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For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1
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17 – Classes, Week Twenty Six, First Year
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Sunday, February 14, 1999:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Gryffindor table
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Sprink had apparently decided we would be 'neighborly', so we joined the study group at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. I just wanted coffee.

"Oi, post's here!" I looked up, and saw a large owl circling, which landed in front of me. He wore a Gringott's medallion, and I offered it some water and bacon as I untied the envelope from its leg. It hooted its thanks, and then took off as I rooted around my pockets for my moneybag. I touched it to the Gringott's logo on the letterhead, and the privacy charm deactivated. I groaned as I read the letter, stuffing the moneybag back in my jeans.

"Financial problems?" Amanda asked as I took a gulp of coffee.

"Yeah. I now need a financial advisor. What do your folks do?"

Ginny raised her eyebrow, and motioned for the letter. I passed it to her, as Sprink answered, "Don't look at me; I'm the poor but honest type. Mum married the stableboy, creating a huge scandal in the family. She was basically thrown out of the Black house." She sipped her tea, and mused, "You could ask aunt Narcissa, she's from one of the more 'respectable' branches of the Blacks."

Amanda waved her tea and said, "Solidly middle class wizards here. Must be nice to have lorries full of cash to throw around." Arthur grunted agreement, as Ginny passed me back the letter.

Professor Harry leaned over to kiss her good morning, and said, "What's going on this fine frosty morning?" He took a seat as I passed the letter over to him.

He grunted, and I answered Amanda, "You'd think so, I know. However, at a certain point, it just tends to feed on itself, and you make more money from interest, just having it in the vault, than you can spend."

"That's true. It gets to be just another tool," Professor Harry said. He added sugar to his tea, sipped, then asked, "Your parents dumping money on you for tax reasons?" I nodded, and he continued, "I'll introduce you to my accountant, if your aunt doesn't have something set up already. Got any ideas for investing?"

I shrugged, "I need a new broom. Something Quidditch related?" I passed the letter over to Charlie, and Arthur leaned over to read it. Professor Harry snagged the financial section of a Prophet, folding it lengthwise. He grunted, and then said, "What about buying some shares in Ballycastle? Their price is down since their link to Malfoy was exposed, but they're still a middling-good team."

"Their keeper's dodgy, though," Amanda said. The letter passed down to the twins as the table erupted in a Quidditch argument. I retrieved the letter as Professor Harry leaned over and said, "Ginny and I were going to Gringotts and Diagon Alley today. Want to come with us?" I nodded, and he motioned, saying, "Go ask Severus."

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Professor Snape gave his consent, but insisted that I change out of my 'muggle rags' into formal business robes. Professor McGonagall suggested I wear my school uniform, instead. They both offered to pass on to my parents suggestions for investments, but for now, agreed with using the goblins. "Harry trusts them, after all," is the way Professor McGonagall put it.

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I coughed, dusting myself off as I got to my feet. I hated travel by floo. I looked around, and Gringott's lobby wasn't as busy as I'd seen it during the week. I settled my clothing, and followed Professor Harry and Ginny.

"Is Mr. Griplink in?" I asked customer service. "I'm Martha Wayne. He sent me a letter."

"Key, please," the bored goblin said, not looking up. I grinned and placed the moneybag in his outstretched palm. Ginny winked at me as the goblin flushed and started to gabble something. He looked up, and almost had a heart attack when he saw Professor Harry, sputtering, "Mr. Potter! We had no idea!"

"Mr. Griplink, please?" I asked quietly. He motioned, and we followed him into a small conference room, Professor Harry asking, "Mr. Cliplink, also, please." Seconds later, a tea-goblin came in, followed by Professor Harry standing and holding out his hand to a pair of very well-dressed goblins.

"Mr. Potter, what can we do for you?" one of the goblins asked.

Professor Harry smiled, and said, "I need to add my fiancé to my accounts, and I'm helping out one of my students, Miss Wayne."

"Miss Wayne, you say?" the other goblin asked. "I'm Griplink, your personal account manager. You received my letter?" I nodded, and he continued, "I am your contact within Gringott's for you and your family. What can Gringott's do for you today?"

"I was thinking of doing some investing. Possibly with Ballycastle, but I am open to your suggestions, Mr. Griplink."

"A solid stock, undervalued now because of that dratted mess you were involved in. A good first play," he nodded. "May I suggest a strong growth portfolio, and would you like Gringott's to manage it for you?"

I smiled, "I would be pleased if you would be so kind, you come highly recommended."

