Author's Notes: Let me know if this feels rushed…
It was odd, sitting there. Harry hadn't been in the Headmaster's office in nearly a year. Although it wasn't the Headmaster's office anymore, as McGonagall was referred to as "Headmistress." She hadn't changed much. The portraits still lined the walls. Fawkes still sat on his perch; there was the pensieve in the corner. Everything appeared to be waiting for Dumbledore to return.
Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that.
The door opened and a masculine voice cleared his throat. Not really knowing what to do, Harry stood to greet the new arrival. The man who entered was a complete stranger to Harry. Wearing a Muggle suit, he appeared to be in his late 20s or early 30s. He strode forward, right hand extended.
"Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure, finally," he said shaking Harry's hand repeatedly, apparently waiting for a response. It took a few seconds before Harry's brain kicked in and he reacted.
"Hello," he said lamely. His accent was…weird…American?
"I should probably introduce myself," he released Harry's hand and walked behind McGonagall's desk. Throwing a file on the top, he sat down, "My name is Christopher Malcolm. I am sure you have many questions about what exactly is going on and I will do my best to explain them.
"I represent a small unit within the military of the United States that deals specifically with …unusual situations. We have been aware of the rise of Tom Riddle for quite some time now. We have also been aware of how you fit into the picture, Mr. Potter.
"Basically, the cell I represent has become increasingly concerned with the lack of development in mobilization against Riddle. We have offered your Ministry our services to combat this threat.
"Obviously, you can begin to figure out how you fit in to all this. Riddle marked you, so, unfortunately, you have to be involved. We have proposed sending an elite strike force to the UK for the purpose of locating and defeating Riddle once and for all. I am here to extend an invitation for you to join this group. Will you accept?"
"When do we leave?" Harry blurted out without thinking. Malcolm chuckled.
"Your enthusiasm and patriotism is very charming, Mr. Potter. If you decide to join us, we will rendezvous on 1 July."
"Why wait?"
"Well, we are assembling our team, but keep in mind that they are across the ocean and not in a centralized location at this point. Plus, there is a ton of red tape to cut through, dealing with two governmental bodies. As Riddle has been keeping quiet, we are taking our time and not cutting any corners. I am sure you are aware of how slowly bureaucrats can move." Harry snorted.
"You've got yourself a soldier, Mr. Malcolm. Where do I sign up?"
"Somehow I thought you would say that."
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"Draco Boreas Malfoy, Head Boy, salutatorian of your graduating class, impressive lineage, you're rich, and good looking," Malcolm flipped through the file in his hands and looked over the top of the papers at the blond sitting silently before him, "you must be pretty popular."
"You could say that." Draco was uneasy. He hadn't felt…right…since his little tantrum after Ron had tried to read him.
"May I see your left wrist, please?" Malcolm continued.
"Why?" Draco asked in response. He didn't like this. The whole thing made him uneasy. Sitting in McGonagall's office with this American wearing Muggle clothes, who seemed to know everything about him and was now asking to see his wrist.
"Oh, I think you are aware of what I am looking for, Mr. Malfoy," Malcolm's demeanor had phased from pleasantly jovial to dangerously serious.
"I don't have the Dark Mark, if that is what you are referring to."
"Forgive me if I would like to see for myself."
Feeling no alternative, Draco raised his sleeve to reveal a blank length of pale skin. Malcolm pursed his lips.
"This is unfortunate. I was under the impression that you were a fully inducted Death Dealer."
"'Death Eater,'" Draco corrected, "and no, I'm not, or wasn't, rather. I failed my initiation test."
"Ahh…yes, you were supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore. Well, no matter…The Cell wants you anyway."
"I beg your pardon?"
"As I explained to you when I introduced myself after you came in, the people I represent are referred to as 'The Cell.' I was sent to Hogwarts to recruit some specific students. I was told you were a Death Dealer. But no matter, we will just have to change our strategy a bit. In this line of work, it pays to be flexible. Wouldn't you agree?"
Draco just stared at him blankly. Things were beginning to fall into place.
"So those tests that were given to everyone were just a ruse…"
"Yes."
