Draco had to wait three days for Harry to finally get the paperwork finalized for their trip to Ireland. There had been some sort of disagreement on whether or not Harry would be able to bring the creature with them to Ireland, and the entire situation had put Draco on edge. Thankfully, Hermione was too busy with Virago during that time to question his somewhat cagey and agitated behavior. He was an admittedly impatient man, and having to wait for the ministry to allow him to travel to Ireland was rather insulting. He understood the reasoning behind someone like Weasley or even Blaise needing to sign a half a dozen waivers before investigating anything important, but he was Draco Malfoy. He was as responsible, logical, and mature as a wizard could be.

When the owl finally arrived with the necessary documents, Draco signed them and sent them off a quickly as he could. He read them, of course. He was wise enough to thoroughly read any document before putting his signature on it, but he could be forgiven for skimming some of the less interesting and somewhat tedious Ministry jargon about safety and liability. As the head of his family, there was no one to throw a fit on his behalf should something happen to him. Except maybe Pansy, Theo, and Blaise, but they weren't family so there would be no weight behind their complaints. In the end, the responsibility for his safety and well-being would be his own. As it should be.

Draco stepped through one of the fireplaces in the Ministry atrium, carrying on overnight bag disguised as a briefcase, late Wednesday night and was relieved to find the building nearly empty. It was far past the time anyone would be working, and he was thankful for the quiet as he made his way to Harry's office. His mind was so preoccupied with the trip ahead and questions about his father's schemes that he nearly jumped out of his skin with the lift announced his arrival on Level Two.

He shook himself, mentally scolding his lack of awareness, and marched out of the elevator. Such distractions only hindered his chances of finding the information he was looking for. The last thing Draco needed was for Harry to change his mind and leave him behind.

When he finally knocked on the door, it was opened by a very frazzled looking Harry. His glasses were sitting askew on his nose, his hair was sticking up every which way, and there were dark circles under his eyes. The office behind him was in a similar amount of disarray, and Draco had to check himself before he sneered at the chaos of it all.

"Sorry about the mess," Harry said in lieu of greeting him. "Been spending a bit too much time in the office."

"I can see that." Draco opted to stand just inside the doorway to prevent messing with whatever system Harry had going and said, "I'm ready to leave when you are."

"Did you talk to Hermione?"

The blatantly personal question made Draco's jaw clench. Rather than answer, he said, "If we wait much longer, it will be tomorrow before we even get there."

Harry didn't push the issue. He merely shook his head, the sigh he let slip teeming with disappointment. It was clear that Harry felt he was making a huge mistake by not telling Hermione what was going on, and that the decision would most certainly come back to haunt him. But it was apparently a lost cause in Harry's eyes.

Draco felt the swift urge to punch him and clenched his fists.

Several tense moments passed as Harry gathered the portkey and the rucksack that contained the warded crate with the creature inside. They were both silent as they grabbed the portkey and were transported to Ireland.

They landed in the middle of a rainstorm, much to Draco's loud protests, and swiftly made their way into town. To the muggle eye Inishmaan was a small, rocky island with little to offer beyond historical sites and ocean views. With a population of under two-hundred, it had been easy to disguise a wizard town as empty farmland. Even with the help of magic it was an exceptionally small town by wizarding standards. Draco scoffed; it was probably even too small for a name.

His attitude quickly changed when they finally walked into the town itself. Every building looked ready to be painted onto a canvas; every hand built stone wall and rolling green hill were beautifully picturesque. The lights from the windows looked like stars against the stormy sky, welcoming them in from the downpour. Even in the cold wind and rain the town held a welcoming atmosphere of a home away from home. A town lost in time, a refuge for travelers, poets, and artists to recapture the essence of the world around them.

Harry spoke up interrupting Draco's thoughts. "We should probably find an inn so we can get out of this rain and start tomorrow with fresh eyes." Harry wiped his glasses on the inside of his robes and squinted against the rain. It seemed to be letting up.

Draco agreed, eager for a warm meal and a good night's sleep.

The town seemed entirely empty with it being so late at night. Draco was sure that in the daylight it was quaint, but the dark streets lit by moonlight and magic lanterns made him feel guilty for the sounds their feet made on the cobblestone, as though the sounds of their footsteps was disturbing the peace of the town. A cold wind blew in from the ocean and, although he pulled his coat tighter around him, Draco took a deep breath and basked in the salty, fresh air. Hermione would love it here, he thought. It was small and peaceful, and he was sure the people would be fascinating to her. She could people watch to her heart's content, tattoo each one of the people there, and read by the ocean. Perhaps, when all this was over with his father and the investigation, he could bring her here.

