Draco sat across from his father, studying the small dark cell around him. There was little; a single cot held to the wall by magic. A feather mattress. A pillow of the same. Then he turned to study his father, who looked paler than his usual pale. Lucius's hair was thinning, his once luxurious hair, which shone like the sun off the water of a pristine lake, hung lank, dirty, matted and tangled.

"You'd better give it up, Father," said Draco, looking his father in the eye. "All the evidence is there. You killed that man, and they're going to have you. There's no use in hiding it anymore."

Lucius stared at his son in amazement. "You actually think I killed him, Draco? I may have been a murderer once, but this is absurd! I've fourteen years given up those ways! The Dark Lord is dead and with him my lust for a world of that sort!" He leaned forward, a pleading look in his eye. "Please, Draco, believe me. You know I would never kill!"

Draco shook his head and sat erect. "No. No, I don't know it. Look, Father… the evidence is against you. There's everything there. Your wand was used to kill Samuel, and they've determined that you used it in a duel with him!"

"What about Priori Incantatem?"

"What about it? They've used that and any other test they could think of! It's over, Father! Use some sense and think about what it means." He stared the old man down. "I wish you'd just confess and tell them what happened."

"And be condemned for something I didn't do? Do you think I'm a fool, Draco? Do you really think I'd confess to a crime you know I didn't commit?"

"I've told you before, Father! I-!"

"Yes, yes, I know, Draco. You don't know that I didn't kill Samuel James. But I beg of you, Draco! I implore you!" Lucius laid his hand on his son's. "Draco… please."

Draco looked up, biting the inside of his cheek. "I'll see what I can do. But I won't make any promises I can't keep."

Lucius smiled sadly and nodded, withdrawing his hand. "That's the most I can ask of you, I suppose."

Draco nodded. "I'll send an owl as soon as I hear anything, good or otherwise."

"And…" said Lucius. He shook his head and looked out the window, signaling to Draco that he'd had second thoughts about whatever he had been about to say.

"Yes?" said Draco anyhow.

"I would like a small rum cake or two. I can bear the food, but it pains me to think that I can't have that one slice of home." He looked at his son once more.

Draco nodded and stood. "I'll see you, Father." He walked to the cell and summoned one of the guards; the Dementors had largely been replaced after the Second Wizarding War, but even so one of the few remaining Dementors glided eerily to the cell door and opened it for Draco. "Like I said, I'll send an owl as I hear anything, maybe with a rum cake or two." Taking a last look at his father, Draco made his way down to the corridor, his face blank.

He had never truly forgiven his father, for his deeds in the Wizarding Wars; as a matter of fact, he had never truly forgiven himself, but even so he had never thought himself capable of killing anymore than he had though his own father of turning back to the workings of Dark Magic.

"Okay," said Ray, sighing. "We've got these gold coins which for all we know are made of gold, silver and bronze respectively. Also, we've got a very decorative wooden dowel about fifteen inches long and made of ebony. And as far as Doc Robbins can tell us, we don't know a thing about how this man died. There's no sign of poisoning, no gunshot wounds, stab wounds, and no identifiable sign of trauma." He looked up at Catherine Willows and the rest of the assembled team. "About the only connection we can find between this person and the killer is a couple of shops in the area that sell these... curios."

Catherine nodded. "I've talked to all of the shop owners I could find in the area, and none of them have an idea as to what that dowel could be. They all seemed interested, and they'd like to take a closer look at it. But they all deny ever having seen it in their shops."

"And what about these gold coins?" said Hodges. "All the gold coins are gold, all the silver ones are silver, and the bronze ones are equally real." He turned his gaze specifically to Dr. Langston. "You know that dowel you found? I took a closer look at that last night, and when I looked at the spot where I'd cut the wood for a sample, I found something inside it." He pulled out a single sheet of paper and placed it in front of Ray. "I'm still running a mass spec, but this is a transcript of my observations of the core of that dowel, or stick, or whatever you want to call it. But the closest thing I could think of that came close to what I found was some kind of very silky, very fine tail hair. Almost like horse hair, but less coarse."

Ray looked across at Hodges. "You think there's the tail hair of a horse in a beautified stick of wood?"

