Draco was so taken aback, he was actually stuttering.

  "I.., I.., S...Sh...She was... She was what?" he finally got out. Both Astoria and Aquilla were looking askance at him.

  Harry made patting motions in the air. "Calm down, calm down. Cook. something soothing for Mister Draco, please."

  In no time, Draco was holding a steaming mug. He took a sip. His eyes widened and he gave a little cough. He then took a longer draught. What little color he had returned to his face. "Perfect, thank you. As my dear wife always says, 'Cook knows best.' " Cook preened a little.

  Ron's nostrils flared, and he asked, "Cook, what is that? It smells wonderful!"

  "Cook's Iris Coughee," the tiny elf said proudly. "Cook's own recipe. Going in book!"

  Ron looked as if he thought he had heard wrong. "Did you say, 'Irish Coffee'?"

  Cook shook her head firmly, the points of her tiny ears quivering slightly. "No. Cook said 'Cook's Iris Coughee.' Take small sip, eyes get big, and cough! Finish drink and feel better!" She looked seriously up at Ron. "No coffee in it, Mister Ron. Just good, healthy chocolate and milk and Elf-Made Wisky and whipped cream with nutmeg and cinnamon on. And one teeny-tiny drop of..."

  "Don't spoil it for us, Cook!" Harry said hurriedly. "Let us be surprised when we read your book." Harry's experience with Kreacher had taught him well. When a House-Elf started minimizing the amount of an ingredient, it was a good bet that most humans would find it... unacceptable. And he was a little worried about the provenance of the 'Elf-Made Wisky.' "

  Cook beamed at Harry and returned to her work. Ron looked like he was tempted to ask Cook for a 'Coughee,' but Harry caught his eye. Ron got the message.

  Draco spoke up. "Can we return to this business about Mother? What do you mean by... what you said?"

  Harry did not blame him. The word was a little declasse, but it fit the situation. Best to ease into it.

  "Let me work up to this by asking you a few questions. Then I'll give you, and Demelli as well, a few facts that may explain why I am going to handle this matter with kid gloves. Draco, would you agree that one of your mother's most defining traits is self-control?"

  Draco nodded. "Well, yes. You and I... touched on the matter when this investigation first started."

  Harry was pleased at the phrasing. Draco was a natural at keeping Security matters behind his teeth. Harry's interactions with Narcissa were very 'Need to Know.' He pressed on.

  "How often have you seen her lose her temper?"

  Draco looked startled. "Twice, maybe. Thrice at the outside. And it was always triggered by her sister. Bellatrix was the only one who could get under her skin to that extent."

  "When she became angry, did she swear, or curse, or use low and common language?"

  Both Draco and Astoria were aghast at the very thought. Even Aquilla gave Harry a puzzled tilt of his head.

  "Oh, my word, no. Mother would get cold, and while her words cut to the bone, any of them could have been uttered in the most cloistered of holy places. But everyone knew not to cross her when she was like that. I believe she even made Bellatrix walk softly, at least for a while."

  Harry was silent for a moment, then made a decision. "People, I'm going to ask you to give Draco, Demelli, and me the room for a while. It's a Need-to-Know matter between the three of us. Ron, please accompany Nienna back to the Manor. As an Apprentice Auxiliary she can't move about alone when on duty. Get the latest report from Demelza, and assist her if she needs it."

  One of the great things about Aurors was the lack of back talk. It was just 'Yes, sir' and 'Got it, Harry' and they were gone.

  Harry went on. " 'George,' please give Madam Malfoy your arm, and have her show you the Small People's workspace. We won't be long."

  'George' was familiar with Astoria's condition. His almost courtly manner may have looked odd to Britons, but it came across as both inoffensive and effective. Instead of just offering her his arm, and half-lifting as she struggled to her feet, he had a different plan. Walking up beside and slightly behind her to the left, he bent over with a quiet murmur, offering his left hand, palm-up. When she automatically laid her left hand in his, her slight forearm was resting on his broad one. His right hand went chastely behind her back, cupping her opposite elbow.

  In one move, she came to her feet as smoothly and easily as a dancer going into promenade. She seemed startled to find herself on her feet, with practically no effort on her part. Aquilla gave a slight flap, and landed on the man's shoulder, great claws barely dimpling the fabric of his robes. "George' maintained the arrangement through the kitchen door and up the stairs, the Eagle Owl ducking smoothly under the head jamb of the door. Astoria moved like she had never been ill at all, sweeping up the stairs with none of the hesitation she usually showed. She smiled back over her shoulder at her husband, just as they rose out of sight.

