------------------------
For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1
------------------------
16 – Interlude Two, First Year
------------------------
Monday, January 18, 1999:
Ballycastle, Northern Ireland
------------------------

"How bad is it?"

"Not good, but it could be worse," the solicitor said.

"HOW? We've been linked with … you-know-who!" the General Manager moaned.

"No, we've been linked with one person that has a 40 percent ownership. THAT person has ties to you-know-who," the solicitor said.

The marketing manager snorted, adding "That may be fine for court. We had demonstrators outside this morning! How am I going to sell that?" He scrubbed his face, adding "DAMN that reporter!"

"Would we have known about this if she hadn't brought this out?" the owner asked. She sipped her tea, then slowly said, "The only thing I can see to do is to take the Bats private," looking at the accountant, she added, "Get me numbers," to the solicitor, "See how we can buy Malfoy's shares. He will probably need the cash; he has to deal with the Butterbeer problem. We'll meet again on Wednesday."

------------------------
Monday, January 18, 1999:
Liverpool, Butterbeer home office
------------------------

"We're screwed."

"Such a positive outlook," the accountant said sarcastically. "I thought that was my line."

The operations manager glared at him, and then said, "So far this morning, I have gotten a dozen owls from pubs wanting to return stock. They tell me that since that article came out on Saturday; their clients are not drinking Butterbeer. They do not WANT to drink Butterbeer, and those are the polite ones. You should hear my howlers."

"We can't mistreat the pub owners. They're seventy percent of our volume," the marketing manager said. "Why are we sending money to Malfoy?"

"You idiot, that's who we're contracted to send it to! Didn't you read that witch's article?" the accountant snarled. "We don't send it directly to Malfoy! We send it to the holding company, which sends it to their holding company, and so forth."

"Enough!" The general manager slapped the conference table. "What can we do about this mess?"

"We are obligated to accept returns for 'poor quality' from our clients under contract," the solicitor said, taking a sip of her tea. "Once they realize that, with this bad publicity, they will do so, and under Ministry health regulations, we are obligated to replace it with fresh product at no charge or refund the cost, destroying the returned Butterbeer. We can keep up to five percent of returned stock for quality control testing, but it cannot be resold." She looked at the accountant, asking, "What is our normal return rate? What is our break-even point here?"

He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Merlin's beard! This couldn't have come at a worse time."

The general manager agreed, "I know. After finishing our plant expansion, our cash reserves are drained. Who knew Malfoy would do something stupid like this?" He sighed, adding, "Otherwise, we could sit tight and wait for this to blow over."

"Too bad that isn't what's happened," the accountant agreed. "I hate to say it, but those damned articles haven't helped us. Barring a miracle, Butterbeer will be in receivership by the end of next month." He flipped through a file of parchment, and then his quill scratched. "To answer your question, we normally have just under a tenth of one percent returned of our yearly volume. However, with our volume and margins, if our returned stock inches up to two percent, we might as well close our doors."

The solicitor added, "By law, we must satisfy our creditors in this order: the Finance ministry, our employees, our creditors, our investors, and then our Directors." She gazed around the table, and said, "How are your savings? By the time any company liquidation gets to us, we'll be on the streets. I'm going to have to pay for Emma's next year at Hogwarts soon. Thank Merlin she's not playing Quidditch." She looked at the accountant, and asked, "Peter? How are your children doing there?"

"Andrea and Beth are in fifth-year, they're worrying about their OWLs. Chris will be starting next year. I don't have the savings for his schooling. We are screwed."

"We're screwed? What about Malfoy? He's one of you Slytherins," the marketing manager sneered, and Christine Dobbs glared at him. Peter Boyle slapped the table, and stood, glaring at him, and snarled, "We're trying to save the company, and our jobs, including yours! If you don't have anything to add, you can leave, through the protesters."

The operations manager glared at the marketing wizard, and said, "Why don't we adjourn for now, and see what we can find out. We'll meet again tomorrow. Think, everyone!"

