The first thing Harry noticed when he reappeared was that it looked like he was on Privet Drive. Row upon row of near identical, two story housing ran up and down the street, with well mowed lawns and well tended garden beds that reminded him of his youth. The street lights were only now just beginning to flicker on, and Harry watched as a car drove by slowly and pulled into one of the few empty drive-ways.

The sound of someone knocking on wood from behind him drew his attention.

Astoria lowered her hand, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited at the door. Harry realised he was standing in the middle of the front lawn and if it hadn't been for his cloak, he would be in full view of any muggle.

Surely she wasn't so reckless as to apparate in the middle of a street like this?

His internal question was answered when he felt several charms layered on the property, chief among them a muggle-repelling spell. So she wasn't a complete idiot, after all.

And he had a good idea where he was now.

As expected, Daphne Greengrass answered the door, welcoming her sister in with a smile. Her hair was much shorter than her younger sister, pulled up in a rather styled bun – but otherwise, they were practically identical. They even wore the same earrings.

So she was telling the truth – she was just visiting her sister. At least, this time.

As soon as the door closed, he moved towards one of the windows, hoping to get a peek. Unfortunately, they were charmed – he could see nothing more than an unoccupied, dark house filled with muggle items such as a television.

He was careful to avoid the garden as he crept around the corner. Unlike the other properties lining the street, Daphne's garden was filled with various magical plants. Harry spotted belladonna, aconite, fluxweed and a whole host of others that he didn't recognise but looked dangerous. He moved quickly when some unknown plant snapped at his heels, somehow knowing he was there despite his invisibility cloak.

The backyard was similar – some more plants, a small greenhouse and a shed. Neville would appreciate such a set-up, he couldn't help but think.

The back windows weren't any different, charmed like the rest. Smoke began to rise from the chimney, which he ignored in favour of tapping his wand against the backdoor. It was locked magically, but with nothing more than what a few simple spells couldn't undo. He also picked up the anti-apparation jinx placed over the house.

Harry sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

He scouted the property for a few more minutes before moving out into the street, looking for a street sign. Most wizarding homes had to be registered with the Ministry for Magic for various reasons, though that wasn't to say that certain families ignored such a law. Even if they did register, the information wasn't a matter of public record anyway. As far as Harry had been able to glean through various sources, Daphne lived somewhere in Kent – and that was as far as he got. There had been no specific address to be found. He hadn't even known she lived in muggle suburbia and was mildly surprised, even though he probably shouldn't be. The Blacks, for example, lived in their ancestral home which was built in a muggle area and they were as pureblood as you could be – though their home was built there long before any of the rest.

If nothing else, he now knew exactly where she lived. He pulled out a small notebook and a muggle pen, jotting down the street name when he found it and her house number. He had a feeling that was all he would be getting that night.

The rest of the week followed a similar pattern. Every couple of days, Astoria Greengrass would leave Malfoy Manor at around the same time, apparating to Kent to visit her sister. She would stay the entire night and not come out till the next day, normally around seven o'clock but sometimes as late as ten. Most of the time, she went straight home. Sometimes, she stopped by Diagon Alley for breakfast and to visit Gringotts.

All in all, none of it was really suspicious behaviour – not truly. But Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on. Astoria was going to an awful amount of the trouble to pretty herself up each time, wearing fashionable robes or glamorous jewellery. She looked like she should be dining out at fancy restaurants, not simply visiting family.

But he was quickly becoming exhausted. Watching a house all night wasn't particularly enjoyable, especially when he gained nothing from it. It wasn't until his fifth night camping out that he tried something a little different, bringing along one of the many trinkets that he kept on display at the office.

They looked like a pair of omnioculars and functioned in a similar fashion. One key difference, however, was their ability to see through other objects in a manner not too dissimilar to Mad-Eye Moody's notorious enchanted eye. The only reason he hadn't brought them sooner was because they had a tendency to give the user a massive migraine – one that refused any and all magical or muggle treatment. He hadn't wanted to put himself through several hours of brain pounding agony, but he couldn't stand staring at Daphne's front door any longer.

He'd picked up this particular device after raiding the home of sex offender not long after joining the Aurors. The man had been using a combination of illegal potions and some rather clever charm work to have his way with defenceless women without revealing his identity. Like regular omnioculars, this pair could also record and take pictures. The number of photos they had recovered of women numbered in the thousands, some taken through solid wall and almost all were in some form of undress.

