Harry resisted the urge to reach up and touch his scar. "I understand..., Draco. If not completely, then enough to get along with. Please don't think I am being condescending, that is the furthest thing from my mind. But the War changed us all for better, or, sadly, for worse. I have nothing but respect for anyone who was forced to take a long, hard look at themselves, and then had the strength to make changes."

  He cleared his throat, ready to change the energy of the meeting, which had gotten a bit fraught. "Let's on to business. I have read the letter your wife posted. Scorpius mentioned that you, however, had the primary interactions. Could you tell me, in your own words, what you experienced. And in as much detail as you can remember, please. Do not leave anything out because it seemed ridiculous on the face of it, or impossible, based on current knowledge." Harry sighed, and momentarily rubbed one temple. "I know I've seen more impossible things in the past week..." He let it trail off.

  Draco's gaze was level and penetrating. "You have been dealing with something of this nature, haven't you? You just addressed the very points that were making me dread this interview." His smile was momentarily the icy one Harry remembered from school. "We Malfoys have decent control of our emotions, but we do not handle scorn well, not at all."

  "Nor should you have to," Harry said. "And if one of my people were so unprofessional as to treat an interviewee in such a manner... Well, let me just say that I conduct all counseling sessions in the Ministry's Duelling Hall." He grinned. "I don't always win, but the point does get across."

  Draco smiled back, and said, consideringly, "We have dueled, in a way. Childish training, and chaotic mixed melees, where everybody was casting as fast and hard as possible. Based on that, with no imputations on either side, I would definitely prefer not to face you across drawn wands."

  "And I, you," Harry agreed.

  There was a moment of silence, then Draco began speaking.

  "The matter started small, as matters often do. One of the landscaper's men sent a message by Scorpius, that he wished to have a word with me about the grounds. It was one of the Harry's, come to think of it."

  "I met him near the gates, noting that he looked somewhere between worried and upset."

  "He came right to the point. 'Someone's been pilferin' from the grounds, sor," he said. 'We just noticed this mornin', but it's bin goin' on a while, we reckon.'"

  "I was quite taken aback, of course. 'Pilfering, you say?' He nodded. I looked around, bemused, then said, 'Someone has been stealing... plants?' I was hoping someone was going to shout 'April Fool's!', though we were already into June. 'Why on earth would anyone want plants? Our plants? They are just... plants.'"

  "And they were, too, for the most part," Draco told Harry. "You can't completely seal an estate off, try as you may. Oh, thorny hedges, and thick laurel are all well and good. But if a person is determined to get in, they will. So we have never kept many overtly magical plants in our gardens and parks, not wishing to draw Muggle scrutiny. Aunt Bellatrix kept advocating for a Poison Garden, but with magical plants. She had heard of the one at Alnwick Castle, and it irritated her that Muggles should have come up with such a delightful idea. My father, and my grandfather before him, had always denied her, and wisely, I believe."

  "But there were a few about. Wand quality trees, such as you would find even in a Muggle forest. A few shrubs and perennials that mimicked normal plants when anyone was around, but otherwise harmless. It was one of these last that our Harry led me to, speaking as we walked. "I had noticed this 'un the last time we was here, and I had marked it down for a small trim, just to bring some outlier branches back into the body. I didn't come here first thing, but I minded t' get 'er done before lunch. An' here I am, an' there she ain't, as I live and breathe!' Our Harry shook his head. 'An' they was fly, sor, dead fly. I can find neither touch nor trace of where they dug it up, nor seam or slit in the turf they must of put down.'"

  "He looked a little shame-faced then. 'Sor, we just didn't want you to think...' 'No!' I said firmly, and a little loudly, so that the hovering crew could hear. 'I do not think for a second that you men had anything to do with this. I know you all, and I trust you. Hell, men, do you think I would let Scorpius tag you along, if I had the slightest doubt in your characters?' That straightened them up a bit, and dispelled what little worry had been in their faces. I dropped back to my normal speech, and carried on. 'But, Harry, what in the world is going on? What earthly reason could anyone have for this? It's all so curious!' Our Harry nodded solemnly. 'Curious is the word, sor, that it is. We called the shop, and the boss is on the way, bringing two more crews with 'im. We're going over the whole lot here, to make note of what we know to be missin'."

  "Harry, I was touched. I protested, of course, but he wouldn't hear a word of it, nor would Andrew when he arrived. I got him to agree to come in for a drink when he was done. And once I was back in the manor, I sent my valet out with several crates of the Lobe-Blaster Red Ale. I had noted at the event that they favored it above all others. They were terribly disappointed to find it was a private brewery with a select clientele, and not to be had for love nor money."

  Stolen story; please report.

