Disclaimer: If you ain't cheatin, you ain't tryin. If you get caught, it just means that you tried too hard.
The Triumph Cabinet
Hooktooth wasn't in the outer office more than five minutes before he was called in to make his report to the senior goblins.
"Well?" the other goblin barked the moment the door closed.
"More evidence has arrived suggesting that our theory the Granger family is testing their heir is correct," Hooktooth stated. "She has been given control of a defunct coal mine and has stated her intention of bringing it back to life."
"What are her chances for success?" the senior goblin demanded.
"Very High," Hooktooth replied. "As things are she stands to make a good profit when one factors in the tax breaks and government subsidies she'll be receiving."
"Starting her slow then," the senior goblin snorted.
"We expect that she will take on a larger project soon," Hooktooth said quickly. "Our analysts believe that she will be expected to find her own project and that the coal mine is both a final test before being set on her own and a consolation prize if she fails to meet the family expectations."
"Are there any other possible heirs to the Granger family in this generations?" the senior goblin asked calmly.
"None that come close to her ability. Her cousins lack both the temperament and the intelligence needed to become clan head. The Granger Clan seems to be placing all their hopes in her performance," Hooktooth stated. "We believe that the Granger Clan's backup plan is to find a suitable husband for his daughter should she not prove up to the task of managing the family." Which was a remarkably goblin outlook for a human, the Granger Clan was becoming more and more interesting the more they learned about it.
"Probably wants to find one of that caliber regardless of how the girl does," the senior goblin replied. "It's never a good thing to deliberately weaken one's blood."
"As you say," Hooktooth said with a toothy grin.
"We have any idea who he's chosen?" the senior goblin asked.
"We believe that he's grooming the last Potter to take that role," Hooktooth said. "The boy has been shown to have a surprising amount of talent for both war and business."
"Two words for the same thing," the senior goblin snorted.
"True, but many humans don't seem to realize that," Hooktooth pointed out.
"True," the senior goblin mused.
"Orders?"
"Investigate the other potential heirs and find a way to get someone close to the current heiress," the senior goblin said after a moment of thought.
"You want to place a source of information close to the heiress?" Hooktooth asked, hoping to clarify things.
"I want to provide a minor amount of aid to the heiress, one that will keep her friendly towards the goblin nation should she prove worthy."
"Without being so useful that it risks annoying her father and making him believe that we are trying to influence or interfere with his test," Hooktooth finished. "I think that I may have an idea on how to accomplish that."
"Good. Dismissed."
IIIIIIIIII
Mandy tumbled out of the Three Broomsticks fireplace and into Ron's waiting arms. It was a good landing, she thought as she gave him a quick kiss, the best she'd ever had.
"Almost as bad as Harry," Ron laughed.
"It's because of all the time we spend on brooms," Mandy said, dusting herself off with as much dignity as she could muster. "Better you are on a broom the worse you are at floo. No professional Quidditch player makes a good landing."
"Really?"
"No, I'm just awful at it," Mandy snorted. "Good to know that I'm not the only one."
"Didn't expect to see you today," Ron told the girl with a smile. "What with the game on and all. Is everything okay?"
"It's because there's a game on today that I came to see you," Mandy said. "I sprained my wrist in practice yesterday so I won't be playing."
"It's not serious is it?" Ron asked in concern. His eyes automatically flicking down to look at the brace on her arm.
"It'll be fine in a couple days, I could still play but the coach wants to be safe. She said missing one game wasn't the end of the world and that it was better to miss a game or two than to cut a career short by taking unnecessary risks."
"Okay."
"So . . . I was wondering, would you like to watch the match with me?" she asked hopefully. "You can chose between the bench with the players and the owner's box."
"Should be able to make it."
"Great, we'll wait here until then. You don't want to be anywhere near the stadium when they're ramping up for a game. Trust me on that one, complete chaos," Mandy said with a grin.
"Either works for me," Ron replied.
"Well then," Mandy began. "Why don't we . . . Damn it!" she cut herself off as she remembered her task.
"What is it?"
"I forgot that I had to talk with Harry, it's the only way the coach was willing to let me skip out on the pre-game. Sorry, Ron, but I promise it won't take more than five minutes."