Harry had pilfered them soon after the wizard had been caught, knowing they would come in handy in the future. They would just be sitting in evidence, otherwise – useless and forgotten. He knew he could put them to good use.

He just wished they wouldn't melt his brain whenever he used them and wondered how that wizard countered the effects. He had been slightly unhinged, so maybe he didn't.

Instead of following Astoria from Malfoy Manor, he instead skipped ahead and was waiting for her in Kent. Like clockwork, she appeared and was let inside by her sister. Business as usual.

Harry fiddled with the knobs and dials, adjusting the range and other such nonsense. He also set the device to record and with baited breath, peered through the eyeholes. At first his vision was blurred and he couldn't make out much of anything, but as the seconds ticked by, it snapped into focus with a light blue tint.

Immediately, he spotted the pair moving towards a bedroom toward the back of the house. He spotted some typical magical artefacts littered around the house and some not-so typical ones, as well as a ton of books scattered on various tables, bookshelves and benches. It looked like Daphne liked to read just as much as Hermione did. A closer look revealed that most of them were about herbology and the garden made much more sense.

It was then that he saw it.

"Oh."

-x-X-x-

"Potter! What are doing here?" Pansy exclaimed, hiding the best she could behind her apartment door. Ordinarily, Harry would take the time to admire the way her flimsy nightgown barely covered her bare thighs, but-"You look terrible."

"Thanks," he muttered, pushing the door open and letting himself in. She glared at him in annoyance as he brushed by her. "My head is pounding like a drum."

He moved further into her apartment, seating himself on a black leather couch. The room was dominated by the large, old coffee table in the centre, but it was the tasteful art work and various vases filled with flowers that would draw ones attention. The thick, heavy curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the London skyline, and the room was cast in the dull orange glow of candle light. The building was wizard owned and operated despite its outward muggle appearance, one of many that had cropped up around the great old city in recent years, and thus did not have electricity.

He shut his eyes and leaned back, sinking comfortably into the upholstery. Pansy closed the door roughly, passing him briskly and seating herself across from him. When he opened his eyes, she had a small blanket draped over her lap and an open book.

"Reading?"

"Yes. Now shut up and let me finish this chapter."

That was fine by him, rubbing his temples in a soothing rhythm. Somehow, the sound of parchment rustling whenever she turned the page seemed to help, and he drifted off somewhat, in that space between awake and asleep. He felt somewhat detached from the pain, like he was floating in lukewarm water. It was a pleasant feeling.

He could do with a bath.

He was never a prefect, never afforded the opportunity. That didn't mean he didn't make liberal use of the prefect bathrooms whenever he could while still at school. There was nothing better than sinking into a large tub of warm water, the soothing aroma of apples or peach or whatever he wished for dulling the senses.

"So, what are you doing here?"

He was almost annoyed that she had spoken, but he knew she had every right to ask about his sudden uninvited intrusion. The pain came rushing back, causing him to grimace, but even the constant thumping of his brain couldn't kill the sudden rush of excitement that he experienced.

"Astoria is definitely up to something," he began, and he knew her interest was peaked immediately. She sat up straighter, suddenly looking much more tolerant of his presence. "What do you know about vanishing cabinets?"

She frowned.

"Quite a bit, actually," she replied briskly. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "Not exactly – but I assumed that Malfoy might have talked about his time repairing one at school. From what I understand, fixing one isn't exactly easy. It's only natural that he bragged about it a little, even if he wasn't entirely at ease for what it was used for."

"You know he never really wante-" she began.

"I know," he interrupted, not at all surprised that she was willing to defend him. No matter what had occurred between herself and Draco Malfoy, it was impossible to forget that she once loved him more than anything. "Why do you think I testified on behalf of his family after the war?"

Between Draco's change of heart and not revealing his identity to Bellatrix and Narcissa showing surprising courage in lying to the Dark Lord, they more than earned his testimony. The unfortunate side effect was that Lucius Malfoy was free, but Harry knew the man had more than learnt his lesson after his first stint in Azkaban prison and nearly losing his family. He even gave evidence to convict other Death Eaters captured after the war, but to this day, the pureblood aristocrat wasn't quite the same imposing man that Harry had first met in his second year.

