The definiteness of Malfoy’s reply sent a thrill down the nape of Harry’s neck, feeling an inexplicable sense of resolution in just a few, harsh words. He had spent the last day talking about possible suspects, or vague motives, or a million different fluid, pointless concepts, all guaranteed to lead nowhere. Even before that, the only thing Malfoy had said decisively was<span style="font-style: italic">goodbye</span>. This finally felt like progress.<br/>The question, in contrast, was eerily familiar, making something in Harry’s shoulders tense. Though Malfoy had stayed put on the doorstep, Harry saw him retreat into the foyer, an overlaid image of Monday night. Harry felt uncomfortably close to another dead end, so he paused to think.<br/>"’cause you wouldn't have discharged me," Harry eventually agreed, voice perfectly plain for what otherwise could have been a genuine compliment to Malfoy’s capabilities.<br/>His eyes remained attentively on Malfoy, regardless, looking for any sign of gratification in the furrows of Malfoy’s irritation.<br/>"I don’t think anybody’s out to get me by inconveniencing my commute, either. I think this has to do with the dismantling in Towthorpe."<br/>A million things were going through Harry’s mind as he watched Malfoy, a month worth of fragmented suspicions and patterns that never seemed to match up seamlessly, or hadn’t been able to piece together correctly. When Harry had admitted to the confidential knowledge that Malfoy had passed his Healer’s exams, it hadn’t been to exude power or to intimidate; Harry thought Malfoy would know more than any Healer Harry had yet spoken to about it.<br/>Finally, Harry smiled, a competitive pleasure painted clearly across his features though his lip had barely curved. Harry didn’t know why he thought Malfoy could help, but he knew exactly why Malfoy had even opened the door. "I think you know I’m right."