For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1


25 – Classes, Week 43, First year

Friday, June 18, 1999:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Slytherin table

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stood, tapping his wineglass with a spoon. The noise slowly died away as he said, "Another year has come and gone. At this time, we will say goodbye and good fortune to some of our friends, formerly seventh-years, now graduates." Someone whooped from Hufflepuff, followed by a storm of screaming, shouting and applause. The Headmaster let it go on for a few minutes, before tapping his wineglass again.

"Indeed, a most interesting year. We are indeed fortunate that we leave with the same number of faculty and students we started out with." Another storm of high spirits broke, and again the Headmaster let it go before continuing. "This brings me to the awarding of the Quidditch cup. I wish to commend Slytherin House for an excellent showing with 380 points, despite the unfortunate absence of their primary seeker Miss Wayne for the last two games of the season. They were, however barely edged out by Ravenclaw, with 410 points." Minerva McGonagall stood, and delivered the cup to the diminutive Filius Flitwick, who stood and waved it above himself with difficulty – it was almost as large as he was.

"Sorry, guys," Mattie said as she clapped politely. "I really wanted it too."

"I'll hear na' more abou' it, lassie," Ian said. "I don' blame ye for being' oo't of school, ye' were in bloody Azkaban! Y' survival was much more important tha' Quidditch, noo." He clapped, adding, "I'll be workin' with the Weasleys in Hogsmeade, lassie. I expect to see us wi' it next year!"

"Yes, well done, Ravenclaw, well done!" the Headmaster continued. "We now come to the centerpiece of tonight's festivities, the House Cup. As you know, for the last four weeks of term, the hourglasses outside the Great Hall are covered, so none but the four Heads and I know the point totals." He gazed across the breathless hall, and said, "The house totals stand with Gryffindor at 560 points. Ravenclaw is at 685 points, Slytherin at 689 points, and Hufflepuff at 840." He smiled, adding "I would like to note that Mr. Arthur Morton of Hufflepuff set a school record of 250 points in one day. That was very well done, Mr. Morton!"

The Headmaster paused for a sip of wine as he waited for the Hufflepuffs to stop cheering and slapping an embarrassed Arthur on the back, before continuing, "You may recall that in January of this year, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin Quidditch teams were kidnapped, along with Professor Potter, and held in the dungeons under Malfoy Manor. One student managed to free her schoolmates of their bonds, and escaped the cell, gathering vital intelligence and capturing several Death Eaters with her knowledge of the martial arts. For saving the lives of her schoolmates, I would like to award Miss Wayne and Slytherin 150 points."

The Slytherins and Ravenclaws, followed by the rest of the students, stood and cheered, Mattie groaned, then stood up and said, "Excuse me. Excuse me!" Grumbling, she pointed at the ceiling, saying, 'arcus explosivus minimus', causing an explosion of blinding rainbow-hued light and silence in the Great Hall.

"You wished to say something, Miss Wayne?" the Headmaster said calmly.

"Yes, sir, you awarded me 150 points for my actions in Malfoy's dungeons, correct?"

"I did indeed, I felt you deserved them."

"I don't, Headmaster. My housemates are going to kill me for saying this, but I don't believe I earned them. I was not alone; I think Susan Fawcett deserves those points more than I do."

The Headmaster looked at her; then at Susan, face covered in embarrassment at the Ravenclaw table. "May I ask why?"

"Susan, may I?" Mattie asked gently, and her head nodded once. "Her transfiguration skills are far superior to mine. We had to crawl around through air shafts, which weren't that big, about twelve by twenty-four inches. The reason Susan and I went because we were the smallest." Mattie looked around, adding, "I didn't find out until later that Susan's a claustrophobe. She was absolutely terrified, but she got the job done, which is why I think she deserves the points. She earned them, sir, I didn't."

The Headmaster stroked his beard, "If that is what you wish, Miss Wayne. However, I am not finished embarrassing you." She moaned and tried to hide as the Headmaster chuckled. "I would also like to add a special award to Miss Wayne, for she survived the horrors of Azkaban prison with mind, body and spirit intact and unbroken. That is truly unusual. The maximum I can award is 150 points." Slytherin house went mad, with the Slytherin faculty; and then the rest standing to applaud, while Mattie hid her face, then was pulled to stand on the bench by Sprink and Emma. She waved, and the commotion died down. The headmaster chuckled, "Now, if my arithmetic is correct, that produces a very close race between Ravenclaw, with 835 points, Slytherin, with 839 points, and Hufflepuff with 840 points!"

