For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1

10 – Classes, Week Ten, Second Year
Sunday, October 31, 1999:
Hogwarts, Hufflepuff table: 07:40
One of the twins whistled with her fingers as Arthur limped up to join the study group. "Nice shades, Morton! Very stylish!"

He sighed, "So far you guys are the only ones that aren't treating me like a leper. The girls hex me if I even look in their direction, the guys nail me because I won't tell them what I see." He shuddered, adding, "Thanks for giving me that email address, Mattie. I don't know how much use it will be, though. He's out of town." He passed over a folded piece of paper.

Date: 30 Oct. 1999
To: Arthur Morton (Hogwarts)
From: Lois Lane (Home)
Re: Eyes

Arthur:

I'll ask Clark to stop by when he gets back from his out of town business trip. The earliest I expect him is the middle of next month, but you know how fouled up travel plans can get.

You can also tell Mattie that either Jennie or John will be by to help her with her new bit of jewelry.

I'll write when I know more,
Lois

29 Oct. 1999
To: Clark Kent (encrypted)
From: Mattie Wayne
Subj: Eyes

Uncle Clark:

Our potion worked! Well, mostly. At least we got credit for it.

Arthur (our test subject) seems to have developed the ability to see through things (we haven't tested lead yet). However, he seems to be distressed by this (personally, I think it would be kinda cool!). Do you think you could stop by and help him out a bit before he really flips out and starts creating even weirder spells?

Mattie

PS: His email is amorton AT Hogwarts… yada, yada. grin
PPS: I shaved another 15 seconds off my best five mile time! Yay me!

Mattie returned the sheet to Arthur, and shrugged. "Travel problems, what are you gonna do?"

Sunday, October 31, 1999:
Hogwarts, Slytherin first year girl's dormitory: 10:07
Severus entered the room, black robes billowing, a bubbling flask in his hand. Filius Flitwick ignored him, chanting over the floating corpse of Molly Weasley. He stopped, Minerva McGonagall smoothly taking over the chant. The Potion Master held up the flask; Ginny nodded, sitting on a bed next to Percy, eyes riveted on the floating corpse of their mother.

Harry nodded at the door to the loo, Severus following him and closing the door, "How are they?"

"Ginny's eaten half a sandwich, nothing for Percy," Harry sighed. "Neither one of them has gotten a wink of sleep, even when Albus and I traded off. I've also had to hold off a horde of pissed-off Weasleys." He scrubbed his face, "I hope this charm works."

"Filius is the one that suggested it…" Severus started to say, when a cry came from the other room. They both ran, Severus wrenching open the door and holding back Percy, while Harry forcibly restrained Ginny.

"She moved… She moved…" Percy babbled, while Ginny sobbed into Harry's shoulder.

"She must drink the potion, or she will stop moving forever," Severus snapped, as Filius uncorked the flask while Minerva continued to chant. After a minute, Molly coughed and wheezed, before trying to sit up. Minerva helped her to a four-poster, while Severus and Harry relaxed their hold. Minerva made Molly comfortable; then waved them over. Ginny attached herself to Molly's neck, sobbing in relief, while Percy dithered.

"What…" Molly coughed; then looked at Percy. "You! How dare you, casting Cruciatus on your poor father!" She started to struggle out of bed, when Harry swung, breaking Percy's jaw. As Percy got up from the floor, Molly continued, "Casting Avada on me! Why, when I …" she stopped, blinked, then asked, "Why aren't I dead?"

"A charm on his wand to convert the AK into something else," Filius said. "Took me a year and a half of research," he added, before motioning to Percy. "We'll need to replace your wand, Mr. Weasley. That was a one-use charm, the next AK you cast will be lethal."

Minerva had healed his jaw, leaving the bruise. "Protective colouration, Mr. Weasley, I do not envy you the upcoming confrontation with your brothers."

"Harry and I will keep them from hurting you too severely, Percy," Ginny said. "We'll tell them what's going on; then we'll have to obliviate them. Can't have them acting out of character at the funeral."

"Funeral?"

Severus smirked, "Yes, Molly, you get to attend your own funeral, without actually becoming a ghost."

Sunday, October 31, 1999:
Hogsmeade, Weasley's Wizarding Wheeze, back room: 12:10
"There he is!" Ron shouted, and six redheaded men (one balding) advanced on Percy. Ginny stepped in front, Harry beside her as wands were raised.

