The Goblin Market

by Thing1

New chapter - so what?

4. Down the Glen Tramp Little Men

Chapter Three: Down the Glen Tramp Little Men

In which we learn a little more about the Goblins' history, propensity for mischief, and talent for troll manipulation. Roarke tells Remus about her job offer, we see the inside of that blasted Werewolf registry, and Malcolm and Draco make a trip to Knockturn Alley

See the little goblin,

See his tiny feet;

And his little nosy-wose,

Isn't the goblin sweet?

Blackadder II: 'Beer' (Richard Curtis & Ben Elton)

***

"Next!"

A little figure hunched over a tall writing desk, scribbling loudly on a large ledger. As soon as a word was completed, it faded quickly and sank into the parchment, remaining visible only long enough for the author to keep their place on the page. Anyone trying to follow the words would have been hindered in any event by the simple fact that the only light in the room came from two candles on large, gaudy floor stands. These were situated on either side of the desk, and burned in feeble, rather half-hearted attempts to illuminate the room.

The scribbling figure didn't bother to look up as he heard the door open and several loud shuffling and dragging noises alerted him to the fact that his next appointment had in fact arrived. He finished what he was doing, then placed his quill quietly back in his inkpot before he sat back on his stool and looked up.

After four hours at this particular exercise, it was quite simple to state that the trolls were getting nastier and more annoying with each passing minute. The seated figure wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked at the two new trolls who had been brought in as they gazed stupidly around the room, their pale eyes flat and their mouths hanging slightly open. After a moment he leaned forward to peer over the desk and glared down into the rather expectant face of a particularly dull looking goblin.

"Well, well, well. After what happened last time, I'm rather surprised to see you back with us."

The fat and greasy little goblin at the foot of the desk gave an apologetic sounding half-laugh, even as he twisted his hands nervously. He forced himself to smile up at the seated figure.

"Yes, well, I think you will be far more satisfied this time."

"Will I indeed? How did you get an appointment?"

The fat little goblin opened his mouth quickly, but decided not to say anything, and instead gave the other a dark grin.

"These are much better than the last two, I promise."

"Hardly a stretch," mumbled the interviewer, but he did settle back to look at the trolls again. "Well, can we at least control these? We have enough problems…"

"Yes, yes; these are far more responsive," came a voice, and then the fat goblin moved into view as he stepped away from the desk and walked back towards the hulking and rather foul smelling trolls. They stopped gazing into space to look down at him slowly.

"Arms up!" cried the fat goblin.

The trolls seemed to take a long moment to process this request, then slowly raised their arms over their heads. The interviewer gave a satisfied humph, then reached for his quill again.

"Your training seems to have improved," remarked the seated figure dryly, "These seem to be able to recognise speech." He nodded thoughtfully, considering the trolls, even as he grimaced when the larger of the two trolls gave a "sneeeerk" rather loudly in an attempt to clear its nose, which continued to drip slowly despite his efforts.

"Wizard trained. Ex-security," said the fat goblin with sly delight. "So you see."

The eyes of the other glinted happily and he gave a decidedly nasty grin.

"Are they bonded properly this time, Bowsaks?" he bent down over his ledger at this and started to write quickly again.

"They know who feeds them."

"Very well. Thank you; you may leave them."

The fat and greasy goblin hopped forward with obvious excitement, and reached up to accept a small purse from the figure at the desk. He jingled it happily, and then opened it to peer inside for a second, before tucking it inside his coat.

"Thank you, Slipnod. You won't regret it!"

"I had better not, Bowsaks. I know where you reside. And do tell them to put their arms down as you leave, please."

***

Remus Lupin walked quickly along a small alley behind the Palace of Westminster, across the river from the Ministry of Magic. He watched various Muggle civil servants sulking past him, and saw a small band of what appeared to be House Members racing towards the Members' entry, obviously late for a vote in that morning's session, and probably desperate to have the holiday break declared. Nobody gave him a second glance.

Remus reached a small niche at the very back of the Palace and tapped the wall with his wand, muttering an opening spell. A rather tiny door appeared, and Remus quickly moved inside the dim, dank old passageway behind it. He hurried down the corridor, anxious to get this errand over with. Remus reached the section of the subterranean corridor the Muggles were certain they had bricked up after Guy Fawkes was cornered in it trying to bring the government to a rather explosive end. The wizards had cleared it out again almost immediately, as they had any number of uses for it, but made certain it was protected properly as a favour to the then King, who was a 'bit of a duffer', according to a contemporary letter from the then Grand High Mugwump of the Council, 'but harmless'. Remus taped the bricks here in a pattern well known since he was very small, and walked through the archway that opened.