"What about?"
"The owners want me to make double sure he's willing to talk and then they want to give him and his girls tickets to the owners box," she replied. "If he ends up going, they're hoping to meet with him and sound him out on what they'll have to do to close the deal."
"Alright," Ron agreed. "Shouldn't take too long to find him." He offered her his arm. "Shall we, my dear?"
"We shall, my darling," she agreed, taking his arm.
"To Hogwarts," Ron announced. The short walk to the castle was the most enjoyable he could remember. Likely due to the company, Ron decided.
They found Harry in the Great Hall sitting in front of his half finished breakfast sandwiched between Luna and Hermione across from the two Hufflepuffs.
"Have a seat, Ron," Hermione said, patting the empty space next to her.
"Had breakfast at the Broomsticks," Ron replied.
"You snuck out?" Hermione asked, amused.
"I've got standing permission to leave if it's related to my business or training," Ron replied. He tilted his head towards the girl on his arm. "As you can see, this particular trip to Hogsmeade was business related."
"Meeting your girlfriend is business related?" Hermione asked, winking at the girl in question. "Good morning, Mandy."
"It is when she represents his biggest client, Hermione," Mandy agreed, resisting the urge to squeal at the way Ron's face darkened to match his hair. He was just the cutest. "Speaking of the Harpies, I need to speak with you about something, Harry."
"Shoot."
"The owners want to make sure that you're willing to talk to them and not just me," Mandy stated. "I told them you were a normal guy, but they're having trouble believing that you'd be willing to have a sit down just because I asked."
"I'm still willing to meet with them," Harry assured the girl.
"I know, but orders are orders." She blinked. "Almost forgot." She dug around her pockets and pulled out four golden snitches, handing one to each girl. "Game snitches signed by the team. I'm to give them to you in front of Harry to get on your good side in hopes that, that will get me on his."
"Thank you," Hermione said primly. Susan and Hannah just nodded, unable to speak, eyes sparkling in pleasure.
"Yes, thank you very much," Luna agreed.
"That said, you're all invited to today's game. Seats in the owners box so they can run into you by coincidence and strike up a conversation."
"Convenient," Harry said. "Accepted if I can get permission to leave."
"McGonagall's at the head table," Hermione pointed out.
"So she is," Harry agreed. The boy shoveled in the last bit of food into his mouth and chewed it as he walked to meet his Head of House.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" the old woman raised an eyebrow.
"We've been invited to see the Harpies play," Harry explained.
"Asking my permission to accept?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Hmmmm . . . I'd like to give it, but I'm not sure it would be prudent to let you go unaccompanied. I realize, Mr. Potter, that you would be a perfect gentleman, but there are . . . Do you find this conversation amusing, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, giving him her patented number four look. The one she normally gave students caught casting spells in the halls.
"Are you asking to go along, Professor?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter. I am asking if I might be permitted to go along," McGonagall admitted with a glint of amusement in her eyes.
"I'll see if I can arrange it," Harry promised. "Anyone else, Madame Hooch?"
"Already going," Hooch replied.
"I'll be in the owners box," Harry added.
"I'll be in the dugout," Hooch said with a grin. "They're still trying to tempt me to come back as a coach and I'm milking it for all I can."
With a nod of acknowledgement, Harry spun on his heel and returned to the group.
"Well?" Mandy asked.
"Room for one more?" Harry asked hopefully. "One of the Professors wants to go along as a chaperone."
"Who?" Mandy squinted at the Head Table.
"Professor McGonagall, third from the left," Harry replied.
"Merlin," Mandy gasped. "I mean . . . just, Merlin." She shook her head. "Harry, could . . . could you introduce us?"
Harry led the girl to the Head Table, stopping in front of his Head of House. "Professor, I'd like to introduce you to Mandy. One of the Harpies' starting beaters. Mandy, Professor McGonagall. Instructor of Transfigurations and Deputy Headmistress."
"A pleasure," McGonagall said.
"I . . . It's an honor to meet you, Ms. McGonagall," Mandy gushed. "An absolute honor. I've been a fan for a long time, Ms. McGonagall, your biggest fan."
"You're a fan of Transfiguration?" Minerva's eyebrows rose. She'd never run into a transfiguration groupie outside one of the trade conventions.
