At two in the morning, a light went on in the Potter cottage.

"Harry, what's wrong?" whispered Ginny. But Harry did not answer.

He was standing between the bed and the window, silhouetted in the moonlight. He appeared to be distracted by something in his hands, and whatever it was making him anxious. Ginny could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Harry?"

But there was still no reply. Ginny watched him carefully, unsure of whether to disturb him or let him think in silence, eventually giving in to the latter.

Harry was holding one of George's Cloners out flat in his right palm, and Dudley's chess knight, Roland in his left. He stared at them with a heavy frown, trying to determine what his discovery meant. When compared side by side, the stone types of the two objects were identical. They were definitely both made of white scolecite, a common mineral capable of absorbing magic. If Bridget Jacobs had been followed to England by some kind of spirit, could it have been absorbed into something like a Cloner?

He thought back to what he'd learned about Salem from Brian's last letter. About Bridget and her family. What if the key to capturing the spirit was by using scolecite?

But, then something occurred to him. Regular ghosts were unable to be absorbed by Cloners. The stone only absorbed magic. If Bridget's spirit shadow was a ghost, scolecite wouldn't work…

He pondered this for another few minutes. He needed more information about the magical materials, and about the dark magic itself. Both would be critical. Perhaps there was someone he could ask. Maybe someone who knew about the kind of dark magic Blair Bishops had performed.

Then it occurred to him. The answer was so obvious – he was frustrated he hadn't thought of it before now.

"Ginny," he finally replied, turning back to her and trying to flatten his unruly hair. "Everything's fine. But there's someone I need to go see."

The Ministry of Magic was a winding and maze-like place. With multiple floors and whimsical elevators whisking people back and forth, it was often difficult to find a moment of peace in such a bustling and haphazard environment. However, Draco Malfoy's office in the Department of Materials was probably the most remote place in the whole Ministry. Buried underground in a sub-basement, the Department of Materials was an offshoot of the Department of Mysteries. Rather than deal directly with the strange artifacts the Unspeakables managed, Draco's main job was to write a report on each artifact and document hypotheses on what it was for. He also rented out special equipment to people who needed it, and researched magic-imbibed objects.

He sat in almost total silence, sheltered away in a dim office that housed three people. Usually, he was the only one who worked during the day, and the only sounds in his office were typically the scratching of his quill on parchment and the rushing noise of heated air. No one disturbed him from his work, and his work was fairly easy.

In other words, the Ministry had placed the ex-Death Eater in a place where he could cause as little trouble as possible. There was literally no way Draco could do any damage more serious than a papercut.

The office was quiet as usual as Draco sat, pondering the brick wall in front of him. His back was to the door, and he was counting down the minutes until he could go home. There were still three hours left in his shift before Warren Bates, the evening shift chronicler, would come and relieve him. It felt like an eternity.

He let the rushing silence wash over him like a wave. Perhaps he should be more grateful. He was lucky to have a job at all. After the war, many Death Eaters had been tried for their crimes and sent to Azkaban. Including his father. But Draco had been exempt – he'd been forced into the Death Eaters at a young age and was subsequently held blameless by the Wizengamot during his trial. He'd escaped Azkaban for a dank basement doing paperwork, which, when he thought about it, was not a bad trade.

Though he still bore the Dark Mark on his arm, it had faded more quickly than those of his parents. Perhaps it was a sign that he really hadn't wanted it in the first place. His pale skin was eager to get rid of the taint. By now, it was only detectable on his skin if he squinted and looked very hard for it.

However, he understood more than most that some scars were invisible. That didn't mean the damage was less severe.

An unusual sound startled him out of his thoughts. There were soft, clicking footsteps coming from behind him, and he could hear the swishing of robes. He had a visitor.

"Good afternoon," said the person behind him.

Draco did not turn around. "If you're looking for the Department of Mysteries, it's one floor up," he said dully. "Don't feel bad, everyone misses the sign. For some brilliant reason, it's written in invisible ink."

The visitor cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm here to see you."

He frowned, considering who could possibly want to see him. Probably some Auror. They were always asking to borrow things on their missions.

He swiveled around in his chair slowly to find Harry Potter standing in the doorway with messy hair and long, elegant robes. While this was not the first time Potter had come to see him, it was the first time he seemed rather nervous. He was picking at his sleeves, and there were dark shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep.

"Oh, it's you," Draco sighed. Picking up a quill, he added, "What do you need to borrow this time? The last mission you went on cleaned us all out of trans-continental apparition apparatuses, I'll have you know."

"I don't need to borrow anything this time," he said unapologetically. "Erm, could I…sit down? I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Draco masked his surprise and gestured expressionlessly to a straight-backed wooden chair on the other side of his desk. "Sure."

