A/N: It's raining. And I'm listening to a song about rain. That can't be a coincidence. I'm going out to play after I post this.

It Ends With Quidditch

I'm not always aware of what is going on. I should clarify. I'm not always aware of the why of things while they are happening. That explains it but still doesn't clarify.

John and I were punished by Father on one occasion. We did not learn the reason for three years. Hermione agreed that we should have been punished but there was no reason for Father to yell at her.

Hermione and Parvati were happy when Susan agreed to join their study group. Her first question was why the study group didn't require books.

"It's more of a practice group," Parvati explained. "John pointed out that the more we use magic, the better we are."

"Really?" Susan asked with amusement.

Hermione laughed. "Parvati asked the same question at our first meeting. Here's how John explained it. You do understand that it's possible to physically lift your own weight?"

"Yes." Susan was uncertain where the conversation was heading.

"Since you understand, can you do it?"

"No. I supposed if I started by . . ." Susan's eyes went wide. "Our magic becomes stronger."

Parvati was smiling at her. "A weak shield by a strong wizard can be better than a strong shield by a weak wizard. And one good advantage over lifting weights. You don't lose the ability if you stop practicing for a while."

"Do the spells matter?" Susan's confusion was gone.

"Well, yes and no. Working any magic strengthens your magic. The harder the magic the better the workout."

That Saturday, they introduced her to Hagrid. The following weekend, they introduced her to Fluffy.

Marcus Boot was busy for most of the winter. He didn't know if he should blame Lucius Malfoy or praise him. Most of his ideas were obvious. After they were mentioned. Varying the musical tones was one he was already working on. A second had to do with shapes. The third was brilliant. Instead of refiling the portable floo with powder, a simple charm would cause the old floo powder holder to disappear. A new one would be slipped into place.

Marcus asked how Lucius had thought of it. The man admitted it was because of muggles. The Grangers, having heard that the Malfoys loved tea, gave them as a Christmas present an assortment of muggles tea brands. In tea bags.

The test subjects were helpful as well. All of the parents agreed it was useful for keeping in touch with their children. As for the students, Terry informed him that on more than one occasion he was able to be a part of a study group with the Gryffindors. The hard part was having to hold onto the floo. Marcus promised to work on that particular problem.

He was now shipping them the newest flooes. Once the charmed circle was pressed, the floo would remain open until the circle was pressed again. For safety, the floo would shut off if left untouched for a specific length of time. Marcus wondered how many other problems he would find, and if all of them would be minor.

He looked up as his second son called from the front of the shop. There was a special customer. He walked out to see a familiar face.

"Mrs. Malfoy, a pleasure and a surprise."

"I was in the area, shopping, and found some marvelous things for the baby." She paused with a smile. "Do you mind my buying things for my goddaughter?"

Marcus had to laugh as the woman began to pull items out of a bag. Some of them went back in. Blue baby clothes. He looked up in surprise. Narcissa nodded.

"May I say congratulations?"

"For buying baby things?" his son asked.

"For needing to."

"Don't tell Terry," Narcissa warned. "We haven't told the boys, yet."

Marcus gave his promise, then led Narcissa to the stairs to their flat above the store. As she went up, Marcus had to marvel at the woman. In the past, she had always been cold and formal. Now, a month since the party, she was the favorite aunt. He thought he now knew the reason.

Peggy Boot picked up Narcissa from the crib and placed her in her godmother's arms. This time, the baby smiled. (The last time, she changed the baby while Narcissa Malfoy washed her hands.) She felt an instant attachment when the woman revealed she was pregnant and needed to tell someone who would understand. By the end of the party, she had decided on a new name for her baby. And Narcissa had agreed to be the godmother. She also agreed to ask (tell) Lucius to be the godfather.

As Narcissa gently lay the baby back in her crib, Peggy had a fleeting memory. Six months ago. They had seen the Malfoys in Diagon Alley. She had frowned at the thought that her son would be going to school with their boy. Only last night, the boy laughed as he told her over the floo how Draco and he spent the day playing with the Groundskeeper's dog. She had nothing to be afraid of.

Gregory Goyle looked to his right as Vincent bumped his shoulder. A nod of his head showed their quarry. If he was the right one.

"Draco?"