"Daphne has a vanishing cabinet in her house, but I bet it was Astoria's idea. Problem is I have no idea where they are going. It's impossible to track. They could be going anywhere."

Short of breaking in and using it himself, there was no other way.

Pansy spotted his grin. "I take it you have a plan?"

"I do, but first things first – do you have a bath?"

She swiftly kicked him out.

-x-X-x-

It was a few days later that Harry and Pansy found themselves in Daphne's backyard, huddled together under his invisibility cloak. Astoria had already arrived and if their usual behaviour held true, the sisters were already long gone. The backdoor was relatively simple to unlock, and they quickly entered the empty kitchen moments after the door swung open.

"That was a little disturbing." Pansy said, helping to remove the invisibility cloak.

Harry glanced at his companion as they moved into the lounge room, folding the cloak neatly before stuffing it in his mokeskin pouch that hung from his neck.

"What was?" he asked.

"How easily you unravelled those locking charms."

"I guess you could say that is a speciality of mine. You learn quite a bit as an Auror."

Harry led her out through a hallway, passing by the staircase and stopping outside a bedroom door. He tapped it a few times with his wand before pulling it open, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The room was rather plain, with a set of drawers, a queen-size bed and a bedside table – no doubt it was a guest bedroom. The only thing that stood out was the vanishing cabinet wedged into the corner, looking almost forgotten.

It was rather weathered, the grain of the wood worn smooth over the years. It was made from a dark wood, with iron hinges and a large, heavy iron handle. Various characters were inscribed over the surface, on the door and around the frame, but most of them were completely unreadable. The ones Harry could make out were unknown to him.

"Safe passage."

Harry gave Pansy a curious look. "What?"

"Those two at the top – it means safe passage. I took Ancient Runes at school – they are Greek."

He nodded, inspecting the group of symbols she pointed out. It just looked like gibberish to him. Maybe he should remedy that. "Makes sense. Can you make out any of the others?"

She pointed at a barely visible one on the frame. "That means travel – the one above it means distance. And that one in the top corner means protection, I think. The rest, I can't be sure. They are too worn to make out properly."

Harry traced his wand over the smooth surface of the door before giving it a few taps, humming softly. Frowning, he tapped the handle, watching as the metal flashed bright red.

"What does that mean?" Pansy asked, watching him work. He tapped it a few more times, getting the same result. Trying something new, he pressed the tip of his wand against it, pushing firmly – and Pansy watched in fascination as a small tendril of smoke coiled from the contact, accompanying a small hiss. It reminded her of frying eggs on a pan.

"The handle is cursed. Something nasty, by the looks of it. You really don't want to be touching it, at any rate." Removing his wand, he gave it a quick flick, conjuring a white silk scarf. "Fortunately for us, wizards – or in this case, witches – rarely think outside the box."

Directing the scarf with his wand, the thin material looped through the handle and tied itself in a neat knot. Pocketing his wand, he grabbed the ends of the scarf and gave a sharp tug, the door pulling open easily enough. An empty cabinet greeted them both.

"It needs skin contact," Pansy uttered, impressed. "I see you have some brains in that skull of yours, Potter. Nice work."

"Hah – get in the cabinet, Parkinson."

She squawked indignantly when he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her in like old luggage. Before she could verbally lash him, he stepped in behind her, the door closing behind him and shrouding them in darkness. They shifted slightly, bumping into each other.

"Watch it!" she snapped, and Harry withdrew. His arm had been buried in her cleavage.

"Sorry."

They waited in silence for a moment, and then Harry pushed the door open and stepped out. Or rather, he tried – but ended up on the ground, face first with Pansy on his back. He grunted at the impact, the soft, thick carpet breaking much of his fall. Their legs were tangled.

"It worked."

Propping himself up, Harry looked around and realised she was right. They were no longer in Daphne's house. This room was large, with expensive carpet and finely varnished wooden wall panels. A large desk was situated in the centre, with a comfortable looking high-back chair seated behind it. Various portraits hung on the walls, all of which were moving and the occupants were peering down at them in astonishment. The far wall was dominated by an enormous window that revealed large, rolling hills and vibrant pines in the light of the setting sun.

Yes, they were definitely somewhere else.

"My word," a portly man with a large moustache chortled, peering from his canvas. He was dressed in robes that reminded Harry of the pair Ron wore to the Yule Ball in their fourth year. "What is going on here?"