  Andrew came later and briefed me. It was all a bit fussy, because they were working from the memories of multiple people, but Andrew was sure it wasn't some kind of joke. He was the kind of employer that not only wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, he preferred it. He was familiar enough with our property to know what was what. He was more offended than angry, though. He seemed to think that somebody in the industry was sitting on new techniques. He could not, however, understand why these revolutionary methods were being used for petty theft. I was thinking much the same, but with my focus on the magical side of things. I do not claim to have been the best student, but if magic were capable of doing things like this, I'm fairly sure I would have heard about it."

  "Oh, it's new enough," Harry said absently, paging through the notes he had made so far. Ignoring Draco's questioning look, he went on. "You said that was how it started. How did it go on from there?"

  "Oddly," Draco said. "Over the next week, we saw no evidence of anything during the day. At night though, we gradually began to feel... unwelcome. Inside the house we were fine, the manor is most thoroughly warded, for reasons I do not have to tell you, of all people. Step outside, though, and there were... effects."

  "Something like this?" Harry began listing off symptoms, "You felt an unreasonable fear, as if you were smothering, as if something was missing, and it was crucial that you get it back..."

  Draco straightened in his armchair, eyes wide. "The very thing," he breathed. "And you know what is?"

  "Draco, I am honestly sorry. All I can say is that we are aware of the problem, and it is our top priority to resolve it." Harry hesitated, and added, "I know that sounds useless, but it is the most I can tell you at this level of security. What I can do, and I urge you to take me up on it, is station rotating strike teams around your manor. They know what is going on, and how to defend you from it. They will also stay in place until we are sure the threat has passed."

  Draco's wide eyes had, alarmingly, widened even further. "You..." he started, stopped, and then went on. "You can do that? You will do it? But.., but... why?"

  "Draco, it's my job," Harry said simply. "The remit of the Aurors is to protect the magical population of Britain. And I like to think I am a good enough Auror to ignore the past when making decisions that affect our remit."

  Seeing that Draco was still taken aback, Harry tried to refocus him on the interview. "So, the phenomenon only happened at night. Did it happen every night after it started?"

  Draco obviously made an effort to pull himself together. "No... no, not every night. But many nights, yes. This went on through the last week of June, and into July. Then, a week ago, Wednesday, Andrew Johnstone showed up mid-morning, to show me another... strangeness. I was surprised, because it wasn't near time for their next visit. Andrew admitted that he and his people had been making random checks of our property, whenever any of them happened to be out our way. I was amazed. We had been socialising with the Johnstones, in a limited sort of way, dinner out once, dinner at their home. And we had them over for tea at the Manor, as well. It was all very simple, and yet, satisfying. I gave them a limited tour of the manor. They admired it without gushing, just taking it in stride. We had tea in the small drawing room with the outer wall of glass panels thrown open to look over the garden."

  Draco shook his head slowly, vision fixed on something only he could see. "And it was just... nice. My valet and Scorpius took the role of staff, serving as needed. Cook outdid herself once again, little platters of puddings and small sandwiches. Coraline finally gave up asking for individual recipes, and asked if Cook had ever thought of writing a, well, cookbook? Scorpius confided in me, later, that had gone over particularly well down in kitchen."

  "And now, Andrew had his people looking out for us, and was checking on us himself. It wasn't like any friendship I ever had, and I wondered if I ever actually had real friends."

  "Andrew took me to see what he had found, and it wasn't hard to find either. Along the footing of the manor's walls, the earth had been, I can think of no better word, churned. Turned over, thrown back, scattered, a three-foot wide band that went all around the manor. And it wasn't just the surface. Andrew had some sort of jointed metal contrivance that assembled into a long, thin rod. It showed that the earth was loose and disturbed as far down as six meters.

  Andrew said to me, 'It's not often I'm baffled, but I have no idea what happened here. It looks like earth turned up by moles, or other burrowers, but the extent of it..' Then he looked at me, and said something I didn't quite get. "Drake, old boy, it's a good thing you're such an off the grid fanatic. Anyone else would have had all their utilities severed! I'm surprised that whatever did this didn't come out in your cellars.'"

  Draco gave Harry a slight smile. "I wasn't surprised, of course, but that wasn't the time to go into generations upon generations of paranoid magical bigots."

  Harry whistled silently, imagining what hundreds and hundreds of Nifflers would have done to the manor, had they found a weak point.

  "That was the morning of the fifth, Saturday. And there hasn't been anything since, day or night."

  Harry suspected he knew the wherefores and whys of that.

  Draco stopped. "No, I lie." He rose, walked to the absolutely massive desk that dominated one end of the room. Harry rose to meet him as he came back.

  "This morning I found this..." He handed Harry a torn half-sheet of paper, folded once, "...this, pinned to the great oak outside, with, of all things, a bloody halberd!"

  Harry opened the note and read.

  WE KNOW YOU HAVE ONE. SURRENDER IT, AND YOU MAY LIVE, BLOOD TRAITOR OR NO.