"Oh, Hi Vince, Greg." Malfoy was nervous. Which was good. It meant that business would be easier to take care of. Vince was always good at speeding things along.

"What's up?" Vince said casually while frowning. It made Malfoy slightly more nervous. "With your Dad?"

"What do you mean?" Now he was nervous AND confused. Vince was a genius at prying information out of people.

"Nott says your dad invited muggles to a party."

"Hermione's parents? Yeah. It was the only way Hermione could come."

A plausible answer, Greg thought. He was about to add an appropriate comment about her being a mudblood then remembered it was John's party. He'd save the comment for later. This was Vince's show, anyway.

"And he visited Sirius Black?"

"Harry's godfather?" Malfoy was less nervous but still confused. "I guess he would."

"And there's that business with the Boot family," Vince added.

"And that's business." Malfoy may be confused by the questions but he was now becoming angry. It was now Greg's turn.

"Draco, we're hearing things." Greg was proud of the slight nervous sound of his voice. Malfoy was still wary but no longer angry. "Nott said his dad heard . . ."

"What?"

"They're starting to say your dad may be a blood traitor."

Greg knew that Vince was watching Malfoy with the same careful eye that he was. How Malfoy reacted would tell them the truth of what was going on. Assuming the son knew. Inwardly, he smiled. Malfoy was looking at them with his back straight. Deliberately straight.

"Father is engaging in business. If it profits him to talk to people he would not otherwise associate with, he will do so with a smile on his face."

"Just wanted you to know," Vince said, giving Malfoy a friendly tap on the shoulder.

Once they had walked far enough away, Vince turned to Greg and asked his thoughts. Greg said he agreed. Malfoy's father was playing a different game. They should wait and see how things developed. There might be something in it for them. Something profitable. Becoming an Auror involved too much studying. And they were still first years.

Harry was tired. For the past month, he had three nights of Quidditch practice, one night of astronomy and one night of study group where he mostly practiced his spells. Saturday would be the proof of how much all that time was worth.

First, he needed to have tea with the Potions Professor.

Severus Snape was smiling. That meant that one end of his mouth was curled up ever so slightly. He motioned Harry to a seat by a small table and sat a cup of tea in front of him. Harry waited patiently while the Professor set out the mandatory plate of biscuits (of which Harry would be permitted one). When the Professor sat down with his own cup, Harry was prepared to discuss the Quidditch match. Professor Snape would be in charge.

"It has come to my attention, Harry, that you have not attended your Defense classes at all since your return to school."

"Uh," Harry said, knowing it was a poor start. "He gives me headaches." He paused as the Professor arched his eyebrows but said nothing. "I mean, real headaches. I first feel it in my scar and then it spreads." Another pause. "Ron says it could be the garlic."

"I'll ask Madam Pomfrey to check you for allergies. What have you been doing with your free time?"

Harry was worried. Professor Snape hadn't raised his voice. Everything he said was in a conversational tone. The man could have been asking him if he liked the currants in his biscuit rather than why he was missing class.

"Practicing my spells, Sir."

"Which ones?" A genuine curiosity.

"All of them. Um, all the first year spells, the ones that are in the books." At the urging to continue, Harry related how Draco had the idea of going through each book, one by one, and seeing which spells he couldn't do. The Charms book, the Defense book and Transfiguration. Hermione was the one who suggested he should do it by chapter, alternating books. Harry took it upon himself to write out a list during one of his detentions. All the spells from each class. He'd successfully done every spell at least once. The problem was getting through the entire list.

"Is that the list of spells you asked Professor Flitwick to cast a Confundus on?"

"Yes, Sir. That was John's idea. Best not to get used to casting spells in a particular order. Susan said that Defense isn't like reciting the alphabet." Harry paused. "Do I have to go back to Defense class, Sir? Even when I can pay attention, Professor Quirrell's stutter . . ."

"Defense isn't only spells, Harry. It's also knowledge. I'll give you a list of books to read. Whenever chance provides, we'll spend time to discuss them."

A grateful smile. "Thank you, Sir."

"Thank me after you see the reading list. And before anything else, go to Madam Pomfrey. Explain about the scar and the headaches. You are not to play Quidditch this weekend unless she gives you a clean bill of health."

Harry's face dropped. "But . . ."

