Unofficial Portkey Archive

Previously -

While visiting Clarinda Jordan's new shop, Harry witnessed a Ministry Bureaucrat threatening Clarinda because she wasn't buying her fabric from the Mages Importers and Distributors, Ltd. Company - the M.I.D. for short. The M.I.D. appeared to be running a protection ring that resulted in a monopoly for various goods.

Harry sent packing the threatening Ministry inspector, Albus Jenkins of the Department of Magical Business Licensing and Fees. As Jenkins left, a raven arrived, with a message from Director Gultangk at Gringotts requesting some of Harry's valuable time. Harry sent Dobby with his reply, a note telling Gultangk he'd be there shortly and stating Harry's fees for his time.

Having decided that a visit to Madam Malkins was in order, Harry pulled his hood up and renewed his Cooling Charm. He told Clarinda he'd be back soon.

~*~*~

Harry purposefully stormed into Madam Malkins's store. The lady herself was at the door to greet him. He cut her typical opening words short, growling "Madam, did you tell anyone from the Mages Importers and Distributors, Ltd. Company to approach Clarinda? A Ministry thug just came around to threaten her."

"Mr. Potter! I'd never--eep!"

Harry had not stopped moving, coming closer and closer to the retreating Madam Malkin until her back hit the store counter. True fear spread across her face. Harry backed up immediately and apologized. Malkin took a deep breath but still shivered from his forceful entry.

"Madam, I won't hurt you in anyway. I am Clarinda Jordan's investor in her new business and we've just had the unpleasant experience of a visit from Mr. Albus Jenkins of the Ministry of Magic. Do you know him? He appears to also represent, illegally I believe, the Mages Importers and Distributors, Ltd."

Fear returned to Madam Malkin's face. She wrung her hands and beads of perspiration broke out on her brow. She looked around nervously and sputtered incoherently.

Harry drew a wand and she cowered again. He swished it around casually and all sound died around them. "Now, Madam, calm yourself." He pointed the wand at his hand and conjured a glass of cold water. "Please drink, if you will, it is only water."

She took the glass in shaking hands and sipped once, twice, and then took several gulps before placing it on the counter. Harry said, "I have placed us in a Zone of Silence where no one can hear us. Speak freely. I won't hurt you. I'm just trying to understand what's going on."

She hesitated, but then plunged ahead. "The M.I.D. showed up about thirty years ago. I'd just inherited this shop from my aunt, and unfortunately they knew all about how much money I had. They insisted I buy fabric and such from them, and told me that I would receive regular pricing from the start if I agreed right away. They gave me a price sheet and the numbers were nearly twice what I paid before. Before he left the wizard told me I'd be sorry if I didn't agree right away.

"Two days later that Mr. Jenkins showed up and levied a number of fines and penalties, and then told me I should reconsider the M.I.D.'s offer. I went to the Ministry to complain, but he came forward and told me I had an emergency in my shop. I came back and found nothing amiss, but a minute after I entered, two men with scarves around their faces entered and stunned me. They proceeded to bring all of the fabric from the back room and set fire to it, right before me. They contained the fire to protect the shop, but my inventory was ruined. They told me that I should replace the ruined inventory from the M.I.D. warehouses at twice the regular price list for their troubles, and then I could buy at rate sheet prices after that."

She shuddered again and reached for the glass of water, which she finished in several more unladylike gulps. "They said that if I didn't take their advice, they'd burn down my shop with me in it, and then kill my sister and her husband and little daughter." She gave a wry sad smile. "I've been a solid M.I.D. customer ever since."

She took a deep breath and continued. "I made a mistake with Clarinda. One you picked up on and will benefit from. I didn't know of your involvement; I thought it was just those terrible, terribly smart twins backing her. I should have incorporated her designs in my shop, but... I'm proud and vain, and too hot headed for my own good." She sighed. "I like her, Mr. Potter. I'd never treat her ill. But the M.I.D.'s a scary firm. You can afford it, I believe. Just pay them and go on with your life. Everyone else does."

Harry stared at her with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I didn't think that you were the one who tipped them off, Madam, but I had to know for sure., I'll not cave to bullies. I had enough of them growing up. No more. Keep your head down. If they ask about this conversation, tell them that I threatened you, and please call me if they mean you harm."

Harry pulled his wand and muttered Finite Incantatum to end the Zone of Silence he'd created. In two minutes he was back at Clarinda's shop.

He asked, "Everything all right, Lee?"

