Harry called together his usual auror group on Wednesday morning to review what he and Ron had discovered and formed an investigative team to focus on the mysterious crime wave. One of the members was an arithmancer, Sorcha Stradbroke, who was asked to determine when and where the next theft could occur.

"You're not giving me much to work with as the only firm datum is from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," she explained as she projected her forecast for the group. Her spiked brown hair seemed to follow her finger as she pointed to the various equations floating slightly above her head. The rest of the group politely nodded as if they fully understood the complex calculations. "But if you look at this number here, based on past patterns there's a strong probability that the next target will be the clothing store in Diagon Alley closest to Knockturn Alley a week from this Friday. It looks like late morning, but that part is really iffy."

Keeva Everson ran her hand down the sleeves of her new satin robe. "That would be Beatrice's Boutique. I shop there often. They carry the latest fashion in capes."

Leo Rushden stroked his blond goatee. "Of course you, super-shopper that you are, would know that off the top of your head," he teased.

"Provided we don't get any other leads, let's go with Sorcha's prediction." Harry turned to his best friend. "Ron, without tipping off the storekeeper, arrange for some tracking galleons to be in the store's till. Everyone else, be ready."

On the predicted morning, Harry and Ron joined the surveillance team. All were disillusioned. From across the street, Harry was focusing on the front door of the clothing store when a loud yowl from a kneazle made him look to the right. He noticed the door to the nearby kitchenware store open and close, apparently on its own.

Tapping his badge, Harry urgently hissed, "Ron! Take over for me!" He ran into the store. A merry tune played softly as he crossed the threshold.

"Welcome! Welcome! How can I help you today?" asked a tall, skinny witch in a gold striped robe. "Hello?" she added in bewilderment as she looked around the seemingly empty store.

Harry's homenum revelio indicated only he and the woman were in the shop. He took off his disillusionment charm. "Sorry."

As he peered around the store, the witch smiled. "That's all right. My special today is tea service accessories. For a limited time all are half off. You won't find these unbelievable prices elsewhere. I have a nice tea cozy that will keep your tea at the exact temperature you indicate all day and an infuser that will banish your tea leaves when your tea has been properly steeped. I think you'll also really like this filter that will …"

Harry focused on her. "Thank you, but I'm here on auror business." He took out his identification. "Was anyone just here?"

Harry ignored how her eyes flickered to his forehead. He was thankful that she was too polite to gush. "No, it's been quiet for the about the past hour," she whispered, looking around trying to spot someone else in an effort to be helpful.
"I'll be right back." Harry ran outside and cast a spell to reveal apparition traces. Someone had disapparated within the past two minutes. As the final traces of the disapparition were fading, Harry focused on tracing the apparition. He whirled around…

…and found himself on a bustling sidewalk in muggle London. He made the mistake of freezing for a moment to determine his location and was knocked to the ground by a burly man in denim jeans and a tight t-shirt. "Watch where you're going, idjit," the man spat out as he kept walking.

Harry scuttled backwards until he hit a wall and was out of the way of the pedestrians. He stood up, bemused. As far as he knew, he was nowhere near any wizarding locale in London. He bent as if to tie his shoe and, shielding his wand from view, cast a spell to detect magical traces. He found nothing. He shook his head and ducked into a nearby alley before disapparating back to Diagon Alley.

His team was still staking out the clothing store. He ignored them for now and returned to the kitchenware shop. Again, the merry tune announced his presence.

The tall witch had been looking out the front window into Diagon Alley. She eyed Harry with curiousity. "You said auror business before you left so abruptly. Is there something I can do to help you?"

"If you don't mind, can you check your till?"

"Check my – what do you suspect?" asked the witch as she hurried back to the counter. "I run a quiet store here. I've not had any problems. I've heard some rumors that other stores may have been targeted by thieves, but … why … that's strange, I could have sworn I had more money in here. I'm sure I did …"

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It looks like you were hit by a criminal or criminal gang that's been targeting wizarding shops. If you don't mind, I'll get some people here to look around to see if we can find anything that may help us identify the perpetrators."

The witch was levitating parchments surrounding the till as if hoping her missing galleons were merely misplaced. She nodded her head distractedly.

Harry headed outside and summoned his team together to give them the bad news.

TRTRTRTR

Back at headquarters that afternoon, Harry called his team together. He looked glumly at them. "I apologize to everyone. My bust - I'll take the hit in possibly tipping off the thieves. I shouldn't have chased them unprepared." He turned to the arithmancer while using aguamenti to fill his glass. "Sorcha, I know you spent a lot of time identifying a pattern. With the limited data you had to work with, your prediction was amazingly close." He sighed. "Now, though, if the thieves know they're being watched they'll consciously choose the next target so that it breaks the trend." He looked around. "What have we learnt?"