Hodges looked at Ray. "That's not what I was trying to say. What I meant to imply was that it was the closest thing I could think of to that unknown element." He shrugged his shoulders. "Qualitative observations, Ray. And I know, not relevant."

Ray leaned back in his chair a little bit and stared out into the middle-distance. "Not relevant, true... but it's your job to make observations, and even this... fiber, as it were, can tell me where our priorities lie as far as this case goes, even if we don't know much about the fiber."

Hodges nodded and closed his eyes. "I'll let you know as soon as I get anything from the mass spec."

It was several minutes before the team rapped up their meeting, and in that time very little was discussed aside from the very little evidence they had collected.

As Ray took the chair behind his desk immediately following the meeting, Catherine stood outside the door. "Knock-knock."

Ray looked up. "Catherine. Come in. Please. Have a seat."

"Mind if I close the door?"

"Please."

Catherine closed the door and sat in the chair before Ray's desk. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but something Hodges said didn't sit right with me."

"Oh? What would that be?"

Catherine pursed her lips and hesitated, almost as though she were deciding how best to approach a subject. "When he brought up the subject of the fiber, how it looked and felt almost like horse hair, that struck a chord with me. And it's not without reason." She looked at Ray directly. "If this fiber is what I think it is, you're going to need someone who knows their stuff, and no one in LVPD would know enough; probably not everyone combined."

Ray's eyes narrowed, and his brow lowered. "What do you mean, Catherine?"

Catherine sighed and looked down at her hands, which she splayed wide on the desk. "I'm only going to tell you so much, because that's all I can say at the moment. Believe me, I hate being cryptic; it's the last thing I ever feel like doing. But if it means solving this case, I'll do what I have to."

Ray leaned forward and gazed sternly at Catherine. "Is there something I ought to know now before you refuse to say more?"

"I can't imagine what it would be. I've already told you everything I can for the moment."

Removing his glasses, the doctor rubbed his forehead. "Catherine... we have a responsibility to this city to protect it from crime, which is a big job. If you're not going to tell me what information you have, you may not have spoken at all."

Catherine stood. "I'll talk to you as soon as Hodges has anything. See you tomorrow, Ray."

"Catherine?"

She turned.

"Be careful."

Catherine blinked. "I will."

Several days passed before anything happened. The team had been forced to put their main case on hold.

Catherine and Ray were with Hodges, each working on their own assignments when Hodges roared. "Dammit!"

Catherine looked up in surprise. "What is it, Hodges?"

Hodges turned to her. "I can't get a match on this fiber!" He held out the report. "It's genetic material! This equipment isn't rated for the stuff!"

Ray raised his eyebrows and turned to Catherine, then back to Hodges. "Have you sent it to Mia? She might have better luck at it than you obviously have."

"That I wouldn't," said Mia, entering and handing the printed sheet to Ray. "I've run it through every known database and I've come up with nothing. It's not any DNA profile anybody has on record; it's not human, it's not horse, it's not zebra. The closest thing that I could find was something between a goat and a horse, and even then it's nowhere close."

Ray turned to Catherine again and arched a brow. "Perhaps it's time you told me what information you've got that could help us?"

Catherine put her hands on her hips and looked down at her shoes, sighing. When she looked up again, the entire room was staring at her. "Sam... the fewer people who know about this, the better. This is sensitive information, and the more people involved, the more information we gain, the less likely we are to resolve the situation. Believe me, I've known people who've tried. And it never ends well."

"Try me," said Ray, turning to face her.

Catherine shook her head. "Only if no one but you and I know about this when I'm through telling you what I know, which isn't much. That's not negotiable. And if you want to see this through to the end, I recommend you take what you can get."

"Catherine, I am not going to play a guessing game."

"What we do for a living, Ray? It's a guessing game. Sure we fill in the gaps with the knowledge we have and the clues we find, but get down to the finer point and it's what it is. DNA, trace, ballistics... and Brass completes the tool set. So give me the benefit of the doubt here. Take what you can get or close the Goddamn case!"

Catherine turned and stormed down the hall to her office, closely followed by Ray, who called after her once or twice.

"Catherine!"

"Yeah, Ray?" she said, cocking her head.