There was a small room with a single old battered table that held an assortment of small objects. Remus picked up an inkpot and felt the Portkey deposit him in a small, deserted looking room deep inside the Ministry of Magic. Remus placed the inkpot down on another small old table, and walked forward through the single door in the room, only glancing for a moment at the familiar plaque on the wall.

DEPARTMENT FOR THE REGULATION AND

CONTROL OF MAGICAL CREATURES

š BEAST DIVISION ›

Werewolf Capture Unit

Werewolf Registry

The door opened into a rather small windowless corridor, with only two doors opposite each other at the far end. Remus quickly walked to the end of the passage and went into the door on his right. The only piece of furniture in the office was an immaculate desk holding an ink blotter, an inkpot, and a large black quill. Well, Mr. Williams doesn't really need much else, does he?

"Mr. Williams?" Remus called out.

"Hello, Mr. Lupin," came a thin, raspy voice after a short moment.

"Good morning, Mr. Williams; how are you?"

"I am as I always am, thank you. And yourself?"

"Still breathing," said Remus with a small laugh, as the pale ghost of a very tall and regal looking man in an elegant Victorian frockcoat and high collared shirt stepped through the wall behind the solitary desk, and gave Remus a wispy smile.

"Well, someone must," Mr. Williams replied, "you look well, so should remain breathing for quite a while yet, I am sure."

"Provided I never do anything to provoke your colleagues across the hall."

Mr. Williams' cast a short glance over Remus' shoulder at the door and his smile broadened a bit. "I shouldn't worry about them too much, Mr. Lupin. They tend to capture far more Canis familiaris than Canis lupus, thanks to the living's continued propensity for paranoia and their own rather questionable talents. Muggle dogcatchers across the island have no idea how indebted they are to those three. Now, I believe you are here for a copy of your registration and history, yes?"

"Yes. I'm to travel abroad on official business, so I need a visa."

Mr. Williams glided back through the wall.

"What I find particularly amusing about this practice," his voice echoed eerily from the hidden room, "is that they all know full well that you can come and go as you please; so, why all this paperwork?"

"Politics, manners? Issues of trust between governments, I suspect."

Mr. Williams came back and looked at Remus over his spectacles. "I've a new wolf who is originally from Australia. I will respond to your observations by borrowing his rather colourful phase of 'Poncy Crapo", as I find it amusing and rather accurate."

Remus felt himself shudder a bit. "New wolf?"

"Yes," drawled Mr. Williams casually as he bent down to write something on the papers he had carried out. "We are still trying to determine who is responsible. That brings the current total to 332 throughout the United Kingdom and Ireland. At least, the total of 'official' werewolves," said Mr. Williams, rolling his eyes as he straightened back up. "As to those who are so inconsiderate as to fail to complete the required paperwork, I can make no comment."

Remus chuckled as he accepted the papers he needed from Mr. Williams, even as he felt a sense of pain and loss for the young man. Mr. Williams gave him a kind smile and shook his head slightly.

"Do not worry, Mr. Lupin; the young wizard in question is quite alright, and has been in our care since the onset of his condition. He has plenty of Wolfsbane Potion and the support of the Crowdens, who are healing him and helping him adjust to his new life. He has a good spirit and doesn't really seem all that daunted by what has happened to him."

"Please, let me know if he ever needs anything, or if I can help in any way."

"I always do. My best to your family, and good day."

Remus returned through the hidden corridors he had come in by, then made his way to The Leaky Cauldron, practically running through the pub in his haste to see his two eldest children. He stepped through the archway, reminding himself that he was, under no circumstances, to once again ask Malcolm if he was still upset over his break up with Storry, express the fact that he had wished Roarke had taken Malcolm up on his offer to come and share his flat when she moved out, or ask Roarke if she had made any decision yet about a career. Katie threatened to charm the words 'Beware: Frets like a fishwife' on my forehead if I don't just leave it….