"Stand aside you two," Charlie said calmly. "We have business with Percy."

"After I've said what I need to say," Ginny said. "Mum's alive!"

"There's a counter for Avada?" Arthur said in disbelief. "I saw Percy cast the AK! I saw the green light! I saw your mother die!"

"What you saw was a special wand we gave Percy," Harry said. "That was a modified stunner. Percy is spying for us; we thought he might need to go through a loyalty test. Molly is resting comfortably in the Slytherin dorms."

"Slytherin…" Ron sneered.

Ginny whirled on him, "Yes, Slytherin, Ron! They helped save your mum's life; can't you get that hatred out of your mind? Honestly!"

One of the twins said, "Ron, you've worked with Ian, he's an all right bloke, and Blaise is a good mate. Why are you still on this anti-Slytherin bit? Quidditch is one thing, but…" The other twin asked, "When can we see mum?"

"At the funeral, and you're going to have to be authentic, or you'll blow Percy's cover. You'll have to plan the funeral, Minerva's transfiguring a pig or something for the coffin," Harry said, adding, "Maybe we should obliviate them all."

"One prat in particular," Ginny said, shooting a dark glare at Ron. "The rest of this lot can be trusted. Dad, we'll try to sneak you in to see Mum."

"During the Quidditch game Saturday," Bill suggested. "There will be parents and alumni there, Ginny can sneak him in. Still," he looked at Percy, "He still should be roughed up a bit. No one would believe he got away from us with only one bruise."

"I'll take care of it," Ron said, cracking his knuckles. Percy swallowed and nodded.

Monday, November 1, 1999:
London, Ministry of Magic, Minister of Education's office: 07:50
"Problems, Weasley?"

"That's Minister Weasley to you, Hansen, and don't you forget it!" Percy snapped. "It was difficult to AK my mother, but it would be pure pleasure to kill you. Now, unless you have a way to make payroll this month, I want to see your backside through that door." He stood, wand in hand, "Is that clear?"

"Y…yes, sir!"

Percy sighed, and left his office, telling the secretary, "I'm going to see the Minister."

"Not a problem, Weasley," Fudge said. "I'll just have Dolores close down some un-necessary offices; we can transfer fifty or sixty thousand galleons into your accounts."

"That's, err, half-pay, Minister," Percy objected.

"Better half-pay with a job than no pay at all, eh, Weasley? You'll just have to trim some of the fat out of your personnel budget, like that useless Divination professor. They can always find another job," Fudge said, grinning at Percy.

Tuesday, November 2, 1999:
London, Diagon Alley, Weasley Wizard Wheezes: 07:10
Ron looked up at the door opening, and was shocked to see his father. "Dad! What are you doing here?"

"I tried to go in to work," Arthur said dully. "Fudge closed our office, saving funds, he said. I couldn't stay someplace without… without… your mum." Ron rushed to support him, helping him into the back room.

Fred looked up from the books; then rushed to help his father take a seat on the ratty couch. Sipping tea that Ron fetched, Arthur told his story, ending, "Poor Perkins. Only a few months from retirement, and he's laid off. Whatever will he do?" He blinked, asking, "What will I do now?"

Fred looked at Ron, saying, "Tonight, you're staying here with us. Ron, get back out front, George should be back soon. I'll floo to the Burrow, and pack a bag for you, Dad."

Arthur raised a hand, "You can't. Fudge shut down the floo office as a …"

"…cost-saving measure," Ron said. "I wondered why we hadn't had anyone come through the fires this morning." He blinked, then asked, "What about people that can't apparate?" Arthur shrugged.

"You're all done in, Dad," Fred said. He got up, rooting about; giving his father a small vial. "Dreamless sleep; Hermione brewed it. We'll put our heads together, decide what to do." He helped his father lie on the couch, fluffing a pillow and covering him with a brilliant orange Chudley Cannons blanket. Motioning his younger brother out front, Fred said, "Fudge is really starting to piss me off."