------------------------

Christine sighed and carefully looked out her window. The company's few security guards were on alert, and the local office of Magical Law Enforcement had deployed a riot squad. The mood was still ugly; an occasional curse hitting an office window. She sat down and picked up Emma's letter.

Sunday, 17 January, 1999

Mum –

I hope you're all right. I've been so worried ever since that article came out in the Quibbler yesterday, and I may have made things worse this morning. If you remember, I told you about Mattie Wayne over the Hols, and I introduced you to her and her clan before that disastrous Quidditch match. I'm sure you remember them as very friendly people, typical Yanks. Mattie's aunt is the reporter that's been writing those articles for the Quibbler (she's been staying at Hogwarts and eating with us), and I was just, well, rude to her and Mattie yesterday. I won't repeat what I said, but now I'm glad that Mattie was muggle-raised. What I said usually results in drawn wands, and that clan is one I do NOT want to get into a fight with. If Malfoy is behind this (and my housemates are convinced he is), he is SO screwed, if you'll pardon my language.

Fortunately for me, Mattie and her aunt either didn't recognize what I said, or ignored it, because she sat next to me in the library this morning, cast a privacy spell (A new wrinkle on that! I'll tell you about it when I see you next.), and asked what she could do to help. We went back and forth before I confessed I was worried about you, and where you worked. She got this rather distant look, then said that her clan had run into a problem, and then she asked if you were open to a little 'side job'.

I'm not quite sure what she means by that. She said she was going to send some 'email' back home (A muggle version of an owl. We've been getting all trained up on this new compulator network thing they've installed.), and should have an answer back tonight. I'm not quite sure how, though. Her family is all the way back in the Colonies, thousands of miles away. That's weeks away by owl. When I find out something new, I'll owl you straightaway.

Just so you know I haven't forgotten the manners Grandmum Lucille beat into my thick head, I formally apologized to both Mattie and her aunt Lois. They were very gracious, and told me not to worry about it. I mean, nobody gets insulted THAT much, do they? :) (That's one of the new compulator things. It's supposed to be a smile. I guess it looks like one if you tilt your head and squint.)

Oh, just so you know, I got a 'Acceptable' for my Potions essay assignment from the Hols, and Professor McGonagall gave me an 'Outstanding' on my Transfiguration essay.

Your loving daughter,

Emma

Christine thought about it for a minute, then pulled a fresh sheet of parchment to her, and dipped her quill to reply.

Monday, 18 January, 1999

Emma –

Dearest, I won't lie to you and say things are wonderful here. It's times like this when I so miss your father, but for now, it's you and I against the world. There are protestors outside, and the occasional curse hitting the building. After you-know-who's thugs killed your father, the thought of being connected to him in any way is odious. I would quit in a second, but you know as well as I that we need every knut. Don't worry about me, though. Old Mick, at the Pig and Whistle down the way said I could connect an emergency floo from my fireplace to his. I've done so, and I'll use that if I need to.

The information from your friend Mattie may be useful, if it's honorable. From what you've said about that clan, it seems like it would be. I really only met them at the Quidditch match, and then we were woken up by that little Hufflepuff firstie. I never did find out about that. Why was he there?

I agree with what you say about that clan. While you know them better than I, from their expressions while that Black woman was being interrogated, they were looking for the excuse to rip her into shreds. By the way, was that really the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange? Not that I, or any parent wouldn't feel the same way; perfectly understandable.

Can you check and see if there would be other parts to this 'side job'? While Walt and Lisa in our Legal office would be paid off before I would be if the company has to declare bankruptcy (yes, that's a possibility), I'd spare them a job search if possible. They would also get two weeks severance, while as a director I'm going to be lucky to get a bent knut. Could you ask about any need for accountants? I owe Peter Boyle a favor.

I hate to ask this, but could you check with Professor Snape and ask about financial assistance? If Butterbeer goes down, public assistance will barely keep the flat's roof over our heads. It will not pay for your fifth year. While we're not that desperate yet, the information will be useful. It's best to be prepared.

I'm sorry if I'm worrying you, but I've never believed in keeping bad news from you. You're fifteen, and old enough to know where we stand.