But Remus had always worried about Roarke a little more than the other two, and couldn't help himself. She was so serious most of the time, and so closed compared to Annie and Malcolm. Remus desperately wanted her to play Quidditch professionally, because he knew she truly loved the game and it would guarantee she wouldn't find some isolated job that kept her away from others most of the time, as she was wont to just secret herself away if left on her own.

A pair of goblins in Gringotts livery pushed past him, hurrying in the direction of the bank. Remus' mind let off fretting over Roarke as he watched them, and wondered instead what on earth he and Sirius were getting into by helping Dexter deal with some 'unpleasantness' concerning the goblins. Gringotts had made a formal accusation of 'Malicious Mischief', which was about as bad as it could get among the goblins.

Per goblin law, the accused was currently serving a 'pre-jail' term, before their actual trial, such as it was, would take place. Sirius had told Remus that this generally involved the individual in question being left in a small dark pit for as long as the goblins felt like it before they bothered to start any questioning. Judging from how cross the Gringotts administrators were over the charge of Malicious Mischief, it was actually lucky for the accused that the Ministry of Magic had got wind of it at all and made inquiries, or it was quite likely that the pit would be the last thing the fellow saw for several decades. The goblins had grudgingly allowed Remus and Sirius to start their proceedings after the New Year, so the accused was 'getting off lightly' by only having served four months in the pit.

Making the situation worse, the Goblin Congress was involved. The only true function of the Congress seemed to be scheming always increasingly malicious means of taking advantage of other goblin tribes and securing their own fortunes. Remus suspected that they were unofficially delighted that Gringotts had been so distraught over the situation that they had actually dragged the humans into the argument, however surreptitiously, as it suggested strongly that the goblins didn't trust their own Council enough to deal with it themselves. Unrest and rebellion was always profitable for those who were prepared to properly insinuate themselves into the argument.

The hostilities between goblin tribes had a long and tedious history young witches and wizards had to endure writing numerous excruciatingly dull essays about for history classes. It might have been more interesting if they had any details of the endless list of skirmishes, battles and inventive hexes they were forced to memorise. But the goblins were even more secretive about arguments among themselves than they were about how they conducted their affairs with others; only when the goblins openly squabbled with the wizards were there any interesting insights into how they worked. And even then the goblins had manipulated agreement upon agreement with the Wizard Councils through the centuries not to put too much into their own accounts, or face dire consequences.

Remus found himself humming a rather rude song Lily had made up in their fifth year in a desperate attempt to make it easier for them all to keep that semester's worth of goblin goings-on in order. Remus had actually forgotten it until Sirius taught it to Harry during his own fifth year. Harry had been rather surprised to discover that his mother had had such an inventive vocabulary and talent for double-entendre. He had been a little reluctant to actually commit the ditty to memory until Sirius quite rightly pointed out that Lily would want her legacy to live on in more than the very formal and dignified prose of history books. Malcolm had loved the song so much he had enchanted an inkpot to sing it until Katie unwittingly used the inkpot, as Malcolm had 'carelessly' left it at home when he returned to Hogwarts. Katie would probably have just laughed, had she not used the inkpot in front of some very old, very dignified, and very humourless clients. Remus talked her out of sending the Howler, but only just.

Remus was passing Eeylops when he saw a familiar red head with an equally familiar half scowl across the street.

"Ron!"

Ron turned in Remus' direction, then gave a small smile and came over to meet him in the middle of the alley.

"Hallo, Remus."

"You look a little strained, Ron."

Ron gave a rather irked 'ha!' Remus knew well, but then shook his head with a grin. "Haven't seen my darling little matched pair of red-headed witches about, have you?"

"No, actually. Gone missing have they?"

"They spent the first three days of the holidays working so hard to get their schoolwork done even Hermione told them to relax. I was starting to worry I'd have two mini-Hermiones on my hands. The good news is that doesn't seem to be the case."

"Dare I ask the bad news?"

"Seems Sallie and Bess were so eager to get their homework done because Uncle George and Uncle Fred told them that as soon as they finished it they could spend the rest of the vacation helping in the shop. I guess I need to give them 'grown up points' for at least making the homework stipulation. Mind you, they probably only did it to try and hide their tracks better. Hermione won't bother any of the kids about anything, really, if their homework is up to date."

Remus grinned dangerously at Ron.

"Hermione find out about this yet?"