"Thank you," Harry sighed, sinking into the chair with a billow of black and gold robes. "I have to confess, I didn't really think I'd find myself here, but honestly I need your assistance with something. I think you're the only one who can help me."

"What exactly do you think I'll be able to do? My experience in this job is rather limited," he replied acerbically. "I mean, I could always file something for you-"

"-Oh, drop the attitude. This concerns both our sons and is a matter of extreme importance. This takes precedence over our petty feud."

Petty feud? "Potter, I just don't particularly like you. That's not a feud. It's simply loathing."

"Can you set aside your feelings for a few minutes? Please?" He sounded frustrated. "Merlin knows I am certainly trying."

"For Scorpius? Fine. I do care about him. I know you probably don't think so. James has probably told you I was disappointed he wasn't in Slytherin and that I haven't been the best communicator." Draco put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, staring patiently over them at Harry. "But the only reason for that was I didn't want to influence his choices. I wanted him to make his own friends and find his own way in Gryffindor. I never had that luxury and wanted to make sure that he does."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Harry said kindly. "But I think Scorpius misses hearing from you more than you think he does. You should tell him what you just told me."

All right. Enough with the sentiment, Draco thought. "Okay. On to your questions, Potter. Does this have something to do with that black shadow? The thing that attacked Scorpius on the train? He's been keeping me informed about everything, even what he's found out about Bridget Jacobs. He has also been sending me ridiculous care packages, but that's beside the point."

Harry gave a small, amused smile and nodded. "Yes. I think the spirit that attacked Scorpius followed Bridget from Salem. I've spoken to Bridget Jacobs' father about the fact that the same thing happened there last year. And yesterday I came to the conclusion that whatever happened to Bridget in Salem was the cause of some kind of malevolent spirit. It has followed her to Hogwarts, and I'm very worried about what could happen if nothing is done about it. The last time it was loose in a school, someone died."

There was a pause as Draco took all this in. Perhaps there was more danger afoot than he'd realized. But…

"Why do you need me? You're Harry Potter. The Chosen One. After facing down the Dark Lord, this should be nothing to you."

"Don't," said Potter sharply, looking down. "Don't call me that. And you don't know what you're talking about."

"All right. I'm sorry," Draco said, feeling a little guilty. "But what exactly do you think I can help you with?"

Harry pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it over. On it was a list of different materials, and three objects that sounded vaguely familiar. He recognized them from the Daily Prophet…they were involved in some American burglary.

"I need to know about the following materials, objects, and spells. Everything you know, everything the department has. And then, I'd like to hear everything you know about the Salem Witch Trials. Since you're a pureblood. I want to know what legends have risen from that time in history. And I have to ask you for these things, Draco, not anyone else. You have access to all that information, and you have a unique perspective on the wizarding world."

"Why not ask Weasley for that? He's a pureblood."

"The Weasleys didn't know anything out of the ordinary, I already asked. But…well, given your family's history with the Dark Arts, I wondered if you knew anything that didn't make it into the average textbook."

Draco felt indignant. "We don't have those ties anymore. I've made sure of that. I don't want Scorpius to have his world polluted with dark magic. Not like mine was," Draco snapped. Harry looked surprised, but also a little impressed.

"I know you have, and I don't mean to dredge up old memories. I'm sorry. Believe me, I didn't want to ask, but I need to know."

Draco sat back in his chair, regarding Harry cautiously. He felt ashamed for his outburst over dark magic. He was usually very quiet about his inner thoughts on the matter. It was a matter of personal pride – he hated to think that his family's reputation would follow Scorpius like a shadow. He was trying to pave a new way for his son, despite how difficult it was to change the opinions of the wizarding world.

This was a very strange request, but not the worst he'd ever had. Once, last summer, he'd had an eccentric fellow in a fez stride into his office, point a wand with a glowing green tip in his face, and demand to see all the remaining time-turner devices. It had been so abrupt and out of the ordinary that Draco had simply obeyed, even though proper protocol was to send them upstairs to Hermione Granger's office first.

He glanced at Harry's list:

White Scolecite

Dark Magic in Salem/Legends about Blair Bishops (Bridget's ancestor)

Items stolen from Salem Muesum: Egyptian Scrying Diamonds, Djinni Lamps, Japanese Dark Arts Books

Hogwarts Express Construction Repairs

Gringotts Bank Construction Materials

"This is quite a strange list," Draco said, all acid in his tone replaced by concern. He looked at Harry with a serious stare. "What does any of this have to do with Scorpius and James?"

"I've been thinking back to all the times I saw Bridget before Hogwarts. She was at Gringotts when the lights went out, and she was on the train when Scorpius got attacked. In both situations, the lights flickered out. Then they saw the spirit for the first time. I think that the items stolen from the museum might also have something to do with the dark magic afoot here. I'd like to know if there is some kind of dark magic that requires any of these items. The more we know about what Blair Bishops did in Salem, the closer we'll come to the truth."

