The fall term went smoothly enough- Snape was vindictive, Professor Malfoy kept piling on the work, like all Harry's other teachers, and life at Hogwarts continued.
Until Harry was given a detention for the most innocent of acts- asking a question.
It had been a perfectly reasonable question- they had been reviewing potions used to keep dark artifacts at bay, and Harry had asked how something could become so tainted no magic would repel it. Professor Malfoy's eyes turned sharp, and her face hardened. "Detention, Mr. Potter. This is Defense against the Dark Arts, not the other way around."
"I think it was a little unfair of her." Hermione admitted, shuffling her papers as they moved to Transfiguration.
"A little? Hermione, you ask questions like that all the time! You never get detention!" Ron was in a rage. "Harry, you should complain."
Harry shrugged it off. "It's just detention. I'm sure she's got a personal reason for it." He had seen the look on her face- while it had been venomous, there was a certain…odd, sad tint to her anger, and it had thrown him off entirely.
When Harry walked into her classroom after dinner, it seemed huge; the lights weren't on, there was no one there. Just Professor Malfoy, grading papers. She looked up, her eyes stern.
"Mr. Potter- come this way." She said, her voice like a whip, lashing through the silence.
She all of dragged him down the hallway, walking at a brisk pace, her robes billowing in an oddly Snapeish way behind her. It wasn't until they got to the gargoyle behind which Harry knew Dumbledore's office was located did Harry realize that this wasn't going to be a detention he'd forget.
"Harry." Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing to a chair. "Have a seat. Oh, don't worry; you're not in any trouble. Order business, you know."
Harry sat up a little straighter. "Order business?" he asked.
Dumbledore nodded. "Gabrielin, if you would be so kind."
Harry had to interrupt. "Wait- You're part of the order?"
Gabrielin laughed. "Yes, Harry- one can be a Malfoy and still turn out good. My roots go much deeper than those of my brother and his family. I am the white sheep of the malfoys, as it were." She gave a little laugh. " That brings me to this Order business. We've reason to suspect there's someone inside this school feeding information to Voldemort. We know he's planning an attack soon, and we want this information to stop. I believe it is my nephew." She said, letting Harry digest this.
"You want me to ask him about it?" Harry asked. Gabrielin nodded. "You do know Draco and I aren't exactly mates, right?" Harry said, ignoring the fact that she'd mentioned something about attacking the school.
"You don't have to be, Harry. I have an alternative to getting friendly with my nephew." She took a deep breath. "When I was younger, my parents, fearing I would somehow contaminate the prestigious Malfoy blood, arranged a marriage with another wizarding family fearing the same thing. We were the same age, more or less, we'd both made some sloppy decisions when it came to dealing with our families- it was, in the least sense of the term, a perfect match.
It lasted under a year, and after that we broke up- but in that time I'd managed to conceive a child. We were young, we hadn't planned well; my parents could have cared less, they knew who the father was, and as long as he wasn't Mudblood, they didn't care. My…son, " she said the word as if it pained her, "Would be Draco's age now. They've spoken a few times, at family events and such, but he doesn't know much about his cousin- if he knew about the father, he'd scream. I want you, Harry, to pretend to be Algernon over winter break. I want you to masquerade as my son, and get close into my nephew's confidences to see if he really is turning this castle over to the enemy."
Professor Malfoy's eyes seemed to plead with him. Harry took a deep breath.
"Would be Draco's age?" Harry asked quietly.
The Professor's voice caught in her throat, and Harry knew he was about to see her cry. Professor Dumbledore held out a handkerchief, but she waved it away, procuring her own from a pocket and blowing her nose, hard. "He passed away about a year ago. After trying some dark…magics."
Now Harry knew why she had blown up at him earlier that morning. "How am I going to stay as…" He fumbled with the name. "Algernon?"
Dumbledore smiled, and withdrew from his pocket a small vial. "A variant on the Polyjuice potion, which, I believe, you are familiar with?" he asked with a wink.
Harry nodded and took the vial, looking at it apprehensively.
"This is a shorter dose. Only a few minutes. The full strength potion lasts nearly a week. You won't have to worry about changing back." Dumbledore reassured him.
Harry swallowed his fear and uncorked the bottle. It smelled just as he remembered- rotten socks and a lot of other nasty bits. He stopped. "Am I going to be doing this alone? I don't' know if I can take"
"An entire vacation with my nephew? Understandable. No, Ron and Hermione are coming, too. Each of you has your part to play. But we cannot call all of you down at once- it raises suspicions." Gabrielin assured him. Harry nodded, still trepidated- the smell of the potion was making him nauseous. With a single gulp, he swallowed the potion.
He took his glasses off, feeling them press a little on his face. His nose was changing shape, his fingers were becoming longer, he was getting taller, his hair seemed to be changing direction in his scalp, becoming more manageable, flatter, and the contours of his face were changing direction with the same bubbly wax feeling as before.
When Gabrielin handed him the mirror, he knew exactly who the father was she was talking about. Because he looked almost exactly like…
CLIFFHANGER! guesses, anyone? (passes hat around)