"Catherine, you're a good CSI, with good deductive reasoning. I don't for a moment doubt your ability. But being cryptic isn't any way to get a case solved." Ray gazed fondly down his nose at her. "I'm sorry I have to be harsh, as hard as it is for me. But even so I genuinely would like to hear what you have to say."

Catherine smiled. "C'mon. I'll buy you a burger."

As they sat on the crowded Vegas street not far from the Strip, Catherine chugged at her Coke and sighed contentedly while Ray took a thoughtful bite of his burger. "Obviously," Catherine began, longing to take a bite of her burger, but refraining so that she could talk to Ray, "there are things in this world we'll never know. There are some things we don't know much about, things we haven't guessed at yet, some things we're not looking for... and all of those things we haven't found." She hesitated and rewrapped her burger. "Of course you already know I didn't call you out here for a late lunch."

Ray nodded. "Please continue," he said. "I'm listening." He took another bite.

"We're going to be meeting someone here who knows there stuff; it's the same area of expertise that can fill in the gaps we're missing in this case."

Ray nodded again. "What kind of expertise are we talking about?"

Catherine looked out across the street and started as the figure of a tall young girl appeared next to her, garbed in hiphugging jeans, the waistband of her low-rise underwear peering out at the world beyond. In spite of the Vegas heat, the girl wore a scarlet-colored hoodie.

As Ray turned to Catherine he noticed for the first time that the girl was sitting next to his colleague, and he watched with interest as the girl drew her hood down. "Lindsey?"

"Hey, Doctor Langston," said Lindsey, greeting him with a detached nod. She hesitated for a second, then spoke. "So where's this 'dowel' you told me about?"

Ray's gaze turned to Catherine in surprise and sudden sternness. "Catherine, you know we can't discuss an ongoing case."

"What else was I supposed to do, Ray? Wait until the bastard that killed the guy got away? As soon as Hodges told us what he'd found, I knew Vegas PD wouldn't be able to handle this without a little outside help. And Lindsey's the only person I know who'd be able to help us." Catherine produced a portfolio from beneath her light jacket and untied it, then handed an 8.5-11 photo to Lindsey, who took it and studied it.

"Well, Hodges was half-right... sort of. That's definitely a tail-hair." She shook her head and sighed through her nose. "But the wood isn't what he thought. It's a very dark mahogany."

Ray set his burger down in his lap and spoke slowly and carefully. "What kind of tail hair is it, Lindsey?"

Lindsey looked up. "It's not something I can tell you. It's something I'd have to show you in order for you to understand."

"What do you mean?"

Catherine tried to catch Ray's eye but she was unsuccessful. "Come over to my place after work tonight and I promise we'll explai as much as we can."

Ray shook his head. "I have patience; suspects is one thing. But I have no desire to be toyed with this way." In spite of his words and the sincerety of his anger and frustration in them, Ray shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I guess I'll have to come over and see what you're talking about." What's going on here? I'm not in control of my own actions. And even with his traitorous thoughts, Ray knew that he had to discover what was going on, and in spite of it, or perhaps with it, the reason for Catherine's cryptic behavior.

Lindsey stepped slowly from the passenger's seat of her mother's car and threw an amused glance at her mother, cocked her head toward Catherine, and stepped forward toward a large manor. She stopped for a moment as though expecting someone to open the gate, then stepped easily through it as though it were made of smoke.

Ray looked at Catherine, who shrugged and followed her daughter; the older woman also paused, uncertain whether she should proceed, but stepped through anyhow, and turned to Ray. "You comin', Ray?"

Ray nodded and stepped through, expecting to meet smoke or mist of some kind, but finding nothing in his path. He thought he felt his eyes widen to show his shock, and with some effort he narrowed his gaze before following after Catherine and Lindsey, who now came to the main door of the house.

Lindsey knocked at the door and stood there, then turned to her mother and Ray. "He doesn't like to be disturbed, but he knows how important this is. He'll probably be a little... odd. And it won't help to have a Muggle with us." She glanced knowingly at her mother, who returned the look and cast a nervous glance at Ray, who couldn't decide between Catherine or Lindsey. To him, it was still confusion.

The door cracked open, and an old man appeared, thin and sick-looking but not without a passionate vigour in his face. "Hello, Lindsey!" He looked about at their company. "Hello," he said darkly to Ray. To the company at large, he smiled, though his eyes faltered when he rested his gaze on Ray. "Come in, please!"