"And you already knew who you were after before you got here…"
"Yes, but if we only tested those of you who were already invited, we would have played our hand too soon. I'm sure you understand how important secrecy is."
"Sure. So what exactly do you want from me?"
"I would think that would be obvious," Malcolm gave Draco a pitying look, "we want your brain, Mr. Malfoy."
"There are others smarter than me."
Malcolm smiled at that. "Oh, yes, I know. But those that may be smarter don't have the kind of knowledge you have."
"And what kind of knowledge would that be?"
"How the Dark Army operates. We know who your father is, Mr. Malfoy. We know how you were raised. What, exactly, you learned as a child and as you got older will be very useful in the time to come."
"So what are you offering me?" If this Malcolm person thought that Draco was going to just go along quietly for the joy of serving, he was sadly mistaken.
"A chance to make a life for yourself. To see what you can do. What we are offering you is a chance to become a Draco Malfoy of your own making."
"All that?" Draco muttered sarcastically.
"Oh, I think that when you give it some thought, you will see that it really is a good deal."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"
"I guess so," Malcolm said, giving Draco a patronizing smile, "but in the meantime, you are not to discuss this with anyone outside your immediate circle of friends."
Draco just stared at him. Something had happened to him. That man had cast a spell on him. Damnit!
"Your immediate circle of friends, Mr. Malfoy. I think you will discover before too long exactly who I mean. You're free to go."
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His head was killing him. There was a buzzing sound coming from somewhere nearby that was working on him to the point where he nearly had a migraine. Ron looked again toward the bookcase to his right. He swore that's where the buzzing was coming from.
"Mr. Weasley?"
"Yeah?" Ron replied to Malcolm's question. He had no idea what the man had been blathering on about for, oh…it had to have been fifteen minutes. The noise just wouldn't stop.
"Are you at all interested?" Malcolm asked, only slightly annoyed at being forced to repeat himself.
"Interested in what?" Ron toyed with the idea of trying to read Malcolm, but he was frankly terrified to try to dive into someone he barely knew. The only person he had ever tried to read by force was Malfoy, and he had anticipated what the response would be, wanted it, and had proceeded. Christopher Malcolm was a stranger, and not something Ron wanted to just start exploring.
"Interested in helping the task force track down and prosecute Tom Riddle and his followers," Malcolm sighed.
"I don't know."
"Well, Mr. Potter has already agreed, which we figured he would. Mr. Malfoy apparently needs some time to think it over," Malcolm sounded rather exasperated at Draco's reluctance.
"I'll need to think about it."
"Of course, that's to be expected. You're life isn't exactly as barren or as focused as either Mr. Potter or Mr. Malfoy. Obviously, you'll want to discuss it with Ms. Granger."
Wait, what?
"What a minute…how do you know about her?"
"We know a lot of things, Mr. Weasley," Malcolm shuffled the papers on the desk in front of him, "how you came across your unique gift, for example."
Oh, wasn't that just wonderful? He felt a bit like a lab experiment.
"Should you decide to join us," Malcolm was continuing, "you would be cut off from your friends and family for the duration of the time the mission takes. Not having any guarantees is not an easy thing to leave the person you are romantically attached to."
Wait a minute…this was all happening so fast.
"Leaving the person I am romantically attached to…I take it you mean that Hermione will not be 'invited' to join this little group?"
"Your supposition is correct. The people that we were interested in inviting have been. We're just waiting for your responses."
"I can't believe you don't want Hermione."
"It's not a matter of 'want.' Ms. Granger's skills and intelligence are unsurpassed. There is no denying that. However, we feel that her talents might be better used in other ways."
"Let me get this straight, you are proposing inviting Harry, myself, and Draco Malfoy off on a mission and leaving Hermione behind? Are you mad?"
"Mr. Malfoy can easily fill the research and problem solving skills that Ms. Granger excels at. Not only that, but he has the added knowledge of politics, pureblood family protocol, and Death Dealer activities."
He couldn't believe it. He was being invited to march off to war with Harry and leave Hermione behind. Christopher Malcolm was proposing breaking up "The Golden Trio" and inserting DRACO MALFOY in Hermione's place.
"You're asking me to choose between Harry and Hermione," Ron said dully, more to himself than anyone. And why wouldn't that GODDAMN buzzing stop?!?!?!
