone had a fine dusting of metallic gold glitter coating their lips and hands.

"What you see is the physical settling of the rule 'silence is golden'. Don't be alarmed, it will pass in moments.

"I have enacted an ancient curse—and indeed, it is a curse, upon every soul in this castle. Ghosts and house-elves included. It is called the Hogwarts Secret."

Dark, outraged muttering grew in pockets of the student body.

"For those of you who don't know: the Hogwarts Secret can only be cast by the Headmaster, and lasts one school year. Anyone who attempts to convey information about Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy having switched bodies, will find themselves unable to do so. You shall not speak it, nor write it, nor draw it. If you try, you will find yourself reciting a remarkable line of gibberish. It's a rather fun party game. You can, however, discuss it among yourselves; but should anyone outside this school be within range of your conversation, your words will derail to fanciful talks of who-knows-what."

"This is Dark magic," Hermione gritted, unsure how she felt about the situation.

"It can't be legal," Ginny agreed. "Do you think this means the Order won't even know?" she asked quietly.

"I bet Dumbledore isn't bound to it like we are," Ron said thoughtfully, touching his lips self-consciously. "He could probably tell them."

Draco sat silent, running a tally of questions and checks in his mind. Dumbledore wouldn't only do this on my behalf, there has to be something in it for his champion. He mentioned a tenuous arrangement with the muggles…what on earth could that be about?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Crabbe's boisterous questions. "Draco, what in all of Hades has happened?!"

"You're right handed now," Goyle remarked quietly. Draco stared down at his hand in amazement—he hadn't even noticed his right hand automatically steering his fork through his food. It made his stomach turn slightly, how different this body was, how different everything was…

"The Switch is a snake," Draco said, choosing to answer Crabbe rather than comment on Goyle's observation. "It's imbibed with the power to transfer one mind to another body. It forces two people to switch…" he couldn't finish. He didn't want to think about the likelihood of recovering his own body, and he didn't want to be surrounded by a betting pool of his peers wagering his chances.

Blaise reached across the table and boldly took his hand. Draco held his breath at his boyfriend's touch. It made him remarkably happy, that Blaise would dare while he was in this body…but it made him equally uncomfortable. His boyfriend was touching Potter.

"Look at me," Blaise said quietly. Draco forced himself to look up. "It'll be alright. How long does this last?"

Draco released his breath, and whispered, "Until we find the snake."

Goyle gave a small smile. "You're lucky this happened with Potter."

Draco glared hotly at his friend, ready to spit sparks, when Goyle continued: "Every resource at Bumblesnore's disposal will be put to use."

"Goyle's right," Blaise said. "That snake will be captured before you know it."

"It better be," Crabbe said. "Because the longer you're in that body and don't turn it over to you-know-who, the worse it'll be for all of us."

At the end of breakfast, one of the floating candles bobbed delicately down from its ceiling position to dip a small bow to Harry, causing white wax to pool on the table. The candle retreated high above them once more, and Harry realized the wax spelled out: Return to my office once you've finished breakfast. –Dumbledore. He leaned back to get a view of the Slytherin table, and saw himself—Draco- scowling at the table as a second white candle rose back to the ceiling.

"Looks like Dumbledore wants you both to meet him," Ginny said. Harry nodded. "He must have a plan to change you back."

"Yeah, I think it involves a lot of finger-crossing," Harry said.

Ginny gave Harry's shoulder a playful swat, and he grinned at her. "Whoa," she said. "I don't think I've ever seen Malfoy actually smile. It's…kinda hot. And disturbing."

"Never, ever say that first part again," Ron growled.

Ginny laughed and tossed her hair back. "Don't worry Ron. If I'm gonna ravage your friend, it'll be when he's in his own body."

While Ron choked on his pumpkin juice, Ginny patted him on the back and said, "Kidding!"

Harry had no idea how to react to any of that. He had thought Ginny's Year One crush on him had been entirely destroyed after, well, her traumatic Year One. Could she…possibly…still be into him? He felt a reactive twitch in his pants, and immediately shoved his food away from him, horrified at the thought of feeling Malfoy's mini House mascot stirring. "I better go, then…" he muttered, leaving as quickly as he could. Avoiding Ginny's gaze, he missed the fleeting look of hurt and shame flash through her.

Draco noticed Harry get up and leave immediately. Let the git wait for me, he thought as he stubbornly loaded more bacon to his plate.

"Dumbledore wants to see you both?" Pansy asked, nodding to the candle wax.

"Looks that way," Draco said, taking a defiant bite of eggs.

"And you're going to sit here and stuff your face."