Keep your chin up, and remember that I'll always love you.

Mum

P.S. I'm glad you got such good grades on your essays! Study hard!

She tied the letter to her owl's leg, and told Pisces, "Take this to Emma at Hogwarts, please, and hurry." The owl hooted, nipped her finger, and took off.

------------------------

"Post's here!"

Pisces landed in front of Emma, and hooted at her, thrusting out his leg. Her eyes widened a bit as she recognized the owl, and she untied the letter. Giving Pisces a banger, he took off, and she skimmed her mother's letter. Walking down the table, she tapped Mattie on her shoulder, quietly asking, "Excuse me. Do you think your aunt could meet my Mum about this side job of yours? Do you know if you'll need an accountant?"

Lois looked at the girl, and read the subtle signs of nervousness. She smiled, and said, "We're expecting someone tomorrow morning; would tomorrow afternoon be acceptable, about four or five? We don't know about the weather, and an accountant would be useful."

"That would be fine, ma'am. Thank you very much. I'll owl Mum straightaway."

------------------------
Tuesday, January 19, 1999:
Hogwarts, an unused seventh floor classroom
------------------------

With a flash, Sheila Hawking appeared inside a crystalline tube as machinery whined around her. Shaking her head, she staggered a bit, saying, "Not as bad as the moon trip. I swear; I don't know how Bruce does that all the time."

Lois chuckled, and said, "From what Clark says, the moon transport has something to do with distance and being relayed off satellites." She glanced at an indicator, and then walked past the safety line, adding, "Welcome back to Hogwarts. Cindy's got a room ready for you in our suite, so you can lie down. She's waiting for us. Also, Professor Dumbledore asked to see us when you arrived."

"Great. Clark dropped off your laptop and printer. He also tucked a letter inside," she grinned. "Get the car and the rest of the stuff?" she asked as she handed two bags to Lois.

"Of course I did. We really have to get some house-elves for that museum Selina and Bruce live in," Lois added.

Sheila grinned and nodded, saying, "Let's not keep the headmaster waiting. Cindy?"

With a pop, the elf appeared, squeaking, "Mistress! Cindy is happy to sees you again! How can Cindy serve Mistress?"

"We need to get these bags to our suite, and we need to meet with the headmaster. We're expecting one or two people for a meeting this afternoon about four," Sheila said.

"Yes, Mistress! Cindy will have tea ready at four for Mistress' guests!" With a pop, the luggage disappeared with the elf.

"By the way, what are the passwords?" Sheila asked as they left.

"Moon base for our quarters, Fortress of Solitude for here," Lois said. Sheila snickered, and said, "That works."

------------------------

"Ms. Lane! Ms. Hawking! How wonderful to see you ladies again! Please, come in, come in," the headmaster said, absently waving his wand to create another squashy armchair next to the fire. "How was your journey, Ms. Hawking?"

"It was quick and bumpy, but overall fine, thank you. What can we do for you, Headmaster?"

"Two matters, if you please," he handed over a wooden box, adding, "Firstly, as you are both muggles, please take one of each for each muggle member of your clan that visits. The crystal pendant will neutralize the anti-muggle charms around Hogwarts, while the galleon necklace is an emergency portkey. If you have need of it, you and whoever else needs to escape the situation need only touch it, and say 'Hogwarts'. It will transport you to our Infirmary."

They nodded as he continued, "I would also like to pass on my assessment of Miss Wayne's Occlumancy lessons, and I would hope you would pass them on to her parents." He shifted a bit, and then added, "I will also be discussing this with Miss Wayne, but for now, her studies have gone remarkably well. At this rate, she will have an excellent grasp of the subject by term's end, and I for one would like to continue her training after that. If everyone is agreeable, I would suggest Legilmancy, and later on, possibly Alchemy."

Sheila smiled, and said, "I'll be glad to pass this on, but I'd like to get a bit more information about these subjects, please."

"Ah. First of all, Miss Wayne seems to be a natural Occlumens. This is the ability to protect one's mind from external penetration." He noticed something, and asked, "You had a comment, Alastair?"

