Chapter - 43 : Fraudulence

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Harry stared balefully at the signed employment contract on his desk. It had no eyes yet it stared back at him. Without a mouth he nevertheless heard it mocking him. He growled at it. It didn't look intimidated in the slightest.

Merlin spare him, had he gone insane?

He hadn't liked learning Divination. As a result he didn't know Divination. So, why in the name of Merlin and Morgana had he agreed to teach Divination?

There was no way that would ever be a good idea.

After the mess with Dobby Harry had thought long and hard about his cover and realised that it was full of holes. The only thing keeping Harry White and Harry Potter separate was the fact that the Order thought he had been forced to tell the whole truth. He hadn't been caught in a lie so everything he'd fibbed and fudged while tied to the lie detector hadn't come under scrutiny yet.

Come September, his first class would tear holes in his claim that Divination was his best subject like a cannonball fired at a wet paper towel. With one lie exposed the figurative floodgates would open as the Order started wondering what else he had claimed that wasn't true. Bye, bye anonymity.

Once more he scowled at the contract before swiping it off his desk and heading to the one place in the castle known to give him answers.

"I need to keep my cover as Divination teacher," he muttered as he passed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching Trolls to dance for the third time. He wasn't quite sure how to ask the Room for answers, but figured that highlighted his need the best.

The Room of Requirement shaped itself into the size of a big office that looked strangely empty without any furniture, barring the empty desk and lone chair in the centre. The only other thing of note was a portrait of a good-looking golden-haired blue-eyed man in his thirties who smiled widely, showing off his sparkly white teeth.

As soon as he saw him Harry's brain ground to a halt.

"Hello there," the portrait said. "Do you know who I am?"

Harry stared numbly.

"I'll give you a hint. I am the five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award!" The man in the portrait turned slightly, showing off his teeth from a different angle. "Bell still not ringing? Honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League? Order of Merlin, Third Class? Professor Emiritus of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

When no answer was forthcoming the bright smile wavered a little. "No? You really should get out more, you know. How can you not recognise Gilderoy Lockhart?"

The portrait struck a heroic pose, but Harry was already halfway out the door, slamming the door shut behind him.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Nuh-uh. Not in a million years. Why would the Room even-"

The words died in his throat as it occurred to him what he had asked. He wanted advice and the Room gave him a portrait. He wanted to know how to pretend to teach something he didn't know and the room gave him a fraud.

There were parallels between him and Gilderoy bloody Lockhart! If ever there was an ego-piercing thought it was that one.

His skin went clammy and his face paled even as his stomach threatened to upend itself in revulsion.

Was that what he had become? In second year he had hated Lockhart with every fibre of his being. Back then he could not have imagined something worse than being a cowardly fraud like him.

He laughed mirthlessly. Look at him now.

Oh, how far the mighty have fallen.

He squared his shoulders. Well, not any longer.

He whirled around and, wand out, yanked open the door that was still there. Into the Room he stormed, a blasting curse on his lips-

The portrait was different.

Instead of the blonde ponce it held a woman with thick round glasses clad in shawls in dark colours. Her hair was black, edged with silver but her face looked smooth and not a day over forty. Harry immediately recognised her as the portrait that had hung in his office before Tilly removed it, along with all the rest of Trelawney's old stuff he had threatened to destroy.

"You are Cassandra Trelawney," he stated and she nodded. "One of the most famous Seers in living memory."

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