From his position on the floor, he retrieved his wand and gave it a sharp jab, followed by three quick counter-clockwise twists. The portraits froze dead in their tracks, unable to move, unable to speak. Only their eyes remained unhindered, rolling around in their sockets madly as they struggled against the spell.

"That was close."

"Too close, Potter."

"Yeah, yeah – come on."

Fortunately, other than the portraits, the room was empty. While Pansy moved towards the window, Harry made his way over to the desk. The surface was littered with various pieces of parchment, an ink well and quill, an ornate candle holder, and a picture frame. The woman in the frame was beautiful, with smooth mocha skin, long dark hair, and exotic green eyes. She was dressed in a low cut gown that showed ample cleavage, the cream colour of her dress contrasting nicely with her skin tone. However, the one blemish was the rather bland look she wore, like whoever was taking her picture was beneath her notice.

He called Pansy over, showing her the picture. "Anyone you know?"

She didn't glance at it for more than a second before nodding, brows pulled together in worry. "That is Isabella Zabini – Blaise Zabini's mother."

Harry blinked, surprised. The woman looked to be in her late twenties.

"The infamous Black Widow?"

"Heard about that, have you?"

"Who hasn't? How many husbands has she had? I've lost count."

He placed the frame back on the desk before shuffling through the letters on display. There were a few from the Daily Prophet, one from Gringotts, and a whole lot of others from random people Harry had never heard of. One name was present on all of them, though, a very familiar name.

Blaise Zabini.

Along with the picture, it was pretty easy to figure out where they were. But what did Blaise have to do with any of this? She was cheating on Malfoy with him? And how was Daphne involved? Could he be sleeping with both of them? That sounded absurd.

But not impossible.

Harry checked the desk drawers with his wand, but they were heavily charmed. Harry knew he could probably break through them with enough time, but this room wasn't going to stay empty forever. They needed to move.

"Parkinson – come here."

She glared at him but obeyed, showing a remarkable amount of trust in him when he tapped her on the head with his wand. Her form shimmered for a moment before vanishing almost completely, the effects of the disillusionment charm taking hold. He repeated the process on himself. The invisibility cloak was much more reliable, but it was rather crowed with two fully grown adults underneath. And Harry had a feeling that they would need to split up.

"Meet me back here in twenty minutes, alright?" he told his partner, pulling open the door and peering out. The hallway was clear, and halfway down he could see a staircase. "Check out the bottom floor – I'll have a look up here."

She didn't reply, and Harry saw nothing more than a faint shimmer as she walked by and out the door. He followed, closing the door carefully. The hall was just as lavish, with thick carpet and portraits lining the walls. Harry moved slowly, peering down the staircase as he passed. With some surprise, he noticed that the foyer was filled with people, yet none of the chatter reached him. Some type of charm?

The men were dressed in fine robes, while the women looked glamorous in flowing dresses. Most, if not all of them, cradled a flute of champagne, sipping at their drinks as they socialised.

Party?

Movement from the corner of his eye pulled him away. A young girl – eighteen, maybe nineteen; but who knew these days? – was leaving a room, her hair slightly mussed. Her lips were swollen and she looked out of breath. Her dress was no less stunning, but was wrinkled and out of place, as if she had dressed in a rush.

All became obvious when an older man followed her out, adjusting his tie. His hair was wild, face flushed and eyes lidded. He must have been twenty years her senior, at the very least.

What in the name of...

Harry made sure to remain still, leaning against the wall as they moved by. He watched as they made their way back downstairs before continuing. He opened the door to the room that they had just vacated, his mouth quirking in distaste as the smell of sweat and sex assaulted his nose. The rest of the doors he tried were locked firmly and he had a feeling each and every one of them were occupied in one way or another.

He nearly had a heart attack when a house-elf appeared with a pop. The elf was dressed in nothing but a pillow slip, but it looked healthy and well looked after, with particularly floppy ears and large eyes. It was carrying a fresh set of sheets.

He decided to follow it into one of the rooms, which was empty like the first. But it can't have been empty for long, the bed rumpled and damp. The elf went about its business, waving a hand. The blankets and sheets vanished, only to be replaced with the set it had been carrying. Another wave rearranged the pillows and another cleared the air.