"Ah, a personal account, most satisfactory, although there will be a few legal matters that must be accounted for due to your age. What of the other Wayne accounts?"

"I don't know if there are other arrangements. I will be happy to recommend you, though." I said, and Mr. Griplink smiled happily.

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I started to go into Quality Quidditch, but Ginny dragged me across the street into Parvati's robe shop, saying, "You're a businesswoman now, Miss Wayne. You need to dress the part." Professor Harry chuckled, giving Ginny a kiss and saying, "Have fun, ladies. I'll be down at Blaise's apothecary shop if you need me."

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"Ginny!" a thin Indian girl with a long plait of dark hair came out of the back, asking, "What can we do for you?

"Parvati!" they hugged, and then Ginny said, "Mattie here is doing some investing, she needs business robes."

"Won't I outgrow them?" I asked as I was motioned up onto a stand, and the girl released a tape that crawled over me. It wasn't quite as startling as the first time, though.

"Didn't you come in for Quidditch robes?" I nodded, and she shook her head, "Not like the guys do. We'll figure in the increase in height, and adjust them if you bring them in for the start of term." She started to make notes, mumbling; "Pureblood? Slytherin, of course you are." She looked at me, and asked, "How are the witches in your family?" I blinked, and she motioned, adding, "The bust?"

"Ah. Mom's one of those leggy, busty types, so I'll probably be one." I thought for a moment, and then asked, "What about muggle clothing?"

"Certainly," she smiled. "Underwear and shoes too, I assume?" I shrugged and nodded. "What about family colors and heraldry?" she asked.

"Colors are black and grey, with yellow accents," I said. "The Wayne clan traces back to the MacDubb family from Scotland, which does go back to the Crusades, at least. We came to the States in the 1700's." I shrugged, and said, "Sorry, that's all I know."

"McGonagall's going to love hearing that," Ginny grinned, from where she sat and sipped her tea. "She's a Scottish nationalist. She keeps this huge chart listing all the Scottish clans in her office, and updates it with students' information. You really ought to see it, it's quite something."

"I'll ask her when I see her for tutoring on Transfig," I said. Parvati raised her eyebrow, so I admitted, "My worst subject." A thought hit me, and I asked, "Can you cut these so I have a lot of freedom of movement? I do a lot of martial arts."

Parvati raised her eyebrow again, "What do you normally wear for that?"

"I prefer skintight clothing for workouts, but I don't think that would work. How about loose, with lots of leg and arm motion?" Parvati sighed and nodded, and Ginny giggled.

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I stomped my feet, knocking the snow off my boots as the doorbell tinkled at Quality Quidditch. I looked around, and asked, "Is Charlie Wickham in? I need another Firebolt II."

"Another Firebolt II? What happened to the first one?" the clerk asked.

"A terrorist shot me down, and it smashed into the stands when I fell off it," I admitted.

He blinked, and then said, "You were at that game at Hogwarts?"

I nodded, adding, "I was in the game. I'm the Slytherin seeker. Where's Charlie?"

"He's in the back, I'll fetch him," the clerk said. He hurried off, and someone said, "Did I hear you right? You were there at Hogwarts?" I nodded, and a girl asked, "Was there really a Death Eater attack? The Quibbler wasn't making it up?"

"Oh, they were there. Black robes, Dark Mark and all."

Ginny added, "I watched it from the commentator's booth. It was horrible when Harry landed and turned over his wand." She nudged me, and added, "You were having a pretty good game, though. I'm looking forward to seeing the rematch."

"What rematch?" a fellow asked, and I answered, "We're going to resume our kicking Ravenclaw's arse from when we were interrupted. March 27th. Come on out to Hogwarts and watch."

"You're not afraid of the Death Eaters?" the girl asked, and Ginny looked at me, and I burst out laughing. I waved my hand, and said, "Sorry. Those incompetents couldn't organize a drinking party in a distillery."

"But… I heard there were people tortured…" someone offered, and I scowled. People blinked and stepped back as the temperature seemed to drop. Ginny snarled, "They hurt my Harry. They will pay for that." I nodded, and growled, "They hurt two of my friends, they will have justice."

"Ginny. Mattie," Professor Harry said, touching our shoulders. I shook my head, and smiled. "Your broom's here, Mattie." I moved over to talk to Charlie as someone whispered, "Is that really Harry Potter?"

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"I want to see my brothers," Ginny said, so we detoured to enter the Wheeze. I smiled at the flatulent door chime and the usual bedlam, and Ginny asked, "Can we borrow your office for a few minutes, guys?" One of the twins waved at her, and the three of us escaped to the back.