Tuesday, November 2, 1999:
London, Diagon Alley, Weasley Wizard Wheezes: 07:30
An owl fluttered in, and George untied the note:

2 November, 1999

Keep Father out of sight! It's suicidal for him to wander about Diagon Alley, much less the bloody Ministry! He's officially dead; I've modified Fudge and Umbridge's memory so they'll remember my killing him when he attacked Fudge in his grief. That means you'll have to plan a dual funeral. I'll send an arrangement of flowers, but I won't 'dare' attend myself. Have Ron do something suitably dramatic to the flowers, and please don't be too mean to Penelope. I don't want to know where they are, keep things as restricted as possible!

Mother and Father's official death certificates are attached. This note will destroy itself in ten seconds, please separate it.

P.

George pulled the note off and watched it burn.

Tuesday, November 2, 1999:
Hogwarts, Slytherin table: 08:10
"Post's here!"

Lee glanced at the Head Table as owls with Ministry medallions landed, offering envelopes to the faculty. She returned to her breakfast, glancing over her History text. A scream of rage came from the head table, Professor Croft standing, fists clenched and glaring at her letter. Professor McGonagall stood, shaking her letter, then saying, "Albus! What do you…"

The headmaster stood; the focus of attention in the hall, "I knew nothing about this. I suggest we repair to the staff room, we can discuss this in private."

"Fine!" Callista Vector spat, throwing her napkin on her half-eaten grapefruit and stalking out of the hall while students murmured.

"Now, as I was saying…" Albus started, but was interrupted by Sybill Trelawney, who stormed into the staff room, shawls fluttering, waving a letter, "Albus! I just received…"

"Several of us did, Sybill," Minerva said. "Do sit down; Albus was just getting to his letter."

"Thank you, Minerva," the Headmaster said. He cleared his throat, "First of all, despite what any individual letters might say, I want you all to continue on as normal. No one will be leaving; there will be no change to our class schedules. However, we are now in more desperate need of funding."

Harry cleared his throat, "If anyone is in desperate financial straights, please see me, I'll do what I can to help."

"Thank you, Harry," Minerva said. "This is such a ridiculous letter…" She cleared her throat and read:

1 November, 1999

Dear Miss McGonagall,

In view of the similarity of your position, and with Mr. Flitwick's greater tenure, your classes will be merged with his, effective immediately. The Ministry wishes you the best in your search for employment, and desires you to vacate your Hogwarts quarters by Friday, 5 November, 1999.

Signed,
Percival Weasley
Minister of Education

She looked about the staff room, asking, "Who else was sacked?"

Professors Vector and Croft raised their hands, as did Argus Filch and Harry Potter. Lara looked down the table, asking, "They sacked you, Harry?"

"Apparently, with Voldemort gone, and no other 'magical threats' apparent, they have decided self defense isn't needed. That's what DMLE is for, after all," he snorted.

"I'm tae take o' fer Argus, meself," Hagrid said. "Tha' Ministry 'as said I cann'ae teach any inter'sting creatures, jus' nifflers an' flobberworms an' the like." He sniffled, "I was gaen'tae get Charlie tae bring summat dragons fer my third-year class tae pet."

"The Ministry has decided that addition and subtraction is all the mathematical knowledge required," Callista Vector added.

"Professor Binns is capable of teaching Ancient Runes," Lara Croft said. "It is a branch of history, after all."

"As I said, I do not wish any changes," Albus said, "I am sure we will get this all sorted. For now, I think it best we get to class, and we do not discuss this with the students."

Tuesday, November 2, 1999:
Hogwarts, second floor corridor: 09:02
"Ah, there you are, Miss Wayne. I do apologize for my tardiness," the Headmaster said. "Puking Pastilles," he informed the statue, which obediently rotated open. He gestured, and as they rode up the circular stair together, he added, "I am afraid I must ask you to elucidate on your funding idea."

"That's what the Ministry letters were?" Mattie asked. "Pink slips?" The headmaster blinked, so she rephrased, "Job terminations?"

"Yes, I must ask you to keep that under your hat, Miss Wayne." He opened the door for her, waving up a tea set as they both took their respective squashy armchairs.

"You may know I'm the owner of the Ballycastle Bats," she started, and Albus waved his teacup, "I had wondered about the bats. Please continue." Mattie nodded, "The current stadium is in need of remodeling. I was thinking we could lease the Quidditch stadium for our home games while the work was being done. We could work out a split of the gate, plus whatever concessions are sold. Also, the WWN announcers would need to be negotiated between Hogwarts, the Bats, and the Wheeze."