  Draco was looking after them, stunned. There was no jealousy or anger on his face. He simply looked like a man who was mentally giving himself a good kicking, all the while screaming the words, Why in Hel didn't YOU ever think of that!

  He finally looked at Harry. "I want to buy that man a drink! Gods Above and Below, I want to buy him a HOUSE!" Draco paused. "Whoever he is."

  Harry smiled. No flies on this one, he thought.

  "Did you see how happy she was?" Draco demanded. He stopped, obviously wanting to know who was under the Masque of George.

  Harry smiled wider. "You're an Auror now. No reason you shouldn't know. That's Viktor Krum. These people we're after have been making some serious efforts to kill him. They nearly got me a couple of times."

  Draco's lips moved slightly as he parsed that last sentence to his satisfaction. His eyes widened. "You've been disguising yourself as him?"

  "Needs must." Harry shrugged. "I'm the best person for the job. You don't get to be Head Auror by collecting Magic Brownie Point Coupons from the Quibbler."

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  "Wow," Draco said, still a little stunned. "Viktor Krum. Can I tell her? He's her favorite player. She was only a First Year when he was at Hogwarts, and she was too shy to get within a mile of him."

  "Save it for later," Harry advised. "We'll have him over for dinner sometime when he's not Polyjuiced to the gills." He considered Draco's physique before adding, "You're going to have to muscle up some before you can make it look that easy."

  Draco snorted. "To see that look on her face again? Just watch me."

  ***

  Once they were alone, Harry motioned Draco over. They took seats beside Demelli's folder on the counter.

  "D.M.L.E. File, Attention to Orders."

  Yikes. THAT'S never a good sign.

  "I call on the assembled company to witness this update, containing information unknown to M.O.M. File, and which may never be shared with them. Draco, say 'I Do So Witness.' "

  "I... do so witness?"

  Harry shook his head, smiling slightly. "Less of a question, more of a statement. Let me hear those capital letters!"

  "I DO SO WITNESS!"

  "Bit far in the other direction. But acceptable," Harry said, and put the filigree sheet inside the folder.

  Ye Galloping Gods, Harry. How many secrets do you meat-sacks have? OOO-Kay, what do we got here? D.M.L.E. File's printing gave an impression of trepidation. Sorting. Storing. Sorting. Storing. Sorting. Stor... Oh. Oh, my. Crap. The print stopped and disappeared from the folder cover, then reappeared. Harry, I'm getting that whole Suicide-Before-Reading vibe again. How have you kept all this from M.O.M. File?

  "Forget that." Harry frowned. "This wasn't even shared with the last two Ministers for Magic. Last three, if you count Thicknesse. Which I don't."

  "What are you talking about?" Draco asked.

  War. appeared on Demelli's cover. All out, bloody, civil war.

  "Millicent Bagnold," said Harry. "The Minister of Magic before Fudge. She was in charge during the First Wizarding War. When Riddle got knocked back at Godric's Hollow, she celebrated with everyone else. But she didn't believe he was truly gone, not for a minute. She put the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to secretly preparing for the next war. Using a core of trusted people to supervise, she upped the pace of intelligence gathering on Blood Purists, Death Eaters, and Dark Magic Practitioners and Sympathisers. The lower levels had no idea why they were collecting information, or where it was going."

  "She also formed a small, completely unofficial advisory committee, with absolute authority to keep or release this collected information, as The Committee saw fit."

  "The Committee that first convened consisted of Bagnold, Dumbledore, Alistair Moody, and Amelia Bones. When it became clear that Fudge was the favorite to replace Millicent, they had a hard decision to make. None of them had high opinions of Fudge. The reasons were varied, ranging from his pure-blood sympathies, his deficit in Constant Vigilance, his questionable social connections, all the way down to his dress sense." Harry quirked a smile. "Dumbledore had firm opinions on the connection between couture and personal reliability."

  "Regardless, it was decided that giving Fudge access to this information would be as bad as publishing it in the Quibbler. Worse, actually. More people would be likely to believe Fudge."

