Author's Note: Chapter four is here! As always, thank you for being patient! : )

Draco woke up late to the sound of car horns. He shot up and looked to the store. It was open, with people moving about inside.

Draco took the raven-haired women to be Shea Snape, the owner of the Magical Muggle Artifact Store. Draco cringed at the thought of his old potions master getting married. As a muggle loving Slytherin (nice combination, eh?), Shea looked to be a formidable women; for her tiny size, her movements were fluid and powerful, and her eyes were quick and piercing. Something told Draco that she would be difficult to fool, so he abandoned the idea of using the Polyjuice Potion he brought with him.

Her short and small house elf looked a better bet. He waited patiently for his chance.

When lunch time came, the trickle of well-heeled customers entering the artifact store swelled a little. Shea fawned and scraped; at her command the elf scampered to and fro about the shop, gathering boxes, capes, 'umbrellas', and any other item that was required. A few sales were made, then the lunch hour drew to a close and the customers departed. Now Shea's thoughts turned to her belly. She gave the elf a few instructions, put on a thick black overcoat, and left her shop. Draco watched her hail a cab and be driven off into the traffic. Behind her, the elf had put up a CLOSED sign on the door and had retired to the stool beside the counter, where, in mimicry of Shea, he puffed himself out importantly. Now was his chance. Draco changed his look with a simple transferring spell. His hair turned a deep brown and he shrunk a few inches. Instead of the powerful wizard he was, a humble messenger came knocking on the shop's door.

The elf looked up in surprise, gave him a glare and signaled for him to be gone. Draco knocked again, only louder. With a cry of exasperation, the elf hopped off the stool, trotted across to the door, and opened it with a crack. The shop bell tinkled.

"We're closed."

"Message here for Mrs. Snape."

"She's out. Come back later."

"It can't wait. Urgent. When's she due back?"

"In an hour or so. The master has gone to lunch."

"Where's she gone?"

"She didn't bother me with that information."

This elf had a haughty, superior sort of manner; he evidently considered himself too good to talk to messengers such as Draco.

"Don't matter. I'll wait." And with an effortless push, Draco entered the shop.

"Nice place, huh?" he said with a smirk.

The elf hurried after Draco in a panic.

"Get out! Get out! Mrs. Snape has given me strict orders not to allow anyone-"

"Don't get so excited, mate. I won't nick anything." He said rolling his eyes. The elf positioned himself between Draco and the nearest rack of silver time turners. "I should think not! With a stamp of my foot I can call up enough dementors to devour any thief or intruder! Now please leave!"

"All right, all right." Draco's shoulders slumped as he turned for the door. "You're too powerful for me. And too highly favored. It's not everyone gets a nice place like this." He said smirking.

"You're right there." Draco noticed that the elf was tricky, but also vain and weak.

"Bet you don't get any beatings neither."

"I certainly do not! The master gave me this sweater months ago! I am a model of efficiency and the master is very gracious to me."

Draco knew then immediately what sort he was dealing with.

"Well!" he said. "I should think she is gracious and all. Why? Cause she knows how lucky she is to have your help. Bet she can't do without you. I bet you're good at lugging heavy stuff around. And you can reach high shelves and sweep the floor-"

The elf drew himself up. "You bloody fool! The master values me for a greater deal more than that! I'll have you know that she refers to me as her assistant! I mind the shop for her while she takes her lunch. I keep the accounts, I help research the items that are offered, I have many contacts-"

"Hold on…the items?" Draco gave a low, sarcastic whistle. "You mean to tell me she lets you handle the merchandise – all her magical stuff, rings and the like? Never!" At this the elf simpered. "She does indeed! Mrs. Snape trusts me completely."

"No kidding? Here, listen, I'll tell you something I've heard of. The Ring of Oliver Wood. My master's mentioned that a few times. Bet you never cleaned that."

But this casual comment had struck some sort of nerve. The elf's eyes narrowed. "Who is your master then?" he said abruptly. "And where's your message? I don't see you carrying one."

"Of course you don't. It's all up here." Draco tapped his head with his finger. "As for my master, there isn't any secret about that. Hailey Wood's the name. Perhaps you've seen her about."

This was a bit of a gamble, bringing her into this. But the elf's manner had changed at the mention of the ring. Fortunately, he seemed impressed.

"Oh, it's Ms. Wood, is it? You're a new one for her, aren't you? Where's Bobo?"

"He lost a message last night. The master stripped him permanently."

"Did he? Always thought that Bobo was too frivolous. Serves him right."

This pleasant thought seemed to relax the elf; a dreamy look came into his eye. "Real lady, young Ms. Wood is, a perfect guest. Always dresses nice, asks for things politely. Good friend of Mrs. Snapes daughter, of course. Not surprising she was on about the ring. Considering what happened to it. Nasty business…and they've still not found the murderer, six months on."