"All right," said Draco, scanning the list again. "Well, I can tell you that without a doubt the scolecite was used in both Gringotts and the Hogwarts Express to repair damages after the war. It was also used to repair the school itself. I saw the reports when they came through. Apparently it was chosen specifically because it can absorb magical traces like a Cloner. The builders wanted to make sure any unwanted magic stayed out without preventing the use of magic in everyday settings. It was a protective measure."

"How does scolecite distinguish wanted and unwanted magic?"

Draco smiled. "It doesn't. It absorbs all of it eventually, and the inner side acts like a barrier preventing its immediate escape. But, either after several hours or using certain spells, the absorbed magic is released. It can either be left alone to dissipate inertly, or it can be reused, like what George Weasley did with his Cloner device – you say a password and it will regurgitate magic it has absorbed. I've even seen scolecite used in chess sets before to animate the pieces."

Something sparked in Harry's eyes. "I see," he said. "So it only absorbs magic, not spirits?"

"In all the research I've seen, only magic."

"Interesting."

Draco looked back at the list. "Now, the items stolen from the museum in Salem are more interesting. I actually handled the chronicling of the robbery here, so I remember. The Djinni lamp doesn't have any magical uses since the Djinni race died out. It's at best just worth a lot of gold. But the scrying diamond…I'm trying to remember…I'm pretty sure it's used to find someone and see what they're doing. Right at that moment. If you know the name of the person, you can search for them and see their real-time image in the crystal structure. And the dark arts stuff…" Draco paused, rifling through a desk drawer and pulling out a file. "Here are the names of the books that were stolen. It's all about blood bonds, apparently."

"Blood bonds?" Harry opened the file and rifled through it.

"Nasty stuff. They're a form of dark magic that no one really uses anymore – they're too horrible even for most dark wizards. A blood bond requires the sacrifice…well, the sacrifice of your natural born child," Draco said heavily. "Basically, you curse your descendants by using dark magic to bind your soul to your blood relatives. Then, after you die, your soul can take control of anyone you're related to for a few moments. You can manipulate their actions for a short amount of time before needing to leave the body to rest. You can't technically die; you remain as a shadow, a shade. And, if the connection between your soul and a descendant is strong enough, the soul can eventually rise from the dead and inhabit a living body permanently. It's a bit like possession."

Draco said this calmly, but realized how awful it must have sounded to someone who wasn't as aware of the dark arts as he was. Harry was staring at him with an open mouth and pale face. "That's horrible," he said hoarsely.

"That's dark magic for you," Draco said honestly. "You thought horcruxes were bad? This is worse. It's binding yourself to every living descendent you have, and then stealing the body of your great-great-great grandchild by slowly effacing their soul and replacing it with yours instead. It's horrifying. I told you people don't really do it anymore. This is why. Even dark wizards have their limits. There are some things you're just not supposed to do."

Harry was even paler now. "You're right. I think this is the first time in a long time we've agreed on anything, Malfoy."

They shared a weak laugh.

But then something terrible occurred to Harry and he dropped the file he'd been holding. The papers scattered across the tile floor, but he didn't pick them up. He instead was frozen, thinking back to what he'd read in Brian's letter. Bridget's parents had died in an automobile accident caused by the driver. Perhaps her father had been possessed momentarily to cause the crash?

What if the shadow that haunted her afterward wasn't a shadow at all…but a magical imprint of a person? If that was true, the magic could have been absorbed by scolecite. By a Cloner, perhaps, then unwittingly carried beyond the protective walls of Hogwarts and released...to eventually find its way to-

"Draco…I know you said people don't do this kind of magic anymore…but what if someone did it a long time ago?"

He didn't answer, so Harry continued. "The creation of the blood bond happened centuries ago. And now she's searching for her host at Hogwarts. You know who I'm referring to?"

Draco was sure Harry was right and was afraid of the consequences. He let the dreaded answer slip out of him in a hiss.

"Blair Bishops."

They stared at each other in horror, and the silence of the room turned sinister.

A/N: Well, that's a wrap on Chapter 34! Thanks for reading. I hope you've enjoyed this latest addition. Kudos to my beta, bloodyrose1294, for helping me edit.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but we are getting very close to the end! I have a few major reveals planned for the next three chapters, and then I'll begin the climax/finale. Once Dudley's Daughter is finished, would you guys have any interest in a sequel, or would you prefer a new story? Let me know!

Oh, also: a guest reviewer finally found the hidden reference I put in chapter 14 - the Magnus I mention is indeed the very same Magnus Bane from the Mortal Instruments series. Nice catch! See if you can spot the Doctor Who reference in this chapter as well.