He clapped his hands, changing the school banners to Hufflepuff yellow. Severus Snape stood to applaud, followed by the rest of the Slytherin faculty and students, while the Hufflepuff table sat there, stunned. After a minute, Minerva McGonagall, holder of last year's house cup, strode down the High Table to award it to Pomona Sprout, who was still rather gobsmacked.


Saturday, June 19, 1999:
Hogwarts Express, southbound

As the train pulled out of Hogsmeade station, someone knocked on the compartment door holding the study group. Ginny poked her head in, asking, "Can we join you, the others are full." Someone waved; Ginny and Harry came in, Harry sitting on a trunk, leaning against the wall.

"Err, Professor, d'you want to…" Charlie asked, but Harry shook his head, saying, "I'm fine, mate, and right now it's just Harry, not Professor Potter." He glanced over at Mattie, sitting in a corner, adding, "Brill, Mattie."

Arthur snorted, and Mattie frowned, then stomped over to him, grabbed him by the collar, and said, "Excuse us, everyone. We need to talk," before dragging him out in the corridor, and down toward the caboose, where the familiars rode in their cages. She plunked him down on a bench, cast 'obscurus aqua', and said, "Out with it."

"Out with what?"

She snorted, and said, "Whatever the hell climbed up your butt and died this week!" She sat next to him, adding, "Or am I to believe that everything is just peachy keen, and you're your normal bubbling, effervescent self? Sorry, I gave up the crazy act in Azkaban."

"Right, so I'm supposed to believe that we won the house cup out of the generosity of your heart?" Arthur snorted. "How much do you think stumping Professor Potter was worth, fifty points? You and Susan earned your points Mattie, I didn't. Slytherin should have won, not that I really give a damn about the House Cup."

"Believe what you want, but I didn't give those points to Hufflepuff, I gave them to Susan Fawcett, and I did it because I believed it to be right."

"I'm not arguing that. Susan earned those points. So did you, in my opinion. My problem is with that ring on your hand; 'right' is whatever you say it is."

Mattie whirled, "How DARE you? I thought you knew me better, Arthur Donald Morton! Is that what this is about, the damned power ring?" She gazed out the open rear door at the receding track, then turned, demanding, "Hold out your hand." He blinked, and she grabbed his hand, shoving the power ring on his finger. "There. You now have the power ring. You can do whatever you want. YOU are now a Green Lantern, Arthur Morton of Columbus, Ohio. Tell me, how does it feel?"

"I… Oh, my god, it's…"

"Yeah, yeah, it's a rush. However, as the newest member of the cape and spandex club, there are a couple ground rules. First, and most important, you never, ever, give another hero's identity away. Can you tell me why?"

He blinked, and said, "So they don't get killed, obviously."

She nodded, "That's part of it. There are three reasons. First, if you do, that hero will have every psycho, huckster and con man trying to get you to make them money with endorsements and such. Can you imagine what Flash's endorsement of running shoes would be worth to Nike or Reebok?"

"Everyone knows The Flash gets his running boots from Star Labs. Is that an endorsement?"

"They're non-commercial, a government agency. Secondly," she continued, "You're going to get every sob story known to man. Maybe a tenth, a hundredth of one percent are genuine. Third, and most important, your family becomes a big, fat, juicy target for every criminal psychopath. Can you imagine what the Joker would do with your parents, or your brothers and sisters?"

She gazed at him in silence as he shuddered, then asked, "How do you know?"

"I grew up in it. Sit back, and I'm going to tell you the dirty little secrets of the entire cape and spandex crowd, that is, if you still want that ring. Remember the old saying, 'With great power, comes great …'"

"…responsibility. Does that mean that I need to …"

"Be the hero? Hold down a full-time job, a family, pay your taxes and bills, AND fight off alien invasions while getting cats out of trees? Yep, sure does. Heroing doesn't pay squat. You do it because you feel it's your duty, because you have that magical power ring, which means the guy that just jumped off the Golden Gate bridge is your responsibility. YOU can save his life." She gazed at him, adding, "That also means no more 'poor, pitiful me, I drew a lousy hand in life' shtick from you, bubka."