"I certainly do!" Both Sheila and Lois started when the Hat moved and spoke. "Miss Wayne kept me out of her mind during her Sorting. That hasn't happened since I Sorted Nicholas Flamel into Ravenclaw in 1337. If you don't train that witch up, it would be a crime against wizarding kind!"

"Now, really, Alastair," the headmaster said.

"I stand by what I said, Albus. If you want my opinion on the matter, I'd put her through Legilmancy next year, and from what Severus has said, she's already got a bit of a handle on Alchemy. By the time she graduates, we may very well have another Philosopher's Stone."

"What makes you think she could produce a Stone, Alastair? I've got Nicholas' notes, and I doubt I could make one."

"I've looked inside her mind, Albus, at least what she'd let me. Even if she can't produce a Stone, that mind playing with Potions, Alchemy and muggle chemistry? She's bound to produce something spectacular."

"Could someone explain what a Stone is? It sounds familiar, but…" Lois asked.

"Ah. You may have heard of it as a Sorcerer's Stone," the headmaster said. "Aside from producing gold from base metals such as lead, it is the key ingredient in an immortality potion."

"Immortality potion?" Lois repeated.

"And this Stone exists?" Sheila asked.

"No longer, I'm afraid," the headmaster sighed. "I talked Nicholas into destroying it in 1992, to keep it out of Voldemort's hands. He would never answer me when I asked if that was the only one." He sighed, adding, "They decided to pass on later that year, after they settled their affairs. I do miss the both of them," and at their questioning looks, added, "He and his wife Perenelle. Lovely couple, they married in 1350. I believe I've a photo about somewhere."

The headmaster was quiet for a moment, lost in his memories, when the Hat snorted. "Well, you have my recommendations. I for one would like the chance to have another nice chat with young Miss Wayne. Remember this, though. You need to get that girl trained up, and do it right. We don't need another Grindelwald or Voldemort, although they do seem to pop up every so often."

"Who was that first name?" Lois asked, "Grindelwald?"

"He was a dark wizard in 1945. I believe I've a photo somewhere…" The headmaster arose, and selected two volumes from his bookcase. Passing one to each visitor, he said, "These are the Who's Who in the Wizarding World. The Flamels are in one, Grindelwald in the other."

Lois flipped open the one, finding Grindelwald. She looked up, and said, "This is a picture of Heinrich Himmler."

"Yes, I do believe that was his name at Durmstrang. Grindelwald was a mage name." He motioned to the other book, and said, "I do believe there's a picture of Nicholas and Perenelle in there from 1980 or so."

Sheila flipped open the book, finding a typical wizarding photo of a couple in their apparent thirties. Lois leaned over to look, and said, "This was from 1980? When they were six hundred years old?"

"Six hundred fifty or so," the headmaster corrected. "The potion cancels the aging process at the point it is first taken. While not precisely an immortality potion, it has gained that name." He steepled his fingers, and said, "While I have no difficulty instructing Miss Wayne in Legilmancy, Alchemy concerns me. The last student here with knowledge of Alchemy was Severus Snape, and he learned what he could on his own – I did not instruct him." He gazed at them, adding, "You see my concern, I believe. Recent … events have been spawned partially due to the quest for immortality, and the study of Alchemy is a great part of that. While I have no doubts about Miss Wayne's character, do I dare take the chance?"

------------------------

With a flash of green flame, two figures stumbled out of the fireplace. Dusting themselves off, they turned to see Lois and Sheila waiting for them.

"Not exactly the most elegant way of travel, is it?" Lois asked with a smile. She held out her hand, "Lois Lane; and this is my friend, Sheila Hawking."

"It can be a bit awkward, but what else can you do? Christine Dobbs; and my friend Peter Boyle."

"Pleased to meet you both. Would you like some tea?"

------------------------

"I understand that you're both affiliated with Butterbeer?" Sheila asked over her teacup.

Peter glanced at Christine, and then said, "Yes, I'm the chief financial officer, Christine is corporate counsel. Why do you ask?"