"I think that's the inn ahead," Harry said. "In the morning we can ask around for Aoibheann."

Draco nodded in a agreement, and they made their way toward the inn. Thankfully, it was well-marked and not far down the street, so they were able to get out of the storm quickly.

Synge's Rest was the epitome of cozy. The small inn which supposedly had once housed the renowned poet John Synge himself was wedged snuggly between the two buildings next to it. Although it looked like a strong gust could blow it over, the sturdy building held its own against the harsh wind. Warm light filtered out through the glass windows, and the faint aroma of baking bread wafted out into the street. The smoking chimney above beckoned the men in from the cold to find shelter in its stone walls. The inside was even more homely. A roaring fireplace and an intimately small sitting room had Harry and Draco instantly at ease; wrapped in the warmth of the room they could've fallen asleep at the counter if the innkeeper hadn't caught their attention.

"Evenin', lads," a thick Irish accent said from under an even thicker white mustache. "In need of a room to weather the storm?" His blue eyes were surrounded by wrinkles that hinted at just how often he smiled. His short stature was no less commanding than a taller man would be, and his round spectacles hid none of the age and wisdom in his eyes. If Draco hadn't known better, he'd think this was Dumbledore's long lost, albeit much shorter, brother.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered while setting his bag down heavily at his feet. "Two rooms if you have them."

"Of course." The innkeeper reached under his desk and handed them each a brass key, both of which looked as old as the building itself and ready to fall apart in their hands. "We charge by the night, so stay as long as you like. Breakfast is served at sunup, but you're on your own for the other meals. And the name's Henry if you be needing anything else."

They both thanked him and made their way up the rickety stairs to the rooms above. Harry muttered a quick 'goodnight' to which Draco gave a responding grunt before they both closed their bedroom doors and fell into their beds. They were both roused much too quickly the next morning by the sunlight streaming through their bedroom windows and the smell of coffee wafting up the stairwell. The promise of a warm breakfast and good weather gave them a hopeful outcome for their day.

Draco rounded the bottom of the stairs and found Harry talking to the innkeeper at one of the breakfast tables by the fireplace. He walked up in time to hear Harry ask about Aoibheann.

"Aye, I know her," the innkeeper said with a small smile. "Sweet lass, always comes 'round this time of year. She'll be out by the ocean today; head straight out of town and down the path. You can't miss it." His eyes gave a slight twinkle as if enjoying a private joke. "She'll find you by the island's edge."

Harry seemed to miss the look in Henry's eyes. He gave Draco a glance that seemed to say, 'Finally we're getting somewhere.' They both downed a mug of black coffee, grabbed their rucksacks, and left eager to start their search.

Their walk through town was even more beautiful than the night before. Though it wasn't bustling, the streets were still filled with the sounds of people starting their days. The sounds of a woman singing while doing her laundry, two men bartering at the fruit stand, and a boy herding sheep through the cobblestone street filled the air. Try as they might, Harry and Draco couldn't help but get distracted by the activity around them. They ended up stopping at the fruit stand to buy some fresh apples, and Draco gave in to the bookseller and bought a new potions book he'd never seen before. The people of the town were friendly and seemed eager to talk to newcomers, asking for news of where they were from and introducing themselves every chance they had. Draco immensely enjoyed himself when a young lady gave Harry a flower causing the poor man to blush a violent shade of red and mutter his thanks. Inishmaan quickly became a place that Draco knew he would have to return to for a longer stay.

Before long they made it to the end of the main street which faded from cobblestone to loose gravel as it stretched into the fields beyond the edge of town. They walked for a bit enjoying the warmth of the sun on their face and the sound of the ocean in the distance, thankful that the storm had moved past during the night. The gravel path wound around several grassy hills and farming fields before finally petering off near the rocky beach. Draco glanced up and down the stretch of land trying to decide which way they should start walking when he was startled by a voice behind him.

"I heard you were lookin' for me?"

Draco turned quickly to his left where he thought the voice had come from. No one was there. He turned back to Harry in confusion and asked, "Potter, did you hear that?"

A soft giggle answered him. "I'm over here!"

Harry nearly knocked into Draco when he whirled around so quickly to look behind them. "Malfoy, look." He tapped his hand against Draco's shoulder and motioned for him to turn around.

Behind them, sitting primly atop a boulder, was a little girl. Her long, white-blonde hair was blowing gently in the wind and looked almost Malfoy-esque in color. Her bare feet and the flower crown perched crookedly on her head gave her a wild appearance which was only added to by grass stains and dirt smudges on her dress. Draco couldn't help but stare at her captivating eyes, a shade of gold that nearly glowed in the morning sun. She couldn't have been more than ten years old, but he couldn't see any sign of a family around her. Perhaps a town so small could trust children to wander the island safely.

