'Magic follows intent.'

That was the rule. The one intrinsic rule every race adhered to in any situation. Some believed in it more than others – the centaurs considered intent to be the Holy Grail of magic, while the goblins considered such a belief to be quaint. And yet they believed with such devout earnestness in the proprietary nature of goblin-manufactured items?

'Hypocrisy, thy name be goblin.'

Twirling a suspicious-looking silver knife around, the thief tapped its butt end upon the lintel. Wizarding homes operated on multiple levels, from blood wards to chaos-infusements and simple knowing who was and was not welcome. Blood wards could be fooled, and chaos worked two ways; the last concept of knowing was tricky. It required one to utterly believe, without a shred of doubt, that they belonged within the circumstances pertaining to the region under protection. It wasn't some passing fancy of longing, wanting or even lusting – it was true, deep-down belief, the kind that forged empires, shattered alliances and drew great men to their heights.

The thief was uninterested in lofty concepts. All that mattered to him was convincing a door to open without relaying the alarms impregnated within its being. And didn't he owe Faux the Zen a soda? Something like that. Later though, now might jinx things.

'I'm not a threat, I'm not even trying to enter.'

The large wooden object had been hewn from timbers five feet thick, then sawn again to create panels narrow enough for a door frame. No doubt the double-layered wood contained defenses sandwiched in their center, recognizing intruders and repelling those who intended harm. Standard enchantments hardened wood already at metal durability into crystalline levels. An experimental scratch with a diamond he'd happened to have on hand failed to leave a mark – although that might've been more of the Self-Repair charms logo he'd seen affixed to a corner. Sloppy.

'See? Not touching you. Don't want to enter. You're just such a fascinating bit of spellcraft, aren't you?' he flipped a second layer of crystal over his eyes, looking at the warding bits. A fine sprig of Holly in his hand was just long enough to caress the air above the more sensitive portions of the alarms, soothing their sensitive nature. 'Adorable, aren't you? So cute I could eat you up.'

The charmwork relaxed, lowering the defenses around the doorway's edges. Smiling, the thief reached out with a silk-covered hand, grazing its edges with delicate care. Magic hummed like a contented cat, safe in the presence of its superior nature being acknowledged.

Below that, however, the watchful runic signatures lurked. He could feel their vigilant gaze, focused on the matching set on the walls and floor around the door itself. Rather than the flexible natures of Charms, the field of Runes concentrated on specific definitions.

'Such strong power,' he crouched to get a better look. 'Incredible. How strong are you guys?'

The runic signatures ignored him.

'Aw, don't be like that,' the thief slumped against the door, leaning against the charms that now purred at his contact. 'Look at you! A merkstave-futhark setup? That's real power there, something only a master Runesmith could make. What were you charged by, a full Circle of mages? This is incredible!'

Was it his imagination, or were the runes glowing a little? No, it wasn't his imagination. They were exerting themselves just a fraction more, demonstrating what they could do.

'Whoa – really? You can do that much?' he shifted focus to the runes embedded into the sides of the doorway. They, too were increasing their power. 'So strong, I bet you could even see your partners from a bit further away, can't you?'

The surge beneath his fingertips bumped the door itself open. It wasn't much, just a pair of handspans wide, but it was enough for his slim frame to worm its way inside. 'Wow guys, just … wow. You're the pride of this House, aren't you? Protectors of the weak, unyielding strength.'

A sort of proud fluctuation ran through the runes, and the door eased shut.

Happy, the thief surveyed the interior defenses of the Manor. The main entrance was too pigheaded to listen, flinging all the interested commentary back in contempt. Side entrances were less vain, however, more willing to accept the facts of life as they existed. Convincing one to show off had nothing to do with illegal entering, stealing or acquiring possessions once of other's belonging, which meant the Intent wards failed to react.

He came to a stop, staring at the opulence on display.

'Wow … they went all out to store things up for me, didn't they?' he admired a set of gilded manticore horns clustered over the mantelpiece. 'Pretty, aren't you little things?'

The enchantments protecting unwary passers-by gave a faint mewl of discontent, but otherwise failed to object. Strong fingers grasped the horns, depositing their munificent majesty in a pocket. 'What have we here?'

Two golden circlets sat upon mannequins scant inches away. 'Beautiful! Beautiful! Clever design, old dwarven-forged crowns, I think? Who knows what kind of enchantments they laid down.'

They too, vanished inside his inner pocket, failing to make any noise.

A loud popping noise heralded the arrival of a domestic defender, one of the house elves the supremely wealthy could afford. It was a young elf, ears scarcely larger than its eyes, and it had a straight back not quite bent from shouldering powerful magics. The older an elf got, the more it could wield, but the more it relied on magic, the less it relied on its body. Such a thing stirred pity in the thief; how someone could become so dependent on things outside itself it neglected personal care was terrifying.

"Is somebody theres?" the elf's bulbous eyes scanned the room, glancing past the thief's position. "We's not expecting guests today."

Curious, the thief cocked his head at the elf's statement. Was he not expected? Then logic struck – how could one consider the rightful owner a guest? How thoughtful! To think the homeowners would go so far as to send an elf to inform him his presence was expected and welcomed? There were so few worthy hosts in this world. He'd have to think of some way to return the honor. Perhaps a gift? Or maybe he could remove those Dark objects hidden under the floor for them; it was obvious they were trying to keep them safe. He could help secure them where no young ones would get into such things.

Giving the elf a cheerful wave – which the dutiful creature ignored in the nature of a true servant – the thief soft-shoed his way down a hall, liberating several small but valuable-looking knickknacks bearing the Black crest. They obviously didn't belong in this home, the Malfoys were Blacks only on an honorary status. These were heirlooms that just howled their true loyalty. It would be no trouble to drop them off at Gringott's with the rest of his deposits, returning them to the true Black vault.

Another door called to him, beckoning his attention with seductive wisps of phantasmal joy. The thief obeyed the call – it would have been rude not too! – and found security charms layered across its surface like carpet.

'Wonderful!' he slid one finger along the outer edge, driving them into paroxysms of enthusiastic welcome. 'So kind to watch for me, thank you!'

The door opened without a sound, letting him into the room. Inside he almost dropped his jaw. Within the Study lay a mountain of wealth he hadn't even known he'd had. It was incredible, from the demiguise cloak rack to goblin-silver letter openers and a ruby the size of his head?

Silk rubbed on silk as his hands made a gleeful expression. It was truly a wondrous day that he'd decided to check on his future belongings within this domicile.