"I'm a beater, first string for the Harpies," she stammered. "I never thought . . . I never dreamed I'd meet the real Cannon Ball Mc-gone-a-gal. I've seen all your old games, the team saved all the recordings. You were amazing."
"I'm sure there have been better since I retired," Minerva demurred, clearly pleased by what the girl was saying.
"You still hold the league record for the most fouls in one minute, in one game, in one season, and in one career," Mandy said quickly. "And the team record for the most ulcers given to the coach. You're a legend."
"Well, I'm glad someone still remembers me," McGonagall replied, clearly pleased by what she was hearing.
"Is it true you once ricocheted a bludger off one of the refs?" Mandy babbled.
Hooch laughed. "They called that the McGonagall Pass until it was made illegal. Only got to use that for what? Two games?"
"Fifteen if you count all the times I did it accidentally," Minerva said primly.
"Funny how often it accidentally happened to refs on your bad side," Hooch said dryly. "An amazing coincidence, I'm sure."
"Would you like to spend the game in the dugout?" Mandy asked hopefully. "I know the other players would love to meet you."
"I suppose it's settled then," McGonagall said. "Be sure to wear your winter cloaks, even if they have managed to solve the problem with the heat, which I doubt, it'll still be cold going to and from the stadium."
"Yes, Professor," Harry agreed.
"Meet back here in . . ." Minerva glanced at her colleague.
"Two and a half hours should do it," Hooch said.
"Two and a half hours," McGonagall agreed.
"Yes, Professor," Harry agreed.
"Could you make that three and meet at the Three Broomsticks?" Mandy asked hopefully. "I've got a portkey that'll take us to one of the private arrival areas."
"Alright," Minerva agreed. "Three hours at the Three Broomsticks, Mr. Potter."
"We'll be there, Professor."
Three hours later, the group met up at the Hogsmeade's finest drinking establishment and went together via portkey to the Quidditch stadium in which the day's game was to be played.
They were met by a gorgeous woman in Harpies colors. "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," the woman began. "I'm Christine Harper, the team's public relations officer. It's a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, thank you for coming."
"The pleasure is all mine," Harry replied. "This is Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbot. I'll assume you already know Ron and at least know of Professor McGonagall and Madame Hooch."
"We all know Mr. Weasley and we're all very grateful for what he's already done for the team," Christine agreed. She turned to the two professors. "And of course we're always pleased to see former players return to see the team play."
"They're gonna be in the dugout with me and Ron," Mandy chirped. "Harry and the girls are going to the box."
"Of course," Christine agreed. "Your coach asked me to direct you and Mr. Weasley to the locker room when you got back, Mandy."
"Got it," Mandy agreed.
The woman turned back to Harry. "Why don't I show you the way," Christine suggested. "We've still got a bit of time until the snitch is released. Would you like me to have lunch or some refreshments sent up while you wait?"
There was a large trophy cabinet which took up the entire wall of the entryway filled with cups, ribbons, and medals of all sorts along with Quidditch memorabilia going back to the founding of the team. It was at once both a lesson in history and a record of the team's victories both large and small over the years.
Christine drew the group to a halt in front of the newest exhibit. A bloodstained beaters bat held place of pride and below it was a bloodstained carving knife. Behind the bat were several upside down death eater masks fixed to the wall. Below each mask was a broken wand and a brass plaque stating the owner's name. Below the wands were several black bowls filled with teeth, the brass plaques in front of the bowls informing all that they'd been transfigured out of the death eater's robes. In front of the bowls was a larger plaque summarizing the attack and the heroic rescue and stating that the team would never forget what they owed to Ron Weasley, the savior of the Harpies.
"This is the exhibit memorializing the courage of your friend and the team's victory over the death eaters," Christine said softly. "I was there when it happened. In one of the offices, not the locker room itself. I didn't even know what was happening until after he'd saved us and it didn't even hit me until after I got home how close we all came to death. Your friend is a hero, Mr. Potter. He saved us all, there wouldn't be a team right now if not for him."
"Yes," Harry agreed simply. "He is."
The woman shook herself out of it. "Would you like to see something we don't show the public? Well, won't show the public. It's brand new."