The little girl cocked her head to the side and smiled at them, her eyes full of curiosity. "It's rude to stare, y'know."

Harry blinked quickly realizing he had in fact been staring at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're right. It is rude, but you appeared quite suddenly and startled us a bit."

Smiling sweetly at them, she replied, "Yes, I did. My name is Aoibheann."

The men exchanged skeptical looks. "I don't believe you're the one we're looking for," Draco said. "You're far too young."

She grinned impishly at them. "I've been around much longer than you. Did Maeve send you? She always sends me the most interesting people. One time she even sent me a man from Spain. Can you imagine? He had the funniest way of talking. But Maeve hasn't sent anyone in a long time, so I was surprised when you came." She hardly seemed to breath between sentences, and Draco struggled to keep up with her quick speech. "That is why you've come, isn't it? Maeve? Please tell me you brought something interesting like a story or a pretty rock!"

The men glanced at each other, thoroughly sidetracked by the girl's babbling, before Harry stuttered out, "Um, yes, she uh… Maeve, yeah, she sent us to you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "We were told you were a creature expert and that you could help us with identifying a creature we've never seen before."

"Oh good!" She clapped her hands in excitement and leapt off her rock. "Evie the Excellent at your service." She bowed dramatically nearly toppling the flower crown from her head. "Show me what you found!"

Harry pulled off his rucksack and gently set it on the ground. "It's inside the crate," he said cautiously while removing the wooden box and setting it on the ground. "I can describe it for you so you don't have to —"

He was cut off by Evie excitedly opening the crate, managing to completely bypass the wards Harry had put on it. Both men scrambled for their wands to protect the girl from whatever the creature might attempt, but Evie showed no signs of fear.

She spoke softly and gently to the crate like one would to a shy animal, easing her fingers to the edge of the wood so the shadow could move to rest in her palm. "Hello, little darling. What are you doing so far from home?"

The shadow wavered in her palm and let out a quiet tinkling sound like a small bell mixed with clicks and whispers. It created the most unsettling sound the men had ever heard, and yet Evie nodded along as if she could understand it.

"Well, we can't be having that now can we?" She asked it, "Does he know you've left home and gone so far? He'll be very cross with you when he finds out."

If a shadow could look ashamed, this one most certainly did. The little bit of shadow at the top that could be mistaken for its head bowed forward, and the sound it made was a soft, almost sad hum.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll understand," Evie said consolingly. "Go on home then, and I'll be there later tomorrow."

The men's protests were ignored as the shadow took to the air and swiftly vanished. Evie turned to them with a smile as if the entire exchanged hadn't been the strangest thing Harry and Draco had seen in a long while, and all things considered, that was saying something.

"Thank you for bringing it home. I can't imagine how it managed to get so terribly lost."

Draco shook his head in disbelief, still trying to understand how things got so out of hand so quickly. The odds of them capturing that thing again were next to none, and he had far more questions than answers. Deciding to change that, he asked, "What exactly was it, and why did you let it go?"

Evie frowned at him. "It was a wisp, and you had no right keeping it prisoner like that."

"A wisp?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Yes, and a very cross one at that!" She frowned and put her hands on her hips in a way that reminded Harry of Molly Weasley. "How would you feel if someone stuffed you in a box."

"But I've never seen a wisp like that," Harry said hesitantly, ignoring her attempt at lecturing them.

Evie huffed and rolled her eyes. "Well, of course not. It's a moorland wisp." As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Running out of patience, Draco snapped, "What the bloody hell is a moorland wisp?"

Harry smacked him on the arm and tried to reprimand him for his language, but Draco was having none of it. He had come here for answers, he was damn well going to have them.

"It's like a will-o-the-wisp but not," Evie said. Seeing the thunderous expression beginning form on Draco's face, she quickly added, "Think of it like a will-o-the-wisp's shadow. Where that wisp glows bright and offers guidance, a moorland wisp is a shadow and follows you."

"Follows you for what," Harry asked.

Evie shrugged. "For anything, really. Sometimes to deliver a message, sometimes to see what yer up to."

Draco felt himself finally start to relax. This information was vague at best, but it was more information than they'd come here with. He had never heard of a moorland wisp before, and he was fairly certain most people thought will-o-the-wisps were a myth, but he didn't think they were going to get answers from anyone else. He felt a bit daft taking creature advice from a child, but he supposed stranger things had happened. Startled by the reminder that he was indeed talking to a child, Draco was immediately ashamed of his behavior - he was taking out his frustration with the situation on a child who didn't know any better. His mother would murder him if she found out. Glancing over at Harry, he hoped to find similar behavior to justify his own.