"Most interesting…" the Headmaster mused. "I will bring this up at tomorrow's staff meeting."

"I need an answer fairly quickly," Mattie said. "I apologize for not bringing this up earlier, but you had indicated there was no immediate need. I was thinking a meeting Friday afternoon, with the Bats' staff staying over for our game with Gryffindor." She grinned, adding, "It can't hurt to scout for new talent."

"True, true," Albus said, drumming his fingers. "Let me confirm this, but I am agreeable to meeting Friday at one in the staff room."

"I'll send an owl after we finish, but remember, this will be a business meeting," Mattie warned, "We'll be competitors, friendly, but still competitors, Mr. Dumbledore."

Wednesday, November 3, 1999:
Hogwarts, staff room: 08:20
"Well, on to new business," Albus said. "It seems our Miss Wayne is the owner of the Ballycastle Bats Quidditch team, and they are looking for temporary quarters."

Severus snorted, "You didn't know that? She's been getting bats from the beginning of term."

"In any case, I will be meeting with her Friday at one here to negotiate an agreement." He smiled, "I believe our financial worries are over, although I did confirm her speculation about yesterday's letters."

Severus traded looks with Callista Vector. Pursing his lips, he said slowly, "While I am desirous of a successful negotiation, I would warn you to tread carefully, Headmaster. The Waynes are not a clan to toy with; any of them. Please make certain Callista is with you. You will need a Slytherin to negotiate with another Slytherin."

Minerva snorted, "We are negotiating with a very wealthy eleven year old girl, Severus. How difficult can it be?"

"You have no idea."

Friday, November 5, 1999:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Slytherin table: 12:40
"Oh, that's Michael Islington!" Karen said. "He's the star Seeker for the Bats! What's he doing here?"

"Scouting for new talent?" Mattie said calmly. "C'mon, Sprink, I gotta change. I've got a business meeting at one."

"Business meeting?" Karen asked, but Mattie was already out the door.

Mattie stopped at the door to the staff room, "Mr. Dumbledore, there is a charm preventing me from entering."

Minerva smiled, "That's to keep students out, Miss Wayne."

"I see," Mattie waited, but Minerva returned to shuffling her paperwork. Mattie cleared her throat, asking, "Miss McGonagall? The charm?" Both Albus and Minerva ignored her.

Mattie frowned; drew her wand, and stepped to the side, casting 'Stan Dividere'. As the wall crumbled into slivers, it left the partially open door standing in its frame. Picking up a flake of stone as she picked her way across, she tossed it on the battered table as she took her seat. "There are a few gems in Professor Binn's class. That's a nifty little fifth-century spell designed to break a cliff into arrowheads. I do apologize about the damage, Miss McGonagall; I wouldn't want to put Mr. Filch to any bother. I'll repair it later."

McGonagall closed her jaw with a click, "Miss Wayne..."

Mattie pointed her wand at the destroyed wall, casting 'Obscurus Transpare'. She added, "Mr. Potter did mention this room was a bit dim, that should help. Now that we are all here, let me introduce everyone. Representing Hogwarts, we have Mr. Dumbledore and Miss McGonagall. Mr. Fred Weasley is representing Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, the sponsor of the broadcasts. Ms. King represents the Wizarding Wireless Network. With the Bats, Mr. Islington is the player representative, I am the owner, Mr. Griplink is my financial adviser, and Ms. Hawking is my legal adviser." She steepled her hands, "Shall we begin?"

As the negotiations continued, Albus and Minerva, seated at the head of the table, couldn't ignore the students passing by, slowing to gawk as the meeting dragged on. The Ballycastle team, on the other hand, ignored them as they negotiated point after point. When the bell rang (silent in the meeting), signaling the end of afternoon classes, it took the forbidding presence of Professor Snape to disperse the crowd. He glanced in, shook his head, and entered the Great Hall for dinner.
"I think this is a workable start," Mattie said, and Minerva groaned. "In any case, I have an appointment, and it is starting to get late. Shall we initial our agreement to this draft, and continue our negotiations after tomorrow's game?"

"It has been a few years since I commented a Quidditch game at Hogwarts," Janice King said as she jotted her initials. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow's game."