She brushed her hair back as he started to draw breath. "Look the way I figure it, life is like a poker game. We have two cards down, I have a jack showing, you have a four. I could have a flush, or crap. You could have a pair of fours; it's still early in the hand. We don't know yet, all we can do is play the cards." Leaning forward, she asked, "Unless you're going to fold?"

"I don't know yet. How often do the aliens try to invade?"

"Coward," she said with a grin. "On average, every four to six months, although this year they've been slow. Once so far this year, and they were just some little pissants with a couple light cruisers. Ooh, look at the suckers without a space navy, easy pickings." She snorted, "They didn't know Superman hangs his cape here. Oops. We'll leave the next one for you."

"ME?"

"Sure, you're a Green Lantern now. Maybe they'll actually be a challenge. Hell, play poker with them, it's worked before. I can see the banner headline in the Columbus newspaper, the Columbus …"

"… Dispatch."

"Dispatch, thanks. 'Columbus has GL now!' and 'Mystery teen saves runaway subway car!'"

"There's no subway in Columbus."

"Picky, picky. Next day's headline is something like, 'GL asked to solve council budget stalemate, refuses.'"

"What the hell would I know about the city council budget?"

"You're the Green Lantern, of course you'd know."

"Politicians are really that stupid? And just how many heroes do you know?"

She gazed at him cynically, then asking, "Including Potter?"

"Harry Potter? You've gotta be kidding."

"Nope, he's got all the signs. Think back to September, when Dumbledore introduced him. Every damned wizard in that room went ape, acted like he walked on water," Mattie said. "Same thing Superman gets when he walks into a room. What you'll have to understand is that the cape and spandex set are all just regular people with weird job descriptions."

Arthur shifted on the bench, as Mattie sat cross-legged on it. "Prove it," he said.

"Okay. I know a hero who leaves half-drunk coffee mugs all over the house; his wife gets hair caught in the drain, she also steals books and socks from relatives while they're reading them. Does that sound like anyone you know?" she asked.

"The wife sounds like my sister Elena, except for the socks. She steals shirts from Dad, and the husband sounds like my brother Henry. Who are they?"

"A couple more, two guys will bet on anything, including which side of the bread will fall butter-side-down. Another hero works as a photographer, another is a cartoonist. Another collects videotapes of commercials, and another works as a history teacher, that person's handwriting is worse than Snape's. Do they sound like regular people?"

"Yeah, who are they?"

"The coffee, or actually tea mug fellow is Harry Potter, the sock thief is Ginny. I got that from her twin brothers, by the way. They were amazed that the famous 'boy who lived' was a regular guy with the most god-awful pair of sneakers, sorry, trainers they'd ever seen." She chuckled, adding, "The two gamblers are Lantern and Flash. Plastic Man's an alcoholic, by the way. The photographer is Jade, you've met her, and the commercial collector is Superman. The cartoonist is Lantern. The teacher with the bad handwriting is Wonder Woman."

"Regular people?

"Tell you what, keep the weekend of the Fourth open; I'll see if I can get you an invite to Steel's blowout." Arthur raised his eyebrow, and Mattie said, "Every Fourth, he hosts a huge barbeque at his place in South Metropolis. Kids, pets, wives, husbands, and so forth of the cape and spandex crowd are invited. It's a great time; the cardinal rule is no powers, and I'll bet you can't identify the heroes in the crowd, not counting the four you know of."

"Four? How many have I met?"

Mattie counted on her fingers; then said, "Nine that I know of; are you up for it?"

"I'll let you know, but for now, what do you want to do about this?" and Arthur waved his hand.

Mattie met his gaze, and answered, "Your decision. You're Green Lantern."


On the way back to the compartment, Arthur stopped, asking, "Mattie? I don't know if I can handle this ring. Take it back, please."

"What happens if I say no?"

"I use it to fly up to the moon, and kick Green Lantern's butt for the stupid idea of giving it to you. Then I give it back to him."