This caught Draco's attention, but he didn't show it. He knew Hailey's father had died, but didn't know he was murdered.

"Yeah, Ms. Wood said something bad had happened. Didn't say what though."

"Well, she wouldn't to a speck like you. Some people figured it was the Dark Lord that did it. You'd think with all the resources the ministry's got-"

"So it got nicked, didn't it?"

"It got stolen, yes. But the ring was far too valuable to be presented on the open market. It's been the ministry's property for years, and for the last 25 of them it was kept under the guard at Mr. Wood's estate in Surrey. High security. Mr. Wood was a fine man – tough on the field but fair, very admirable…"

"Indeed." Draco said remembering the many times Wood had bailed him out of tough situations in the past. "So, somebody stole the ring from Wood?"

"Yes, six months ago. No alarms were triggered, the guards were none the wiser, but late one evening it was gone. Vanished! And there was poor Mr. Wood, lying beside its empty case in a pool of blood. He must have been in the room with the ring at the time the thieves entered, and before he could summon help they'd cut his throat. Terrible!"

"A most terrible thing." Draco looked mournful, but hidden inside he was yelling with triumph. Not only did he have an idea of where the ring was, but Haileys past attitude was clear now. But one thing was still unclear. Why would this wizard who stole the ring risk the wrath of the ministry? Draco knew the ring by reputation – but not its exact power. (Voldemort hadn't cared to share that little detail). 'Hopefully this idiot can help.' He thought to himself. "That ring must be quite something," Draco said. "Useful piece, is it?"

"So my master informs me. It is said to contain the most powerful magic – something from the deepest areas of olde black magic. It protects the wearer against attack by-"

The elf's eyes strayed behind Draco and he broke off with a sudden gasp. A shadow enveloped him, extending past his head and out across the polished floor. The tinkling bell sounded as the door opened, briefly allowing the sound of traffic into the shop's comfortable hush. Draco turned around slowly.

"Well, well, Foter," Shea Snape said, as she pushed the door with her long arm. "Entertaining a friend while I'm out, are we?"

"N-n-no, master, not at all." The pitiful elf was bowing so low, his head almost touched the ground. Draco stayed where he was, leaning against the wall.

"Not a friend?" A smile played on her lips, but the eyes above were cold and hard. Close up she was taller than Draco expected.

Foter had edged away against the front of the counter.

"No, master. H-he is a messenger for you. H-h-he brings a message."

"Really Foter! A messenger with a message! Extraordinary. So why didn't you take the message and send him on his way?" I left you plenty of work to do."

"You did, master, you did. He has only just arrived!"

"Even more fascinating by the second! When our neighbor shop has been watching you both chattering away like children for the last ten minutes!" Shea took her coat and flung it at Foter. He flinched but caught it and made no answer.

"Well then, your message boy. Where is it?"

Draco stared at her carefully, searching his thoughts for an answer. "I entrusted it to my memory, ma'am. My master considered it too important to be written on paper."

"Is that so?" Shea's cold eyes looked Draco up and down. "And your master is…"

"Hailey Wood, ma'am!" Draco gave a smart smirk and stood to attention. He was amazed at how well he could play this off.

"And if you let me, ma'am, I'll give my message and be on my way. I do not wish to take up anymore of your time."

"Quite so." Shea Snape leaned in close and fixed her eyes with Draco's. "Your message – please proceed."

"Simply this, ma'am. 'Dear Ms. Snape, I regret to tell you that I cannot make it on behalf of my father tonight. I feel it is too soon for me to be involved. Please respond with advice A.S.A.P. All the best, Hailey.' Word for word, ma'am."

To Draco this sounded well enough. He didn't want to push his luck. He bowed and set off for the door.

"Too soon, eh? Poor Hailey. Mmm." Shea considered a moment. "Before you go, what is your name, boy?"

"Erm – Arthur, ma'am."

"Arthur? Mmm." Shea Snape rubbed her chin lightly with her jeweled finger. "You're obviously anxious to get back to your master, Arthur, but before you go I have two questions."

Reluctantly, Draco drew to a halt.

"Oh – yes, ma'am."

"What a polite boy you are, to be sure. Well, first – why would Hailey not write down such a harmless note? It is hardly suspicious and might well become intertwined in the memory of a lesser messenger such as yourself."

"I have a very fine memory, ma'am. Renowned for it."

"Even so, it is out of character…No matter. My other question…" And here Shea moved a step closer and sort of lingered. "My other question is this: why did Hailey not ask my advice in person 15 minutes ago, when I met her and my daughter for lunch?"

'Ouch.' Time to leave.