  "Then came Scrimgeour. By then, the Ministry was so riddled with infiltrators that giving him access would have been worse than useless."

  "By the time Thicknesse took over, the only remaining, living member of that small group of counter-revolutionaries was poor, half-mad Moody. But right before things hit their absolute zenith, he passed along the trust, and the only copy of the data to Kingsley Shacklebolt. And, once Kingsley was in a position to continue the program, he did. Kingsley believed that Bagnold's reluctance to use this information exacerbated the evils of the Second War. Knowing your enemy is all well and good, but if you refuse to use what you know..." Harry shrugged. "Kingsley is not afraid to do whatever it takes. He is also wise enough to know when he needs help. Luckily, we have tools they didn't, back before the war."

  Harry shifted his gaze back to the folder. "So, poor Demelli here drew the short straw. All that gathered information is now hers, and hers alone. And she will be in charge of who gets to know what. Under, of course, the guidance of The New Committee. Who will not let the Dark get ahead of us again."

  Draco gave the folder a sympathetic look. "A great and terrible responsibility, indeed, Miss Demelli." He looked back to Harry. "But what does this have to do with my Mother? In fact, what does it have to do with me? And who is this blessed Committee, anyway?"

  Harry shrugged again. "So far? Kingsley. Demelli." He nodded at the black folder with the yellow spiral swirling in a somewhat agitated manner. He touched his chest. "Me." Then he pointed.

  "And you."

  ***

  Harry looked solemnly at Draco's aghast expression. "Think it through, man. There will be hard decisions to make. Seriously, literally, life and death decisions. Demelli, for all her personality, makes decisions based purely on the facts. Kingsley and I have almost knee-jerk reactions to anything smacking of Dark Magic. But neither of those are ways to arrive at justice." He cocked his head slightly before continuing.

  "But you, Draco. You've been on both sides. You know the strengths and weaknesses of both positions. Most importantly, you know the people, and the people like them, as people. You understand their beliefs, you get their motivations. We can't afford, (Gods help me, but I'm going to say it), a witch-hunt."

  Draco shook his head slowly. "Yes. Yes, those are all points to consider. But, still, me? Surely there is someone..."

  "Someone what?" Harry interrupted. "Someone who has made harder decisions than you? Someone who did a better job of standing up to their family and traditions? Someone who loved his wife and child more than you, who went to his traditional enemies quicker, once he realized that he could not protect them by himself? Who, Draco? Who is this imaginary, perfect paragon you speak of?"

  Harry backed the intensity down, but kept speaking. "You are an Auror, man. Auxiliary for now, yes. But there will be training when and if you want it. As much responsibility as you are willing to take. And, if you decide to stay on after all this is done, the Oath you take will be to protect the Magical Inhabitants of the British Isles. No mention of Dark or Light. No mention of Humans over Magical Folk, over Magical Creatures, Great or Small."

  Harry watched as Draco's thoughts roiled behind his face. He could almost tell the moment they turned toward his wife and child, what he had done, what he could do, would do. Harry hid his smile as Draco finally sighed.

  "Fine," he said. "Fine. But, do you really always have to spring these things on a fellow? I think you get some sort of twisted thrill from it."

  Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet! Harry almost chortled behind the mask of his face.

  Aloud, he said, "Moving along. I need you to make a judgement for me. Over the past twenty-five years, whom do you think was the most dangerous, most effective member of your extended family, that is to say, the Malfoys and the Blacks?"

  Draco seemed a little puzzled, but considered before speaking. "A strange dichotomy. I have trouble narrowing it down. As for dangerous, my first impulse is to choose Bellatrix. Mad as she was, though, few of her misadventures showed her as very effective. Perhaps your godfather, Sirius Black, may have shown both those qualities, but his rashness stood against him. Father, I regret to say, does not come off well when measured against either of those yardsticks."

  Harry looked to the folder on the counter, whose yellow spiral had calmed somewhat.

  "Demelli, do you need any more time?'

  Boss, you know I had it absorbed in just a few of your excessively long seconds. But the implications are, just... Wow. I now see what you meant by 'kid gloves.'

  Harry nodded. "No doubt. So, tell Draco who the most dangerous, most effective, and most feared member of his family is, based on extensive investigation by the Ministry of Magic."

  Can do, Boss. The folder rotated slightly to face Draco directly.

  It ya Mama.