Harry glanced at the girls who were nodding enthusiastically in response. "Yes."
Christine directed their attention to the next cabinet which held a large photo of the team in full Quidditch gear surrounding Ron Weasley. "This was taken the day after the fight."
She tapped the cabinet in a couple places and whispered a password causing the picture to spin one hundred and eighty degrees in its frame. "This one was taken directly after the fight. You'll note the difference between reality and the version pushed by our public relations flacks. Quite dramatic, isn't it?"
The contrast was night and day. The women in the team looked absolutely spent. Each of them were covered in blood splatter, a couple players sported obvious injuries, and all were in varying stages of undress. They were also posed triumphantly over what was left of their fallen opponents. Standing at the center of the picture, arm around one of the starting beaters was Ronald Weasley. Through his face was absolutely covered in lip marks, one could make out a slightly dazed look of triumph that adorned it telling all that he had won.
Christine sighed. "This is the photo the team wanted, the owners thought it might be too shocking to the public to see that much blood."
Harry shrugged. "I don't mind it myself since most of it belongs to the bad guys. No serious injuries on our side, right?"
"Thanks to Mr. Weasley," Christine agreed. "I agree with you, Mr. Potter. But like I said, I was there that day."
IIIIIIIIII
Ron's eyes bulged when he walked into the locker room and took in the team's state of dress or rather, lack thereof.
"Ron!" one of the chasers squealed. "You made it." The nude woman darted over to give the boy a kiss on the cheek. She was soon joined by the rest of the team.
"Uh," the blushing boy stammered, trying to look anywhere but at the women around him. "I'll just wait outside until you're all dressed?"
"Why?" the starting keeper asked. "No modesty in the locker room. You're allowed to be here, you're allowed to be here no matter what's going on. Simple as that."
"You saved our asses, least we can do is let you see 'em," the starting seeker giggled. "Come on in, have a seat."
"It seems that Mr. Potter isn't the only ladies man in Gryffindore," Minerva observed in a perfect deadpan.
"This sort of thing never happened in our day," Hooch replied, with an amused smirk. "Men in the locker room? The scandal."
"Only because I was smart enough to keep you lot away from my husband," Minerva countered. "I saw him first and I don't share."
"We weren't all scheming to take him from you, Minnie. In fact, I can guarantee that none of us were plotting to take him from you."
"Only because you never met him. If he was charming enough to get me, he was charming enough to get any witch in the world and you lot would have been the only ones gutsy enough to try to take him from me," the old woman sniffed. "You're just jealous that I found the most handsome man in the world before you had a chance to get your hooks into him."
"He was fighting on the continent and half the team didn't believe he even existed until the wedding," Hooch sighed. Who could have guessed that anyone actually did have a Canadian boyfriend? They'd all figured their teammate was covering for the fact that most men were too intimidated by her reputation to ask her out. They couldn't be blamed for being skeptical.
IIIIIIIIII
To Harry's surprise, he was able to enjoy almost half the game before the subject of business was brought up. Tired of the owners dancing around the issue and wanting to get back to the game, Harry decided to just get things into the open.
"You got my estimate, didn't you?" Harry asked.
"We did, Mr. Potter. We were hoping you'd be able to give us hard numbers in this meeting," one of the owners replied.
"I'm going to want a few concessions in addition to the gold," Harry cautioned.
"What sort of concessions?" another of the owners asked.
"Tickets for employees mainly," Harry said.
"Shouldn't be a problem," the third owner replied. "Might be a good idea to give free tickets to Aurors as well, always good to have more guards around."
"We'll throw in a number of tickets for family members also," the first suggested, also liking the idea of having a number of dangerous and trustworthy magic users sprinkled about the crowd.
"Anything else, Mr. Potter?"
"That's the main thing, might want to borrow the team a couple times in the future or at least some of the players."
"Benefits, that sort of thing?"
"Yes," Harry agreed.
"Give us a number to start with," the owner requested.
"I can do it for this much, only place I can go from it is up so." Harry wrote a number on a piece of paper and handed it to the owners. "Take it or leave it."
"Why so cheap?" one of the owners asked after some discussion with his fellows.
