_____<br/><br/>Harry had already retreated to his room for the night when Coote knocked on the door to inform him that a package had been delivered to him through the Floor. Though still not in bed asleep, Harry had found the news so disorienting he might as well have been awoken with them from a slumber. By dinnertime, Harry had abandoned any hope of hearing from Aziz before Sunday at the earliest.<br/>In the dead of night, Harry had snuck out of his room, suddenly wide awake and engaged.<br/>When he arrived at the kitchen, Coote’s description barely seemed accurate. For a split second, Harry thought a coffin laid in the middle of the kitchen, only to come to realize it was a massive wooden travel chest. Familiar with the effectiveness of the Ministry’s compression charms, Harry’s face paled at the sheer amount of paperwork he had requested. A note attached stated that this was the cases Harry had worked on during the last five years; fewer and further between but decidedly more documented, the process drawn out the further away they came from the war.<br/>Wandless and under strict instructions not to use any magic, Harry awkwardly undid the latches in the kitchen; like the material from St. Mungo’s, the chest resembled an endless archival cupboard, the files running in two parallel lines lengthwise. Not wanting to trouble Coote for his help to move the chest, Harry picked out a few folders detailing a 2009 case, and headed for the study.<br/><br/>Packed away in the Manor, Harry had opened the file in hand, skimming through the initial situation report. He remembered the case enough to pick it as one that was of immediate interest; the pollutions of a woodland creek that had eventually been traced back to an unstable, discarded object burrowed in the riverbed.<br/>Caught up by the subject matter at hand, Harry opened the door to the study with his elbow. As the door gave way, Harry was immediately startled by the lights being on, eyes darting up from the paper.<br/>Surprised, but maybe not surprisingly, Harry found Malfoy sitting at his desk, working.<br/>"Shit, I’m sorry –" Harry started, disoriented; for the first time yet, he felt like he was intruding. "I didn’t think you’d be up still."