Draco made a leap for the exit, but as quick as he was, Shea Snape was quicker. She pulled her wand out and a yellow ray of light shot from the end and collided with the door, sending out a blue light that froze instantly against anything it touched. Draco quickly somersaulted over them and landed on top of a display stand full of quidditch undergarments. Her wand let out another beam; before it hit, Draco was already in mid air, leaping over Shea's head and landing hard on top of her counter, scattering papers in every direction. He spun around and fired off a stupefy – it collided directly with Shea's chest, propelling her backwards into a bookshelf. She covered her head as books fell to the floor. She lay in a heap of mess, catching her breath. Draco set off for the nearest window, intending to bust his way out into the street. He had forgotten Foter. Stepping smartly from behind a rack of cloaks, he swung a giant staff smashed into the glass front of the counter. Foter drew back to repeat the blow; Draco leaped at him, wrestled the staff from his claws and gave him a smack. He groaned and Draco proceeded on his way.

Between two mannequins, he spied an open stretch of window, made of clear, curved glass that reflected the incoming sunlight into gentle rainbow colors. He fired a spell at it, sending a cloud of shattered glass shards flying out into the street, and dived for the hole.

Too late. As the window broke, a trap was triggered.

The mannequins turned around.

They were made of dark polished wood. They were modeling the latest quidditch fashions. As he leaped between them, their arms shot out to bar the way. From each hand extended long razors for fingers. Draco was going too fast to stop but he was still holding the staff. The razors swung toward him in two synchronized arcs. He raised the staff in front of his face just in time: the blades sank deep into it, almost cutting right through and jerking Draco to a sudden painful halt.

For a moment he felt the razor against his skin. He let go of the staff and fell to the floor. The mannequins shook their blades; his staff fell to the floor in two halves in front of him. They bent their knees and sprang – Draco back-flipped over the counter. The silver blades bit into the flooring where he had just been.

Draco could feel himself losing strength. He had to get out. He turned to the mannequin creeping along the counter.

"Incendio!"

A burst of yellow fire erupted from the mannequins chest. The mannequin ignored this and raised its blade again. Draco edged back. The mannequin bent its legs, ready to spring. Fire was licking across the torso.

It jumped high into the air and looped down on Draco, the flames dancing behind it like a cape. He jumped to the side at the last moment. It hit the ground heavily. There was a painful crack: the weakened burning wood had splintered in the impact. The mannequin gave a lopsided stride toward Draco, its body swaying at a grotesque angle – then its leg gave way. It collapsed into a fiery mess. He was about to do the same to its companion, which had hopped over the bonfire and was fast approaching, when a slight sound behind him alerted him to the partial recovery of Shea Snape. He glanced back. Shea was half sitting up, looking as if she'd been hit by a herd of buffalo.

But she was still dangerous. She groped for her wand, found it, and stabbed it in Draco's direction. The yellow ray of light shot out once more – but he was already gone from the spot, and the shots enveloped the second mannequin in mid bound. Its limbs helplessly frozen, it crashed to the floor, shattering a leg into a dozen pieces.

Shea cursed and looked around wildly. She really didn't have to look far for Draco. He was right above her, balanced on the top of a free-standing set of shelves. The whole stack was filled with index files and beautiful arrays of shields and potions that had no doubt been stolen from their proper owners across the world. He leaned his back against the wall, set his feet firmly on the shelf top and pushed hard.

The set of shelves groaned and teetered. Shea heard the sound. She looked up and her eyes widened in horror.

Draco gave an extra-hard push, putting a bit of venom into it.

The shelves hung suspended for an instant. A small vile was the first to fall, closely followed by a teak chest. Then the center of gravity shifted, the shelves shuddered, and the whole thing toppled down with swiftlessness upon the sprawling Snape.

At the sound of impact cars on the street swerved and collided. Draco eyed the shelf cautiously, but nothing stirred beneath it.

Once more, he made for the hole in the window and once more, a figure rose to block his way.

Foter.

Draco froze. "Please," he said, "don't waste my time."

Foter didn't move and gave a nasal whisper. "You've hurt the master."

"Brilliant sense of observation." He sneered. "If I were you I'd start sweeping the floor."

"It took me weeks to set up that display."

Draco lost patience. "Move you pathetic git!"

"It's too late, Arthur! I've sounded the alarm. The ministry has sent a de-"

"Yeah, yeah." Gathering his strength, the brown hair turned blondish white and he grew to his full height. Foter didn't expect to see a Malfoy. He stumbled back as Draco jumped out the window and onto the sidewalk.

As soon as he touched the ground, a net of silver threads descended, dragging him down against the pavement.

After a few seconds of trying to grab his fallen wand, he gave up. Draco looked beyond the lattice of threads to the pavement, which was still wet after the last rain and thinly covered with glass shard. He could hear Foter laughing in the background.

Draco's thoughts were pulled away as the dementors circled around him.