A short auror with long auburn hair looked down at her notes. "Someone is very good at obliviation spells, but it's more than that. He, she, or they are careful to do their research in advance to be sure there's never more than one person to hide from at the time. I also suspect some form of imperious is used to get the cashier to open the till."

A pudgy wizard snorted. "You're always eager to find traces of Death Eaters, Matilda. Don't be so quick to assume the imperious. A dark, though not unforgivable, spell could have been used if the caster knows the cashier will forget, such as one to trick the cashier into thinking a customer is waiting for change. Even simpler, the thief could actually make a purchase; wait for his or her change, and then attack."

Looking thoughtful, Keeva ran her fingers through her short, curly black hair. "You're right, Finnick," Keeva agreed. "That would overcome the wards shop owners put on their stores to prevent precisely that sort of thing."

Harry grimaced. "And unfortunately, a bright seventh year can figure out how to use obliviate; I'm sure it's a spell that's way too widely known."

"What I don't understand is the trail you followed," murmured Leo. "Why would a wizard apparate into muggle London?" He idly made his quill dance from the top of his parchment to near the bottom where it drew a picture of Big Ben.

Keeva leaned forward. "And you followed the trail onto a busy sidewalk, so there's at least some probability that the same escape route was used after other robberies. The fact that obliviators were never called shows whoever did so was able to blend right into the muggle world, yet they had just come from our world where such clothing would draw a lot of attention."

Ron tapped his index finger on the parchment in front of him. "The thief was either under a cloak or disillusioned when he or she left the store. They must have transfigured their clothes as soon as they hid."

Finnick nodded. "I wonder why they just didn't apparate from the store."

Ron shook his head while his quill began to doodle a snitch. "Taking down anti-apparition wards takes time. The thief would have wanted to get away from the scene of the crime."

Sighing, Harry turned Sorcha. "Do the arithmancers have any suggestions for the next stakeout?"

Sorcha shuffled the parchments on the table but it was obvious she already knew what the answer was. "As you said, if they now know that we were on their trail, that puts the parameters all over the place and nearly impossible to predict. These thieves are smart or they wouldn't be so successful. While they're human enough to have developed habits, if they're now aware that we were able to determine a pattern, they'll be extra cautious to be sure they don't fall into a new one."

Harry grimaced. "Though I'm not counting on it, let's not ignore the possibility that they didn't realized I followed them." He turned to the wizard with the goatee. "Leo, work with Sorcha to set up a stakeout in the vicinity the arithmancers identify as the next possible location if the thieves continue their previous pattern. Any other suggestions to catch a suspect, or suspects, adept in dark spells yet comfortable in the muggle world?"

Ron's snitch took flight off his page. Embarrassed, he trapped it in the palm of his hand. Its wings occasionally could be seen as it struggled to get free. He shrugged. "When in doubt, it's best to go back to the basics. In this case, let's follow the money. If the thieves are escaping to the muggle world, they need to somehow convert galleons into muggle money, don't they?"

Harry nodded slowly. "With the amounts they've been stealing, we would have heard about it if they were exchanging it on the streets – the exchange rate would have gone down but it's been steady. They have to have been using Gringotts."

Ron groaned and accidently squeezed the paper snitch into a ball. "Well, that knocks you and me out of this part of the investigation. Goblins have very long memories and I doubt they'll talk to us about illicit currency transactions. Last time I went to the bank before Hermione and I took the kids on holiday to visit some muggle sites, I was treated to an hour long discourse about vandals and thieves before they finally let me convert some galleons to pounds at an unfavorable exchange rate."

As Harry nodded and dropped his head theatrically to the table, everyone else snickered. Harry muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear, "The damage was easily repaired and we paid reparations. I can't help it if keeping a dragon is illegal and that therefore we were unable to supply a new one. Besides, we only took something that had been stolen in the first place."

Finnick took pity on him and stopped sniggering. "Good thing He-Who-Was-Defeated-Twice would have been bad for business or they wouldn't let you anywhere near their bank."

Harry sat back up. "All kidding aside, Ron's right. Matilda, I know you're the department's point person for dealings with the bank. Can you and Finnick visit our friends at Gringotts and see if they'll tell you anything helpful?"

The two nodded. "Though I don't hold out much hope, Harry," Matilda warned. "They're a secretive bunch."