"Forget Hermione, they better not tell their grandmother what they're up to. I've just been talking with Mrs. George Weasley back there and it would seem that Sallie and Bess are most welcome in the shop because they are very good at coming up with new ideas to appeal to the younger generation and more than willing to test them out on unsuspecting classmates. "

"You must be so proud," chuckled Remus.

"Immensely. Bryson has always firmly refused to do that, much to his father's dismay, and Fred's girls are still to young, though I suspect they'll be eager to join the gang as soon as they are able. I'm actually of a mind to tell my mum exactly what they're up to and let her deal with it. That'll show 'em."

"The uncles or the twins?"

Ron laughed. "Seems they really didn't learn their lesson from the time they tried to surreptitiously involve Charlie's kids in the fun over in Romania by using the Muggle post of all things to send them a few 'ideas' to 'test'. That little adventure hasn't deterred them, just made them more careful. George saw me coming and sent them on an 'errand'. If you do happen to spot them before I find them, would you mind telling the little dears I'm looking for them purely for their own good? If they want to help Fred and George, so be it, but we better figure out how to get Hermione to approve of it before she finds out due to a Howler from some enraged parent. Remind them that Hermione confiscates brooms when she's really had it. I am really hoping it's just a phase," sighed Ron.

"Oh, speaking of phases, have you spoken to Gary about…."

"The Yule Ball Incident, as we've taken to calling it? Yes. He feels terrible that Griffin is so cross; Gary asked Annie in a momentary fit of adolescent swooning and fear of going stag it would seem, but as far as he's concerned she's off-limits, I think. At least, until she says otherwise. And seeing that he's been Griffin's partner in crime for the last five years in basically torturing the ever-clueless-or-else-just-frightfully-determined Tobias Greendour, I think he knows what's what."

Remus smiled even as he shook his head. "Ah, the long-suffering Tobias. That young man doesn't stand a chance, Griffin or no Griffin. Absolutely no sense of humour, poor lad."

"I've never actually had the chance to speak with him, but I always assumed he was scowling when I did see him because he had an eyeful of the Dreadful Duo, fresh from celebrating the end of term by turning the boy into a toad or enchanting his knickers to float into the Great Hall during breakfast again. I just about killed them when they sent Fred and George a toilet seat from the Ravenclaw dorms, you know. I swore I'd never send a Howler, but that was it. Framing Tobias for it was the last straw; I have never been so embarrassed as when I got a letter from Mr. Greendour asking why McGonagall suggested he ask me and Sirius why Tobias had actually received a detention. Little monsters, I swear."

Remus had to laugh at the mention of that particular highlight of Griffin and Gary's campaign. "Annie thought that was particularly brilliant and daring of them, actually, as she didn't in fact help them in any way. Other than to simply serve as the inspiration for Griffin's jealous ire, of course. And, perhaps, Gary's as well."

Ron nodded even as he shrugged his shoulders. "I think Gary does fancy Annie a bit, but I can only hope he knows better than to push any buttons without thinking them through next time. And he seemed rather put out that Griffin got to go to the ball with this Raven girl."

"Annie wasn't too pleased about that either, actually, but offered no editorialising other than a rather nasty tone of voice when describing her as 'a rather dull thing who'd never be on the house team if Roarke was still at Hogwarts'."

"Hmmm. I understand she's quite a stunner and had told Gary to do something rude to himself when he asked her to the Yule Ball himself. Before he asked Annie, of course. Not a bad second, if you ask me," Ron grinned, still scanning the street for two curly red heads trying to sneak past him.

"So you think Annie was an ego boost he didn't think through?"

"Sounds like it. You know he adores Griffin and would never do anything to hurt him or upset him willingly. Overlooking the fact that they did in fact get detentions for cursing each other in the Great Hall over breakfast when Griffin found out what he'd done. I can just see the smug and delighted look on Snape's face when he was dealing with that. Hopefully, this will pass soon, though he's scared to contact Griffin. He does, however, run to meet any owls who come to the house, obviously hoping for a note."

"According to Sirius The Boy is wallowing in self-loathing at the moment, more for being a fool and making assumptions he shouldn't have been making, and not at Gary for doing what Gary jolly well had a right to do. He'll come round by Christmas itself, I'm sure of it. Annie is actually having dinner with Griffin tonight, it would seem. There's some Muggle movie they want to see and planned on going to months ago, and Annie shot him off a note that he had better get his 'cranky, silly head out of his arse and meet her at the theatre'."

