Summary: Jarod (of Pretender fame) meets someone who does a different kind of "Pretending". Alternately, Tonks runs into an overly curious genius.
“I’m not who I seem to be,” the suave, blonde-haired man insisted in a female voice with a distinctively British accent.
“Well, that much is obvious,” Jarod replied with a grin and a raised eyebrow, steepling his fingers in front of him. “But that raises many questions, such as: Who are you? Why do you look like the person that we have been tracking? And what happened the real Mr. Malfoy?”
“I don’t *know* what happened to the real Malfoy. I’ve been impersonating him to try to find him, but getting captured was not in the plans. Now, if you could just give me a piece of parchment and let me write down this tellyfone number—“
There was something strangely awkward about the way she said “telephone,” as though she weren’t really accustomed to saying the word or wasn’t even certain how it *should* be said. He tilted his head and tried to get into his/her mind, figuratively speaking. S/he averted his/her eyes quickly. Interesting.
“How long are you going to keep me here?” she asked in that strident tone. He shrugged.
“Until you give us a little more information, I imagine. How do we know you’re not the real Malfoy, disguising your voice somehow? You have to admit that it’s just as likely as that you’re some strange woman who somehow has the ability to disguise herself as an exact replica and claims to be some kind of law enforcement official but won’t give her affiliation.”
Malfoy’s face scowled. “Haven’t you ever heard of secrets? It would break several international treaties for me to explain.. which is why if you’ll just give me a piece of parchment..” S/he was still refusing to meet Jarod’s eyes, however.
“It would break international treaties to tell a policeman your secret?” Jarod confirmed, a slightly ironic smile twitching at his lips. She nodded.
He leaned forward across the table and said in a low voice, “Good, because I’m not a policeman.”
Malfoy scowled. “Are those whatchamacallits.. cammeeras.. are they on right now?”
Jarod tilted his head. There, again, was that strange lack of knowledge about technology. “No…” he replied after a moment of silence.
“Good, then let’s stop beating around the bush. What do you mean when you say you’re not a policeman?”
Jarod leaned in. “Well, I’m a policeman right now, but not legally. I’m a Pretender; a genius with the ability to become anyone they want to be. Right now, I’m Pretending to be a police officer in order to track down Malfoy—whose visage you so suspiciously wear at the moment. Now it’s your turn: if you’re not Malfoy, who are you, and how do you look so much like him with out any perceptible cosmetics or disguises?”
“Fine. It’s your Obliviation.” She closed her eyes for a moment and suddenly Jarod couldn’t believe his eyes—she was blending into another person. He reached forward to feel her face immediately, ignoring any personal space issues in an urgent need to prove that what he had seen was not some trick.
“How’d you do it?” he breathed. She looked rather uncomfortable at the sudden proximity, and had scooted her chair back slightly.
“Magic. I take it you’ve never met a Metamorphmagus, before?”
He shook his head. “Can you teach me?” he pleaded almost immediately.
She snorted, looking a little more comfortable now that he wasn’t showing any signs of getting near her again. “You wish—you and many others. It’s a talent. You’re born with it or you’re not.” She paused. “What did you mean, you can ‘become’ anyone you want to be?”
“It’s nothing like what you can do, physically. It’s a mental ability—I can put myself in anyone else’s shoes, and think what they are thinking, feel what they are feeling. For instance, not only are you British, but you come from a society that is very insular—probably magical. You don’t use telephones or cameras or probably any other ‘modern’ technology; you even use unusual methods of communication, I would guess.”
“Not bad for a Muggle. It’s too bad you’re going to have to be Obliviated.”
“There’s that word again. What does it mean?”
“It means I can tell you all I want, because you’re not going to remember any of this,” she said, almost sadly.
“Not going to remember..?” he replied, looking nervous all of a sudden. He began to back away from her, the prisoner, and only realized that someone was behind him when he heard the voice say, “Obliviate.”
“So, was it Malfoy, or no?” Jarod’s colleague asked. Jarod shook his head.
“No. Just a transvestite with a strange disguise.”
“Oh. How come you get all the interesting cases?”
¶ 9:57 PM