"It's not that simple," Malcolm replied, seemingly sympathetic to Ron's plight.
Simple…nothing in his life had ever been simple.
Despite the fact that a part of him was terrified at the prospect of going off to battle Voldemort without Hermione as part of their arsenal, another part of him was quietly agreeing with the idea. She would be home; she would be safe.
Theoretically, anyway.
It would be like those movies she made him watch. The boy marches valiantly off to war while the girl sits safely at home waiting for him.
It was tempting. But did he really expect that Hermione would sit safely home? And did he really think that she would forgive him if he chose to go with Harry over staying with her? As much as he knew there was more to the situation than that, he couldn't shake the feeling that the root was a choice between his two best friends.
He turned weary eyes to Malcolm. "I need to think about it."
"I understand," the older man replied, "I will ask that you keep this discussion to yourself until I can meet with Ms. Granger. It shouldn't be more than 24 hours."
"That's fine," Ron huffed sarcastically. He stood to leave before he was given permission. The door to the office closed as Malcolm sat back and sighed. After rubbing his temples, he turned aggravated eyes to the bookcase.
"You were pretty hard on him," he said, massaging the tense muscles in his neck, "he was barely coherent."
"He's a powder keg, I had to throw up a pretty strong block. It'll be interesting to see what he's capable of once he gets some training and experience under his belt."
"So he'll join us?"
"That's one possibility. The future isn't set in stone, you know."
"Well, what do you think?" Malcolm snarled, irritated with the philosophical approach to predicting the future.
"He'll come. He nearly has his decision made. You should be more worried about her. When you tell her she isn't welcome there's no tea leaves that would be able to forecast what she'll do."
"Oh, I'm not worried about that. She's too talented to waste on the front lines," Malcolm leaned forward to grab a file off the desk and leaf through the papers, "I have great plans for Hermione Granger."
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They made her wait to go last! What was that about? Hermione tried to calm herself as she strode forward and sat in the chair Malcolm was pointing to. He held his hand out to shake hers as she approached.
"THE Hermione Granger," he gushed, "I must say, this is an honor."
"Thank you," Hermione replied, taken aback, "I confess that I am unused to such greetings." Malcolm chuckled.
"Oh, I am sure that you will become used to them before too long. What did you think of the tests?"
"Honestly, I enjoyed them very much," she sat back and got comfortable, nervousness fading, "I like problem solving puzzles and games."
"Yes, we expected that. Do you have any plans for after graduation?"
Hermione just blinked.
"I assume that directly following graduation I will be fully involved with the War." Malcolm's smile faded a bit.
"Well, let's pretend there is no War. What would you like to do?"
"I can't pretend that."
"Humor me," he replied, losing more of his star-struck demeanor.
"If there were no War, I would like to continue my education. There is a magical university in London that covers a wide range of studies."
"Have you given any thought to what field you would like to go into?"
"Not really," Hermione sighed, "I always assumed I would work for the Ministry in some capacity, but now…"
"…you've lost faith in them," Malcolm finished for her when Hermione was unsure how exactly to word her thoughts.
"Yes."
"That's completely understandable," Malcolm moved to lean against the front of the desk across from her, "especially in light of how you and your friends have been treated with regards to the Riddle situation. If it makes you feel better, that's basically how the government of the United States feels."
In a way, it did make her feel a little bit better, as though their complaints were warranted, not simply the whining of children.
"I have to tell you, Ms. Granger," Malcolm continued, "I had very high expectations for the results of your tests."
Hermione cringed. Test results, she had almost forgotten they were being evaluated.
"Not to worry, you far surpassed anything that we estimated. Have Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, or Mr. Weasley discussed their interviews with you yet?"
"No," Hermione answered slowly, confused by the apparent change in topic.
"Hmm…" Malcolm remained silent for a moment, "Hermione, may I call you Hermione?"
She nodded.
"Wonderful. Hermione, I am here recruiting people for a task force to go after Riddle. I already knew exactly who I was looking for before I got here."
Hermione leaned forward expectantly.
"I have to tell you, Hermione, that I am not going to ask you to join the task force."
Hermione blinked again. "I beg your pardon?"
