Harry's first thought is not of course that he'd acquired a strange shadow. The markets were busy and he thought, more than anything else, that he'd glimpsed a pickpocket as he'd turned from the latest stall, pocketing the crisp white handkerchief he'd just purchased as he did so. They could be used for a lot of things, but this one he planned to use to capture the first light of dawn.

Pickpockets needed to be caught, of course, and so he went into detective mode, moving through the crowd as much as he could in the direction of the motion, but stopping every now and then to go back to shopping in the hopes that if something was tailing him, it would stop to watch again. It was on on the third try that he caught sight of a trench coat billowing around a pillar before it was gone, moving in the direction of a side street. He Listened, moving his mind away from the bustle of the market streets to the side street his query seemed to have ghosted down, checking to see if the fleeting figure made for the roofs. When he was satisfied they hadn't, he raised a hand focusing on the far end of the side street, envisioned his intent, and uttered the words "Ventas pari." His will solidified the air into a soft wall, something soft for the fleeing to run into, and he stepped into the side street to make sure there was no escape his way, either.