"Harry, if the headaches were simply a reaction to the garlic, you will be free from her clutches within the hour. If it is something else, wouldn't you want to know?" Severus Snape gave his deliberately unfriendly smile. "You are now scared enough to do exactly as I told you. Go."

Harry almost ran all of the way to the infirmary. Once there, his mouth dried out and he couldn't utter a word. Madam Pomfrey smiled, conjured a glass of water for him and said she had received Professor Snape's request.

"You must have run all the way, Mister Potter. That's a good sign that there's nothing wrong with you. Sit on that bed. And if I do find anything wrong, you'll be staying in that bed until I find out what it is."

Forty-five minutes later, Harry walked down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower. He still had plenty of time to get ready for dinner. As luck would have it, he passed Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker. The fourth year was coming out of McGonagall's office.

"Potter? Ready for the match?"

"As ever," Harry admitted. He paused. "Professor Snape is referee."

"Can't be worse than Madam Hooch. She catches everything." Cedric paused and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know. He was a friend of your mother. You're the teacher's pet in Potions class. And he is an expert at Defense. If we lose, we'll protest any bad calls, but after the last match you played, the only person I'd rather have referee is Dumbledore, himself." He removed his hand and held it for Harry to take. "Here's to a good chase." They shook.

"To a good chase."

As Harry turned to leave, he suddenly stopped and turned back to look. For one moment, Cedric's manner reminded him of someone else. Charlie Weasley. This wasn't going to be an easy match unless luck ruled the game. It was going to be fun.

"Be careful," John said as Draco picked up something from his brother's night table.

"Sorry, just curious." Draco eyed the round ball the size of a grape. "Let me guess. Pressing this small button does something nasty." He looked hopefully at his brother.

John returned the smile. "I was thinking about that tunnel we found. The one that was caved in. I built a bomb with magic so we could blow up the blockage."

"And if I press this button, it explodes?"

"No, that only arms it. And you have to deliberately press it. Then you have to say the magic word." John was smiling. "Allons-y. It's a word I used to use all the time when I was younger."

"Last week?"

"Croak?" asked Trevor.

John gave them both an annoyed look. Then a quirky expression came over his face. "Five years ago, almost six. In your years."

"My years?"

John snorted. "Five years ago, I was a second year student. I can't say I said it when I was twelve. That wouldn't make sense now that I'm eleven. Not that I was really twelve." He waved his hand to dismiss the matter. "What's important is that I've made a mistake with this. You see, I was holding it when I cast the spell to set the detonator, the word I told you."

"No," Draco said in surprise, almost laughing. "You didn't?"

"I did. The person who presses the button and says the word, has to be holding the bomb." John smiled. "At least, that's what I think. For obvious reasons I haven't tested it."

"I'll talk to Theodore Nott about testing it. He's the source of the rumours about Father being a blood traitor." He put down the grape bomb. "And hurry up. Everyone else has gone to dinner.

"It's this stupid tie. It won't tie properly."

"It's a self tying tie. I've seen it work properly three times already."

"Yes," John complained, "but it's a Windsor Knot. I want a Shelby Knot."

Draco sighed as he turned to leave. "We'll be seeing you for breakfast, then."

"Croak," came the suggestion, once the door closed.

"Wonderful idea. Thanks, Trev."

John cancelled the spell on the tie and tied it by hand.

Lucius Malfoy apparated into the entry area of the Ministry of Magic. He was here on legitimate business. The filing of papers on behalf of his newest business enterprise. This usually began with a three hour wait behind everyone else who had come on any sort of business. What followed was a series of reviews that the paperwork had been done correctly, that all fees had been payed, that the government employee had their lunch without interruption. The process took a week to ten days. Unless you were Lucius Malfoy.

The process took less than an hour, including the cup of tea. Today could take longer. The man he was seeing had a nephew in Hufflepuff and there was that Quidditch match tomorrow. They would have to have a conversation about that.

One hour, twelve minutes later, Lucius stepped out of the office. All of his business was complete.

A man in the hallway looked at him when he stepped out, then deliberately looked down, shuffling through some papers in his hand.

Lucius frowned and walked toward the elevator. The man followed. Lucius turned around. The man looked at his papers. Lucius took several steps backward, toward the elevator, watching the man shuffle the papers. The man looked up, looked down, looked up, muttered something that was probably indecent, stuffed the papers in a pocket and walked toward Lucius, past him and to the elevator. He pressed the down button.