"Can you ward the door, Harry?" Ginny said as she motioned me to join her on the battered couch. Harry did so, and straddled a wooden chair. Ginny cleared her throat, and said, "I'm not sure how to approach this, so I'll just jump in, all right?" I nodded, and she continued, "No offense, Mattie, but when you were being attacked at the Quidditch game, did you … throw something at Pettigrew?"

I nodded in confusion, adding, "What, I'm not supposed to defend myself?"

"No, no! That's not the problem! The problem is, well, the way you did it," Professor Harry said. "The problem is that it was done with … muggle methods, and well … it's considered a bit … uncivilized."

Ginny sighed, and said, "This is another one of the cultural differences. Mattie, you're going to be criticized for not following proper etiquette when this comes out. Proper wizard combat says you should use your wand, at a distance of no more than twenty or thirty feet, which is dueling range."

"That's … " I tried to think of a diplomatic way to phrase it, "… silly. You take down your opponent as fast and hard as possible."

"Which makes the most sense, I agree. However…" Professor Harry scrubbed his face with his hands. "Ever wonder why I didn't just shoot Voldemort or his Death Eaters with a gun? I had plenty of opportunity." He sighed, and said, "At that point, I'd been in the wizarding world for several years. If I had done that, I would to have reserved the next bullet for myself."

"You have GOT to be kidding me," I said. "You've never used snipers? Not even for Death Eaters? That makes absolutely NO sense in a war!"

"What's a sniper?" Ginny asked.

"Someone that can shoot you through the eye from a half mile away," I replied.

Ginny shuddered. "That's very strange, coming from you, Mattie. There's a … unwritten rule against any sort of distance weapon, especially non-magical ones. Even You-Know-Who observed it, one of the few he did." She shuddered again, adding, "That's the way we're going to play this. Even so, it's still a good sized faux pas. We'll play your youth and the fact that you're an ignorant Yank, so you don't know (she finger quoted), proper behavior."

"So how should I have attacked Pettigrew?" I asked. "With a rock?"

Ginny sighed, "If you had thrown it or created it with your wand, yes." She raised her hand, and said, "I'm on your side, Mattie. However, the Weasleys are one of the old families, and my Mum is a rather … forward thinker. However, even she was tutting and complaining about your 'scandalous behavior', almost as much as she was over Harry."

"She was very friendly when we met her," I said.

"Of course, but you're not her daughter," Ginny replied with a grin. "The problem's mostly political, but I'm sure that Malfoy's going to try to use it to his advantage."

"Joy," I admitted. "So what do I do? My aunt Lois won't see this as sufficient to stop writing her exposés."

"We don't want her to," Ginny said. "I'm just warning you that you're going to be in the public eye, now. I would follow Professor Snape's advice, he's got a sharp nose for which way the political winds are blowing." She hesitatingly added, "That may mean you have to give up Quidditch."

"WHAT? WHY?" I asked.

"Among the upper crust, where Malfoy lives, it's seen as a lower class sport," Professor Harry said. "Like polo versus football. I would rather you not, myself," and Ginny nodded in agreement, "But it's a possibility."

"Wonderful. What about the professional athletes that make a million galleons a year? Aren't they upper crust?" I asked.

"A million a year?" He blinked, then said, "I think Malfoy would regard them as just rich, not upper crust. We'll see how things play out, but you should inform your clan," Professor Harry said. "For now, how much cash do you have available?"

I shrugged, and pulled out my moneybag. I tapped it with my wand, and a balance of 37825/15/6 appeared. "A little over thirty seven thousand," I replied.

"I don't think we'll need that much," he grinned as he stood up. "We're going to get you a custom wand."

"So why do I need this? What's wrong with the one I have?" I asked.

"It gives you a backup wand, and there are two problems with your current one," he replied. "It's flashy, and it's registered with the Ministry. An unregistered wand, on the other hand, will let you do magic out of school. A custom wand is perfectly fitted to your magic, but they're expensive."

"Hmm," I pondered as we strolled down Knockturn Alley. "How much is expensive?"

"They depend on materials, and they're slightly illegal." He shrugged, adding, "What's illegal or not also seems to depend on who you can buy off, as Mr. Malfoy does." Professor Harry continued, "A normal wand from Ollivander's might run up to twenty galleons. One of these might run one hundred to two hundred galleons." He looked at me from under the hood of his cloak, and said, "Willing to pay that?" I nodded. "Here we are."

