Draco had to ask at least thirty different people at the Ministry where the Centaur Liaison office was before he finally got an answer instead of raucous laughter.

It's a piddling excuse of a workplace, hidden away on the fourth level, stuffed between the Goblin Liaison office and the beginning of the Spirit Division. He honestly can't believe he was willing to come here to ask for favours, but he doesn't have any better ideas.

He'll do this for his son. He'd do anything for his son.

When Draco knocks on the door, there's no answer, so he eases it open and peeks inside.

Lavender is hunched over her desk with her leg propped up on the top, struggling to paint her toenails.

When she sees him, her eyes go wide and she falls off her revolving chair. A bottle of nail polish clatters to the ground and spills baby blue across the carpet.

"Hello." He clears his throat.

"Malfoy!" She springs up from behind the desk, rubbing a hand against her side like she's hurt it. "For Circe's sake, what are you doing here?"

He walks farther into the room, closing the door behind him and waving his wand to right the bottle of polish. He Levitates it onto the desk again and Vanishes the evidence of its fall. "I've come to ... well, I won't beat about the bush. I'd like to ask a favour."

She sits back slowly in her chair, face impassive. Then, she gestures to the chair in front of her, and he takes it, tucking his hands between his knees.

"You can ask," she says, beginning to straighten papers on her desk — half of which are Witch Weekly magazines — "but I'm really rather busy these days. Lots of work to do. Lots of centaurs to liaise."

"Yes, it's about that. You see, my son is running for the position of the Ministry's Official Magical Creature Liaison. He'd be working with everything except centaurs, goblins, and dragons, I believe."

"Mhm." Distractedly, she opens a drawer and stuffs a few of the items on her desk inside, using some type of filing system he's not sure anyone else could figure out. "And you want him to hear what it's like to really work one of these positions?"

"Not ... exactly."

"It's far more difficult than people think. You're always ever so busy, but, well, we do it because it's what we love. Best job in the world."

He looks around the cramped office, the peeling edges of star charts Spellotaped to her walls, the moth-eaten curtains, and the single photograph sitting on her desk — a picture of her and one of the Patil twins waving at the camera, at least six years younger than they are now.

"It's a shame you don't have more free time. We were hoping you'd be able to vouch for the existence of a certain species that has remained hidden until now. They're causing a lot of problems, trying to get our attention."

She laughs softly. "Yes, well, as you can see." She gestures to her desk. "Busy, busy, busy."

He taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, thinking. This isn't as easy as he wanted it to be. He'd thought the hardest part would be getting past his pride and asking for help from someone who could very well hate him at the moment.

"They're the reason my prostheses have been malfunctioning. Whatever you're seeing, it's a message from the Wallygagglers, wanting to get in contact with us."

"Wallygagglers, hm? I hope you figure it out," she says tightly.

He looks at the photograph again, peering at it more closely. He could never tell the twins apart out of uniform, but he knows which one was in Gryffindor, and that seems like a better shot than any.

He takes the gamble. "All right, well, I'll leave you to it, then. I suppose Parvati alone will probably be enough to prove to the Ministry the Wallygagglers are real."

She looks up, Snitch-fast. "Parvati?"

"Yes, I'm planning to go by her office next."

"As in Patil?"

"That'd be the one."

Lavender suddenly looks very flustered. "Well, if she does say yes, er ... rather, that is to say that if she is able to help you, but you do find that you can't do it with just her, and you contact me and say that she can do it — and I happen to have a free moment in my schedule, which is very unlikely, you must understand, but all the same — I might consider joining you."

"How considerate of you, Lavender. I do appreciate it."

She waves him away, but the edges of her mouth are fighting a hopeful smile, and he knows he's got her.

~

Draco and Potter stride through Diagon Alley at a pace uncomfortable for both of them. He's not sure how many years it's been since Potter last visited this part of the wizarding world, but Draco himself hasn't been here in a decade.

Potter carries his squid tank against his chest, and the water sloshes as they walk. It's only held off on spilling because Potter put a charm on it before they left Grimmauld.

They find Parvati Patil's vet clinic tucked away in the crook between Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Draco's stomach pulls tight as they open the door, and it's only half to do with the smell. The rest is because he doubts the woman they're coming to see will have many kind words for him.

It's the main reason he brought Potter, so that at least he'll have a buffer between himself and whatever Parvati thinks of him.

When Potter's name is called, they're shown into an exam room and told to wait for the doctor.

It's small and draughty inside, but the little steel table Potter sets his tank on is clean, and crisp informational posters line the walls. How to Nurture your Niffler. Caring for Cockatrices, an 18 Step Guide. To schedule a routine talon trim for your owl, please see the front desk.

Potter enlarges the tank to the full size of the table, and the squids dash around in a bout of mad glee.

"What in the world do you own squids for, anyway?"

"Ink," Potter says simply. He holds his finger to the wall of the glass and one of the squids shoots toward it, twirling around in a brilliant circle when it realises the intruder has not made its way inside the tank.

"Not because they make such excellent companions?"

"Well, you haven't let me get to reason number two."

There's a chaste knock before the door pops open, and in comes Parvati in a set of Muggle theatre blues.

"Merlin," she says. "I thought they were joking."

She closes the door behind her. "What seems to be the problem, boys?"

"We have a project we're working on," Potter begins.

Parvati steps closer to the tank and squints at it. Her hair is tied back in a vicious coil, and she's slung a leather strap diagonally across her chest, holding several colourful bottles about the size of one's thumb.

"Are those potions?" Draco asks.

"Oh, no. You won't be finding anything like this in an apothecary." Parvati pulls out a vial and holds it up to the light. A jagged green reflection falls across her cheek as she examines it. "Spell-Bombs, my own invention." She squints at the bottle. "I might need to run back to the supply cupboard and get more, though. This one looks expired."

Potter peers more closely at the bottle, pushing his glasses up his nose. "What were you planning to use it for?"

"It's easier to examine aquatic animals outside of water, but obviously that's hard for them to tolerate. This one" — she taps the vial — "is to keep them breathing, and this one" — she points to the bottle closest to her shoulder — "keeps them from drying out."

Draco's fascinated despite himself. "This is olfactory magic, isn't it? I've done a little reading on the subject."

Parvati looks surprised. "Yeah. Hardly anyone's heard of it." She turns to the squids. "So, what are you working on? An art project? These look like Krakenfry." She turns to peer at the tank. "Hello, little ones. You're gorgeous, aren't you?

"Er — not exactly art," Potter replies. "Those are Pygmy Kraken, actually, and there's nothing wrong with them. We just needed to get in to speak with you."

"Oooh." Parvati crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the table. "Any project that involves the two of you infiltrating my vet clinic? Well—" She laughs. "Colour me intrigued."

Parvati waits, and Draco and Potter exchange a glance. It's clear Potter's saying, I did my bit, time for you to do yours.

"How would you feel about joining the team that's going to uncover a new magical species?"

Parvati frowns. "Entirely new?"

"Wizards have thought they were fictional for 200 years now."

Parvati quirks her head. "I'm listening..."