"I'm glad to see someone else agrees, but to be fair, it was my brother's dumb idea." Mattie grinned at his shocked expression, adding, "You thought I wanted to wear a reusable antimatter bomb? I'll take it back, but I'm going to designate you as the ring's backup." She slid it back on her finger, adding, "Lanterns have been killed, you know." She looked at him, adding with a small smile, "Let's go see what these knuckleheads are up to."

"You go ahead; it's too crowded in there for me. I'm going to take a walk and think."


"That violates centuries of tradition!" Amanda shouted as they entered.

"If those traditions are unfair? How does that help?" one of the twins countered.

Harry waved them in, saying, "We've decided to draft a Declaration, like what you Yanks did in 1776." He shook his head, saying theatrically, "Where did we go wrong? Now you blokes mis-spell words, drink coffee instead of a proper cup of tea and drive on the wrong side of the motorway."

"Looked a bit different on our side of the pond, there," Roshawn said.

Mattie asked Amanda, "What's centuries of tradition?"

"Five judges on a trial!"

"The problem is the court can be packed, Amanda," Shaundra said. "Fudge had arranged Malfoy's trial so he had three of the five judges in his pocket. When Dumbledore stepped down, it was three to one against Madame Bones. There was no way he could be convicted." She added, "My mom's a lawyer. What I'd suggest is one judge for misdemeanors, three for felony cases like murder, the Unforgivables, and so forth. Those judges are randomly drawn, and can only be changed with the judge's death or serious illness. That way, someone like Malfoy can still rig a trial, but it would be a lot more expensive for him to do that. He'd have to buy off something like ninety percent of the court, instead of the sixty percent he's got now." Her twin added, "Another thing I'd change is having court-appointed solicitors for both prosecution and defense."

"I'll agree with that," Harry said. "I mentioned using magic before a muggle in class, right? Fudge wanted to expel me from Hogwarts and snap my wand, but Dumbledore stepped in and saved my arse. I wonder how many people are in Azkaban because they couldn't defend themselves against a professional barrister."

"Werewolf rights," Sprink said. "When you're a werewolf, you lose a lot of your rights. You're automatically considered guilty if someone's been bitten, unless you're locked in a Ministry-approved cell with witnesses. Even if I were to bite someone now, outside the full moon, it would be considered a bite, and the odds are good that I'd be executed. After I reach majority at seventeen, I have to report to Ministry once a week for an interview and examination. That's all two hundred plus adult werewolves in Britain, and there's only four people working in werewolf control."

"Two, actually," Ginny said. "Budget cuts at the Ministry, there's longer hours and shorter staffing. They've gone to a six-day week, twelve hours a day for the same rate. My Dad comes home just exhausted every night, but the Aurors and DMLE got rises."


Saturday, June 19, 1999:
London, Kings Cross station, platform 9 3/4

Mattie asked, "Charlie, you have a computer at home? Do you mind receiving owl post from everyone?" He nodded, and she added, "Everyone, before you go, I'd just like you to look out for a present from my family to the wizards of Great Britain the morning of June 28th. I'll give Charlie my home email address; I'd like to hear what you think."

Amanda asked, "What are you on about? What present?"

Mattie smiled, "It's to you Brits, and I think you'll like it. It's been something we've had and you've needed for a long time."


After giving the countersign to the Wayne staffer, Mattie asked, "I need to stop by the American embassy, please. I have a note from Mr. West asking for a short meeting."

"Right-o, Miss Wayne, I'll call the airport and the jet from Grosvenor Square, then." He looked about, asking, "Only three trunks?"


In the embassy's reception area, Mattie smiled at the Marine, "I have a letter from Mr. West regarding my missing passport, and he wants a short meeting." She gave it to him; he looked it over, then picked up the phone and dialed.

Mattie nodded her thanks to the escorting Marine, and smiled at Mr. West. The old attorney said, "Thank you, son. I'll escort Miss Wayne from here." As the Marine braced and departed, Mattie was ushered into his office.

"Now, Miss Wayne, I must say I was pleasantly surprised to get your thank-you note. All too often these days the niceties go unobserved," Mr. West said. "On to business, I understand that your passport has gone missing, courtesy of Minister Fudge?"

