Chapter Thirteen of ‘Imago’- Defiance

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Chapter Thirteen—Defiance

“I just don’t understand what he thought telling me in private would do,” Harry whispers, after some minutes have gone by. He told the full story, stumbling over his words with tears in between, and Theo just stood with him, smoothing his hands down Harry’s shoulders and not trying to say anything. “He should—he should have understood that I’d go to you right away and tell you.”

Theo takes a deep breath. “I have a theory. You won’t like it.”

“Don’t be like him.” Harry abruptly wrenches himself out of Theo’s arms and glares at him from right there, which is overwhelming, given how much his magic is snapping around him and how close his eyes are. “Don’t think that you have to hold off on telling me the truth because I’m too weak to handle it.”

Theo nods, and speaks. “I think that he thought you would tell me. And I would run away and abandon you. At heart, Dumbledore believes I’m a coward and out to save my own skin. Someone like that wouldn’t be able to bear the revelation that you’re in personal danger from the Dark Lord, and would only think about the danger to themselves.”

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn’t say Theo is lying, though, which Theo was half-afraid would happen. He shuts his eyes and seems to think it through. Theo moves back towards him, but doesn’t touch him.

“I—what is his motivation?” Harry finally whispers. “Why does he think that you’re going to betray me? Why does he want me away from you so badly?”

“My father is a Death Eater,” Theo says softly, holding Harry’s eyes. “His distrust of me isn’t irrational.”

“But you’ve never—”

“No. And I only said it wasn’t irrational, never that it was right, or good.” Theo takes a deep breath. “There’s the fact that I would know the prophecy afterwards, of course, and after that I could carry it to my father or the Dark Lord. But he probably had contingency plans in place for that as well.” A well-placed Obliviate from someone of Dumbledore’s power, and Theo would forget just enough about his dating Harry to ensure that he wasn’t a threat. Not too much, because that wouldn’t make sense if Harry tried to approach him and talk to him in the future.

But Harry would cut back on that, too, furious and embarrassed that he’d been cast aside. Theo has to admire Dumbledore’s cleverness and restraint even as it makes him boil inside.

“So he wants me alone?” Harry whispers.

“I think he would be delighted if you went back to the status quo at the beginning of this year, with Weasley and Granger your main friends—”

“My only friends, you mean.” Harry lifts his head, and his eyes are bright and faraway at the same time. “They were great friends. But not the kind you are.”

Theo manages a smile that he hopes doesn’t make him look sick to his stomach. “Neither Weasley nor Granger regularly think about snogging you, right?”

Harry’s eyes warm and shine even as he shakes his head. “No, I meant people who try to figure out what’s being hidden from me and tell me the truth. Ron is great, but he just doesn’t see that kind of thing. And Hermione would never think to look for it on Dumbledore’s part.”

Theo nods. “But I also have some proof that Dumbledore might not be as all-knowing as you think it is.”

“What is it?”

“Professor Moody is an imposter drinking Polyjuice Potion.”

Harry freezes, staring at him. Then his face colors with what Theo thinks is anger. “What?” he snaps, and takes a step towards Theo, grabbing his shoulders. “How in the world could Dumbledore not know that?”

“I don’t know,” Theo says, and then outlines all the pieces of evidence he has. In retrospect, they don’t seem like that much. If it wasn’t for the fact that someone had to put Harry’s name in the Goblet of Fire, Theo might have discarded the idea altogether.

But Harry believes him. From the way his fists clench, he wants to go curse “Moody” right now. But to Theo’s relief, Harry shakes his head and just paces in a circle instead, swearing and sending sparks flying out of his wand.

“Dumbledore is one of Moody’s best friends,” Harry says at last. “Really old friends. Multiple people told me that. Do you think he doesn’t know? Or he knows and he’s ignoring it for some reason?”

“I don’t know.” Once again, Theo thinks, he doesn’t want to completely turn Harry away from the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared. But he can’t just give the man a free hand to manipulate Harry, either, which is what Weasley and Granger would unknowingly have handed him. “But there is the fact that Moody’s been retired for at least five or six years. If Dumbledore hasn’t seen him in that time, he might have just reckoned that Moody had changed.”

“He fucking gave him permission to cast Unforgivables on us!”

“I know,” Theo says quietly. “And I’m ready to do whatever you need me to do, including take him down or report him to Dumbledore or try and expose him for what he really is. I just want you to be able to see all perspectives—”

All the air goes out of him as Harry tackles him. Theo’s arms pinwheel for a long moment, but then he catches himself on the wall, and Harry is still hanging onto him, hug so fierce that Theo swears he can feel his ribs creaking.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers into his hair. “For trusting me, for just—telling me instead of running away or thinking this is something you should keep to yourself—”

It’s on the tip of Theo’s tongue to tell Harry this is the minimum that someone should do, but he doesn’t really want to sound like he’s criticizing Harry’s friends or downplaying what matters to Harry. So he just holds Harry close and marvels at the fact that things he considers normal are the ones that win Harry’s undying loyalty.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back.