"Two reasons. First of all, I am here to start up a branch of the Wayne Foundation for both muggle and wizarding London. In order to do so, I will need to be licensed to pass the Bar exam for both courts. My training is in criminal law, although for the last few years, my firm has been the attorney-of-record for both Mr. Wayne and the Foundation."

"I see," Christine said. "You'll need a tutor? I can handle that."

"Without violating your oath to Butterbeer?" Christine nodded, and Sheila continued, "We will of course need facilities suitable for both muggles and wizards, and convenient to both. Presumably we can buy and renovate to both sets of building codes. Finding such, and setting up the company under law for a charitable foundation."

Christine and Peter looked at each other, and he asked, "It sounds a bit big for the two of us. What about staffing?"

"You want to rescue your people from Butterbeer?" Sheila grinned. "We don't have a problem with that, as long as it is consistent with their oaths to that company." They nodded, and she added, "Since there is a muggle component to the Foundation, we do expect them to be able to dress and pass for muggle staff."

"No offense, but some of the clothing I've seen witches and wizards dressed in, well, I tend to wonder a bit," Lois said with a smile. "Christine, you see how we're dressed, we expect the same from you and the other ladies, since it will have the appearance of a muggle office."

"Makes sense, although those shoes do look dratted uncomfortable," Christine agreed.

"They are, especially when you're standing in them eighteen hours a day for arraignments," Sheila agreed. "Usually I bring a much more comfortable pair for around the office. However, they're the current fashion." She smiled, and said, "We've allocated about a thousand pounds for the men, twelve hundred for the women as a clothing allowance. That's about two hundred and two hundred forty galleons respectively." She took a sip of tea, and then added, "Salary for each of you would be 1500 pounds biweekly, proportionally less for your staff. We'll provide supplemental medical and dental insurance in addition to the National Health Service and we'll split the base cost of your children's schooling with you. Obviously something extra like Quidditch expenses for your child will come out of your pocket."

Peter nodded, "Most reasonable. What kind of funding will the foundation have?"

"Initially, one million pounds for building purchase, renovation, furniture, equipment, computers and such. After that, two million annually."

Christine looked at Peter, then asked, "You mentioned compulators. We don't have any experience with those."

Lois said, "Computers. They're not that difficult to use, and a darn sight neater than the quills." The bell rang for the end of classes, and she added, "Why don't you talk to your families, and let us know by Friday?"

They started to rise, and Christine said, "What about Butterbeer?"

"Your decision," Sheila said. "If you feel comfortable with leaving, whenever your honor permits. Please keep this conversation confidential, although you can sound out your staffs, quietly. One other thing I'd like to discuss with you, Christine, a legal matter." She nodded and sat back down, Lois saying, "Peter, I understand you have two daughters here? May I meet them?"

------------------------

Lois waved at Mattie, and then sat with Peter and his daughters at the Hufflepuff table. Emma sat down next to her, and mused, "That's Peter Boyle, he works with Mum. Wonder what he's doing here."

Mattie shrugged. "Dunno. How was Divination?"

"Useless as always. I hate to speak ill of a housemate, but Trelawney is the greatest twit. Unfortunately, you can't sleep or study in her class, like you can Binn's. She's predicting someone's death or horrible injury every bloody class!" Emma ranted. "I wish we could get out of them wholesale, like the bloody Ravenclaws did, but NO, since she was a Slytherin, she can't forswear the possibility that someone else in our house might have (she finger quoted), The Sight! Arrgh!"

"No, tell me what you really think, Emma. Don't be shy, now," Mattie said with a grin.

Emma turned, stuck out her tongue, then caught sight of Christine, jumped up and called, "Mum!" and ran to her.

Sheila edged around them, taking Emma's deserted place next to Mattie, who cast an obscurus aqua charm. Inside the pale blue bubble, Sheila looked around, and said, "Very nice. I wish I could do it."

"I'm getting there, slowly but surely," Mattie grinned. "What brings you by, the little 'side job'?"

"Yep. The headmaster was very pleased with your Occlumancy lessons, by the way. We had a wonderful conversation, although a hat was rather mouthy."