Lee nodded but didn't look away from the security related project he was working on.

Reassured of their immediate safety, Harry then turned his attention to Dobby who was waiting for him. "Yes, Dobby?"

"Director Gultangk is agreeing to Harry Potter, SIR's rate and stated that he must be receiving the affiliate's discount. The director stated urgency, Harry Potter, SIR."

Fred Weasley had entered the shop in time to overhear Dobby's message. "What rate, Harry?"

"Gultangk wants my assistance. I sent Dobby with a note that quoted my consulting rates. I set mine at half what Gultangk charges. I felt he'd respect my charging him. Gultangk's 'assumption' that I was giving him the affiliate's discount is his tactful was of telling me that he appreciates the gesture, but I asked too little, I guess." Harry grinned sheepishly after that statement..

Fred looked horrified for a moment. Then he broke out into a wide smirk. "Just when I think you've taught me all you can about business with goblins, you go and do this. Wait until I tell George. And Bill will flip!"

It was fourteen minutes before eleven o'clock when Harry Apparated to Gringotts. A goblin was waiting for him, and immediately led him to a conference room where Gultangk was pacing with his hands behind his back.

"Potter," Gultangk barked. "Thank you for coming. What do you know of FTFT, Ltd.?"

Harry looked at the goblin stunned for a moment. "Er, I've heard of them. Some big Muggle conglomerate I believe, why?"

"It was the merger of two mid-range British companies back in 1967: the Finch Trading Company and Fletchley Technologies. It occurred when the heir to Finch Trading married the granddaughter of the founder of Fletchley Tech. Now what do you know about FTFT, Ltd.?"

"Umm, that my schoolmate Justin Finch-Fletchley is related to them?"

"Correct, Potter. He is the third son and only magical child of that union. He's apparently been charged to go into the family business."

"The problem is that I was not aware of this." Gultangk stopped at this point and stared sharply at Dolderap sitting in the corner taking notes. "Another director, a clique mate of Dolderap's has been handling him and I could not have bungled it better if I that had been my intention. It doesn't help that Mr. Finch-Fletchley has been a hippogriff in a china cupboard, making demands and spouting off."

"Keeps saying that the Rothschild bankers wouldn't do business this way," Dolderap interrupted. "Upstart company. He sounds like his forbearers with their 'bearing the white man's burden' tripe."

"That's enough, dwarf arms!" Gultangk had just spoken one of goblin-kinds' worse insults. The two approached each other reaching into their coats. Harry leapt between them.

"Gentlemen, er, goblins. Peace in the name of profits," Harry exclaimed. It was the supreme cry for conciliation in the goblin business world. He hoped he'd translated it well. Those words in gobbledygook were too hard for him to pronounce. The two stopped in their tracks and turned to him.

"He is right, Dolderap. I see you are truly worth your hourly rate, Potter, and more as I surmised."

Quickly changing the subject Harry asked, "What has Justin done, and why is the Rothschild bank an upstart company?"

Gultangk chuckled. "When Nathan Rothschild started his banking empire in England in 1798, some called him a wizard at banking, and many didn't mean it kindly. Well, he wasn't a wizard, but an aunt by marriage was. Rothschild knew about Gringotts and had approached us. Gringotts helped him diversify his risk and accomplish a number of other coups in the financial world. We helped him succeed where others couldn't. This angered the Wizengamot, whose wizards had their fingers in competing banks, and led to the laws restricting our ability to invest in Muggle businesses.- These laws tied our hands except for situations where a British witch or wizard is the prime initiator. That is, I cannot invest in a Muggle business unless you come to me to join you in such a venture."

Gultangk sighed and shook his head. "We still provide Rothschild accounting services and handle much of FTFT's bookkeeping. Of course the family doesn't know that. As I told you, goblin rates for these services are very reasonable for the level of competency we provide."

Harry chuckled with Gultangk. Dolderap looked dyspeptic, if goblins could look so upset.

"And Justin?" Harry asked.

The Director sighed. "Apparently he's been given an assignment from his family to start doing business in our world. He's not succeeded and has made Director Printden, Dolderap's clique mate, quite angry. Their clique doesn't like humans, particularly Muggles.

"Er, but Mr. Finch-Fletchley is waiting, that is steaming in the lobby, expecting someone to help him. Please talk to him, Potter. It should be advantageous for both of you, I think. You're not only in a position to profit from this directly, but we'll also pay your hourly rate if you'll humor the son of a client, even though they don't know they're our clients."