*

Theo waits near the entrance to the Great Hall, his wand in his hand and shining cold clarity settling into his mind. The plan Harry came up with is brilliant, but it’s up to Theo to carry it out with a minimum of fuss. Harry has the raw power, but not the familiarity with potions or Switching Charms that it requires.

“Moody” walks past Theo, dragging the wooden stump of a leg that he probably stole from the actual Moody and discoursing loudly with McGonagall about something a Slytherin did in his class the other day. McGonagall’s face is pinched as she listens. Maybe it will help their plan that a lot of the professors don’t seem to like the imposter, either.

Theo takes a deep breath and concentrates on “Moody’s” flask, hyper-aware at the same time of the closed flask hanging from his own belt. Then he flicks his wand and thinks the incantation of the Switching Charm as hard as he can. It has to be cast silently, or something is going to go wrong. Theo’s sure of that.

He practiced for a week, and he got it right every time. That has to mean that he can get it right now.

He practiced it silently, too, Theo tells his doubts, and feels the flask at his belt tremble. He shrinks back into the shadows, watching as “Moody” passes through the doors. Then he moves a full three turns of the corridor away before he dares to uncap his flask.

Theo smiles. Polyjuice Potion fills the flask and sends its sullen smell into the air. Theo has to crush a surprisingly Gryffindor impulse to take it himself and walk into the Great Hall as Moody, accusing the other of being the imposter.

What matters is that Moody’s flask is now filled with Sweetbreath Draught, which is used to clean out your mouth after a hangover. The consistency and look is roughly that of Polyjuice. The smell is different, though. Theo and Harry have to hope that Moody isn’t paranoid enough to examine his flask every time he takes a drink, or their plan won’t work. “Moody” will get undercover before he can revert back.

They also have to make sure that “Moody” doesn’t leave the Great Hall for at least an hour, because they have to assume the worst cast is true and he took a drink of Polyjuice right before Theo made the switch. But that will be up to Harry.

Theo straightens his shoulders and walks into the Great Hall. By now, no one thinks it unusual for him to wink across the Hall at the Gryffindor table, or for Harry to give him a wide grin in return.

But if all goes well, Theo thinks, as he sits down at the Slytherin table and serves himself some sausages, then they’re going to be treated to a sight they’ll never forget.

*

About forty minutes later, “Moody” takes a casual drink from his flask and glances around the Hall. He scowls at Draco. Then his magical eye moves on to Theo, and narrows.

Theo looks innocently back. He’s not sure if the imposter can see the Polyjuice in the flask on his belt. He wanted to keep it nearby so that no one could accuse him or Harry of making this up or claim that they were the ones using the Polyjuice. But there is the possibility that “Moody” could see through the flask with his enchanted eye and recognize what’s in it.

If so, then Harry is going to spring into action to stop him, the instant he tries to leave the Great Hall.

A second later, “Moody” chokes and grips his throat. Theo squints. He doesn’t think it’s his imagination that it’s swelling and changing shape under the imposter’s clutching hand. Theo conceals a smile.

“Alastor? Are you quite all right?” Dumbledore is leaning over from the end of the table, an expression of concern on his face.

“Not choking on something, are you?” adds Professor Snape, looking very much as if he hopes for that. Theo cocks his head. Maybe Professor Snape will be their ally if it looks like “Moody” is trying to sneak off somewhere.

“No, no,” “Moody” says thickly, and coughs. Theo smiles. A thick, hoarse voice is a good disguise to conceal the way that a voice changes when Polyjuice begins fading, but not good enough to get Moody out of here. “Perhaps some kind of sickness, though. Best to see Poppy as soon as possible.” He stands up.

“I’m right here, Alastor,” Madam Pomfrey says, and hastily stands from the far end of the table, undoing the napkin that she’s knotted around her neck. “Please—everyone, move out of the way, I need room—”

“Moody” falls back a step, his magical eye darting around. Theo also doesn’t think it’s his imagination that the eye trembles for a second at the far end of its orbit, as if the face can no longer contain it. “Best to go up to the infirmary, Poppy—not have to—”

“But you’re so important to the school, Professor Moody!” Harry is on his feet, face radiating concern. “The best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor we’ve ever had! We need to make sure that you haven’t been cursed by an enemy!”

“Silly to wait to cast a diagnostic charm, Alastor—”

“I must agree with our esteemed medwitch,” Dumbledore says cheerfully, and stares at “Moody.” “Just clear off that portion of the table, Filius, Severus, if you would—”

And everyone in the Great Hall, or at least a decent portion of the students and all the professors, are watching at the moment when “Moody’s” peg leg falls off and a new leg sprouts in its place. The magical eye takes the same path a second later. “Moody” now has two pale blue eyes, and sandy hair sprouting across his forehead, and a face twisting in a way that seems to make the scars drop off into the air.

