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Author's Note: You guys are awesome! I just have to say that. Also, thanks to RAfan2421 for pre-reading. As always, thank you all so much for reading, favouriting, following, and reviewing! I really hope you enjoy this chapter!
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Duality: The Overture

oOo

"You could be scary if you wanted to. I can see it. You're almost there."

"That wasn't scary enough?"

Daphne shook her head. "No. Maybe I'm a bit desensitized. But I doubt that's even on par with the Dark Lord."

Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. They had been working at this for hours. Zabini and Hermione were at Daphne's house, sleeping in proper beds (the lucky bastards), while he, Daphne, and Nott were taking the night shift of watching Malfoy get pelted by the automated sensory overload/sensory deprivation/keep-him-awake-at-all-costs system. Nott was supposed to go in to dole out questions every once in a while, but he was half sprawled out over the desk in the command room asleep.

"How about this…" Daphne said, the centre of her forehead scrunched up in thought. "What do you find frightening about Voldemort in particular?"

Harry's brows furrowed. The last time he actually saw Voldemort was in the atrium at the Ministry over six months ago... trying to take over his mind. "He's not that frightening, really."

Daphne stared at him cynically. "You're joking," she deadpanned.

"Well, it's what he can do that's more frightening than him himself. He wouldn't hesitate to torture and kill your entire family and friends if it would get him what he wanted."

"So basically you're saying that he's a selfish, psychotic bully?" Daphne raised a skeptical brow toward him. "There has to be more. He couldn't have amassed such a following and such a reputation off of that alone."

"I supposed he's decently charismatic… intelligent, and most of the people who follow him are mental pureblooded bastards. And he is incredibly dangerous."

Daphne's eyes widened and she frowned. "That's it?"

Harry shrugged.

"No… I can't believe that's all there is to him. I mean, he's supposed to be the ultimate Slytherin – the heir of Slytherin! If he was the ultimate Slytherin, I could see why so many people would fear him, but-" Daphne shook her head, letting out a sigh. "A plain old sociopath is just so common."

"He is powerful and a genius at magic. It seems as if only Dumbledore surpasses him, but I don't know the extent," Harry said with another shrug, going over that duel in his mind.

"That much is apparent – I know that already." Daphne reached for her silver case sitting on the edge of the sofa and lit up, holding the case out to offer him one. "But being powerful and good at magic will only get you so far."

"He was consciously using magic well before he came to Hogwarts," Harry suggested, plucking a fag from the confines of Daphne's silver case as Crookshanks' kittens ran around his feet and took off into the kitchenette.

"So? Granger was a prodigy too and I bloody well don't fear her," Daphne argued, brushing her hair away from her forehead. "There must be something else – something more."

Unfortunately, she had a point. What was it about Voldemort that was one of the most important keys to his success?

"He makes really good threats?" Now he was just reaching, even if it was true. Harry sighed. "I don't know what more to say. It's difficult to profile Voldemort properly."

Pursing her lips, Daphne hummed thoughtfully. "Okay, next topic then. What do you find scary if Voldemort doesn't do it for you?"

"Dementors," Harry admitted.

"Logical," Daphne commented dryly, taking a drag off her cigarette. "Unhelpful to our situation, but logical."

His lips quirked up in a small smile and his brows furrowed slightly as he stared at her. "What's your fear?"

"Too many things," she replied cryptically, blowing out a puff of smoke.

"Like?"

"Control – or the lack thereof." Daphne averted her gaze and leaned back against the pillows on the sofa, sighing. "Helplessness as well - I can't stand that."

"Yeah, but that stuff doesn't seem to be working all that great with Malfoy yet.," Harry muttered around his cigarette before lighting it.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "That's the thing about pureblooded Slytherins. They're regularly controlled by stupid customs and their parent's approval and all that political bullshit. What we're putting him through he can relatively deal with - given a short timespan anyway. I'm not sure how he'll deal with sleep deprivation though."

"Do you know his biggest fears?"

"Well…" Daphne paused, the centre of her forehead creasing in thought. "He has a healthy fear of werewolves and losing his mother. And Granger. I think Granger makes him feel a bit hopeless." Daphne shrugged. "I know he loathes me, but I'm not certain if that has much fear involved or if it's just pure hatred. Oh, and he can't stand when he can't control other people. That's why he targets you a lot."

The gears started turning in his mind as he sat there and thought about it. If he wanted to get to Malfoy – really get to him – he had to play dirty. Maybe even past the point of where Nott would comfortably allow, but possibly right before he reached Voldemort's level.

Fears – Voldemort…

"That actually might be a good approach..." Harry said quietly, more to himself than to Daphne.