Lucius started to demand an explanation. Started. He had barely opened his mouth when the man frantically raised his index finger on his right hand and put it to his lips. The international Keep Quiet sign. He then pointed up repeatedly to show he was either having a spasm in his arm or someone was listening.

Lucius also noticed that the man had pressed the down button. Anyone leaving would want to go up.

The door opened. Two people were on the elevator. The man, looking completely normal, stepped in. Lucius, warily, joined him. The elevator doors closed.

On the fourth floor, the elevator stopped. A man, not the mystery man, walked off, hastily. A man waiting in the corridor hesitated, then pointed. He was going up. On the sixth floor, the lady exited. The doors closed. Lucius knew where they would stop next. The ninth floor. The Department of Mysteries.

The elevator stopped. Lucius followed the man down a narrow corridor and through a black door. Into a blue lit circular room. The wall held a dozen doors which spun around once the door they entered had closed. The man led the way through the first door on the right, past an empty reception desk, into a private office.

Closing the door behind Lucius, the man continued to motion for silence. He grabbed a smooth shaped club with a handle built in. He waved it up and down in front of Lucius until the club emitted a red light from its tip. A blinking light. It blinked faster as it neared the left shoulder. The man waved his wand with his other hand and floated a small pin from Lucius' cloak into a metal box. He closed the lid.

"You were tagged, Mister Malfoy."

"Tagged?"

"Full monitoring and coverage. High security. The spells have been cancelled per our sanction."

"Sanction?"

"My apologies, Mister Malfoy. It seems I have the advantage. Hambledon Quince, at your service. I'll show you to your office, then?" He put the metal box with the pin in it inside a pocket of his robes. Patting the pocket, he said, "I'll see that it's returned."

"Oh . . . Yes." This was too confusing. "I have an office?"

"I assume it's yours. If I'm wrong, consider it my mistake. I'm known for them." Quince smiled to show he was serious. "It's what I'm paid to do."

As Lucius was led back to the circular room, he had to ask, "My office. How big is it?" Inside he was thinking, what is it? What was all of this? Why was he in the Department of Mysteries to begin with?

"Never been in, Sir?"

"What?"

"Your office. Never been in. Never invited. Not that there's been anyone there for some time."

"There's no one in there?" Lucius asked, looking at the door now in front of him.

"Not since Canary Wharf, Mister Malfoy."

"Torchwood," Lucius said as he understood. It was bizarre but it fit all the facts.

"You have to touch the door when you recite the password," Quince informed him.

"You know the password?"

"All of us do," the man said with a laugh. "It's almost a running joke in the Department. You can't enter the locked room without the password. And you can't enter it with the password, either." The man smiled as he encouraged Lucius to try.

He put his hand on the door. He said "Torchwood". The door did not move.

"Merlin's Bated Breath," Quince said with laughter. "It doesn't open on its own. You have to push."

"It's my first time," Lucius said with annoyance. Mostly because he did try pushing the door. It didn't take much pressure to know that the door was still locked.

Lucius took a deep breath. He had to think. Facts. Torchwood. Canary Wharf. Jack Harkness asking him which group he belonged to. Conclusion: This was the entrance to Torchwood IV. Lucius sighed. He was here because he dared to whisper that word to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Worst of all, he was taking too much time. He could hear Quince drawing his wand. He tried to move but found himself frozen in place. He could move his head, and perhaps wiggle his fingers. That was all.

"Is there a problem, Mister Malfoy? You are taking longer than expected. If I've made a mistake, you only need to tell me."

"Memories, Mister Quince. I never expected to be here. And now that I am, I am overwhelmed by the path that brought me to this moment."

Brilliant, Lucius thought to himself. The man will tell everyone how eloquent I was before he oblivated me. It would be worse, All I can do is wiggle my thumb, if I could be bothered. Lucius paused in his thoughts. Could it be that simple? If he moved his thumb, just slightly, only four fingers would be touching the door, yet it would still look like his whole hand was on the door. Four fingers touching to enter. He raised his thumb just enough that it was no longer in contact with the door.

"Torchwood."

The release from the holding spell was immediate. Without hesitation, he pushed the door open and stepped forward. The door closed behind him. The room was dark, but there was blue light from behind him. He turned around. It was like looking through a glass door. Quince was standing there, putting his wand away. The man turned around and walked though a door at random. Perhaps to spread the news.