The small creature turned, ready to leave, and then stopped dead. It stared up at him in shock, eyes wide and rounder then usual. With a dull ache, Harry was reminded of Dobby.

"Who is you!"

"...crap."

A flash of red and the elf collapsed in a heap. He forgot that house-elves had incredible vision, much better than that of a human. While the small creature probably hadn't been able to see any of his features, it would have seen enough. Glancing around, he quickly stuffed the limp elf into a closet before leaving swiftly.

He spent a couple more minutes wandering the hall before he started back toward the office. The foyer was mostly empty when he happened a glance, the party having moved to more comfortable arrangements. The door he approached was slightly ajar, something that he failed to notice, pushing into the room and closing the door behind him.

He then came to halt.

Pansy was seated before the desk, face twisted in anger. Blaise Zabini was standing over her calmly but if not for the wand he trained on the small witch, Harry had a feeling the dark skinned man would be in a world of hurt. To his left, Daphne Greengrass stood, looking just as enraged as Pansy did, but her eyes were trained on Harry – or rather, where he should be.

Then he felt something prod him in the back sharply. A wand.

"Move and I take you down."

Astoria Greengrass.

Another sharp poke and his disillusionment charm failed, revealing his identity with a snap. It left his skin feeling oily and uncomfortable.

"Potter," Blaise began, frowning in mild surprise. He looked immaculate in his pitch black dress robes, tie and white undershirt, the tailored clothing hugging his broad shouldered frame to perfection. From what Harry could remember of old muggle films he witnessed in his youth, the former Slytherin house member wouldn't look out of place in a James Bond flick. The man knew how to dress. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't have you arrested?"

"You really have to ask that?" was Harry's simple reply. "You alright, Parkinson?"

"Fine."

"Find out anything useful?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"Shut it." Daphne snapped, drawing her wand. She looked a lot less attractive with a snarl. "You two have no idea-"

"Actually, I have a pretty good idea-"

Harry stopped with a grunt when Astoria's wand dug into his kidney. That was definitely going to bruise.

"What are you doing here?" the dark-skinned wizard asked. "I don't appreciate people breaking into my home. And how did you get by the protections?"

"Protections?"

In answer to his question, Pansy quickly tossed him a small coin before anyone could react. Harry caught it easily, running his thumb over the small grooves that littered the surface. He could feel a peculiar magic imbedded in it, something old.

"All the guests have one of those," she explained. "You cant get in the door without one-ahh!"

Harry frowned. Daphne had struck Pansy with a rather vicious backhand, the crack of skin on skin sounding painfully loud in the sudden silence. She cradled her cheek, her pale skin blooming red from the strike.

"Do that again," he said simply, glaring. "I dare you."

The fired up witch glared right back, while Astoria jabbed him warningly. Blaise remained calm, his wand poised perfectly still. Pansy was rather lucky he hadn't cursed her when she moved to throw the coin.

"Enough." Blaise uttered. "You have seen too much."

Time seemingly paused for an instant, Harry blinking in shock as he realised what was about to happen. He moved without hesitation, his left arm crossing his torso, his palm twisting around his body and taking aim behind him. Astoria yelled in surprise as he hit her point blank with a banishing charm, the small woman being launched at the wall with bone shuddering force. She slumped to the ground, dazed from the impact.

As quick as he was able, he pulled his wand free from his pocket.

"Obliv-" Blaise began, only halfway through the incantation when his desk pivoted around on one leg, the hard wood slamming into his hip with a sickening crunch. The wizard tumbled wildly over the surface of the desk, falling to the floor with a scream, wand slipping from his grip as he hit the floor.

A streak of red bounced off a hastily conjured shield, Daphne shrieking in rage as she followed up with several more spells, becoming increasingly angry when they simply bounced away. She scrambled back as Pansy leapt to her feet, diving for Blaise's outer robe pocket where her wand peeked out innocently. Daphne tried to stop her with several spells, but Harry moved his shield charm to Pansy, protecting her back.

Wand in hand, Pansy snarled off a variety of curses, the two witches exchanging spellfire at a rapid pace, the walls shaking with every deflected spell.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry spun, facing Astoria and avoiding her disarming spell. He retaliated in kind, moving when her shield charm sent it right back at him. She tried to trip him up, summoning the chair from behind him, but he neatly stepped aside and without even looking, banished it toward Blaise, who was attempting to get up with the help of the desk. The heavy frame hit him dead-on, knocking him unconscious.