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I could barely make out 'Hillerich Wands' on the dirty front window. In the small, dingy shop that smelled of varnish, freshly turned wood and other things, Professor Harry knocked on the counter. A small, rotund man with a balding patch he was trying to comb over came out, asking, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I was referred to you by Mr. Gred Forge. I understand you sell custom wands? Special custom wands?"

"Why, yes I do. How many do you require?"

"We require two. Can you travel to Hogsmeade?"

His eyes flicked around, catching sight of my Slytherin tie in the dim light. He smiled, and said, "Certainly. Who would like to go first?"

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Thursday, February 18, 1999:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Slytherin Table
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"Post's here!"

I looked up to the usual flock of owls entering the Great Hall. One of them descended, landing in front of me with an ornate medallion on his chest. He stalked over to me, thrusting out his leg. I looked at him, and he hooted. Shrugging, I untied the parchment, and the owl took off as I unrolled it.

"Why did you get a Ministry owl?" Emma asked.

"It's a subpoena," I said, looking over the dense legal text. "At least I think it is." I looked over to Emma, and asked, "Can I hire your mum? I think I'd better have her professional services available, as my aunt isn't licensed yet to practice in England."

"Your aunt already hired her for you. I've got a letter almost ready for her. Copy that over for her, and I'll include it with my owl."

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"Ah, Miss Wayne, please come in and have a seat. I'll be with you shortly," the headmaster said as he vanished behind a bookcase.

I walked over to where the Hat snoozed on a shelf, and whispered, "Alastair! Wake up!"

"Miss Wayne! What can I do for you?"

I plopped Alastair on my head, and thought, "I'm sorry if I'm rude, but time's short. Here's my plan. If you can… "

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"You look like you belong in that chair, Miss Wayne," the headmaster said with a chuckle.

"Albus, I was just having the most delightful conversation," Alastair said. I pushed Alastair off my forehead, and found myself sitting in the chair behind the headmaster's desk. "Really, I can understand why you've been drawing out these lessons; she's got such a wonderful, supple mind."

"Why, thank you, Alastair! Has he been?" I asked. "Drawing out the lessons?" I clarified.

"Not really." He replied. "I'm just twitting him, and I did mean that, my dear."

"Thank you. Do you think you'll have any problems getting Fawkes to help?"

"Not at all, he really does have the most curious sense of humour."

"I'll take your word for it. One question, if I might, it's a bit personal." I thought.

"Go on, my dear."

"My aunt was wondering, um… have you ever been cleaned?"

"No, can't say as I remember it." Alastair thought for a moment, and then added, "It might be nice, but I don't want to damage my magic."

"I certainly can't blame you for that," I admitted. "Still, should I bring it up with the headmaster?"

"No, no, I will. Best put me up, dear, and get on with your lesson. I'll talk to Albus later, and see you on Saturday."

"I'm looking forward to it!" I said, and put Alastair back where he resided.

"Now then, Miss Wayne, shall we continue on?" the headmaster asked with a twinkle in his eye. I jumped out of his absurdly comfortable chair and scooted to my usual one next to the fire.

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Friday, February 19, 1999:
Hogwarts, Defense classroom
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"Good morning, everyone," Professor Harry said as he took off his robes, tossing them over a chair. He glanced around the room, taking roll, and then added, "By the way, Happy Birthday, Arthur."

"Oh, that's just GREAT!" he muttered, and Amanda gave him a sharp poke. "What, a little privacy is too much to ask?"

"Most people don't object to having their birthday known, mate." Charlie said.

"Have you ever known me to be 'most people'?" Arthur replied.

"How'd you know?" Sprink asked Professor Harry.

"There's a calendar with everyone's birthdays in the staff room, and the agenda for each faculty meeting has that coming week's birthdays listed at the top," he replied.

"Moving on, I'd like to go over some ways you can get longer ranges with your spells. Now, this is a bit advanced, and thus not on the Ministry's approved first-year curriculum. One of them is the reflection spell, reflectare, and can be used both offensively and defensively." He settled himself in his usual position on a table, then asked, "How many of you have played snooker?" I raised my hand, as did most people, and he continued, "The idea is to bounce your spell off one or more of these floating mirrors, and hit your target. You can either conjure the mirror with reflectare, or transfigure an object into a mirror, then move it with animus."

Charlie raised his hand, asking, "If this isn't on the first-year curriculum, why are you teaching it, sir?" He blushed, and stammered, "Not that I'm objecting, of course."