"Ah. Alastair, the Sorting Hat. He is a bit opinionated, although he does figure into a prank I'm planning for the Quidditch game next month. Still, he seems a good sort."

Sheila shook her head and chuckled, asking, "What do you think about your classes with the Headmaster? Would you like to continue them?"

Mattie nodded. "He's a good teacher, we both enjoy it, and I'd like to study Legilimency," At her Aunt's raised eyebrow, she explained, "It's a way to extract emotions and memories from someone's mind. Something else I'd like to study more if I get the time is Alchemy. I've got some books on it already."

------------------------
Wednesday, January 20, 1999:
Ballycastle, Northern Ireland
------------------------

"Where do we stand?" the owner asked.

"Not good," the accountant said. "The goblins will loan the gold to us, but at 18 percent. What about a mortgage on your home?"

"I did a quick stop by Gringott's myself yesterday," the owner said. "If I mortgage myself twice over, I can afford the shares at market price." She sighed, then added, "I stopped in the Wooden Goblet in Diagon Alley, and they can't give Butterbeer away. They're doing muggle drinks, now."

"I looked into venture capitalists, they're about the only other option," the accountant said.

"About?" the owner questioned. "What else is there?"

The accountant hesitated. "A rumor, really. Nothing more than that. A wealthy Yank is looking to invest in wizarding society in London."

"Chase it down," the owner said. "Even if those Yanks play Quodpot, I'd rather have a Yank on the board than Malfoy."

------------------------
Wednesday, January 20, 1999:
Liverpool, Butterbeer home office
------------------------

Peter closed the door, and Christine said, "Thank you all for coming. I know you've all seen what's happening, and I assume you've seen what's happening in the pubs." They nodded, and she took a ragged breath, and said, "We may have a solution…" she held up a hand, and they quieted, "Not for the company, but for the people in this room. No one else. You must understand that."

Lisa looked around, and then said, "What would it take for the company?"

Peter looked at them, and then replied, "Sales to double last month's for the next quarter, without being owned by Malfoy. We're his major source of cash, and he's feeling it. All without our knowing it, we've been financing you-know-who and his murder and torture for years. I doubt the Butterbeer brand will recover from that." He let them talk quietly, then said, "As Christine said, it's a possible out, but just for us. There are some other things to consider, but you need to consider how far your oath to Butterbeer goes."

"We've set up another meeting for Friday evening," Christine said. "Let us know your decision by Friday noon."

Peter added, "Just so you know, if Butterbeer does slide into bankruptcy, you lot will be paid after the Ministry and before we do. You'll get at least two weeks pay out of it, under contract. By the time the Wizengamot gets to us, I doubt there will be a bent knut left in the till." He raised his hand, saying, "We're just letting you know where things stand. Don't worry about us."

"Who is our mystery benefactor?" Lisa asked.

Christine shook her head. "I can't say who, although I will say that it's a very rich Yank, and he is most definitely not a Death Eater. The contract includes medical and dental coverage, both the muggle National Health Service and supplemental insurance, half of your children's basic schooling, and a clothing allowance." She grinned, and said, "Yes, that means you'll be needing muggle business wear. Their agents will assist us in that, if we decide to take them up on the move to London."

------------------------
Friday, January 22, 1999:
Liverpool, Butterbeer home office
------------------------

Peter slipped into Christine's office, and quietly said, "We're in."

She nodded, and said, "So are we. When can you two start?"

"Properly, February first, but that doesn't give two weeks notice."

She sighed, and said, "I'd rather not give Malfoy any notice, but I think we owe Josiah that much. He's been a good General Manager, and … "

"… and you feel like you're cursing him. I know," Peter added. "I've seen quite a few company owls leaving the last few days. Why don't we compromise on the thirty-first as our last day? That will clear the month's business."

She nodded. "Ready, then? We should go tell him."

------------------------

Josiah's secretary hurriedly covered the document she was working on, but Christine glimpsed her C.V. She smiled, and whispered, "Good luck!" as Peter knocked on the door. She winked as a weary, "Come in!" sounded, and closed the door behind her.