"Agreed, Gultangk, but I insist I do this gratis."

Gultangk screwed up his face and made a spitting gesture before he smiled. "Nonsense, Potter. I had such high hopes for you when you answered with your hourly rate." The goblin's toothy grin could curdle cream. "I've had the FTFT Ltd. account assigned to me. Dolderap has acted as go-between for that, and he will now leave." Turning to the other goblin he said, "Please ask Slinkstaq to escort Mr. Finch-Fletchley in."

"It will be best if you start with Mr. Finch-Fletchley by yourself, Potter. Do as you think best. I won't be offended by what you need to say even if you must insult us."

"I'd never knowingly insult you, Gultangk. I may have to verbally restrain Justin if he talks too out of hand."

Their conversation was interrupted by obvious grumblings as the door opened. Harry stood and Justin did a double take when he saw him.

"Harry!" Justin almost ran to his schoolmate. "I can't believe the way these... these creatures are treating me. Why, the Rothchild bankers--"

Harry flashed his hand before Justin and a Silencing charm stopped the tirade.

"Director Gultangk," Harry said, "Please excuse us. I'll call once we need you."

Justin first looked shocked, and then he began to grab Harry roughly and bring him around to face him. Harry shucked off Justin's hand and held up his own hand in front of Justin's face until the door closed. The same hand waved the Silencing charm away.

"Harry, what the--"

"Hello, Justin, just being rude, or do you want to push the goblins into war on the side of Voldemort?"

"What? War? Volde-? What?"

"It's not that bad, Justin, but have you paid any attention to Binns the last five years? The goblin wars he goes on and on about really happened, and just about all of that time the goblins were still running Gringotts, serving Wizard-kind financially, but loathing us as we treated them like inferior beings at best."

Harry pointed to chairs at a table and they sat. "Justin, your family's business is very large. I'm sure you have occasional infighting among different factions, and they either compromise or a dissatisfied person leaves and goes to work for another company, or maybe into another type of business altogether.

Justin nodded to indicate that Harry was correct.

"That's not true for goblins and for Gringotts," Harry stated. "This bank is the only way for goblins to access the world of finance. Even goblin mining and weapons making is all tied up with Gringotts, as subsidiaries so to speak. This bank is fifteen hundred years old and no one can go anywhere else. The factions here have centuries upon centuries of history and traditions about how to fight each other, and they are vicious on a friendly day. Within this bank exists factions that want peace with us humans and factions that do business with us while despising us. There are also those who want wizard-kind to kill each other off.

"Your storming around insulting the goblins gives the anti-human factions ammunition to push for anarchy or another war. You're a Paladin, right?"

Justin sat up straighter in his chair and said, "Of course, Harry, almost all of the Hufflepuffs in our year are."

"And I'm glad you are. You Puffs from the DA last year were great, truly, but we're in this to fight a war, you know. One of the best ways to win is to not have any more enemies than necessary. If we keep the goblins out of the war, that will be who-knows-how-many fierce warriors we don't have to face. Better yet, what if a fraction of those warriors fight with us, on our side? However, that's just a short run view. You started coming here to Gringotts this summer for what purpose?"

Justin looked confused at the question, but spoke eventually. "My father wants to see if we, our company, can find any new markets among magical folk. Harry, I love magic. I love everything about this magical world. I want to live as a wizard, in a magical home, but I want to work in my family's business, too.

"I've listened to Ernie, Hannah, and Susan, and even Zach. I love how they describe this new world I've now entered. Don't you feel the same way?" Harry nodded and Justin continued.

"But, I'm also a Finch-Fletchley and we are traders. Many scoff at the term, but we bear it proudly. If I figure out how to begin even the smallest trade between our world and FTFT, it will relieve the pressure I'm under to quit Hogwarts, and it will prove to my family that I'm justified in being a part of Wizarding society. I understand there are about six hundred thousand magical folk in Great Britain. That's not a huge market for the goods we sell, but it's a great laboratory for me to prove I have trading in my blood."

Justin rubbed his hands on his trouser legs and looked back up. "That goblin seems to respect you. Can you help me, Harry?"

"I believe, Justin, that we can help each other and help the world we love so much."

Justin's face went from despair to hope in a second. Harry reached for the pitcher of water and poured two glasses, using the time it took to gather his thoughts. "Ever been to a football or rugby match, Justin?"