"Nice one," Harry quipped, swatting away a spell that exploded against the ceiling on impact. Plaster rained down all around them. "But you aren't fast enough."

The carpet bucked and tore itself up off the floorboards, attempting to smother him like some sort of demented Lethifold. When it dove for him, he incinerated it with a quick flick of his wand, then nailed her in the shoulder with a rather painful stinging hex. She flinched, stumbling from the pain, but didn't stop - a gout of flame spewing from her wand.

He countered with a jet of water, extinguishing the fire and soaking her robes thoroughly in the process. Her face became strained with anger, but she remained relatively calm - unlike her sister, who was shrieking spell after spell in her duel with Pansy. Her eyes looked slightly wild, her pretty face twisted in loathing. Harry expected her anger to hinder her spell casting, cause her to make a mistake, but she didn't miss a beat, going spell for spell with her much calmer though still angry opponent. He was reminded of Bellatrix Lestrange - not in personality, but in her talent of revelling in her baser emotions while duelling.

Astoria went on the offensive, stringing spell after spell together with perfection. Pansy had mentioned that Astoria was an excellent Defence Against the Dark Arts student. It was plain as day to see - her wand movements were exquisite, each spell cast with utmost care despite the speed of her casting. There was power and intent behind each spell, an unwavering belief that she would conquer her foe. Defence Against the Dark Arts was more than just the name suggested. It required an intimate knowledge of which you were defending, and the tiny girl was not shy about using spells that the Ministry of Magic would deem borderline illegal.

It was beautiful, in a way.

Unfortunately for her, if there were any field of magic where Harry might be considered a prodigy, a once-in-a-generation practitioner, it would have to be in the field of defence. Even Hermione could not match his prowess, the subject coming to him as naturally as flying a broom. While he was above average in most subjects, Defence Against the Dark Arts was where he truly excelled. Wizarding combat was second nature to him, Voldemort had seen to that.

She didn't stand a chance.

Within moments, her spells were defused and she was thrust on the defensive. Her wand moved wildly, shielding and parrying as best she could. Slowly but surely, Harry saw the onset of panic, her moves becoming desperate. She attempted to retaliate, but he smoothly countered everything she threw at him, finally finishing her off with a simple jinx. Her body became rigid, legs snapping together and arms freezing at her sides. She rocked forward, toppling over - but Harry caught her before she hit the ground, easing her down on her back gently.

"Take that you bitch!"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Daphne sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed. Pansy was breathing heavily, chest heaving. Her face was slick with sweat, her hair tussled. Her robes were singed, torn and tattered in a few places, but she looked unharmed, though her cheek was starting to swell from Daphne's earlier slap.

"You okay?" he asked anyway, receiving a nod. The room was a mess of splintered wood, plaster chips and singed carpet. He was surprised that no one had come to investigate the ruckus, but there was a good chance that the room was sound proofed in some way. Not even a house-elf had checked in, meaning it was a rather strong spell, whatever it was.

"Help me with them, will you?" he asked, levitating Astoria toward Blaise. Pansy copied his actions with Daphne, though she was much rougher in her handling, the witch's head dragging against the exposed floorboards and ruined carpet. He bound all three of them tightly with conjured rope before summoning their wands.

He ignored Blaise's wand in favour of Astoria's. It was made of elm, the length similar to that of his own holly wand. That was as far as his abilities went in distinguishing the elements of a complete wand, more than he cared to absorb from Ollivander. It was well cared for, polished and unmarred. Running his fingers across the smooth wood, he felt the wand react to him in a positive way. It was willing to work with him, and work with him rather well.

With a flick, he released her from the full-body bind and revived the other two. Astoria looked at him with horror, at the ease in which her wand obeyed his command.

"So," he began, waiting for the dizziness of Blaise Zabini's likely concussion to abate somewhat. "You three have some explaining to do."

-x-X-x-

Syaoran: Okay, so this chapter took longer than it should have. Most of it was done weeks ago, but I got distracted by other things - most recently, Guild Wars 2. The chapter was going to be longer, but I thought this was a good place to finish for the time being. The next chapter will deal with the end of the case, and probably the start of the next one.

Hope you enjoy.