------------------------

"What can I do for you?" Josiah asked. He scrubbed his face, the thinning brown hair falling over his eyes. He took a sip of tea, winced, and tapped his wand to warm it up.

"We've come to give our notice, mate. As of the close of business on the thirty-first, we're out of here. Sorry, Josiah," Peter said.

"Is it just you two or your staffs as well?" He looked at their faces, and added, "Your staffs too. Well, I'm not really surprised. I can't really blame them, and between the three of us, I'll be following you shortly." He smiled at their surprised look, and said, "If this was something we did, I'd be fighting, but the way I see it, Malfoy created this mess, he can clean it up." Peter and Christine nodded, and he added, "Malfoy never has to clean up his messes. I'm tired of being one of the 'peasants' who has to bow and scrape and clean up after him. Well, the only thing I'll ask your departments is to make sure they're shipshape and Bristol fashion when you walk out the door."

"Why don't we get together later and catch up?" Christine looked at a calendar, and then said, "Sunday the 28th at the Cauldron for lunch?"

"Sounds good," Josiah said. "Good luck to all of us, and keep an eye out for your Butterbeer mates if you can."

------------------------

Friday, 22 January, 1999

Emma –

Well, we're in. As of the close of business on Sunday the 31st, Butterbeer's legal and financial offices will be no more. Josiah will be following us shortly, and as he put it, if this was something we did, we'd be fighting. However, Malfoy created this mess, he can clean it up.

That means it might be a tight month or two for me, but don't worry. When I get home tonight, I'll stop by and talk to Mrs. Jumba, our landlady, and tell her the situation. Since we've always been on time with the rent, I don't anticipate a problem.

Please pass on to Ms. Hawking or Ms. Lane our agreement, and that we'll be available at their convenience anytime after February first.

I love you,

Mum

P.S. I'll check with Josiah about buying Pisces for an early birthday present. He's a company asset, so he'll have to sign off on it. Study hard!

She gave the letter to Pisces, saying, "Take this to Emma at Hogwarts, please." The owl hooted and took off.

------------------------
Saturday, January 23, 1999:
London, Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement
------------------------

"It's about time. I've been caged like an animal for two weeks, now!" Lucius Malfoy sneered at the small man that entered his cell.

The solicitor ignored his client's tone, placing a file and quills on the wooden table. He nodded at the guard, who cast an obscurus charm and walked away. "We only have an hour, Mr. Malfoy; I am a busy man. I suggest we get down to cases. Firstly, there is the matter of my fee."

Malfoy sighed. "How difficult is it to present my draft to the bloody goblins? I want out of here, immediately!"

"The difficulty, Mr. Malfoy, is that your draft is no longer sufficient. I want cash before I represent you. In addition, the Wizengamot has not decided on a bond for you. Until they do, you will remain their guest."

"Use my duplicate key, then. You know where I keep it, and Samuel has my authorization to allow you access."

"Your house elves have been dismissed, and the secondary wards on your house library allow access to only yourself and the elves, Mr. Malfoy," the solicitor said. Malfoy's head snapped around, and the solicitor smiled faintly. "You did not change the listing of Mrs. Malfoy as Mistress of the Manor; therefore your house-elves accepted her release from service. I understand they are now working at Hogwarts. However, that is a separate matter. Due to your separation, the goblins will allow your estranged wife access and to write drafts on your vault, but only with both of your signatures. I do hope your separation was amicable." He set out parchment, and offered a quill.

"And if it was not, and she is not agreeable?"

"Then you will be represented by your Ministry-appointed solicitor. The hearing is scheduled for April 23, Mr. Malfoy. I suggest you be persuasive."

"What of my colleagues?"

"The other … persons captured by your … unwilling guests? They are not your concern. However, with the exception of Ms. Black, they remain, like you, guests of the DMLE. She was released on her own recognizance, based on the testimony of your … guests." He waved the quill again, and said, "Based on our previous business arrangement, I was willing to grant you this hour, pro bono. However, there is very little of that hour left, and Narcissa still needs persuading." Malfoy shot him a deadly look, and seized the quill.

------------------------