"What would?" Daphne asked, a curious gleam in her eyes.

A wide smile spread across Harry's face. "I've an idea."

oOo

Taking what he swore was his fiftieth shot of pepper-up potion in the last two days, Harry watched Nott quick-fire a series of questions at Malfoy in the mirrors, listening through the baby monitor they had set up to keep everyone keyed into what was going on in the interrogation room. He had yet to convince Nott to let him into the room with Malfoy, but he was going to wait until Nott came out. Nott looked pretty damn frustrated at the moment; as frustrated as Nott could look, anyway. His face was relatively unreadable, but he was staring at Malfoy so fiercely that it was as if flames were going to shoot from his eyes and burn Malfoy to a crisp.

And Malfoy was defiant as ever – they had gotten him to talk at least, but only in attempt to bribe them and complain about his lack of legal representation. Malfoy could apparently have them swimming in gold if they released him. Right now, Malfoy was a bit delirious from dehydration and lack of sleep, but still going on about it. Still tight lipped about any useful information.

Zabini occasionally looked up from the book he was reading to make comments on the interrogation. He was persistent in trying to fix the Climate Control spell. Harry had no idea where Daphne had gone, but she was likely making preparations for the plan and, from what he could hear in the corridor, it sounded as if Hermione just got back from gathering lunch.

"Has he said anything else yet?" she asked as she strode through the doorway, loaded down with bags full of groceries.

"No. He's still being a stubborn bastard," Zabini answered, setting his book and his wand aside to help Hermione unpack the food and lay it out.

Hermione sighed. "He should be worn out by now… Maybe Greengrass was right."

Harry's brows furrowed and he turned to look at her, raising a perplexed eyebrow. Did she really just say that or was he hearing things?

"It's been three days and nothing," she elaborated, pursing her lips in that way he knew she was pained to say what she was about to say. "The plan isn't going to work as it is. You'd think that we'd make a little bit of progress by now if what we were doing was working, but he's obviously not afraid of us."

"It's probably Theo's delivery that's the problem," Zabini offered, dishing up a large bowl of curry and rice while Hermione set about making a pot of tea with her wand. "Granted, he's decent at what he does, but he has the tendency to be cold with people – impersonal. Too polite."

Harry nodded, getting up to grab a bowl full of curry for himself. He was starving. "Maybe I should take a shot at him," Harry suggested casually. "My relationship with Malfoy is far from impersonal and polite."

"You, Potter?" Zabini snorted. "Funny."

"I'm serious," Harry asserted between bites. Hermione spared him a suspicious glance. "I know a few things that you lot don't. I might be able to work some of those things into an approach that could get him to speak, get him scared. Possibly mimic Voldemort a little. If anyone here could do that, it's me."

"And, pray tell, how does the Dark Lord act exactly?" Zabini asked with a disbelieving expression shadowing his features.

Smirking, Harry replied, "He's the ultimate Slytherin."

Thank you, Daphne.

"So you think that you can act like the ultimate Slytherin?" Zabini gave a mocking laugh. "Merlin, I'd pay to see that."

Hermione narrowed her eyes toward the Slytherin boy in disapproval, but Harry wasn't deterred by his condescension. "The hat almost put me into Slytherin, you know," he retorted. "And I am a parselmouth, which, from what I can remember from second year, is a very Slytherin trait."

"Touché," Zabini said. "However, you weren't raised Slytherin. You've never lived it a day in your life."

"And you've never been possessed by Voldemort before," Harry countered fiercely. "I have."

Zabini's eyebrows rose and a small grin tugged at his lips. He stared at Harry for a short while, as if assessing whether Harry was telling the truth. "Alright then," Zabini said with a nod of respect before going back to his meal. "We'll see how you do."

Harry regarded Zabini cautiously. That was almost too easy.

"Wait. How exactly are you going to imitate Voldemort?" Hermione asked confusedly. "He's far more powerful – and I'm sorry to say Harry – but he's more intelligent and, not to mention, psychotic. You're not like him at all. Plus, Voldemort tortures people. He kills people. That's extremely hard to mimic given our parameters."

"Yes, but if Malfoy is a Death Eater, then he must know a few of Voldemort's mannerisms at least. I don't have to kill or torture anyone to copy those." Technically he was telling the truth, he did have a plan to use a few of Voldemort's mannerisms that he knew of.

"A subconscious approach," Zabini remarked, vaguely considering the idea. "Extremely Slytherin."

Daphne's voice sounded through the room as she entered. "What's extremely Slytherin?"

"Theo's plan isn't working very well – again – so Potter came up with an alternative. It has potential," Zabini evenly replied, going back to eating his curry.