Harry, however, looked perfectly accepting of their situation. There was no hesitation or skepticism about him as he spoke with her. "I'm guessing moorland wisps are only from this area since we've never heard of them before." When Evie nodded eagerly, he asked, "What would it be doing in England?"

Her expression became one of deep concern, and it made Draco nervous. "I'm not sure. They usually stay in Ireland, they like the moors and hidden places the best, especially the ruins. I've never heard of them going that far. I can ask around though and see what I can find."

"We would appreciate that very much, thank you." Harry pulled out some spare parchment from his pack and scribbled down his Ministry office's address. "If you could send any information on wisps to this address, it would be vital to a case we're working on."

Evie took the paper and examined it curiously. "A case?"

"Yes," Harry paused to figure out how to explain their situation to a child.

"There are bad people using that wisp to communicate." Draco squatted down in front of her so they could see eye-to-eye. He wanted to apologize for being so cross with her, but he knew it would derail the conversation, and he needed her to understand how important it was. He held her gaze, her bright golden eyes even more startling up close, and said, "Thank you for helping us so far, Evie, we really do appreciate it. But these bad men know more than we do, so anything you can tell us will help find out how to stop those bad men. It's very important work."

"Of course." She nodded gravely and tucked the paper carefully into a pocket of her dress. "My brother knows all there is to know about wisps. I'll have a whole book for you in no time!"

He smiled at her serious expression and brushed some of her hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. He blinked hard but tried not to stare when he realized her hair was now tucked behind a delicately pointed ear. He tried not to let his smile falter and said, "I have no doubt you will. Thank you for your help, Evie the Excellent."

She giggled at the name. "You're welcome! But who are you?" She looked down at the ground and scuffed her toes against the dirt. "It was quite rude of me not to ask we you got here."

"That's alright, wisps are quite exciting I'm sure. My name is Draco Malfoy, and this," he braced himself for the usually overzealous response and said, "is Harry Potter."

Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened slightly in surprise. Out of the corner of his eye Draco could see Harry blush slightly and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man should be used to his fame by now.

"Draco?" Evie bounced up and down and grinned wider than ever. "Like the star?"

Draco squinted at her in confusion. "Yes, I was named after it."

"Oh," she exclaimed while clapping her hands. "I just love the stars! The selkies have been teaching me all about them this year. Muirgheal taught me which one was Draco just last night! To be named after a star," she said wistfully. "You must be special."

Draco heard Harry trying to smother his laughter behind him. "I'm nothing special, Evie. Not so special as you." He poked her on the nose causing her to giggle and hopefully forget all this talk about special stars. He had never been on the receiving end of such enthusiasm before, and it made him quite uncomfortable. He stood upright and tried to ignore the way Harry was nudging him with his elbow. "We have to go now, will you be alright on your own?"

She smiled impishly at him and rolled her eyes. "These are my islands, Draco. I'm safe as can be."

Shaking his head at such childish confidence, he smiled. "I'm sure you are.." He turned to leave but was stopped when Evie grabbed his hand.

"Wait!" She pulled him back down to the ground in front of her and whispered, "I would like to give you a gift."

Draco tried to protest but she ignored him. Carefully removing the flower crown from her head, she placed it on Draco's head and smiled. "Do you accept?"

He could feel the blush threatening to rise to his cheeks and fought the urge to grin widely at her. "I do."

"Then you may go. Well met, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. May your way be blessed and your journey swift."

The walk back to Synge's Rest was not nearly as quiet as Draco would have liked. Rather than discuss the extremely important case or the new information they had gathered, Harry seemed much more determined to poke fun about the flower crown still resting in Draco's hair. He couldn't bring himself to remove it, though. Despite the flowers making his head itch and no doubt getting a disgusting amount of pollen in his hair, the image of Evie's bright smile was stuck in his mind every time he thought to take it off. So it stayed, despite the jokes and banter, for the rest of their walk back.

Harry and Draco packed up that night and made arrangements to travel home the next morning. Both agreed it would be wise to return home and regroup, despite the trip being much quicker than either had anticipated. Harry needed to catch up on paperwork, and Draco needed to return to Azkaban. Unfortunately, he was the only one that might be able to figure out what Lucius was planning and why a wisp from Ireland had been in his cell.

Draco's packing was interrupted by the sound of the floorboards of his room creaking quietly behind him. He slowly eased his hand towards his pocket to retrieve his wand. The tips of his fingers were able to brush against it but he was stopped from drawing it by a blow to the back of his head.