"Cricket's my game, Harry, or at least it was. I had the makings of a fair bowler before 'going wizard' as my father says. Now I'm into Quidditch like you. You know I was a Hufflepuff Chaser last year. But what's this to do with..."

Harry held up his hand. "I've never been to a football or rugby match before, but my uncle likes to watch a game on the telly from time to time, particularly if there's a chance the teams and maybe the fans also will start a big fight. He loves to watch and then make fun of the 'stupid masses' as he calls them.

"Do you know much about the Japanese zaibatsu system and how it works in business?"

"A bit," Justin said with the slightest look of confusion on his face. "FTFT did nearly forty-five million pounds in business with Japan last year alone, making Japan the fourth largest market for us in Asia and the Pacific Rim. Our growth in Japan was severely limited until we became affiliated with a zaibatsu Asian markets are not my field. I'm terrible at languages, but my brother Charles is a fiend for them, especially those of that region. He's slated to manage our Pacific Rim activities. I will eventually be in charge of our trade in non-British English-speaking countries if I can prove myself.

"We may be the heirs of FTFT Ltd., my brothers and I, but each of us must prove ourselves in business or we're put on an estate, given an annual allowance, and treated like spoiled pets, instead of active members of the family. It happened to my great Uncle Robert, but it won't happen to me.

"I don't have to meet with any particular degree of success on my first effort as far as the amount of pounds Sterling I generate. The emphasis is on creating a working business system. Charles is twenty-seven. His first succeeded by creating an import business to Eastern Europe of low cost Chinese bicycles. Hardly a big seller, but his system worked, and still works, even though he says he may shut it down, or sell it off, which is more likely.

"That's why I know I can make my family proud if I work out some business system here in our world. When I leave Hogwarts, I can live in the magical world and spend maybe twenty percent of my time doing business in it, and then spend the remaining eighty percent working in the Muggle world."

Justin paused and an odd look appeared on his face. "You know, my father doesn't like the word 'Muggle.' He thinks it sounds too much like 'muddle,' and he's never muddled through anything in his life. Knowing the way Malfoy and his purebloods think, it wouldn't surprise me if that's where the word comes from, or something like that."

"I've never really thought about it," Harry said, "But my aunt and uncle seem to bristle when they hear that word. It's never really set with me either, even though I've not thought about it like you have. You're probable right."

Bringing the subject back to business Harry asked, "Have you tried to start working with any magical businesses yet, or have you only come to Gringotts?"

Justin shook his head in the negative. "I spent until just before Aberration Day on the Paladin Program activities and preparing. The Finch-Fletchleys always establish banking relations first, then legal. I've hit a brick wall that apparently you've scaled. Can you, will you help me?"

"No." Justin looked crestfallen but Harry continued with a broad smile, "But I'll help us by helping you establish good relations with the goblins, and then maybe you and I can do some business together as well. I've come into my family inheritance this summer. I was declared competent, and therefore of age by the goblins, so I've begun working in the business and government arenas of the Wizarding world. Apparently the goblins, or at least Gultangk, respect me enough to consult with me on these matters."

"I heard," Justin said, "That you had a great fight on Aberration Day while the rest of us were snogging through the hour."

"Yeah, I was hit by a number of curse and hexes that day, the worse was the Cruciatus. I fought over forty Death Eaters in waves and killed eight of them."

Harry's face was as cold as ice as he said this, and Justin's shock was obvious at this blunt, frank admission. Harry changed the subject quickly and Justin did not ask anything else about that.

Harry said, "Back to business. You have to understand the basics of goblin life and how wizards have limited them. Their total population is unknown, but there are probably a lot less of them than there are of us. They have their own economy, but like all small societies, they can't exist in a closed system unless they are primarily agrarian. Goblins hate to farm, except for a certain few items only they use and can't acquire anywhere else.

"So, their outside contacts and balance of trade for what they need come mostly from banking."

"You said they also mine?" Justin asked.

"Yes, and create weapons, though it's unclear just what and how much goes on of either. They do trade raw ores exclusively through Gringotts, so even then the bank dominates. We've restricted them this way over the centuries, millennia actually. If you noticed they weren't too impressed with your Rothschild comments, that because Gringotts was founded in the early sixth century as I mentioned, where as Rothschild started in 1798 and the goblins helped them make a go of it."

Justin's eyes became saucers for a moment, but didn't say anything.

