A silver snitch.
Harry stops. In the distance, he can still hear the children laughing. Closer to him is the soft sound of the waves breaking over the rocks.
It's a five-hour drive back to London, but he barely remembers the journey at all.
* * *
He liked that silver snitch clasp. It was a gift from his father.
Yes, of course Draco had told Narcissa that. The coded meaning now becomes clear as pristine glass.
Do you know why he liked that clasp? He likes circles.
Of course. In the beginning is the end. A time-turner.
As soon as Harry enters his office, he goes straight for the file in his desk and opens it up. The photograph of Draco that Narcissa gave Harry so many months ago. Draco stares at Harry, his mouth small and serious, his eyes unblinking. The silver snitch clasp is neatly pinned to his robes.
All this time, and it was right here. Right in front of him.
But where would Draco have left it? The manor, of course, but they'd searched it so thoroughly, all the places they thought Draco was particularly fond of or liked to use as a storage place —
In the beginning is the end.
Harry's heart beats like a galloping Thestral. He slowly leaves his office and makes his way to the ministry atrium, lining up at the nearest fireplace. When it's his turn, he steps into the green flames.
"Diagon Alley."
* * *
Owls hoot softly; there's the smell of living creatures in the air. The rustle of feathers, the creak of sun-warmed wood. The smell of sawdust as the field mice nest in their cages. The shop is dark and enclosed, with overhead roosts dotted with owls and the walls lined with teetering boxes of pet supplies.
The shopkeeper, when he sees Harry, looks at first astonished and then delighted.
"Harry Potter," he says. "What an absolute honour!"
Harry had forgotten to disguise himself, in his rush, but he couldn't particularly care now.
Where?
"Sorry, I have to find something," Harry says, and the shopkeeper blinks at him.
Draco came back here. It may have been ten, twenty, fifty years ago, but Draco came back here and hid the clasp. Somewhere safe, but easy to access.
"Accio time-turner," Harry tries, but nothing happens. The shopkeeper's eyes grow even wider.
"There's a time-turner in my shop?"
Harry turns around, scanning the shop. Draco, help me, give me something, a memory, it's all I need —
The bell chimes softly and Harry turns, half-expecting to see Draco walk into the shop and speak: I am in need of an owl. Speed is less important than accuracy.
"Speed is less important than accuracy," Harry repeats, murmuring it to himself, trying to trigger something. Anything.
"I thought you were looking for a time-turner?" The shopkeeper, at this point, is completely bewildered. "Well...our eagle owls have quite a sense of direction...they know exactly where to go, although they don't always return home. Rather difficult to tame." He laughs nervously. Harry doesn't smile, too wrapped up in his thoughts.
Going away is easy. Coming home is hard.
"Where're the eagle owls?" Harry demands.
"Oh, we always keep them in the back corner. They can get a bit territorial, so it's best to keep them away from other birds."