"Well, I could give you an essay, say, twenty feet on the uses of the trip jinx, but I'm not in the mood for all that reading," Professor Harry replied. He grinned, and then added, "Just think, if you practice this now, by the time you're old enough to visit a pub, you'll clean up at the snooker tables!" There was a chuckle, and he said, "Seriously, the question arose over this past weekend about why someone didn't use a distance weapon on Voldemort." Sprink and the other purebloods made faces of disgust. He shifted on the table, and said, "There are times when you might want to use this, for instance if your opponent is hiding behind a tree."

"I can see that," Charlie said.

"Good, let me set this up, and we'll all give it a go." Professor Harry hopped off the table, conjuring a target with red and yellow rings, then a mirror about three feet in diameter. "All right. This takes a bit of practice. What we'll do is have everyone take three shots for practice, then three to score. The closer your stunner comes to the bull's-eye, the less homework you'll have to do." There was a muffled cheer, and he said, "For me at least." He faced the mirror, and called "Stupefy!"

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Saturday, February 20, 1999:
Hogwarts, Slytherin common room
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"C'mon, Mattie, you'll miss breakfast!" Sprink said.

"Go ahead. I've got to get this finished for Herbology," I said as I hunched over the keyboard in the common room. "I'll catch up at the pitch."

"I thought you had that done, and the betting closes soon."

"I found a mistake and I need to revise," I said, pulling out my moneybag. "Put two galleons on Hufflepuff for me, would you?" sliding the coins across the table.

"But the Gryffs are favored…" she said.

"Yeah, but the Huffies have new brooms, which gives better odds for me," I said distractedly. "Go on, I've got to get this done. Shoo." I smiled at her, and then returned my attention to the screen.

"'Kay. See you at the pitch," Sprink scooped up the coins, and finally left.

I closed my (already complete and correct) Herbology homework and logged off, and then walked down the circular stairs to my dorm.

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"Hello, Alastair. Did you have any problems?" I asked, picking up the hot oatmeal and coffee Cindy had left on my desk.

"Not at all, my dear, Fawkes popped me in just after Miss Tonks left." He replied from my bed.

I finished the oatmeal, checked my watch, and then excused myself for a quick trip to the loo. Coming out, I paused, and then asked, "Alastair, would you prefer to ride inside my coat, or on my head?"

"I would see more on your head, but whichever you prefer."

"We can't miss the two sickle tour, can we?" I grinned as I shrugged into my coat, wrapping my scarf around my neck. "Shall we?" I asked as I arranged him on my head.

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"Mattie? What are you doing with the Sorting Hat?" Terry Higgs asked.

"Very good question," Professor Vector said.

"Oh, Miss Wayne was nice enough to offer when I expressed an interest, Callista," Alastair said. "As I recall from your own Sorting…" she blushed and turned away.

"Now, Alastair, be nice," I said, and settled back.

"What has the Hat told you?" Terry asked.

"Who, Alastair? Quite a bit of history, but nothing personal. It's just been a long time since he's seen a good game of Quidditch," I reassured him.

"1463, Mr. Higgs. Not to worry, I haven't been kidnapped from Albus' office."

"Is this a prank, stealing the Hat, Miss Wayne?" Professor Snape asked as he climbed the steps.

"Don't be silly, Severus," Alastair snorted. "Fawkes dropped me off. Miss Wayne hasn't done anything except a favour for me. Now please sit down, you're blocking my view."

I saw Sprink and waved to her. She nervously sat down next to me, and said, "I placed your bet. Blimey, where'd you get the Hat, Mattie?"

"Fawkes dropped me off, Miss Tonks. Did you get good odds?" I could feel Alastair's irritation as he added, "No, I haven't been kidnapped, and no, I haven't told secrets to Miss Wayne. However, if people keep asking, I will start to tell them. Out loud, to everyone. Is that clear?"

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On the walk back to the castle with the celebrating Hufflepuffs, I managed to run into the Headmaster, who smiled, "Did you have a good time with Miss Wayne, Alastair?"

"I most certainly did! With the exception of a few comments before the game, I had a wonderful time."

"How so?"

"People assumed that Miss Wayne had kidnapped me for some reason. I was starting to become annoyed, Albus. I would appreciate it if you'd mention this at the Wednesday staff meeting."

"May I, Miss Wayne?" the headmaster motioned, and I nodded. He plucked Alastair from my head, placing it on his own. He frowned, the said, "I see what you mean, Alastair. I would not want Miss Wayne to suffer for her act of kindness." He looked at me, and added, "If you have a problem with this, please refer them to me. However, in the future, Miss Wayne, all you need do is ask."

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