"We are not going to invite you to join the task force."
"I don't understand."
"I know. This isn't easy to explain," Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest, "the short version is that your talents can be better employed elsewhere, and honestly, you are entirely too important to be a potential sacrifice as battlefield fodder."
"That doesn't make any sense," Hermione's irritation made her forget her manners, "if I am so talented, wouldn't that make me an asset to the task force?"
"Ordinarily, yes, but there are very specific slots to be filled, and there are people better equipped to fill them."
She sat back and thought for a moment.
"Is this because I'm Muggleborn?" she asked quietly.
"Of course not. We've Americans; we don't have that kind of racism."
Hermione huffed. Then another thought struck her.
"Is this because I am a girl?"
"Sorry?"
"Well, you obviously already invited Harry, Ron, and Malfoy. All of which are boys. Am I not invited because I'm not a boy?"
Malcolm made a face. "Hardly. There are actually several women on the task force. I keep telling you, this is about your specific talents. I have something else in mind for you."
"Well, what is it, then?"
"You worry about that later. Enjoy this time. Go to college, figure out what you want to do with your life. When the time is right, I'll contact you again."
"And I am supposed to just wait around until you get your act together?"
"Of course not. Pretend like we never had this conversation. Live your life as you would if you had never met me. When the planets align again, then we'll have something more to discuss."
"Then I take it you are dismissing me."
"Pretty much, yeah."
Completely disgusted, Hermione pushed out of the chair and walked to the door.
"Don't take it so hard, Hermione," she heard him say as she reached the door, "not everyone is built for war. You are getting a 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card; I suggest you use it."
It took all her willpower not to slam the door as she left.
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Not knowing where else to go, Hermione walked slowly back to the Head Suite. She tried very hard not to think about what had happened, but it was difficult to ignore.
Harry and Ron would march off and leave her. She was unnecessary. It was similar to how things were at the beginning of the year, but hurt so much more.
Not surprising, she opened the door to find Harry, Ron, and Draco sitting in the common area. Draco was playing a video game as though it had insulted him while Harry and Ron chatted quietly over a chess match set up in the corner.
"What's the matter?" Ron asked immediately upon seeing the defeated look on her face. She stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure how to respond.
"Can you believe that we're actually going to go fight him, finally?" Harry asked jubilantly.
"Harry," Ron said quietly in a warning.
"So you knew?" Hermione's ears missed nothing. She sounded much more neutral than he would have expected.
"I figured it out during my interview yesterday," Ron replied, "he asked me not to say anything to you." Hermione just nodded and flopped down into the chair.
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. Draco's ears perked up, but he didn't turn from his game.
"They didn't want me, Harry," Hermione said from her position on the chair with her head in her hands, "you and Ron are going off alone."
"What?"
"It's not about 'want,' baby," Ron tried to console.
"Wait a minute, what?!?!" Harry refused to be blocked out of the couple's conversation.
"I wasn't invited to join you," Hermione answered.
"No." Harry couldn't process this.
"Harry, calm down," Ron looked from his girlfriend to his best friend, unsure who would combust first.
"No, no, no, no! This is ridiculous! I can't go off to face him without you. I need you. Why would they do this?"
"He said that my talents would be better used elsewhere."
"So they're just sending the two of us?!" Harry continued to get more agitated, volume increasing.
"They want to send three," the words were out of his mouth before Draco even knew what was happening. He was…talking about it…to POTTER of all people!
The day before, following his interview, he had tried to use Blaise as a sounding board. But whenever he tried to explain the situation, all he could do was stutter. Then he realized what the spell was that Malcolm has placed on him. Only his immediate group of friends. Was he kidding?!?!
"So wait a minute…you were invited but Hermione wasn't?!?! What the hell kind of sense does that make?" Harry was absolutely livid at this point.
His outburst was apparently the spark it took to ignite the tension in the room to napalm. Hermione started sobbing and ran into her room, quickly followed by Ron. Harry glared at Draco for a few minutes before also walking into Hermione's bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Draco stood alone in the common area for a few moments before throwing the game controller to the ground so forcefully that it shattered. He turned on his heel and went to his own room, slamming the door for good measure.