"Thank you, sir. My grandfather was British; he trained me well, sir," Mattie replied with a smile, adding, "My wand has also gone missing, sir."

"We'll get to that in a moment. First of all, we have a replacement passport for you; all it needs is your signature. I have taken the liberty of extending your academic visa as well as those of your companions, which is being handled as we speak." He offered her a pen, as she signed, he buzzed his secretary. As she closed the door behind her, he added, "She'll go and handle that for us, it should be ready in a few minutes. Now, as to your wand, I have discussed this with the Ambassador, and we are in agreement. We will issue you a wand, if Minister Fudge decides to confiscate it, he will explain why. If you would come with me, we need to see a fellow elsewhere."


"Ah, Mr. Hansen, this is Miss Doe, the young lady I spoke to you about," Mr. West said as he introduced the commercial attaché. "Miss Doe, please accompany Mr. Hansen, he will procure that item, and will escort you back to my office." He nodded, moving off.

Mr. Hansen smiled, giving her a pass on a neck chain and asking, "Miss Doe, please place your thumbprint on the red square, and we can be off." As she did so, Mr. Hansen took another pass from his drawer, pulling it over his neck. Opening the door, he walked her to the elevator, fishing out his key ring as he walked.

"Place your pass in the slot, Miss Doe, and wait for the green light," Mr. Hansen said, nodding at the Marine in the bulletproof glass booth. She did so, and he followed as a fellow with an FBI windbreaker holding an inter-office envelope pushed through the exit. He then lead her down an underground corridor to a non-descript door with a number. He knocked; then moved his body to shield the code as he entered it in the lock.

"Miss Doe, this is Mr. Jones," Mr. Hansen said. "He needs to take some measurements, please accompany him. I'll wait for you here." Mr. Jones, a young fellow with a prominent Adam's apple, put down his Agency coffee mug, smiled, and beckoned for her to follow.


"Thank you, Mr. Hansen," Mr. Smith said. He smiled and nodded, holding her pass as he closed the attorney's door behind him.

"Now then, Miss Wayne, there is your replacement passport, your friends have their visas extended, and you should get your item delivered to you in Gotham in a week or so. Given past history, we have also arranged for you and your colleagues to receive underage usage passes from the Department." He passed her an envelope with a Department of Education return address. "The envelope includes your letter of authorization as well as your pendant. Is there anything else that we can do for you?"

"Yes, sir, something has come up, and I was wondering if you had a Floo connection I could borrow. I need to make a quick visit to Gringott's, and my driver is a muggle."

"I believe we can handle that. Please come with me," Mr. Smith said. He led her down the corridor, pausing to have a word with the Marine on duty. "Now then, when you wish to return, our Floo address is 'US Embassy, Grosvenor Square'. The Marine will call an escort for you. I do hope you have a wonderful summer, and I look forward to seeing you again." He shook her hand, adding, "Are you planning on playing Quidditch again? I hope to get up to Scotland to see a game."

"I hope to, sir. Thank you again for all your help." Mattie waited until he had left, then took a bit of Floo powder, calling 'Gringott's London!' as she stepped into the flames.


Saturday, June 19, 1999:
London, Gringott's bank

Mattie dusted herself off, asking the receptionist, "Is Mr. Griplick available? I'm Mattie Wayne, he was expecting me today."
"Miss Wayne! So good to see you again," Mr. Griplick said. "Your new vault is ready; your funds have been transferred. All we need done is to introduce yourself to your dragon. Would you come with me, I do confess to a bit of curiosity."
As the cart followed its roller-coaster path, Mattie said, "Mr. Griplink, this must remain a secret between you and I. My brother, with the best intentions gave me this ring." She held on as the track veered over a bottomless chasm, then continued, "It's a very powerful device, it's capable of destroying planets, and I'm not ready for that. I can't return it, so I must store it somewhere secure. At home, it would be too tempting."

"And you are trusting myself with this secret," Griplink mused.

"You and Gringott's," Mattie grinned, adding, "Do you understand the reason for the high security?"

"I do indeed," Griplink said. "Do you have a suitable duplicate ready?"

"No, I was hoping your transfiguration skills were better than mine. I tried with a few knuts, but the results weren't satisfactory." The cart braked in front of a vault; the head of a small Welsh Green dragon gazed at them, smoke drifting from its nostrils.