"It's not my face."

"Draco Lucernus Malfoy. Get your ass to his office now. If he's working on a plan to switch you back, you need to cooperate."

Draco huffed at her.

"She's right, Draco," Blaise said.

"It says here, after breakfast!"

"Yeah, and both Potter and Dumbledore have already finished and left." Blaise said.

Goyle's small eyes crinkled in amusement. "You can't win when the wife and the boyfriend team up."

Pansy beamed at Goyle. She enjoyed that most of Slytherin assumed her and Draco would be engaged soon. She hoped dearly for it to be true…getting betrothed to her best friend would be a much better prospect than with a stranger.

Draco gave a long suffering sigh and tossed his napkin to his plate. "Only because I love you both," he said, standing up with a wink.

Draco arrived at the gargoyle who guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Raspberry Rat-tail," he said, repeating the password Dumbledore had used with him earlier that morning. The gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the slowly ascending circular staircase. Draco marched up the stairs, purposely taking calm even steps. He didn't understand what Dumbledore wanted with them, when he just spoke with them.

"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore greeted him. "I hope you won't suffer indigestion from rushing through breakfast. Please, take a seat."

Draco sat on the edge of the chair, as stiff and prim as his mother when on the brink of an argument with his father.

"Sir, why have you called us back so soon?" Draco asked.

Harry lounged messily in his seat. It annoyed Draco to see his own body in such an undignified slouch.

"With breakfast upon us, we didn't have time earlier to ascertain the effects of your transformation on your magical abilities."

Harry's shoulders tightened. "What do you mean?"

Draco pursed his lips.

"Your magical signature is part of your body; it's like your blood. Not only will there be…an adjustment period…to learn the specifics of using magic that isn't yours, but you may require new wands."

Harry glanced at Draco, and saw the dark haired boy sitting like a set of armour.

"First, we shall need to test your current wands. If you would please place them both on the desk."

Neither boy moved.

"Right here," Dumbledore urged, tapping the front of his desk.

Draco pulled out the wand still holstered in his robes: Harry's wand, Holly, 11 inches. He wondered what the core was. He placed it on the table, with a challenging look at Potter.

Harry took out the wand in his robes. It had a near black handle, maybe an inch shorter than his own. He put it next to his familiar Holly wand, itching to take his own wand back.

"Excellent. Now, I'm going to first ask Mr. Malfoy to pick up his own wand. What spell reacted for you while you were testing wands?"

Draco shook his head. "My mother told Mr. Ollivander what she wanted. Unicorn hair is a tradition in our family wands, and after a consultation they decided to go with Hawthorn. I wasn't even there, I was being fitted at Madam Malkins."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Using materials out of tradition, in respect of blood lines, can occasionally create fantastic bonds…I, however, prefer to let the individual discover the right fit for them. In your case, Mr. Malfoy, you no longer have the bloodline that your wand is catered to."

Draco went pale. He hadn't had time to consider…he was no longer a pure-blood.

"I might be sick," he whispered. Harry rolled his eyes and swore in annoyance.

Muggles were the boogeymen to Draco, heartless and brutal primitives who burned witches from his family ancestry at the stake.

Many wizarding families told their children beautiful lies about how the flames would only tickle those burnt; his family preferred truth and knowledge above comfort. Few witches and wizards could perform non-verbal magic, fewer still could successfully do wandless magic. But both, in a powerful spell like contorting an element? In reality, it was extremely unlikely that anyone could pull that off while tied to a stake and burned alive.

He flashed onto the memory of his thrice-Great Grandmother, Isolande Malfoy. When he was a child, he was meditating in the Veneration Chamber, a room dedicated to portraits of every ancestor from their family. Isolande's portrait, however, was covered with a black velvet curtain. Curious, Draco had pulled the curtain back, only to find her shrieking in agony. His father had rushed in, replaced the curtain, and for the first and only time in his life, struck Draco. When the boy started to cry, Lucius sat on the floor and pulled his son into his lap, cuddled him close, and explained that Isolande had been burned at the stake before she had a portrait made. The only painter who had seen Isolande in life, had seen her the day she died. No matter how he tried to paint, he could only capture her essence as he experienced it most strongly: in the moment of her death. Any light made her feel the flames again, and so her portrait was forever shrouded.

Draco could hear Isolande howling, wailing, could feel the terror and shock of his father's slap, could see her blaming him for her pain.

And now, he had muggle lineage; the blood of the monsters nourished him.

Draco shakily reached forward and picked up his Hawthorn wand. It felt cold. He could already tell it didn't recognize him; he tried to cast Lumos, and only a tiny ember spat off the end. Dread filled his belly.