Ron laughed again. "Sure Sirius didn't write that note for her?"

"No, I witnessed her mother asking her in a rather amused tone if she thought that was quite the wording she was looking for, but Annie simply handed the note to her owl and stormed out of the room without another word."

Ron shook Remus' hand, as he moved to leave.

"Remus, we'll all survive this, no matter what happens. Give my best to Katie, and I'll see all of you on Christmas."

"My love to Hermione as well. Good day."

Ron and Remus continued on in opposite directions. Remus finally caught sight of Malcolm and Roarke taking advantage of the clear weather to sit outside in front of 'the Magical Menu'. He waved as he caught Malcolm's eye, and came onto the patio to join them.

"You're late! I'm shocked!" Malcolm greeted him, grinning rather slyly.

"I ran into Ron Weasley back there and we got to talking. Hello, Firecracker," smiled Remus as he embraced Roarke and gave her a kiss on the forehead, as she stood up to greet him.

"Hi, dad," she said in a rather tired voice. Remus pulled back to look at her closely.

"Roarke? Do you feel…."

"Fine," said Roarke before he could finish

"Hangover," input Malcolm loudly over her, reaching over to give a small tug on her bangs when she turned to glare at him as she sat back down. "Lazy thing was still in bed when I got there to pick her up."

"You can take something for that, you know…."

"Yes, dad. I've ordered it," said Roarke, leaning back to give a small stretch and rub her eyes again. She did smile at Remus when she looked back him. "They're just taking their time bringing it. We only just got here ourselves because…."

"Someone was sleeping in," put in Malcolm.

"Because someone simply had to run into the magical supplies shop!" replied Roarke.

"Someone wouldn't have had to if someone else hadn't so successfully destroyed someone's…."

"Yes, thank you Malcolm, I really don't think Daddy came all this way to listen to this fascinating conversation."

"Well," grinned Malcolm, leaning forward on the table to stage whisper at Roarke, "you know that mum says he has a bad habit of sitting around staring into space sometimes wondering what we're up to? I thought we should show him exactly what our typical conservations are like so he won't feel so left out."

Remus laughed at them both, even as they pulled faces at one another and started laughing themselves.

"Well," started Roarke, "now that your darling boy has proven that Auror training still doesn't include any lessons on improved deportment or the like, maybe he can shut up so we can talk about something more interesting than my sleeping habits."

Malcolm looked like the cat that ate the cream as he said, "Why yes, excellent idea. So Sis, are you going to tell Dad about that job offer you got yesterday?"

Remus managed to bite his tongue and not say anything, but he hoped the rather delighted and admittedly pleading look wasn't too evident on his face as he stared at Roarke. He might have got away with it had he not leaned forward ever so slightly, which was immediately noted. Luckily, Roarke smiled widely at him.

"Actually, it's rather interesting. I've been offered a job, yes, but in fact what I've been asked to do first is to work on a temporary project. If I end up enjoying what I'm doing, and my work is up to snuff, I'll have a full time job at the end of it."

"Oh, Roarke, that sounds perfect. Who is this with?"

"Here's the kicker. Are you ready for this? Gringotts."

Remus blinked at her in surprise, wondering if he'd heard her correctly. But, she refused their job. They never….

"My god, Sis, I think you've stunned him. Now at least mum won't have to listen to him fretting."

Remus looked over at Malcolm at that comment and gave a small frown.

"Honestly, Malcolm, I do not sit huddled in my study all day wracked with worry. Your mother is being over-dramatic."

"OUR mother?" cried both the children at once, "Heaven forbid!"

The outcry was brought to a halt by the hesitant approach of the waiter. He solemnly put a large drink in front of Roarke and asked if they were ready to order. As Remus, Malcolm and Roarke were all giggling to hard to respond, they simply shook their heads, and he told them he'd return shortly with a rather disapproving look on his face.

"Right," said Remus, once he managed to speak again in normal tones, "Roarke, that's wonderful, but…well. It's very unusual. I wonder what they want from you?"

Malcolm gave him a bit of a look. "Dad! A bit more enthusiasm here! Your daughter has most likely become the first person in more than 500 years to have a job re-offered to them by the goblins! I'm bragging about her to all my friends!"

"I'm very pleased, my Little Marauder, I just…well the timing is interesting. That's all."

"Why?" asked Roarke.

