zukuds.cc 
Hermione sighed. “You haven’t been following him again?”
“I have absolutely not been following him,” Harry bristled. “If anything, he’s been following me.”
“Malfoy broke into his flat,” Ron offered. And at that, Hermione wore a look of mild confusion.
Harry reached for the door. The anticipation prickled from his neck down his spine, and he mildly wondered why. He somehow knew Malfoy and Parkinson were on the other side, and with them, any number of clues and answers. As he hesitated, the cool metal of the doorknob in his palm, Harry wondered why it felt less like an entrance and more like a precipice; as if the moment Harry walked through the doorway, he would be jumping off the point of no return. The rush of purpose flooded him, and he opened the door.
The trio walked in to a superior suite decorated in lavish, deep tones of green and blue, earthy and yet extravagant. Harry recognised the layout as they entered the sitting room, an open set of double doors led to the bedroom behind the seating area. Malfoy and Pansy sat on the sofa, staring at the group of them in expectation.
“It took you long enough,” Malfoy finally said. He leaned forward and reached into a bowl of fruit on the coffee table. Looking pleased, he grabbed an apple and sat back. “Did you get lost on the way up?”
Harry was sure he did a terrible job hiding his surprise. “You expected us?”
Parkinson snorted.
Hermione leaned in and whispered, “You were leering at Malfoy from across the lobby.”
Harry turned with the intention of correcting her—he unequivocally had not been leering at Malfoy, perhaps glowering, sneering maybe—but then something odd caught Harry’s eye. In the corner of the sitting room stood a large case board covered in photographs, notes, and Cerforth Hippolyle’s It’s Solved Then! Every Color Case String. Harry and Ron practically fell over moving to get a better look at it.
Zivantus was pinned to the top of the board and a lovely photo of Bertrice underneath his. To the right, a series of names and photos of people Harry didn’t recognise. Places like Jones Distillery and Hantocrave Downs were listed and had various colors of string connecting them to individuals on the board. Pinned down the center, a large clock face with the hands at a quarter to seven had lots of strings connecting to people and places. On the left, Harry recognised what could only be a Gringott’s vault inventory list of items, some of which had missing written in neat script next to them. There was also a blueprint of the hotel, and to the farthest left of the board, a photo of an older woman labeled Gertrude Lockhart.
“This isn’t bad work,” Ron said absentmindedly. When he realized he’d said it out loud, he slapped a hand over his mouth.
Harry turned around in time to see Malfoy’s lip quirk. “Thank you, Weasley.” His grey eyes flitted to Harry. “I had help.” Harry gave him a questioning look. Malfoy stared at his apple and asked, “Did you have a productive visit at the DMLE?”
Harry almost choked. “I’m sorry?”
“You met with the investigators on Bertrice’s case, did you not?”
“How—”
“Even if I hadn’t recognised you the moment I first saw you, you’re wearing the exact clothes you had on earlier this morning. The only thing that’s changed is the absence of those awful disguise charms, of which I am ever thankful. It’s hard to admit there was something worse than your actual face, but here we are.”
Hermione took a seat in one of the armchairs, staring at Malfoy with wide, blazing eyes. Harry couldn’t gauge the emotion. Was it anger? It looked like something closer to expectancy. Hermione sat back and settled into the chair, “And yet, you allowed the pretense to continue. Why?”
Malfoy tensed.
“Hang on—” Harry stepped forward. “You didn’t think it was odd that I was in disguise working as a hotel porter?”
“If you hadn’t noticed, Potter, there isn’t a single thing about this case that isn’t an odd but coordinated obfuscation.”
Harry took that as a deflection. Malfoy’s stare lingered on him, and Harry narrowed his eyes. It was true, the events of the last day had been truly bizarre. Even though behind him stood a detailed case board, and Malfoy himself had admitted that Zivantus had hired him, Harry held on to the belief that Malfoy was still hiding something.
“Our first priority should be finding Bertrice,” Parkinson interrupted Harry’s thoughts. She was looking at Hermione but pointed to Malfoy and Harry. “These two idiots found her this morning and left her behind with some hoarder with a newspaper fetish.”
Just as Harry was about to correct her that Malfoy was the one who left Bertrice behind, the red kneazle revealed its presence and jumped into Parkinson’s lap. Startled, she turned to Malfoy, mouth agape as the kneazle nuzzled against Pansy’s neck.