Lucius turned around, pulled out his wand and said "Lumos". The lights came on in the room. The chamber. Whatever the word was for an area that was larger than expected. Business suite was still too small a word. Warehouse would be too large. His first thought was 'this could be profitable'.

One deep breath. A second breath. Lucius tried to decide what he should do. After a minute, he shrugged his shoulders. He was here. He might as well look around.

Narcissa Malfoy smiled as her husband apparated home. Her smile faded as she noticed his frown. Her first question was if there was a problem at the Ministry. Her second question was what had happened.

"Do you remember how we promised never to keep secrets from each other?"

Narcissa frowned. "What secret have you been keeping?"

"None."

"Something happened?"

"Remember my friend from Cardiff? I told you the question he asked."

She nodded her head, slowly. For some reason, she shuddered when he told her he found it. She asked him what it was like. Lucius frowned.

"Big. The easiest part to describe is the one wall that holds offices, all glass fronts, on three different levels. Perhaps a dozen in all. There may have been more below me. Everything else," Lucius raised his hands in frustration, "storage rooms with who knows what, Work shops with alien machines, and that floating light in the rotunda."

Narcissa had to laugh. "Floating light? Whatever for?"

"I have no idea." Lucius shared her laugh. "Do you see, Love? I've fallen into the greatest good fortune and I have no idea what I'm dealing with."

"You'll figure it out," Narcissa said with encouragement.

"Not without help," Lucius warned. "Help that I can trust."

Lucius started retelling his day from the beginning, When he entered the Ministry. He finished his tale with how he returned to the manor. There was a platform divided in half by a line on the wall. Attached to the wall was a handwritten note, yellowed with age.

Apparate to HERE

Apparate from HERE

It's not Space Ship Magic, People.

Kingsley Shacklebolt entered Scrimgeour's office without knocking. The message he received made that unnecessary. He paused as he entered to acknowledge Auror Tonks. He then turned to his superior.

"Sir?"

"The investigation of the muggle boy. End it. Now. As for Lucius Malfoy, he is no longer a subject for discussion."

Kingsley stepped backward in surprise. That was when he noticed the third person in the room. If he remembered correctly, the man's name was Bode. He worked in the Department of Mysteries. With a frown, he turned back to Scrimgeour.

"May I ask why the sudden change in orders? Does it have to do with . . ." Kingsley's words were cut off. Only two hours before, he had reported the failed tap. He was now looking at a small box. In it was the monitoring pin.

"You can ask him," Scrimgeour said in a sour tone. "Maybe he'll tell you more than he told me."

Bode smiled. "The Locked Door has been opened. Lucius Malfoy is no longer your concern."

"And what the Bloody . . . what does that mean?"

"Is he?" Bode asked. "And her, I suppose?"

"They both are. On my authority," Scrimgeour answered.

Bode nodded. "Mister Malfoy, I am told, whispered a word to you. That word defines him."

"Could you be any clearer?"

"It'd help me, too," Tonks added.

Bode laughed. "I apologize. I love being cryptic. And it is expected from me. The situation is simple. We have an agreement of circumstance with Lucius Malfoy in his current position. By WE, I mean the Ministry. No action may be taken against him."

"Why?" Kingsley asked.

"Good luck with the answer," Scrimgeour muttered.

Bode smiled. "Lucius Malfoy told you why. That is all you need to know."

"Don't bother asking," Scrimgeour told Kingsley. "That's all you'll get out of him."

Bode smiled once more and said goodbye. He walked out with the three staring at him.

Scrimgeour had Kingsley close the door behind the man. He then told the two Aurors to shut up and listen. Nothing was to be repeated. Ever.

"You asked about Torchwood, Kingsley. I told you it didn't exist. If anyone asks, you give them the same answer."

"The muggle papers," Tonks dared to say, "They said Lucius Malfoy was part of a top secret group in the government."

"It seems they were right. Except it's our government, not theirs."

Tonks nodded. Scrimgeour smiled. One of those smiles that said you weren't going to enjoy it but he was.

"Auror Tonks, do you know why you are being told any of this? After all, you're still in training status."

"I thought because I was Auror Shacklebolt's partner."