Remus hesitated. He was not at liberty to discuss anything concerning what he and Sirius were doing, but he was starting to worry a bit as to why Gringotts now felt it important enough to try once again to hire Roarke. Of course, it could be nothing at all. Curse breakers are hard to come by. At least ones that meet the goblins' standards. And I can't lie to my children….

"Roarke, are you going to talk to them about this temporary job?"

"Yes, I don't see why not."

"Will you promise me that as soon as you do, you'll come and talk to me about it before you agree to anything? Sirius is working on a case now involving a goblin and some trouble he's gotten into with Gringotts," said Remus quietly so only the children could hear him once they leaned forwards.

"Sirius is in trouble with Gringotts?" said Malcolm, sounding surprised.

"No, no; the goblin is; sorry I wasn't clear. Look, it may be nothing. Goodness knows this is always happening. But for some reason they asked Dexter to get involved in it this time, quietly. So he asked Sirius and I to look into it all. If there is something big brewing again…."

"Dad, " started Roarke, sounding a little miffed. Remus reached to grab her hand and gave a squeeze to stop her.

"Firecracker, I know you can take care of yourself. Just please be careful. Deal?"

"Deal," she said rather grumpily. "And who's busy telling you to be careful?"

"Jarvey," teased Malcolm.

"Lockheart," she shot back. Malcolm feigned a chest wound and sat back in his seat.

"Now that that's settled, let's eat. I'm due to meet Draco after this as he's helping me with a little something for work and I can't sit around all day. Waiter!"

***

Draco Malfoy glared at the ornate door in front of him and impatiently drummed his fingers on the stone counter-top, but still he waited. WHAT are they doing back there?

"Hello?" called out Draco, hoping that didn't sound quite as ill tempered as it seemed. If he made the goblins cross, they would make him wait longer out of spite, no matter how much money they managed for him. Draco actually bit the inside of his cheek to stop from saying anything further.

After a few more agonisingly slow minutes, the door opened at last and the goblin that had been assisting him came in with a dark scowl.

"Master Malfoy," he began, "your request will take us a little time to consider."

"Dare I ask why?"

"Because as you know full well, Sir, it seems to defy several codicils from your father's will concerning the use of the family funds, and you are not yet of age."

"You do realise, Farcourt, that I have been the head of the household for over 15 years?"

The goblin gave an oily and nasty smile, even as it cast its eyes briefly at the floor in an act of admission and acknowledgement. "Be that as it may, Master Malfoy, you are aware that legacy clauses remain tantamount in situations such as yours while either of your parents remains alive. We would require your mother's express permission to…."

"Fine. If you require the Lady Malfoy's 'express permission' you shall have it. I shall tell her to come all the way down here to speak with you personally about the matter, shall I?"

That seemed to have the desired effect of making the goblin look a little less smug.

"A written note would suffice."

"And be infinitely preferable, I am sure."

There was a long pause. Finally Draco picked up his cloak, and as he swept it gracefully over his shoulders and turned for the door with a quick and poised motion, he offered up one last comment.

"It will be necessary for me to disclose to the Lady Malfoy exactly what I am intending to do, of course, and although it is no business of yours, I can assure you that she is going to be very, very displeased when she hears of it. However, while you may remain, for a few more years at least, in a circumstance to deny me my position as head of the house, she does not share that luxury, and will in fact come here post haste to see that my wishes are met." Draco stopped at the door and turned slowly, holding his head in such a fashion that he was certain Farcourt could clearly see his eyes.

"You will be most unhappy to see her, I suspect. If, before I speak to her on this matter, you somehow see fit to read those codicils in greater detail in order to ascertain if this will not in fact be necessary, you may contact me. I will be at the Manor until the new school term begins. However, once I have returned to Hogwarts, obviously it will then be necessary for me to have my mother see to all of this, so there you are. A very good day, Farcourt."

Draco left Farcourt's office and made his way back to the main entry hall of Gringotts. As he crossed for the entrance, he smiled at a few people he knew, and greeted two of his second year Hufflepuffs who were obviously collecting some funds to do their Christmas shopping. Reminding himself he was not cross with them, he stopped and smiled and answered a question one of them asked hesitantly about the topic he had assigned for holiday reading. After clarifying the assignment, which caused them both to look very relieved, he said goodbye and left the bank to find Malcolm Lupin. They thought I wanted them to read 200 pages over the holidays? Who do they think I am, Snape?