Ray hesitated as he passed the old man, though he studied him curiously and quickly.

"Refreshments? Refreshments?"

"Gillywater, please," said Lindsey.

"Ray an I are here because of that... dowel... we found at a crime scene. A job," she said.

"Ah, yes. I'll be back with your drink, Lindsey, then we'll talk about it." The old man hurried out of the room and left the three to themselves.

Ray turned to Catherine in agitation. "What is this, Catherine? More cryptics? I'd have thought better of you."

"Ray, you may not believe me yet; hell, you may never believe me, but this is delicate stuff we're dealing with here. The laws of more than one society might be at stake!" She turned to Ray in near exasperation and looked him in the eye. "Believe me, Ray, when I say that I get frustrated with this stuff sometimes. I was in the same damn boat as you until Lindsey turned eleven."

Ray turned to Lindsey and raised a brow.

"As soon as I have my drink in hand, we'll talk about it. And I think it might be practical to show Ray what we're talking about."

"Here we go!" said the old man, bringing a tray bearing a plate of cookies and a glass filled with gillywater. "Help yourself if you want!" Catherine helped herself to a butterscotch cookie, but Ray abstained politely.

"Now," said the old man, sitting down and looking excitedly from Lindsey to Catherine and back, occasionally throwing a contemptuous glance at Ray. "I understand you found a wand and need my help?"

"Actually," said Catherine, "Ray found it. It was found not far from a man's body." She pulled a photograph from her jacket pocket and handed it to the man, who took it. "Any information you can provide would be useful."

The man studied the photo enthusiastically, muttering to himself, occasionally sniffling. He shook his head with a sigh as he finally handed the photograph back. "I don't think I can tell you much. But I'll tell you what I know; a dark mahogany or some variant of ebony, I guess. Nice and sturdy. The hair peering from the top is the tail hair of a unicorn, and the wand is most likely-"

"Unicorn?" interrupted Ray, standing up. "The fiber in that dowel is unicorn hair?" He turned to Catherine and Lindsey, fury obvious on his face, his cheeks quivering. "This is what you've been beating around the bush to tell me? Do you know how many laws you've broken to prove to me that you're crazy?"

"Ray, sit down and we'll-"

"No!" Ray turned to leave. "Catherine, I can't guarantee you'll be charged with anything, but I can rest assured that you'll be fired!"

"I wouldn't leave, Ray," said the old man, waving his wand.

From a room through a door on the other side of the living room, not far from the entry, a yowl could be heard that told Ray of cats.

"You've got cats, too? Wild cats? I can't believe I'm in with a bunch of lunatics and a man who owns illegal animals!"

"Look out Ray!"

Ray turned, too late, to see two huge panthers, one solid black with the outline of its spots just visible, and the other golden with vivid spots, on top of him, in the air, their claws extended.

The next moment, Ray fell back as two large blue-and-gold macaws banked away from him mid-flight; Ray had never blinked, and there had been no flash of light or puff of smoke, no mirror, nothing.

He sat gasping and spluttering, his glasses knocked askew, as the parrots landed on the old man's arm and kissed his face.

"How... how the hell did you do that?" said Ray, picking himself up and adjusting his glasses.

"Magic," said the old man, glaring at Ray as though he had startled the birds. "I'm a wizard." Ray moved over to sit opposite the old man, closest to Catherine. "I can see you still don't believe me. Should I turn you into a hedgehog, or would that suffice?"

"I don't know what I believe," returned Ray, unable to look away from the old man. "All I know is two wild cats attacked me, and the next thing I saw they were parrots, and I was on my ass."

The old man took a last, long look at Ray and returned his attentions to Catherine and Lindsey. "As I was saying, this wand is more likely an Ollivander wand. A great man, Ollivander, and I don't doubt that his best efforts could even match my own work." He produced a shaft of wood twelve inches long and looked at it, sighing. Engraved in gold lettering on the wand was Miller's Wands.

Draco stood before the mirror in his room, studying himself. His pale face, pointed nose and blonde hair he had inherited from his father; had he also inherited the capability of holding a dark secret that could save or condemn?