"Partly. It's because of your relationship to your Uncle Lucius." The smile faded. "Sit down, the two of you. We have plenty of paperwork that needs to disappear. And I want you to understand why."

Harry Potter was ready. When the word was given, he and his fellow teammates walked onto the pitch and mounted their brooms. As Lee Jordan, the announcer, called out the players' names, the team flew around the stands and into their positions. His friends shouted out his name as he flew past the Gryffindor stands. A bright moment was when he flew past where the teachers sat. He looked a fool as he pulled up on his broom and returned Narcissa Malfoy's wave.

"They came to see me play," Harry said to himself. He smiled that they thought so much of him. The thought, 'while others didn't', lingered in the back of his mind. His mind returned to Quidditch when Professor Snape's voice was heard as he tossed the Quaffle to begin the match.

Cedric Diggory was on the opposite side of the pitch. It wasn't planned but they both circled slowly in their search and maintained their positions.

Cedric dived. Harry took half a second and forced his broom downward, to where Cedric would be in five seconds. He watched for the snitch, or Cedric to turn. Cedric pulled up and gave a quick look around, glanced at Harry, gave a shrug and flew back up. Harry decided he was faking. On the other hand, it felt good to fly. He also returned to a position of height, but did it by flying a lap around the edge of the pitch as he rose, keeping his eyes focused for any glint of gold.

Nothing. Harry circled without thinking.

Nothing. For twenty minutes.

"Careful, Harry," Diggory said from in front of him. Harry had come close to him without noticing.

"Sorry, Cedric."

Cedric chuckled. "I know. Too many people watching you. You don't want to look bad in front of them. I remember my first match when my parents . . . ," he paused as though he saw something, ". . . when my parents came to watch the match."

"Did you lose?"

An actual laugh. "Worse. I caught the snitch and immediately flew to my father to give it to him. I would have been less embarrassed if I lost."

Harry shared in the laugh, which ended abruptly. He had seen a flash of gold. From the fact that he was no longer laughing, Cedric had seen it as well. They both dived. Harry knew Cedric wasn't following him because he was almost even, flying in the same direction. Eyes front, Harry watched for the snitch, knowing it should be there.

He caught it with his eye. It turned away and upward. A right angle. Harry guessed where it would be in five second and made for that point. Cedric, apparently, had a different plan. He flew at the snitch.

Harry watched the snitch. At the count of five, it stopped. Harry raced, trying to beat out Cedric. They were both close but he had the edge over the Hufflepuff. Inwardly he was also counting the seconds. He was on two when the Snitch suddenly shot away, directly between the two Seekers. Harry lost sight of it and cast a quick glance at Cedric. Cedric was casting a quick glance at him.

Harry added a mental note. When the Snitch stops, anything can happen.

"These new snitches are amazing," Cedric said casually. "Not as wicked as regulation, though."

Harry swallowed. New snitches? That meant all those helpful tips that Charlie Weasley gave him were now useless. After a quick word of agreement, he flew upward and began his search anew.

An hour had passed since the match began. Cedric dived at one point but pulled up almost immediately. Harry had his chance when he spotted the snitch. He dove, following the snitch as it changed direction. Two seconds later, it doubled back and passed him just out of reach. By the time he turned around, it was gone from sight.

Another twenty minutes passed. He spotted the snitch, close to where Cedric was but behind the Hufflepuff. Harry went into a narrow dive, heading in Cedric's direction. Suddenly, the snitch changed direction, flying past the opposing Seeker and heading straight for Harry. Both boys rushed for it.

The snitch turned toward the Gryffindor hoops. Both turned to follow. Harry's advantage was lost but he still had a slight lead. The snitch turned left and slightly downward. Harry had the edge again and took advantage of it. Pressing his Cleansweep for all it was worth, he chased after the golden ball. It turned again but Harry was too close to lose it. Then it stopped.

Harry's hand smacked against the snitch and knocked it to one side. A quick reverse and he was almost upon it. It began to speed upward but he was able to follow.

Gryffindor won, 220 to 70.

Thinking about what Cedric had said earlier, Harry turned toward the stands where the visitors were sitting. Flying above them, he held his hand down and said, almost as a question, "Mrs. Malfoy."

"It would be my honour," she said as she took the snitch from his hand.

It was a wonderful day.