Draco walked up towards the far end of Diagon Alley, keeping an eye out for Malcolm. As he had said he would be, he was standing in front of Ollivander's, reading the paper. Malcolm glanced up as Draco approached, and tucked the paper away in his robes. Draco smiled at the young man, and marvelled how he still had the look of the little boy Draco had befriended all of those years ago. Malcolm still wore his dark hair quite short, although his bangs were gone and he brushed all of his hair back away from his face. While he had taken on the angular qualities of his father's features, he was still, without question, his mother's son. And although at five feet nine Malcolm was considerably taller than the average four year old, Draco laughed to himself, his brown eyes still had a look of mischief to them hidden just under the deep curiosity and warmth they had always held, no matter what was happening.

"Draco! Thanks for coming. How are you?"

Draco shook Malcolm's hand and sighed. "I've just been to Gringotts to discuss my current…project."

Malcolm's eyes twinkled even as he moved to lead them farther up the street.

"How is the 'Project'? Is the 'Project' well?"

"Never better, thank you. Restorations have been completed on nearly half of the house, if you can believe it."

"Look good?"

"Of course; it is the finest workmanship available, you know that," laughed Draco.

"And how are your good artist and the Lady Malfoy getting on?"

"Quite well, actually. The Lady Malfoy, despite her earlier protests and feigned outrage over the situation, has grudgingly admitted she is one of the finest artists she has ever seen. You can imagine what that did to her."

"Well she is one of the finest artists of your generation. I would expect the Malfoys to settle for nothing less."

"Oh would you? And the Lady Malfoy has no idea as to exactly what is to come next, I can assure you. That will be a most interesting evening, although in a fair fight I'll still put my money on the project. You must come and see what she's done in the library. I had asked her if she wouldn't mind painting a portrait of Charles and Elvira…."

"Why you sentimental old bat!" said Malcolm, laughing.

"Yes, well, she in fact decorated the entire library with a griffin motif, featuring a large fresco of the two over the fire. It's…."

"Lovely?"

"One should say so, yes."

"Did the goblins give you grief over accessing such a large amount of funds before you're 45?"

"Yes. I threatened to send my mother in there to deal with it all," Draco kept talking over Malcolm's burst of laughter, "It is no concern of theirs that I intend to set up the future Mrs. Malfoy with her own place of business."

"And even less as to who the future Mrs. Malfoy is, I suspect."

"Still top of the class, Mr. Lupin," said Draco, dryly.

"Thank you, Professor Malfoy. Shall we?"

Draco and Malcolm walked into Knockturn Alley and quietly made their way down the dark and crooked little street towards a large shop at the far end. They stopped just short of reaching the store and Malcolm took a small box out of his cloak.

"This is the little gem in question. Figuratively speaking, of course. It's tin, we know that, and a rune talisman is hardly unique. But the fact that a Muggle reacted so strongly to it is what's puzzling me. I appreciate your offering to take advantage of your family's past to look into this. They'd never be so forthcoming to me. Well, not at first; but I seem to remember this very good DADA teacher I had who warned me repeatedly that compelling answers can leave dangerous trails."

Draco took the box and glanced briefly inside as he said casually, "Well I've always said your father was one of the finest educators I ever knew. Come on."

Draco and Malcolm entered Borgin and Burkes quietly, the only sound in the room the tinkling of the small bell over the door and their boot falls on the uneven old wooden floor. Draco noted with some irony and a little unease that despite the efforts of the Ministry after the last war with Voldemort the shop was still filled in every corner with any number of unpleasant and dangerous items. I'll bet anything there are still any number of father's things in here somewhere.

They stepped up to the counter and rang the small bell there. Draco watched Malcolm glancing with a slight frown at the objects in the glass case he stood next to, knowing that the young man must recognise several illegal items. Draco caught sight of a withered old hand lying on a velvet cushion and had an odd feeling, like a vague memory, when an old woman appeared from behind the curtain at the back of the shop.

The old witch approached them slowly, giving them a careful glance. She studied Malcolm first with her rheumy eyes, her haggard face scowling as she carefully studied him. If she did not remember him, she was committing his face to memory for later, Draco knew. Most dark witches and wizards always found it in their best interest never to forget a face. He waited for her to turn to him. As she stepped up to the counter, she finally did look at him. It took her a moment, then her eyes widened in surprise and to Draco's disgust, she actually smiled.

