About the Author: This is a story that I started three years ago, but never got around to finishing. Like I said before, I am an avid fan of hockey, Particularly the Toronto Maple Leafs. I did some work on this story during the NHL lockout, but none significant enough to mount any changes. Hopefully I've done a little better this time round, and hopefully I have the time to focus on working/finishing the stroy. Please enjoy, and feel free to make any suggestions, provided they remain on the side of constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I understand the Copyright laws pertaining to the characters and other related paraphernalia of the Harry Potter series, and by all means have no desire to compromise the integrity of the writing of J.K. Rowling. This disclaimer applies to this chapter as well as all the chapters henceforth that this story may be composed.

The Playoff Series

Chapter 1: The Deal

Seven years after he defeated Voldemort, Harry Potter still faces problems with Death Eaters still at large. Lucius Malfoy, along with twenty-three others had managed to escape from Azkaban, and Harry, now Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has spent the last two years with his team of Aurors attempting to track them down. Some days have been successful, but most have not, and he's getting impatient with these Death Eaters continuing to wreak havoc all over Britain, and elsewhere in the world.

He was sitting at his desk when he had come to a conclusion. For eleven years, Harry had fought tirelessly against these mindless, gutless individuals who refused to back down even after Voldemort's defeat. He realized that he was fighting a losing battle, and that the only way to have them cease their continuing attacks on the magical community was to bargain with them.

"It is the only way." he had said to his wife of six months, Ginevra Weasley, that night. Of course, Ginny wasn't too happy about it, but she understood that her husband was willing to do what it took to see that these criminals stay away from the people of the British magical community and their families. "I'm going to need your help." He said to her. Without hesitation, she nodded.

After some thought and organization, he approached Malfoy Manor on a cloudy Tuesday night, and surrendered himself to the Death Eaters at the door. After stripping him of his wand, and searching him, they placed Harry's arms behind his back, cast a binding spell, and brought him before their leader, Lucius Malfoy.

"Look who decided to drop in," he scowled. There was a slight snicker around the room.

"Malfoy," Harry sputtered. "I've come to make a deal. Hear me out."

"What if I say no?" Malfoy sneered.

"Listen," Harry urged, "After eleven years of trying to capture you and your men, I have come to realize that it's not possible. I just don't have the patience anymore. I'm prepared to make you an offer."

"So…" breathed Malfoy, his lip curling into a significant grin, "The great Harry Potter, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the renowned hero of the British magical community, has come down to begging me to listen to his petty offer." Some of the Death Eaters around Harry began howling with laughter. He noticed the laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange to his right, and his eye twitched painfully. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

"Question, Mr Malfoy," Harry implored, "Have you ever heard of the sport called 'Ice Hockey'?"

"Should I have?" Malfoy retorted, "I will tell you this, Potter. I will not play some petty Muggle sport to give you what you want."

"Oh, but you'll like this sport, judging by the way you like to 'play dirty'," Harry said. "If you wish, I'm sure Mr Corson over here can explain everything about it that you'll need to know." He pointed to a man on his right

Malfoy looked over at Corson. "What do you know of this sport?" he spat.

"It is one that is played on ice, Sir." Corson said. "I have a cousin who plays in the top league in the world. Hard-hitting, gut-wrenching, very stimulative, my Lord. But, like you said, it is a petty Muggle sport, and not worth your attention."

"It's more than that," Harry interjected, "It is a sport that demands a great deal of physical stamina and balance. Five players aside battle for a small rubber disc called a puck, and attempt to place it in the other team's net. They can use only their sticks, and—"

"Enough!" Malfoy snapped. "What are the terms of this deal?"

At this, Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward, and said, "You're not actually considering this are you, Lucius?"

Malfoy drew his wand, and pointed it at her. "Crucio!"

Her screams filled the room for the next ten seconds before Malfoy lifted his wand. "Get up, Lestrange." He said sternly, "I advise you not to speak out of turn again, am I clear?" Bellatrix nodded, and rejoined the ranks. Malfoy turned back to Harry. "What are the terms of the deal?"

"Seven games. Simple." Harry said. "First team to win four of those games wins the series. Should you accept, the series will take place approximately six months from now in various pro-sports arenas. We shouldn't have trouble with Muggles because the Hockey League is currently in a labour dispute.

"The terms are thus," Harry stated. "If my team wins the series, you, Lucius Malfoy, will turn yourself in to the Ministry of Magic, and you will stand trial for murder, sabotage, and use of the Unforgivable Curses. You will surrender the location of the rest of the Death Eaters, and leave them for my Department to be dealt with. You and the rest will be promised leniency pending your acceptance of this deal."

"And what if we win?" Malfoy sneered maliciously.

Harry hesitated. This is the part of the deal he didn't like. He went on. "Your criminal records will be wiped, you and your families will be escorted safely out of Britain, and the Ministry will lay off for the rest of your freakin' lives."

"That's not enough." Malfoy voiced suddenly.

"What more do you want?" Harry asked.

Malfoy looked at him earnestly and briefly stated, "You."

Harry stood, perplexed. "What do you mean?" he said slowly.

"I want you," Malfoy reiterated, "I want you to answer to us for the demise of the Dark Lord. Include this in your terms, and I will accept."

Harry looked away. This had not been part of his plan. But he wasn't about to pass up on a chance to end eleven years of conflict. Though he had much to look forward to in his life, he thought of his friends, Ginny, and how at peace the magical community would be should the conflict end. He raised his head high, and looked Malfoy straight in the eyes.

"Deal," he said. Malfoy ordered the release of his hands, and they shook upon it.

"You have six months, Malfoy." Harry said, releasing Malfoy's hand. "By then, we will both have our twenty-four player rosters, and be ready to play some hockey. I'll owl you the venues once I get the rest of this organized."

"Very well," said Malfoy. "May the best man win. Let him pass."

And Harry left Malfoy Manor, feeling quite a bit more uneasy than when he entered.