"We'll give it a go in a minute. Your new vault number is 1186, and your moneybag is realigned." He reached up, and patted the dragon's snout. "Let him give you a good sniff. After this visit, he will only allow access with the both of us together. If one of us is killed, the other must present the body to him to smell."

As Mattie stood on the platform, she asked, "What about the feeding crew?" She nervously patted the dragon's snout, as smoke curled around her.

"The dragons know that they are not allowed access to the vaults," he motioned to the large water trough. "They'll be eaten if they approach the vault doors." He asked the dragon, "Are you satisfied?" The dragon let out a small roar, and watched them. Griplink extracted a key on a chain from his pocket, handing it to Mattie. Taking another from around his neck, he said, "On three, turn clockwise. One, two, three!"


With a 'ding', the jet's seatbelt light went off, and one of the twins asked, "Okay, so what's the big surprise on the twenty-eighth, and why did you need to stop at the embassy?"

"Fudge took my passport, I had to arrange for a replacement," Mattie said. "While I was there, I got an underage pass, you guys did too?"

The other twin said, "Yeah, and our visas were extended as well. Did you arrange that?"

Mattie shrugged, "I mentioned it to Mr. West when I wrote his thank-you letter. It saves you a trip to the consulate." She grinned, adding, "The present is something the British wizarding public needs: the First Amendment. Pass me my bag, would you?" Arthur stood, and passed Ian's old book bag to Mattie, she dug into it, adding, "These are galley proofs, courtesy of my Aunt Lois. This is what every wizarding household in Great Britain will be receiving, free." She pulled out copies, adding, "Ladies and gentleman, may I present The Reporter newspaper!"


Monday, June 21, 1999:
London, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office

"Ah, there you are, Cornelius, and with Lucius and Dolores also! Capital, I shan't have to repeat myself," Albus Dumbledore said as he moved further into the room, ignoring the hostile looks. He paused; conjuring a squashy armchair for himself when none was offered. "Now then, where was I? Oh, yes, students are safely in their homes, and another school year under our belts."

"What do you want Dumbledore? We are in a meeting," Fudge said.

"Well, I shan't take up more than a minute or two. I bring an offer to the three of you from Mr. Wayne." Lucius snorted elegantly, and Albus smiled, "He suggests that the three of you clean your vaults of gold, snap your wands, and retire to someplace far from these shores. He suggested Palestine, Oman, or Belize, but I believe he would be satisfied with other locations as well."

Dolores Umbridge tittered, and Lucius raised an eyebrow. Cornelius snorted, "What does he offer in exchange for this most generous offer?"

"He offers your lives and fortunes, Cornelius."

"Why should we take this fool up on his offer?"

"The same fool whose daughter you kidnapped and tortured, Cornelius?" Albus shook his head, adding, "They are being generous; I suggest you accept their offer."

Lucius sneered, "Then they are fools."

"I think not, Lucius," Albus said. "Please remember that you are warring with a man whose wealth far exceeds your own, who has the ear of Presidents and Queens, who holds life-debts for some of the most powerful people in the world." He gazed at them, adding, "A man whose daughter you have put in danger, and whose legal status you, Cornelius, continue to play like a fish on a line. Do you not understand the primal urge to protect the young? This is the same urge that causes parents to risk their very lives to protect their young, and you threaten this man on a very deep, personal level." He gazed at them, "Your continual attempts at greater levels of Danegeld, Cornelius, while threatening his daughter's safety, is beyond crass, it is obscene. Once again, I advise you to accept his offer. It will remain open until five pm London time on Friday the twenty-fifth. You may contact me to accept."

"And if we choose not to accept?" Fudge asked.

"Then I would be remiss if I did not remind you that a great many people are not pleased with the way you run the Ministry as your own personal fiefdom. They are not pleased with your practice of imprisoning your opponents, or their families, to suit your own political ends. I would call upon you to study what happens to societies and regimes that do so. Finally, I would mention that while Mr. Wayne has forsworn murder, not all of your opponents have."

The three traded looks, and burst out laughing. Albus Dumbledore arose, banishing his chair and moving to the door. He added, "I said I would make the attempt, and I have done so. Good day."

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