"I'll wish best of luck to Slytherin tomorrow," Fred said as the agreement came around to him, "But I'll always support Gryffindor."

"I'll return best wishes to Gryffindor, but I'm confident Slytherin will stomp them flat," Mattie said as she initialed. "Small wager, Mr. Weasley? A galleon?"

"Done!" They both passed a galleon to Ms. King, Mattie standing and dispersing the privacy spell. With a quick 'reparo', the wall was restored, with the exception of the flake of stone. Mattie smiled, "Now, if you will excuse me?" She strolled out of the room, then ran for the dungeons once she was out of sight.

"Ahh," Mattie said, as Sprink washed her hands. "Elementary business negotiation – who can survive a full bladder longer," She flushed, emerging from the stall, and washed her hands.

Sprink checked her watch, "We've got ten minutes to get to class, mate. We've got to run!"

"Glad you could join us, Miss Wayne," Professor Sinistra said. "What was the meeting about?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but this was the preliminary meeting, and it's confidential. I hope we can finalize things after the game tomorrow." Mattie grinned, adding, "Then we're really going to have to get tough in the negotiations."

"Eight hours isn't tough?" Sprink muttered, and Mattie grinned, "Swim with the sharks, baby."

Saturday, November 6, 1999:
Hogwarts, Front hall: 08:10
The crowd was beginning to thin out when Ginny spotted the hunched figure in the worn cloak. "Dad?" she whispered, and he grasped her hand fiercely. "Come on, I'll take you to Mum," she said as she led the way to the Slytherin dorms.
Saturday, November 6, 1999:
Hogwarts, Quidditch pitch, Commentator's booth: 08:30
"Welcome back to Hogwarts for another exciting Quidditch season! As always, I'm Lee Jordan for Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, we're sponsoring today's broadcast on WWN. For the season opener between Gryffindor and Slytherin today, we are honored to have in the announcing booth not only the captains of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams, but my counterpart, Janice King, the voice of the Ballycastle Bats. Hello, ladies."

"Good morning, Lee! As you were so kind to point out, I normally broadcast for the Bats, but I happened to be in the neighborhood today, and I'm always up for a good game of Quidditch. This place does remind me of my own school days. I was a Ravenclaw, you know."

"You'll have to meet the team, then Janice! I think you can still find the tower, although the password has changed," Orla said. Everyone chuckled, "I'd like to introduce my colleague, Abby Michaels, Captain of the Hufflepuff team that we're planning on flattening next month."

"In your dreams; Orla!" Abby said. "The Slytherins have another strong lineup this year, while the Gryffindors lost half their team, including their Captain, to graduation. The Snake's Den continues to make good use of their first and second year students, including Mattie Wayne, their star seeker and holder of the record for Hogwart's fastest catch of a Snitch."

Orla nodded, "Slytherin's lineup includes Sprink Tonks, who played Chaser last year for Slytherin, and made the move to Beater this year to cover the loss to graduation of Ian MacDonald. Covering the open Chaser position for the Snakes is first year Canadian Jeremy Pellew, who is up against his sister Vi, who is a first year Chaser for the Lions."

"I'd just like to mention that Ian's a great bloke, and a colleague of mine at the newest branch of the Wheeze, just down the road here in Hogsmeade," Lee said. "Since there seems to be something wrong with the floo network lately, I won't give the address, but we do support owl orders at either our Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley locations." Lee cleared his throat, "I see referee Harry Potter is levitating the chest of balls out to the pitch. We'll be introducing… here they are! For Gryffindor, we have Clausen, Johnson, Johnson, Leeds, Pellew, Spencer aaand Wilson!"

Janice took over, "For Slytherin, we have Bundy, Dorney, Dorney, MacDonald, Pellew, Tonks aaand Wayne!"

Orla said, "I wonder if Gryffindor's solved the puzzle of Slytherin's Ballistic attack yet. Speaking as a keeper, it's a bloody hard thing to defend against."

"I've heard of that, and I'm looking forward to seeing it for myself." Janice said, "It's such a radical change of Slytherin's tactics from a few years ago. Before, it was a 'bull on through' style of play, but now I'm looking to see more of the Den's legendary finesse and cunning from years ago."