TRTRTRTR

It took over a week before the goblins agreed to a meeting. Matilda and Finnick felt numerous eyes following them as they made their way through the bank's atrium. They walked to the far end where a very old goblin with curved fingernails and exceptionally sharp, gray teeth looked down at them from a desk on a high platform. "Names," he snarled.

"Finnick O'Flaherty and Matilda Puckeridge to see Director Grizharm," Finnick responded.

"Appointment time?"

"Now," answered Matilda. "Official business. Per the 1857 Goblin-Wizard Accord Pertaining to Mutually Beneficial Actions, the Director was notified Monday last that we would like to see him that day. He countered that he was not available until Friday next. We indicated we would be coming in on Thursday last unless we heard from him. He informed us he had a short opening today."

The goblin at the desk nodded, satisfied that protocol had been followed and that the wizards had been appropriately delayed. He got off his stool and led them to the door behind his desk where he stood for a moment. At a signal unseen to the wizards, he opened the door and motioned them in.

Grizharm looked up from the multiple open ledger books on his desk. Piles of galleons, sickles and knuts constantly changing in height lined his desk. He twirled a massive golden quill and waited for his guests to speak.

"Thank you for seeing us, Director," Matilda began. "May your piles of gold ever increase."

The goblin dipped his head. "And may your fortunes ever grow." He wrinkled his nose. "Now, what do you want?"

Finnick had been pre-briefed by Matilda. She had told him not to expect to be asked to sit down, but he didn't realize that the room would not even have chairs for guests. He suspected, however, that a door to the right would lead to a more comfortable room should it be desired. He focused his attention on the Director as Matilda began to speak.

"It's come to our attention that wizards or witches of dubious backgrounds may be making unusual currency exchanges."

"Unusual how?" Grizharm growled.

"Either multiple smaller exchanges for muggle money or one big exchange."

Grizharm shrugged. "You wizards all act very strange. Why should we notice anything in particular, and why should I break our secrecy rules to tell you if we did?"

"Per the 1857 Accord, we are asking because the person or persons making the exchange are doing so for ill-gotten gains."

Grizharm put his quill down. "So? What do we care about wizard laws? You change them all the time. What is questionable now may be perfectly legal in the future. Why should we penalize those who are merely ahead of their time?

"But should the wizard or witch continue with their endeavors, the wizarding world will suffer and may become unstable, which would affect you, and hence my appeal to the Accord."

Grizharm snorted. "Weak justification indeed. Petition denied."

Matilda bowed slightly, expecting this response. "We accept your response. Is there nothing you can tell us?" She poked her elbow into Finnick when it looked like he was going to speak up.

Behind them, the door opened. "You wizards think you know the past," the Director said, "but what's past is seldom truly past. Know the past and you'll know the future." Finnick was unsure if Grizharm smiled or merely bared his teeth; Matilda knew it was the latter when she noted he hadn't bothered to stand up. "May your future bring you gold," the Director almost hissed out, adding in a mutter, "to deposit with us."

Matilda bowed again. "And may these galleons fill your vaults," she replied dryly.

The response pleased Grizharm, happy to deal with wand carriers who followed protocol. "You sought my advice; you'd be well to heed it," he grudgingly added.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Finnick complained as they left the bank.

To his surprise, Matilda grinned back at him. "Let me give you a lesson on goblin culture," she responded.

TRTRTRTR

"It's that final sentence that's key," Matilda explained to the reassembled investigative team the next day. "It was Grizharm's way of grudgingly helping us."

Sorcha, who had been carefully following Matilda's report to the group shook her head in confusion. "Could you explain that to those of us who haven't had goblin liaison training?"

Matilda smiled. "A good six month long course to take – I've convinced Finnick to sign up for it the next time it's offered. Goblins don't like to help us wand carriers, but they know we depend on each other. After all, if it weren't for our business, Gringotts would be a shell of what it is now. They key to dealing with goblins is to keep your temper and follow protocol no matter what they do or say. They respect you for that."

"I remember my brother Bill saying the same thing," Ron agreed. "They respect you only if you stand up to them."

"Right. If Grizharm hadn't meant what he said about knowing the past, he would have let us depart without telling us to heed his words and left it for us to decide whether to follow his advice. That final remark was a way of telling us without violating any confidentiality agreements that the answer to what we seek can be found by looking at past patterns."

"So where does that leave us now, though?" asked Ron as a teapot refilled his cup.

Harry shrugged. "Unless anyone has any other suggestions, I think a trip to Hogwarts would be a good place to start. Professor Binns could put anyone but Hermione to sleep, but he sure knows a lot about history and goblins." He turned to his best friend. "Up for a visit?"