The Ollertons certainly seemed to believe in keeping the business in the family – not only were Bill, Bob, and Barnaby brought in, but all their children as well – Barry, Bartholomew, and Bennett from Bill's side; Benedict, Byron, and Bianca from Bob; and Leland and Rosemary from Barnaby. The conference room where Bianca (the woman at the front) had brought them began to fill with family bickering, while Hermione and Blaise stood in the shadows in a corner as still as they could, watching as the Ollertons mingled. Benedict and Barry were arguing over tail twig counts, while Rosemary was arguing with Bennett about marketing campaigns. Everyone wore a helpful name tag with their department under it in smaller type, which was excellent, because Hermione knew she'd never be able to remember all their names let alone tell them apart.

When Bianca returned for the last time, helping Bill and Bob stagger into the room to take seats at the head of the table, she looked around to find Hermione and Blaise. She whistled sharply to get everyone's attention, and the arguing immediately ceased.

"Good morning!" she said brightly. "This sudden meeting has been called because we've received an offer—"

Benedict groaned loudly. "Bianca, we're not selling—"

"—to purchase the Ollerton's share of the Daily Prophet." She flashed her siblings and cousins a smug smile. "I figured we should hear what they have to say."

She primly took her seat, radiating smugness, and everybody turned to look at Hermione and Blaise. Hermione cleared her throat and stepped forward, anxiousness suddenly taking hold.

"It's just as she said," Hermione said. "We'd like to offer to purchase your part of the Daily Prophet."

One of the old men at the far end snorted. "Why? That old rag is more stress than it's worth."

"That's a matter of opinion," Hermione said carefully. "I'm hopeful to introduce some changes and a new editorial policy."

Barry scoffed. "Good luck."

Blaise stepped up next to her.

"Based on our market analysis and profit estimates, we're prepared to compensate you generously for your share," Blaise said. His voice was confident and assured, and Hermione envied him his grace under pressure. "We are prepared to offer the Ollerton Brothers 15,000 galleons for their collective share."

Murmurs broke out around the table, eyes going wide.

"15,000 galleons?" Rosemary gasped. "We've barely made more than 1500 a year off of that rag."

Blaise shrugged elegantly. "We think we can make some changes to turn more of a profit."

"No. Boo," said Leland, scowling. "We're not selling the family business to children."

"The bloody paper isn't the family business, and it sucks up too much of our time as it is," Benedict snapped. "I vote we sell."

Bickering broke out around the table between the younger Ollerton generation. Most of them seemed in favor of selling and were gradually coaxing their disagreeing cousins over.

"15,000 galleons is a lot, Barty; we could get that new wood cutter—"

"Think of the investment we could make back into what matters. The Firebolt's been crushing our numbers; this will give us the chance to reinvest in our own brooms and fight back—"

"I don't trust children with the nation's news—"

"Who cares that they're kids? Let them run the bloody thing into the ground, for all I care—"

After a while, there was a sharp whistle from the far end of the table, and everyone fell silent, looking to the head of the table.

The three founding brothers there looked their age – all of them with gray, straggly hair, heavy lines in their faces, and hunches in their backs. They looked very weary overall.

"Should we take a poll?" one of them said. He raised his hand. "I vote we sell."

Bob, Benedict, Byron, and Bianca all voted to sell; Bill, Barry, and Bennett also voted to sell, while Bartholomew, Leland, and Rosemary all voted not. Everyone looked to Barnaby, the third old brother, whose eyes gleamed.

"25,000," he said. "Then I'll sell."

The others around the table gasped.

"18,000, and preferential treatment for ad placement in the future," Blaise shot back.

"23,000, and free ads for life."

"20,000, 50% off your ad fees for the next ten years, and preferential treatment for ad placement on pages and for marketing campaigns," Hermione countered. "Final offer."

Barnaby grinned, revealing several missing teeth. "I vote to sell."

The extra 5000 galleons and break on ad fees made a difference; Bartholomew and Rosemary both voted to sell as well, now. That left Leland, the one holdout, who folded his arms and sulked.

"Diversifying our interests is good," he complained. "If we sell this, we'll only be left with the broom company—"

"The broom company is everything, you useless flobberworm," spat Bob Ollerton. "If we do one thing, but do it really well—"

"You're supposed to diversify your investments," Leland protested. "It helps protect in the event of—"

"Oh wahh wahh wahh, I'm Leland, I went to muggle business school to impress a girl," mocked Benedict, taking on a mocking, petulant voice. "I think I know everything about anything."

Leland's face reddened. "That's not—"

"You've never liked this company," accused Byron. "You never even played Quidditch!"

"So?" protested Leland. "That's not a valid objection—"

"How can someone afraid of flying be helpful in a broom company, I ask you? No one even knows what you do—"

"I handle the Accounts Receivable, you numbskull—"

"Yeah, and what in bleedin' hell is that?"

Hermione cleared her throat, stepping forward again.

"I would accept Leland maintaining his own stock interest if he takes a more active interest in the paper," she said. "Unless you're all prepared to buy him out."

Benedict's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"The Ollerton Brothers own 30% of the Daily Prophet," Hermione explained. "If I'm correct, Barnaby already passed on his 10% share to his children, making Leland a 5% owner. If Leland keeps his 5%, we will buy you out for the other 25% proportionally."

Benedict's eyes shot over to Byron. "What's 5% of 20,000—"

"1000 galleons," Byron said, already on it. "So we'd get 19,000 galleons, and all the preferential treatment as well."