"Told you it wasn't enough," Daphne said, grabbing a Coca-Cola from the mini refrigerator before taking a seat. "What's the new plan?"

As they explained it to her and ate, Harry couldn't help but think how much he both despised and envied how easily Daphne slipped into an unassuming role. How easily she could lie with not even a twitch of a muscle to give her away. He wasn't that good. Maybe he was when he was acting on pure instinct and adrenaline, but he doubted he would ever be that good without it spawning from that. Yet, he had shown a large improvement in the past few days.

Daphne was a surprisingly sufficient and easygoing teacher. She also had a clear and simple approach to lying. It wasn't about being unreadable, like Nott. Overall, lying was about acting casual; lying was about not being afraid, not caring, and not stressing over lying – being just as comfortable with the lie as you were with the truth. It was so logical that it should have been common sense. Harry's downfall was being completely comfortable with it and caring too much, but lying was a lot like keeping secrets and he was already good at that. He just needed to transfer and apply that knowledge.

When it came to Malfoy, Harry doubted that he'd go through a moral struggle in order to lie, deceive, and manipulate him.

oOo

Nott burst into the control room a little while later, his jaw clenched to such a degree that Harry could practically hear his teeth grinding in frustration. "We need to get him hooked up to those Muggle drip things soon. He's getting too delirious," he said in a rational commanding tone – far more rational than he appeared as he stripped off his shirt, trousers, and triple-layer glamour in a furious whirl of limbs.

"Delirium can result from the sleep deprivation as well, you know," Daphne replied, lighting up a fag and blowing out a puff of smoke. "But I'll prep them after I'm done with this."

Nott collapsed in the seat across the table from Harry, running his hand through his hair and blinking rapidly. "Yeah. Perhaps. That could be it…" he muttered briskly.

"I think you need a break, mate," Zabini said, eyeing the weedy Slytherin boy warily. "Let me or Potter take over for you for a little while. He came up with a decent idea while you were in there."

It was somewhat unsettling for Zabini to mention that right off the bat – Harry actually wasn't certain what Zabini was playing at by agreeing to his whole Voldemort act. Zabini would be the reasonable one to put into the room next, not Harry. Zabini was great at manipulating people and Harry doubted that he had fully convinced Zabini that he could do it better. There had to be some other motive at play.

Trying not to let that bother him, Harry relayed the plan to Nott, whose curiosity seemed peaked by it and he cautiously relented after a lot of convincing. Harry had to hold in a sigh of relief. The earlier that he could get in there, the more hope he had that Daphne's whole plan would actually work – and that his approach would get something out of him. They needed to get in there soon or else Malfoy's opinions about them might solidify to an irreversible point. Nott didn't exactly make a frightening impression. His demeanor in the interrogation room would've likely worked on plenty of other people, but Malfoy just wasn't very affected by it. Merlin knows why.

While a glamoured Zabini went to feed Malfoy a plate of food that he probably wouldn't eat much of, Harry and Hermione followed Daphne when she went to prep the IV drips. As they walked toward the room with the sofa and kitchenette, Harry could almost see the barrage of questions that Hermione wanted to ask behind her expression. Daphne had just barely gotten out the needles and the small transparent tubes before she pounced.

"How much scopolamine are you going to give him?" Hermione asked, staring at the bag full of clear fluid that was hanging on a rolling metal rack. It surprised Harry that she took this long to mention the scopolamine since they had gotten it.

Five points to Gryffindor for your restraint, Miss Granger, Harry idly thought. Merlin, he really needed to spend less time around the Slytherins.

"None yet. This is just to hydrate him," Daphne replied, hooking the tubes and a long glass bulb up to the bag. "He's not in the right state to induce hallucinations. Harry will get him to that point and, if necessary, we'll add in a tiny amount of scopolamine in increments until we get the desired response." She said it as if she didn't even question his abilities – like she had so much confidence in him and the plan.

"You really think you can do that, Harry?" Hermione asked, turning toward him, her eyes full of concern.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time I've tried to get information out of Malfoy," he said, thinking back to second year, where they used polyjuice to question Malfoy about the heir of Slytherin. Then that time in the corridor a few days ago, after Daphne had stormed away, now that he thought of it. Malfoy wasn't an adept liar, it seemed. Harry filed that information away for later use.

Nodding, Hermione's eyes unfocused as she looked away, deep in thought. Daphne hung the thin tubes from the hook on the IV drip rack and pulled out her wand. "Alright. Let's get a glamour on you so we can get in there and do this." She paused, her eyes roving over his face. "Do you have any preferences for how you want to look?"