"Several reasons," Harry replied. "Big one is my best mate, someone who's saved my life a number of times and someone who's life I've saved a number of times in turn, is dating one of your beaters. Keeping her safe keeps him happy."
"How much to add in a half dozen women to keep an eye on the locker rooms?" At present there was only one male on earth welcome to enter while the players were present and he did not work for Harry Potter.
Harry added another figure to the paper.
"Done," the second owner agreed. "Have your solicitor send us a contract as soon as possible please, Mr. Potter. We would like ensure that there won't be a repeat of the attack."
"I will," Harry agreed, making a mental note to get a solicitor. "Now if you ladies and gentlemen will excuse me, I'd like to get back to the game."
"Of course."
Harry rejoined the girls and was immediately set upon by his other best friend. "I have a question for you, Harry?"
"Yeah, Hermione?"
"If Ron's your best mate, what does that make me?" Hermione demanded, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"My best girl," Harry replied, eliciting a deep blush from the girl.
"If Hermione's your best girl, what does that make us?" Hannah challenged.
"I realize that I'm you girl's chief source of entertainment, but could we get back to that after the game?" Harry requested. "I really do want to see the rest of it."
"Okay, Harry," Hermione chirped.
"Sorry, Harry," Susan added.
"No problem, I normally don't mind. I just want to see the game right now, you can pick up where you left off when we get back to Hogwarts."
"It's a date!" Luna promised, surprising herself with her boldness.
IIIIIIIIII
Neville reread the letter from his gran, knowing that this was all Hermione's fault. The old woman would have likely been content with a couple meetings if the girl hadn't sent that letter which added fuel to the fire.
"What am I supposed to do on a muggle date?" Neville sighed. A couple barely remembered muggle studies classes under his belt from before he'd dropped the course and he could barely read a bus map. Still, his eyes drifted over the photo that had been included in the envelope, even if the date was a disaster, he'd at least have something nice to look at while the world fell around his ears. He smiled. Something very nice to look at.
IIIIIIIIII
Minerva smiled as she reclaimed her old spot on the bench. The old woman marveled at the fact that it was just as knotty and uncomfortable as it had been when she was on the team. Seemed the current generation of owners was as reluctant to spend gold on team comfort as hers had been, or perhaps they wanted to encourage players by making the time spent out of the game as unpleasant as possible. It was good to be back.
The mistress of Transfiguration was torn from her musings when two burly women took seats to either side of her.
"That's my spot," the one to her left challenged.
"Shouldn't take my partner's spot," the one on the right growled. "Not polite."
"Yeh think yeh can take it from me, lass?" McGonagall replied. A wide grin split the old woman's face, her heart filled with both eager anticipation and nostalgia. "Try it if ya think yer hard enough," she dared, picking her targets. "One at a time or both at once, makes no difference to me, outcome will be the same either way."
"It really is you!" Lefty squealed. She stood up to address the team. "It's really her!" she squealed like an overexcited third year. The woman dropped back onto the bench and turned back to McGonagall with a look of hero worship on her face.
"It's an honor to meet you, Cannon Ball," Righty gushed. "You still hold the record for the most refs hospitalized in a single game, season, and career. You're an inspiration."
"You're our idol," Lefty stated.
"Not to mention most refs driven to retirement and most refs sent to the long-term spell ward," Righty added, eyes shining. "It's an honor to meet you."
"Or the fact that you still hold the League records for most opposing players sent to St Mungo's and most teammates sent to St Mungo's," Lefty said in excitement. "Or for sending the coach to St Mungo's the most times!"
"They retired the penalty box record after the League changed the rules so that anyone that got close would be banned from play for life," Righty explained excitedly. "A crime, I know, but what can you do?"
"Did you really start an unofficial record for the most teeth knocked out?" Righty asked. "How many'd you get?
"Where can we find the record?" Lefty chirped. "We've looked everywhere for it. We wrote the league but they wrote back that we'd written the wrong organization and that their organization was concerned with the germination of orchids, not Quidditch."
"We might have believed them if not for the fact that they wrote us back on Quidditch League stationary," Righty added. "Can we have your autograph? It'd mean a lot to us."
"Please?" Lefty begged.
