Christopher Jonson lives at the safehouse in Wigan.

He says it to himself again. Jonson without an H.

Montrose Magpies. Seeker.

He looks at the clock. She said she'd be there any...

With a crack, Angelina Apparates into the untidy den, raising her eyebrows to mask the reflective wince of her nose. "Nice place."

"Thanks."

"I thought with all the money you'd be making as a hotshot starter you could buy something a little less...rancid. Or hire someone to keep it clean."

Not one to beat around the bush, Angelina. "You and I both know I'd be glad to sit on the bench if it meant Bruce could show his face in public."

"Then do it!" she exclaims. "Put your Galleons where your mouth is!"

"If," he repeats, "it meant Bruce could show his face in public. Is your gang of strikers accomplishing that?"

She seems like she wants to say something that she doesn't. "Just look at the company you're keeping. This won't look good when the war is over."

"What do I care about looking good? I want to give the fans something now! When there's next to nothing else to enjoy at least they have this!"

"What fans, Oliver? Only the ones they let through the gates, if you're not who they like they'll stop you at the door. Or worse."

"It's better than nothing. Which is, coincidentally, exactly what you're pulling off."

"Fine. Fine. Be a selfish git, don't care about anything but your own career. Put that ahead of everything. But don't you dare claim that you're doing it for anybody's sake but your own."

"Sometimes the right thing to do isn't for the sake of anyone in particular."

"Yes. Like, right now."

They meet each other's eyes, unrelenting, until Angelina says "I'm morbidly curious to see if your bathroom can possibly be in any worse shape than the rest of this place. Plus, I have to..."

"Apparate back and use your own?" he suggests. "I can be hospitable, look. First door on your left."

She returns in a few minutes, unimpressed. "You really need to clean that out every once in a while."

"It must be nice to have so much free time."

She appraises him for a long moment. "Look. You're not helping. No matter how you want to justify it, you're a collaborator."

"I'm bringing people happiness."

"Not the ones who matter," she says, and vanishes.

Christopher Jonson is hidden in the safehouse in Wigan. With Phoebe McLean, Chaser, Appleby. Tessa Iglehart, Beater, Wimbourne.

Bruce Cameron, Keeper, Puddlemere.

Oliver was the perfect choice, really. Everybody knows he only cares about Quidditch.