"Hell, I was ready to sell at 15,000," Bennett quipped, reclining in his chair. "Let Leland have his little chunk, and the rest of us can move on."

Hermione stared at them. 5% was 1/6th of 30% - knocking 3,333 galleons off of the 20,000-galleon price. From Leland's confused look, he knew it too. When he looked to Hermione, though, she held her finger to her lips silently. Leland's eyes widened, and though he looked suspicious, he didn't say a word.

The others quickly voted, leaving Leland looking frightened and alone, and the matter was decided. The Ollerton Brothers all stood and bowed.

"We'll have the contract drawn up and delivered as soon as possible," Blaise told them, bowing back.

"And the gold?" Benedict demanded.

"Transferred as soon as the contract is signed and everything is in order," Blaise said smoothly.

Benedict nodded sharply. "Good."

Everyone except Hermione, Blaise, and Leland left the room, eager to get back to work now that the distraction was over. By himself, Hermione could see that Leland was significantly younger than his cousins – his late twenties at the most.

"Leland Ollerton, my name is Hermione Granger," Hermione said, sweeping him a curtsy. "May I present Blaise Zabini?"

Blaise bowed, and Leland bowed back instinctively, before looking uneasy again.

"So… what now?" he said. "You threaten me until I sell you my share as well?" He pointed at her sword. "I'm no slouch – I can disarm you even if you try to draw."

Hermione was startled into laughing.

"Oh, heavens, no!" she exclaimed. "No, no no no."

"Then what?" Leland looked suspicious. "You can't tell me that arithmetic made sense. You know as well as I do that—"

Hermione grinned.

"I was happy to buy their share for 19,000 and hopefully gain a business partner in the process," Hermione told him honestly. "They mentioned you went to muggle university?"

"I went to Glasgow for Accounting and Finance," Leland said. He reddened. "I was pursuing a girl originally, but that didn't work out. I ended up really liking my studies, though, and I thought I could put it to good use here…"

"Do you like it here?" Hermione asked gently.

Leland looked defensive, then sighed.

"I mean, no, but it's the family business, isn't it?" he said bitterly. "It's not like I have another option."

Hermione and Blaise exchanged a look.

"Well, you're still 5% owner of the Daily Prophet," Hermione said finally. "Let's have you come with us for now, and maybe, if things work out, you can have your cousins buy you out of the Cleansweep business and take a more active interest at the Prophet."

Leland blinked.

"I… I'd probably be disowned, but that's close to happening anyway," he sighed. He stood, running a hand through his hair. "Might as well try. Let's go."

The three of them went out into the Galleon Alley town square, which was more of a triangle, purchased a light snack from a café, and settled down outdoors to discuss matters. Leland Ollerton was astonished to discover Hermione and Blaise were only 14.

"You're so young!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing, playing businesspeople when you should be jinxing each other and trying to snog?"

"Being ambitious," Hermione shot back. "We're Slytherins, Leland; we start early."

Leland stared at them, before nodding slowly.

"I was in Ravenclaw," he admitted a moment later. "The Slytherins always were a cutthroat bunch." He paused. "You realize your magic's not going to be mature enough to sign a magical contract?"

"We're having the goblins draw up a legal one," Hermione said, waving his concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"Instead," Blaise said, slinging an arm around Leland in a chummy fashion, "let's worry about how to take over the rest of the paper. Can you tell us what you know about the Morgans and the Broadmoors?"

"Err—sure." Leland seemed flustered. "The Morgans are all right, but the Broadmoors are an awful bunch. The Morgans might sell if it was just them, but they'll never sell if the Broadmoors don't, and the Broadmoors won't sell, not for any price. They don't even like the paper, really, but they won't want to give it away to anyone else, either."

"Not any price?" Blaise repeated. "Not even a fortune?"

"Not even then," Leland said, shaking his head.

"The Broadmoors are going to be a problem, then." Hermione sighed deeply. She glanced over at Blaise. "What options do we have?"

"They're not in significant financial debt that I'm aware of," Blaise said. "That leaves threatening, blackmail, or ensuring they fall into financial debt."

"The World Cup is this summer, so that last option isn't out of the question," Hermione mused, drumming her fingers on the table. "Still. I'd rather not have to wait months to get this all taken care of."

"I could ask my mother," Blaise offered. "She knows—"

"We do not need help from your mother," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Blackmail might work. We have a bit of experience with that, now."

"Daphne or Pansy might have dirt on them," Blaise said, drumming his fingers in thought. "Malfoy too, perhaps."

Leland started at them.

"Is—is this normal?" he asked finally. "Is this how Slytherins typically do business?"

Hermione and Blaise exchanged a glance.

"Well, no," Hermione said finally. "Most Slytherins would typically leave murder on the table until a reason ruled it out, but I don't like that."

"She's got muggle-borne morals," Blaise told Leland conspiratorially, winking at him as if letting him in on a secret, and Leland looked horrified.

"Is this not normal?" Hermione wanted to know. "You said they wouldn't accept any deal, regardless of price. So if we want to buy their shares, we need to create circumstances in which they would accept a deal. How would you handle it?"

"I don't know," Leland said, looking stressed. "Probably give up? If mean, if they say no, they say no, right? I would try to change their minds, but at some point, you have to know when to quit the game—"

Hermione laughed.

"Leland," she told him, amused, "in Slytherin, if your odds are looking bad, you just change the game."