"Alright, thank you, Mr. Malfoy. And now if you'll be so kind as to indulge me? Please pick up Mr. Potter's wand and attempt a simple spell."

Draco set his own wand down with a tiny click of wood-on-wood, and paused. A moment of grieving. He picked up the Holly wand, and was bitterly pleased that it remained neutral. "Lumos," he said, trying to keep this strange voice under tight control. A small fire shot into a book laying atop the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore neatly extinguished it.

"I'd wager that wand rather aggressively disagrees with you," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.

Draco set it down on the desk. All his quips were gone.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, turning to Harry. "If you would please begin by picking up your Holly wand and attempting a simple spell."

Harry stared at his own wand. This is going to work, he willed, and he picked up his wand. A tickle of fear stroked cold fingers in his chest when he could already feel a change in his stead-fast wand. "Wingardium Leviosa," he cast firmly at the book Malfoy had burned. A few pages fluttered. Nothing.

"Wingardium Levio-sah!" Harry tried again, louder and more pronounced. The cover page breezily raised itself, a slightly more robust ruffling of pages.

Harry glared in disbelief.

"Alright, Harry—"

"Wingardium Leviosah!" He yelled, giving a violent swish and flick, determined to make it work. The book didn't move at all.

"Harry, my boy. You gave it your best. Now, if you please…take Mr. Malfoy's wand."

"This is stupid," Harry growled. "I don't want Malfoy's wand."

"We need to know for certain that it's not, in fact, your wand now."

Draco watched Harry's antics in silence. Please, please don't work for him, he begged the universe. His face was perfectly neutral.

Harry huffed, and grabbed the Hawthorn wand without ceremony. It…felt funny. Like static electricity. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, and before he could cast anything, the wand began emitting a tinny sound that bounced off the walls, causing objects to fall, and creating a zapping sensation when it passed over a person's skin. Harry quickly put the wand down.

Dumbledore laughed. "I daresay, the wand is very much aware that you did not win its loyalty."

Harry shrugged, not caring about Malfoy's stupid wand. Draco closed his eyes and gave silent thanks.

"With Ollivander's shop abandoned, and Mr. Ollivander nowhere to be found, we will need to procure wands from another source," Dumbledore said. "I am sending you both with Hagrid to a wandsmith-"

Draco groaned. "Not Hagrid!"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, Hagrid. I would pay better respect if I were you," he added as Draco scoffed, "For without his allegiance with Aragog and the spiders of the Forest, you and Mr. Potter would not have survived the night."

"Allegiance with spiders?" Draco repeated incredulously.

Harry grinned. "You heard him. You owe your life to a half-breed, Malfoy."

"Considering how many times he puts that life to risk with his insane classes, I'll say he still owes me a few," Draco grumbled.

"We have little time," Dumbledore interrupted. "The gentleman I'm sending you to is quite eccentric, and prefers his clients come at specific hours. I believe his assistance is the best for your situation. He deals with…unusual materials for wands. And considering your semi-permanent unnatural states, you may require something less common."

Harry's pale brow furrowed, wondering what that meant.

"Seeing as this will put you both in public, I have to insist that you both remain under the Disillusionment charm until you are inside the shop."

Harry was grateful that Dumbledore didn't ask him to bring his Cloak; it was enough of a disaster that Malfoy had infiltrated Gryffindor Tower and been caught rummaging in his trunk. He would have hated sharing the secret and intimacy of his Invisibility Cloak with the git. The very thought made him flush.

"Mr. Giordano typically locks his shop after a singular family or client arrives, so it will not be unusual for him to value Hagrid's privacy," Dumbledore continued. "Now, if you wish to wash up or get changed, you have half an hour to do so. You will meet Hagrid at his hut in that time. And remember," he added softly. "Once you meet Mr. Giordano, you will be unable to explain your situation to him."

"But…I thought you said our situation might need special materials? How are we supposed to tell him that?" Harry asked.

"As you just phrased it should suffice. But I wouldn't worry; he has a knack at discerning what is needed." Dumbledore stood. "Gentlemen, I bid you good luck. I will confirm with Hagrid that you will both be ready to meet him in half an hour. Once you've succeeded in obtaining new wands, consider the rest of your day to be a free period. Depending on my own level of success, I will summon you both to return here either tonight or tomorrow morning, to review our next steps."

Dumbledore scooped up both their wands, and smiled gently at them.

As Harry and Draco left his office and began walking to their respective Houses, they each thought the same thing: how terribly isolating and helpless it was to walk Hogwarts without a wand.