A lot of people scream. The imposter spends a moment on his knees, heaving with what seems to be shock and exhaustion, while the professors surround him and stare at him. But then he springs to his feet and aims his wand across the Great Hall.

Straight at Harry.

Harry, luckily, is already on his feet from jumping up before, and he rushes out of the mass of crowding Gryffindors, his wand in his hand. Theo watches with fear and pride thundering through him as Harry dodges the imposter’s first curse and then casts a shield that takes care of the second. When a third one comes at him, he rolls under the Gryffindor table and uses an offensive spell of his own at the imposter’s legs.

For a second, the imposter tumbles to the floor, but he’s back up in another breath and aiming his wand. “Avada Kedavra!” he yells, strongly enough for Theo to hear it above all the screams in the Great Hall.

No—

It’s all Theo has time to think, before Harry Summons the entire Gryffindor table into the path of the curse. The green light dies, the table falls to the floor cracked in two, and someone finally Disarms the imposter and Stuns him. Theo swallows and edges out from behind the Slytherin table.

He meant to look cool and collected as he walked up to Harry, but that changes at the first sight of Harry’s wide eyes and pale face. He crosses the Great Hall in a few swift strides, grabbing his boyfriend close. Harry leans his face against Theo’s shoulder and murmurs a few reassurances, stroking down Theo’s arm with one hand.

“Mr. Potter! Explain this! What did you do?”

Snape is right behind them, because of course he is. Theo turns around, and gives Snape a glimpse of the boy he carries around on the inside, the boy who learned curses and survived his father’s torture. The Head of Slytherin takes a step back before looking enraged at himself for doing so.

But Theo has achieved what he wanted, which is for Snape to stop accusing Harry. He turns around with his arm still linked in Harry’s and surveys the Great Hall.

The imposter is lying slack-jawed near the edge of the professors’ table. Dumbledore is standing over him with his wand in hand and a furious expression on his face. McGonagall is right behind him, adding the finishing touches to some complicated dome-shaped spell over the imposter that Theo has never seen before. Madam Pomfrey has her hand to her mouth; Professor Flitwick appears to be holding her arm and murmuring soothing words.

And the students are variously staring at the professors, staring at Theo and Harry, screaming, and demanding to be told what happened. Granger is the loudest of the last group, yelling almost in Harry’s face from a meter away. Harry is ignoring her entirely, holding Snape’s gaze.

“It appears that someone was impersonating Professor Moody,” Dumbledore says with finality. He Summons the wooden leg and magical eye where they’ve fallen and shakes his head. “Defense Against the Dark Arts classes are canceled for today and tomorrow. Students, please return to your common rooms. Prefects, escort them. Heads of House, do your duty by your students and then come to my office, please.”

Theo rolls his eyes when he notices that McGonagall hurries out after Dumbledore, floating the imposter inside the dome, instead of attending to her Gryffindors. The Gryffindor prefects are shouting loudly and ineffectually. Neither Harry nor Theo—or half of the House—pays them any mind. At least Snape has to go attend to the Slytherins and can’t do anything but glare for a minute.

“What happened?” Granger is still insisting, now pulling on Harry’s elbow.

Harry sighs and says, “I’ll tell you later, Hermione.” He nods to Weasley, and to Longbottom, who’s watching him with some concern, in the moments before Professor Sinistra sweeps up to them.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Nott, if you would come with me to the Headmaster’s office, please,” she says briskly.

Theo expected a summons like this, which is why neither he nor Harry tried to follow their Houses. He nods and makes sure the flask of Polyjuice is hanging from his belt before he grips Harry’s hand. “Ready?” he mutters.

“Yes,” Harry says, and smiles. He still looks a little shaken, but that’s fine, when he almost died. Theo could wish for more fear, honestly, so that Harry will see he doesn’t have to go up against his enemies alone in the future.

“But what happened?”

“I will tell you later, Hermione,” Harry says, and maybe that finally gets through to her or maybe she sees the flash of exasperation in his eyes, because she nods and falls back so that Professor Sinistra can lead them away.

“I do expect a full explanation, Harry,” she says.

Theo keeps his voice low as they leave the Great Hall. “Do you want to tell them the whole thing?”

“The thing with Moody, sure,” Harry says. He’s practically whispering, which Theo thinks is a good idea. Sure, Professor Sinistra might not tell Dumbledore what they say, but maybe she will. “Not the rest of it. Not yet. Until—we can think through it more and see what he might say.”

Professor Sinistra probably thinks they mean Moody. Theo knows Harry means Dumbledore. He takes Harry’s hand and squeezes it, and then just leaves their fingers entwined as they walk up to Dumbledore’s office.

Best to let the Headmaster know right away that they have no intention of giving up on each other.