A dark idea crossed his mind and Harry smirked, wondering if it was such a good idea. But, when imitating Voldemort ever so slightly… why not? "Yeah, I'll need a mirror though."

"Let's move to the bathroom."

Hermione's suspicious look was back as she followed them into the cramped loo. Since Daphne was the only one who kind of knew how to put in an IV and Hermione only had a vague idea, Daphne got to go into the room with him. Nott wasn't very happy about it, but it was necessary. With a few short sweeps of her wand, Daphne emerged from the glamour charm as a redhead with a round face, a slightly crooked nose, and hazel eyes. It looked painless and a regular glamour was painless, but he had no idea how triple-layer glamours worked. They appeared to be more like human transfiguration than a glamour with how flawless they appeared and human transfiguration was painful.

Harry braced himself as he explained what he wanted and Daphne went to work on his glamoured high cheekbones, sweeping her wand across his skin. "A little more gaunt," Harry directed. "And dark eyes – maybe dark blue. Almost black. Finer hair, with some wave to it… thinner eyebrows - more arched." He examined his reflection in the mirror after she finished with the alterations. "Make my lips a little bit fuller, I think. Can you make me paler as well?"

"Obviously," Daphne deadpanned, pressing her lips together. "Blaise isn't a milky-skinned towhead naturally."

She got back to working on his face and swished her wand over his body to make his skin turn a striking porcelain colour before he went back to the mirror to inspect himself closely. The resemblance was eerie but, still, something was still off about it. There was something about the eyes… Harry bit his lip, wracking his memory. "More eyelashes." That was what he needed.

"Who are you trying to look like?" Daphne asked, flicking her wand at his eyes and making his lashes fuller. Another quick charm changed his voice, deepening it slightly to make it unrecognizable. It wouldn't do to have Malfoy recognizing their voices.

"Tom Riddle," Hermione answered for him

Harry sharply turned toward her while Daphne stared at him as if he had just declared his undying love for Goyle.

"How do you know what Tom Riddle looks like?" he questioned, his brows furrowed. The triple layer glamour itched every time he moved his face and he moved to scratch it.

"He was in the Slug Club. Slughorn has a picture of him in his office," Hermione explained with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"There's no possible way that the Dark Lord looks this good," Daphne said, shaking her head. "He's an inhuman snake monster from what I've heard – or is that just a rumour?"

"He looked like this before he transformed into that," Harry responded, feeling at his face in the mirror. Triple layer glamours were so strange. It all looked very real, but it wasn't. When he touched his face, he could tell his cheekbones weren't that high from the feeling of them beneath his hand. And his lips weren't that full underneath his fingertips but they appeared to be full in the mirror. Plus, it was itchy; it felt as if he hadn't shaved in a couple days and the stubble was bothering him, except that feeling was all over his head.

"That's… interesting," Daphne muttered, her glamoured eyes grazing over his form. "Very extreme."

"Yes, well-" Harry gestured toward the door, "-shall we?" He really didn't want to go into detail or ponder why Voldemort went from Tom Riddle's handsome appearance to what he had become. He wasn't particularly certain of that himself.

"Right. Granger, why don't you transfigure something for Harry to wear while I go get the supplies," Daphne said quickly before making her exit, flicking her glamoured red hair over her shoulder and scratching at her scalp in annoyance.

They met up in the corridor, outside of the room where Malfoy was kept. Harry dreaded putting on clothes in this heat, but Hermione attached a cooling charm to the fabric of his cloak, which made it feel slightly more tolerable. It would have been better without the cloak.

"How are you feeling?" Daphne asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Her magically changed voice reminded him of an argumentative Luna.

"Itchy mostly – and a little nervous," he said, his stomach feeling light and shaky with anticipation. "It's not as if I do this every day."

"Just stop feeling and remember what we practiced. We have to do this. You can and will succeed," Daphne replied indomitably, resting her hand on the door handle and giving it a twist, not giving Harry much time to settle his nerves.

A determined look masked Harry's muted anxiety and he nodded just as she opened the door. A blonde-haired, green-eyed glamoured Zabini was still trying to feed Malfoy water, but Malfoy was resolute on his refusal to drink anything they gave him.

No scruples, Harry resolutely thought as his adrenaline started to kick in.

"That'll be all for now," Harry intoned softly, shooing Zabini away. Daphne wheeled the IV drip into the corner behind Malfoy and Zabini strode out the door after giving him a respectful nod.

Malfoy, on the other hand, looked absolutely contemptuous, his chin wet from the mouthful of water he spat out. "Who the hell are you?" His silver-grey eyes shot toward Daphne and back to Harry.