Malfoy wore a triumphant smile that floored Harry. He took a step back at the sight of it, unsure if he’d ever seen the Slytherin flash a genuine one in his presence. Malfoy reached across the couch and gently pet the animal. “I wouldn’t be so sure we left her behind, Pans.”
“What?” Parkinson squawked. She froze.
Harry rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious?” Malfoy shot him an unconcerned look. Harry added, “I saw Bertrice and the kneazle in the same room, this thing—Guinevere—is not her.” He waved his arms emphatically.
“You’re assuming I meant she was an Animagus or a shifter of some sort,” Malfoy said. “I, too, saw Bertrice’s person in that house, and she exhibited some strange behavior.”
“Well,” Harry started, but then he realized Malfoy was right. “It was only strange in that she didn’t seem in immediate danger, and she didn’t have any intention of leaving with us.”
Malfoy smirked then. “You didn’t find it odd that she slinked across the ground on all fours or that the woman of the house referred to Bertrice as ‘Guinevere’?”
Harry wanted to have a comeback but before he could think of anything, Parkinson had leaned down and grabbed the kneazle’s face and whispered, “Are you Bertie?”
The kneazle licked her nose and then nodded its head up and down.
“This is insane,” Harry turned to a stunned Ron. “That thing attacked me!” They ended up standing by each other as Parkinson, Malfoy, and Hermione started running all sorts of spells and charms on the kneaz—Bertrice, apparently. Both Hermione and Malfoy tried their hand at Legilimens but with little avail. While the three of them began brainstorming ideas, Harry and Ron turned back to the case board and tuned the others out.
Harry studied the right side, the faces and names he didn’t know. His eyes skirted over their characteristics until he saw something he did recognise. One of the men in a photo wore a necklace that Harry had seen before. The pendant was the infinity symbol, only each side had a pair of eyes with the circles. He’d seen it before on a few of the men in the potions ring he’d been investigating. Merlin, he’d seen them only a few weeks into his investigation. That felt like a lifetime ago.
He whispered his revelation to Ron as his best friend copied down the case board to a small notebook. Ron drew the symbol from the photo and then put the notebook away in his robes. “Sorta looks familiar, yeah?” he whispered to Harry.
“Not really.”
Felix dropped the stack of parchments on his desk and sat back in his chair. “It’s official, Stramitz. Archibald Eversworn has only been on the Ministry’s radar for the last eight months.”
“Interesting,” Igora nodded.
“You were wrong then.” Felix couldn’t hide his smile and Ignora snorted.
“How’s that?”
Felix elaborated on his theory that Eversworn was a poorly picked informant, or even undercover auror. Igora shook her head, “No, there’s something else going on with him. Don’t forget that it was Draco Malfoy we saw climb into Eversworn’s flat. The man has a Department of Mysteries tail on him!”
That reminded Igora to check the files she’d requisitioned from the main office. She didn’t want to jump to her own biased conclusions in regards to Malfoy, but the young man was a known former Death Eater. She found the unnervingly thin stack on him and flipped through it. Since his trial and release, Malfoy only came up in Ministry paperwork with an application into the auror program and subsequent removal from said program. The reason for his expulsion simply stated Shows promise, unlikely to progress.
“What does that even mean?” Felix asked.
Igora shook her head and read on. The Ministry tracked Malfoy’s charitable donations, of which, there were many. But the most interesting find in his file had to be the copied pages of the Minister’s calendar, and the four official meetings Malfoy sat with him. “Doesn’t that strike you as odd, if he’s involved in criminal activity? He’s not flagged. He’s not on some watch list. He’s meeting privately with the Minister of Magic, for Salazar’s sake!”
Felix frowned. “So what are you saying?”
She was about to close the file and admit that she didn’t know, but a familiar tapping at the window stole her attention. She got up and let the owl in, grabbed the note, and fed the creature a treat. The note had been hastily scribbled, but she could tell it was from their informant at the Ashtyl Hotel. She ripped it opened and scanned it.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Felix, get your cloak.” Igora couldn’t help it. She was grinning madly. They walked to the Floo Chamber, Felix nagging her to tell him. “Our girl says she saw Draco Malfoy enter the hotel with a red kneazle.”
“Like the one Eversworn saw? Come on, Stramitz, that’s nothing.”
She licked her lips. “Not long after, Pansy Parkinson met with him in the lounge and then they went up to a room. They were followed by Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter.”