"You're about to see it, Janice!" Lee said. "The Quaffle is tossed, and… it's caught by Violet Pellew for the Lions! She's heading for the goal, but is quickly enveloped by the three Slytherin Chasers in a beautiful movement. She's trying to pass to Leeds, but it's intercepted by her brother! There you have it, Janice, the opening formation of the infamous Slytherin Ballistic!"

"That is such a smoothly executed maneuver, folks, it's incredible to see," Janice said. "They're spread out across the width of the goals, corkscrewing, rotating and boring in on Harry Spencer, the Gryffindor Keeper. They're doing behind-the-back passing; Spencer doesn't know who has the Quaffle, or which goal they're going to strike. They're just outside the scoring area, barely avoiding a stooging penalty, and SCORE! Firstie Jeremy Pellew, the first goal of his career and of the season, through the left-hand goal! It's ten-nothing Slytherin!"

"One hundred ten minutes into the game," Lee said, "Wayne continues her spherical orbit of the Snitch, preventing third-year Gryffindor seeker Wilson from snatching it."

"Even if she let Wilson have it, the outcome wouldn't change," Orla said. "Gryffindor has been flattened in this game."

"I wouldn't call it flattened, more like humiliated," Abby said. "Did they even show up for practice? With a score of two hundred to ten, I expect the Lions to be hiding in their common room."

"I am, reluctantly, forced to agree," Lee said. "As a Gryffindor alumnus, I can imagine what Professor McGonagall is going to say. Professor, want to make a comment?"

"Not in public, Mr. Jordan," Minerva said from behind them. "Not in public."

"A new wrinkle in the Slytherin Ballistic," Abby said. "I'd call this more of a fleur-de-lis pattern in their evasion, wouldn't you, Orla?"

"They do go vertically; then curve in, all while passing smoothly," Orla commented. "SCORE! Two hundred ten for Slytherin, ten for Gryffindor, and Wayne finally reaches over to grab the Snitch, giving a final score of three hundred sixty to ten, Slytherin, in a game lasting one hundred eighteen minutes!"

"That's the game from Hogwarts; I'm Janice King for the WWN, with the final score a humiliation of Gryffindor by Slytherin, three hundred sixty to ten!"

Saturday, November 6, 1999:
Hogwarts, Slytherin girls' dorms: 11:05
The Slytherins burst into their common room, whooping and celebrating. Ginny looked up the circular staircase from where she sat outside the first-year dorm. She clicked off the small radio, and sighed, then looked up at the thunder of feet, saying, "Hello, Karen. Good game."

Karen Bundy grinned, "I'd love to see what McGonagall is saying to the Gryffie team." She nodded at the door, asking, "What's going on?"

"Nothing I can talk about, but Professor Snape knows about it," Ginny said. She grinned, asking, "What's Snape like when you guys lose? Anything like class?"

"Icy," Karen admitted. "You can feel your bones freeze, and he has that menacing, hissing whisper. What about McGonagall?"

"She develops this really thick burr, you half expect her to start waving a broadsword about." Ginny lifted the school tie on the doorknob, asking, "Anyone got a spare? A Gryff tie looks out of place."

"I've got a spare one, my sister used to chew on the narrow end," Sprink said. "It's a nervous habit of hers. P'fessor Snape caught me wearing it once and insisted I buy new."

"Thanks," Ginny said, adding, "Word of warning for you and your two fellow 'wolves. Don't go anywhere alone. Anywhere – the loo, the library, class, and especially Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. Stay with your mates, and talk to the Slythie professors, but for now, beware the Ministry."

Mattie traded looks with the other girls, "You've got yourself a bodyguard, mate. Thanks, Ginny."

Saturday, November 6, 1999:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Slytherin table: 11:45
"'Obscurus Aqua'," Mattie said; looking at the three other people. "Before we go back in to the meeting, anything to discuss?"

"Yes," Sheila said. "Feeling better after your attack of pique?"

"Hogwarts needs this contract," Griplink said. "We know it, they know it. Just because they belittled you yesterday does not mean you must drive them to bankruptcy, as that is what they are facing." He steepled his long fingers, adding, "We learned long ago in the banking business that while it is certainly possible to extract every knut from a client, it is better to forgo a bit of profit in the name of client relations. This contract," he touched it, "is in need of client relations."