Directing an amused smirk toward the Slytherin boy, Harry paced around his chair a few times, observing him carefully and ignoring his question. As the tension grew, Harry waited until he could sense that Malfoy wanted to say something before leaning over Malfoy's shoulder and resting his hand on the back of his chair. Malfoy stiffened, angling his torso away from Harry as much as he could.

"You're Draco Malfoy, correct?"

Malfoy didn't answer, fixing him with a petulant glare.

Harry tisked in the back of his throat, straightening up. "That's entirely too bad." He pulled a small stack of parchment and a quill from his cloak and made a show of looking over it, marking a few things with a quill. "Uncooperative subjects don't do well where we're transferring you," he said in a quiet voice.

He handed the parchment to Daphne and she shoved it into her cloak pocket. "You see-" his hold tightened on the quill as he leaned over Malfoy's shoulder again and drew the feather up the side of Malfoy's face "-we don't cater to your kind. In fact, I'd have no qualms with tossing you to the werewolves, but there's something that we want."

Harry had to hold back a satisfied grin when he saw Malfoy visibly swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Finally, a desired response. "Now, it's up to you," he continued, his tone still perilously soft. "We could do this the hard way, or we could do this the easy way. Which would you prefer?"

"Who are you?" Malfoy demanded again, his voice raspy and dry. "Aurors? Unspeakables?"

Harry chuckled low in the back of his throat, a fierce wolfish grin marring his features. "We're far worse than that."

"That didn't answer the question," the blonde Slytherin replied sternly.

"Ah, but you're severely mistaken. In here, information is a privilege and if you want more, you're going to have to earn it by answering my questions," Harry said evenly, in a calm no-nonsense manner.

"I told the other bloke that I'm not speaking without legal representation."

In one quick motion, Harry clutched at Malfoy's sweaty hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. He pressed the sharp silver tip of the quill to the side of his neck.

"You honestly think that any sort of legal representation could save you in here?" Harry scoffed, an amused smirk pulling at his glamoured lips. "Speaking with us is your only way out - unless you really want to do it the hard way."

Malfoy swallowed again, his eyes wide.

Barely wasting a moment, Harry dug the quill harder into Malfoy's skin, just enough to make an indent. "You see, this is your carotid artery. If severed, you bleed out in two minutes – three at the most. It would be all too easy to end your life, of course; but, if I stop the blood flow and inject you with blood replenisher before you bleed out, I could repeat that process over and over. You'd be quite helpless, only privy to the feeling of being brought back and forth from the brink of death and, sooner or later, your mind'll wear down with your body – more than enough for me to break it." He paused, digging the quill in just a little more as he silently thanked Daphne for pounding that threat into his mind.

Malfoy's jaw was shaking and his uneven breaths that echoed throughout the room.

"But we mustn't get ahead of ourselves. You could always go with the easy way," Harry said far more amicably, letting Malfoy's head drop and pulling his quill away from him. But he still kept a tight grasp on his damp blonde tresses and forcefully turned the Slytherin boy's head toward him so he could look him in the eye. "It's all very simple – you could have a nice chat with me, be cooperative, and it's highly possible that we'll give you something you want in return. That-" he ran the feathery quill down the side of his face "-or we bleed you dry of everything and throw you to the wolves. Your choice."

Letting go of his head, Harry stalked around Malfoy and stood in front of him, towering over his blonde head. When Malfoy didn't give any indication that he was going to make a choice – in fact, he looked more deflated than anything – Harry said, "We'll give you a while to think about it."

Glancing over at Daphne for a moment and then back to Malfoy, a depraved grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "And," Harry added in a false saccharine tone, "since we loathe to see our transfers dehydrated, we will be hooking you up to a device that will prevent that. It's for your own good, you see." His grin widened ever so slightly to show the edges of his teeth. "It wouldn't do to have you bleed out too early."

Taking the cue, Daphne rushed in, quickly immobilizing Malfoy's arm and carefully poking at his veins with the needle. Malfoy struggled against his restraints and shouted protests, making the chair groan and creak while he did so, but Daphne got the needle in and the fluid flowing. She secured the IV and the drip with a spell before backing away, maintaining a cold unreadable expression.

"What is this? What are you giving me?" Malfoy exclaimed, glancing at the hanging IV drip with wide eyes. "Veritaserum? Coercion potion? What is it? It's the same stuff that's in the water, isn't it!" He urgently tried to move his immobilized arm in vain. Daphne's spells held strong.

"We'll leave you to figure that out yourself," Harry steadily replied, eyeing him with intent. "Now sleep tight. It'll be a while before you'll get any more."

With that, Harry followed Daphne out, slamming the door shut behind him.

oOo

Author's Note: Thank you for reading and please review!