"Why, Master Draco isn't it?"

Draco gave a cold smile.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I cannot offer the same courtesy, Mistress…?"

The witch didn't seem to care at all that Draco didn't know who she was.

"I'm Talitha Borgin, Master Draco; a pleasure."

Draco managed a weak smile, then placed the box he had taken from Malcolm on the counter, and opened it to take out the small metal object inside.

"Mistress Borgin, what can you tell me about this object?

She took the talisman and inspected it for a few moments, but instead of answering gave Malcolm a long look. Draco sighed to himself, then gave a small cough. When Mrs. Borgin turned to him he gave her a look he knew she would have seen on his father's face at some point in her life.

"Do you have an issue with my companion, Mistress Borgin?"

She shook her head quickly and bent over the medallion again. Draco gave Malcolm a glance out of the corner of his eye and was amused to see that Malcolm was actually trying not to laugh; it was a look Draco remembered well from Malcolm's school days.

After a few minutes studying the object, Mrs. Borgin laid it down on the counter between herself and Draco, and gave him a rather sickly looking smile.

"It is not my place to ask where Sir acquired this object…." Draco raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing, "however I can tell Sir that he had better be very careful with it. That's a tuath; goblin magic. Death charm."

Draco and Malcolm looked at each other for a moment, then Draco looked back at the old woman carefully.

"Mistress Borgin, forgive me, but if this is a death charm, why have none of us suffered any severe metabolic setbacks from having handled the object in question?"

She considered this a moment, obviously trying to figure out what Draco had said. He smiled thinly once more.

"Mistress Borgin, no one who has come into contact with this object has died to the best of my knowledge."

She smiled now. "Ah, well, Sir, have you known any goblins who might have touched it?"

Draco glanced quickly at Malcolm who shook his head very slightly.

"No."

"Well, Sir, it's only meant for the goblins. Only I wouldn't be handling it too much, as it can have some lingering effects on wizards. Best you keep it in that box until you need it. May I," here her eyes narrowed and she got a crafty look Draco didn't like at all, "ask you where you got it, Master Malfoy?"

Draco told her the truth. "It was given to me very recently by an old family friend who knows that I am having difficulties with the goblins."

"Ah. Well, thank your friend. Take that along to your next meeting with the little bastards and I'm quite sure you won't be having any more difficulties." She smiled at them both in a decidedly nasty fashion.

Draco put the medallion back in its box and bowed slightly to the old witch. She actually blushed a little at this and gave an arthritic curtsy in return.

"Thank you so much for your assistance, Mistress Borgin. And good day."

"Oh, good day Master Malfoy. I'm so glad to have seen you again in here. Please do come back; we haven't all forgotten, you know."

Draco felt cold at that comment, but said nothing further and quickly left the shop, Malcolm at his heels. They said nothing to each other until they had returned to Diagon Alley. Draco stopped, and then handed the box back to Malcolm.

"I hope," he said rather tensely, "that that was what you needed."

Malcolm nodded and smiled quietly. "It was helpful, thank you. You aren't listening to that old cow, are you?"

"Malcolm, you should not speak of your elders in such a fashion. Your mother would be most displeased." Draco said absently, thinking about something.

"I think she'd understand."

Draco now smiled at Malcolm and nodded, then indicated they should continue to walk.

"Come to the Manor for dinner. Mother will be out day after tomorrow, are you free?"

"I should be."

"Good. The 'Project' will be delighted to see you. And of course…." Draco stopped short, and tried to pretend he hadn't said anything. Malcolm heard him though and gave another vague sad smile.

"Storry won't be joining us, thank you."

Draco stopped and looked at Malcolm. "Do you finally feel like talking about it? Well, with me? I know your father is very upset. You do understand that he is only upset…."

"Because he wants us to be happy and hates us to be unhappy, yes I know. But he can't stop that from happening, Draco. No matter how much he cares or how hard he tries. He doesn't seem to get that it just hurts more to see him so worked up!"

Draco nodded. "You and your sisters are his Achilles heel. You always will be; you have no idea Malcolm….what you meant to him and to your mother. What … almost losing you did to them. He'll settle down. But probably not until you fall madly in love again."

"Well I'll just take my time on that, if you people don't mind."

"How on earth should I mind? Here I've just gone 40 and I've only just gotten 'round to proposing, haven't I?"