"They insulted you yesterday," Sheila said. "Now you've had your vengeance, you've rubbed their face in your money. Don't forget, Mattie, you'll be here for several more years, and Monday morning, you'll have class with these professors. Your relations are never going to be what they were."

"The drubbing your team gave McGonagall's won't help," Islington said. "Yes, they played a poor game. I know what giving and receiving that sort of drubbing feels like. A peace gesture will go a long way toward a profitable relationship for everyone." Michael cracked his knuckles, adding, "You're the boss, we'll play it how you wish. However, that also means that you need to listen to our advice, whether you take it or not."

"Thanks, everyone. I know I'm new at this, I'll…" Mattie looked up as screaming and shouting penetrated the privacy spell. She banished the spell, to see and hear Violet and Jeremy Pellew screaming at each other. Mattie said, "Michael, I'm going to take your advice." Moving over behind Jeremy, she forced him into a seat.

Mattie put her fingers in her mouth and whistled, "I am going to put on my team owner's hat, and address both teams," she told the Gryffindor table. "Yes, there is a sense of satisfaction in so thoroughly stomping another team. However, if you have any plans or fantasies of playing professional Quidditch, you should know every professional team sends scouts to games. Where do you think we get our talent?" She looked at both teams, asking, "Mr. Islington, would you give us your professional opinion of both teams, and please don't ignore me. I want the good, the bad, and the ugly."

"Let's start with Slytherin," he said. "They've got a fairly effective tactic in their Ballistic, but they're using it too much. I've seen at least two methods of disrupting it." The Gryffindors looked at each other, shocked. "Your chasers move like a well oiled machine, they'll get better when Mr. Pellew gains experience. The beaters, especially Miss Tonks, need experience and different tactics; they're focusing too much on defense. Miss Wayne gets too complacent when she's guarding the snitch, I spotted at least six occasions when she was occupied with something else; Miss Wilson could have stolen it easily." Mattie blushed, but Michael moved on.

"Gryffindor deserved to lose," he said. "There's no excuse for that sloppy play, especially when their only goal was on a penalty shot. However, Slytherin rubbed salt into the wound. That was poor sportsmanship on their part. Were I captaining Slytherin, I would have called for the snitch capture at one hundred points difference." Karen blushed; Michael bore on, "The two bright spots on the Gryffindor bench were Miss Pellew and Mr. Spencer. Unlike the other chasers, Miss Pellew continued to give her best effort, while her team-mates gave up. Mr. Spencer, despite a barrage of Quaffles, continued his best efforts. Were I to recommend a player in this room for a professional tryout, it would be Mr. Spencer." Raising a hand, he added, "This is not to short Miss Pellew. When she has a few years more experience, I may make a similar recommendation for her." He looked at the table, adding, "I am not the official talent scout. I do, however have several years of professional Quidditch experience."

"Thank you, Mr. Islington," Mattie said. "When I receive the official report, I will make a copy available to Mr. Snape and Miss McGonagall. Next month, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw play, I will make their reports available as well. It would be nice if Hogwarts becomes as well known for its Quidditch as for its academics." She stepped back from the Gryffindor table, adding, "I had a few other Quidditch related thoughts, perhaps Miss McGonagall might give me her opinion?"

Saturday, November 6, 1999:
Hogwarts, staff room: 12:15
"Allow me, Miss Wayne," Minerva said, opening the door to the staff room.

"Thank you, Miss McGonagall," she replied, taking her seat. She looked over at Fred, "Mr. Weasley, I was just informed of the death of your parents. Would you like to reschedule this meeting for another time?"

He swallowed, then said, "No, but thank you anyway. Speaking for my family, I appreciate your thoughts."

"If you're certain?" Fred nodded, Mattie asking, "If I may have the date and location, I'd at least like to send some flowers." Fred nodded again, and she continued, "While this may be in poor taste at this time, Mr. Weasley, I'd like for you to consider another meeting with the Bats. I'm thinking of your shop either carrying our merchandising line, or possibly a shop in the stadium, if, that is, Mr. Dumbledore and Miss McGonagall are interested?"

Albus and Minerva traded glances, Albus saying, "Quite possibly, Miss Wayne. We can indeed examine this later, however."

"Excellent!" Mattie smiled, adding, "I believe Mr. Griplink had some revised calculations for commissary revenues versus the gate. Mr. Griplink?"