IIIIIIIIII
Harry was immediately confronted by a nervous Neville when he walked through the portrait hole and back into the Gryffindor Common Room.
"What am I gonna do, Harry?" Neville demanded, hoping the other boy would have some advice to share or some way out of the predicament he'd been unwillingly thrust into.
"What are you going to do about what, Neville?" Harry asked, hoping to make sense of what was happening.
"My gran sent me a letter," Neville began.
"Yes?"
"I'm going on a date with one of Hermione's cousins next week and I don't know what to do on a Muggle date," Neville explained. Or a magical date for that matter. "I don't even know what Muggle money looks like, how am I gonna . . . What should I do, Harry?"
"Which one?" Hermione's voice asked cheerfully. The girl was still in the hall, waiting for Harry to move so she could enter the room.
Neville just handed the girl the letter he'd received.
"Juliet?" Hermione said in delight. "They did take my recommendation."
"This is your fault?" Neville asked, a look of betrayal adorning the boy's face. He'd foolishly held out hope that she wouldn't actually carry out her threat to help her mum and his gran set him up with one of her cousins.
"Move please, Harry," Hermione requested, stepping into the room after he complied. "The selection, yes," she agreed. "It was going to happen anyway, and your choices were a shrew, an idiot, and a sweet but very shy girl. Which would you have chosen?"
"The shy girl," Neville admitted with a blush.
"Which is what I suggested," Hermione said gently. "Most of the remainder of the letter was to make sure they didn't saddle you with my cousin Elizabeth, who really is a shrewish bitch that has no business around anyone civilized."
"Hermione, language," Harry mock-scolded.
"I also stated that my cousin Annabel might be acceptable since she really is a very sweet girl despite the fact that she can't count to five without using her fingers, and can't count to ten even then," Hermione continued, ignoring her best friend. "If I thought I could have stopped this date from happening, I'd have asked you if you wanted me to. I'm sorry, Neville, but I can't do anything about your gran and my mum."
"But what am I going to do?" Neville demanded, sounding panicked. "I don't even take muggle studies anymore. I quit before even taking a term of it."
"Which is a good thing since the class is worse than useless," Hermione sniffed. "Don't worry, Neville: Harry will take you out and give you a crash course on how the Muggle world works."
"I will?" Harry asked, looking amused.
"You will," Hermione agreed. "It'd be too embarrassing to do it myself, considering the subject matter you need to go over. I don't know any other Muggle-born that I both know well enough and trust, to do it," Hermione agreed, batting her eyelashes. "Please, Harry?"
"I'll see if we can get permission to go out from McGonagall tomorrow if you want, Neville," Harry stated.
"Do you have time for it, Harry?" Neville asked.
"The professors are all busy writing up the results of our research," Harry said with a grin. "Getting ready for another award dinner in Professor Flitwick's case. It's not gonna last, but I'm relatively free at the moment."
IIIIIIIIII
Harry woke up the next morning to find that Hermione had forced Neville to change three times before she was even remotely satisfied with what he was wearing.
"Pink pants, a bright orange shirt, and a lime green frock coat," she muttered in disgust. "Don't get me started on his shoes. I know he's not color-blind. I just don't understand it." It was as though pure-bloods lost what little common sense they had when someone said the word `Muggle.' She'd hoped Neville would have had more sense than the majority of purebloods but her hopes had been cruelly betrayed.
"Weren't you and Luna planning to do something with your engine today?" Harry asked, assuming they were always up to something and hoping to distract the girl.
"What time is it?" Hermione reached into Harry's pocket and pulled out his watch. "I'm late!" she squeaked. "I gotta go. I already talked to Professor McGonagall for you, Harry. You're using the Floo in her office to go to my London house; my Uncle will be there to meet you." She called the last bit over her shoulder as she darted through the portrait hole.
"Ready to go, Harry?" Neville asked, causing the other boy to jump.
"How long have you been there?" Harry blurted, having no idea that someone had managed to sneak up on him.
"Since Hermione started talking about my lack of color-blindness and my poor fashion sense," Neville replied. "Shall we go?"
"I suppose we can eat while we're out," Harry agreed, tucking his watch back into his pocket. "Let us be off," he finished pompously, hoping to elicit a laugh from his shy friend. He failed.