"Let me tell you how I've come to see the goblin/wizard situation. I asked about football and rugby. Imagine that you have two teams going at it, not playing but fighting like we sometimes do the Slytherins. They fight each other only and the referees eventually come in and stop it.

"Now here's the difference. If the goblins fight each other we don't know it, they won't interrupt financial services, and most of their fighting is done through business as far as I can tell, things like getting each other fired or demoted, reducing an opponent's profits or stealing their clients, etcetera. But if we, the spectators, go out on to the field, both teams swarm towards us and attack us. Imagine if all of a sudden hundreds, thousands of footballers appear on the pitch and attack the spectators coming out.

"Now, that's a bad analogy, but I'm saying we have to be respectful of the goblins who want to work with us and not treat any goblins poorly, even those who are snippy with us. Imagine Snape. He gives you Hufflepuffs a bad time in class, doesn't he?"

"Not as bad as he give you Gryffs, but pretty bad."

"But you probably don't react as badly as we do, so you receive less detentions and lose less house points. Plus, you don't have the Slytherins in class with you to make it worse."

"If half of what we've heard is true, Harry, I don't envy you their company in class."

"It's bad, but, Justin, we have to treat unfriendly goblins like Snape. We keep our heads down and ignore them as best we can. The important thing is to make business friendships with the goblins who are willing to work with us."

Harry went on to tell him about his relationship with Gultangk, though not about the actual business deals. He also told him that Printden was an anti-wizard goblin, or at least his faction appeared to be.

"There seem to be two major factions in goblin banking. I believe there are about five or six directors in Gringotts for each faction. The two factions sort of mirror each other loosely, and Printden and Gultangk are roughly of equal responsibilities I think. If we do business with Gultangk and we all profit, then Gultangk's faction gains in the competition, and the opposing side loses. Eventually business success decides which side wins, and they both move towards profits. When Gultangk's faction makes so many Galleons more than those not working with wizards, then the other faction will lose directors and influence.

"If the anti-wizard group becomes more profitable, then we start to feel the effects of their negative attitude towards us and eventually we have the next goblin war. Gringotts will still work with us - nothing stands in the way of providing proper banking services, but we will have quite a fight on our hands, as you can imagine from what little we've learned from Binns."

Harry took a sip of water, and Justin followed suit. "This business with Voldemort throws a spanner into the works though," Harry said.

"How so?"

"I can't blame the goblins for rebelling if we become so very bad that even those who are profiting from us want to fight us. I don't want it to happen, but I can't blame them. However, Voldemort looks for goblins who are anti-wizard but not in very powerful positions. He approaches those wanting to succeed ahead of the usual goblin timetable and gives them an opportunity to fight against wizards, promising a better ranking in the new order he proposes.

"Goblins live about two hundred years. They do not automatically reach maturity at a certain age, like wizards come of age at seventeen. Instead goblins are tested or monitored. They are then recognized to be of age when certain physical, and emotional maturity factors are achieved. I think they emphasize the emotional factors over the physical. That's how I was declared to be of age by the goblins and was given my majority even though I'm biologically only sixteen."

"I heard through Zach, er, Zacharias Smith, that you were declared of age and are now in the Wizengamot. Is that how it happened?"

"Yes, somehow. On Aberration day the bad potion kicked in right when I was fighting. You guys were kissing and the weird surge hit you to throw you back emotionally. It hit me and when I was in the kind of life and death situations that cause people to grow up quickly. In my case, they think, I literally grew up. Maybe I even lost two years of my life to become eighteen."

Justin stared at Harry with his mouth agape, but Harry ignored him, just looking off blankly at a wall.

"Things such as rights of inheritance and hereditary rights to rule in the Wizengamot are registered on the eighteen birthday in the goblins' books and then acknowledged at the Ministry of Magic at that moment as well. I'm only sixteen chronologically, but when the goblins judged me to have reached maturity after the battle, their books showed me as eighteen, so the Ministry's books recorded me to be of age as well.

"That's why in the magical world coming of age was legislated at seventeen, so the Wizengamot could declare to the goblins that a witch or wizard was legal, not the other way around. In the Muggle world legal is still eighteen."

Justin smiled and Harry blushed slightly, something that was rare now .

"You can't do anything in the normal way, can you Harry?"

"I've had to accept that fact this summer, Justin. It's easier on my brain to just go with the flow of things." They both smiled.

"Harry, you said that Voldemort has been influencing the goblins against us. Is there any way we can fight that?"

"You say his name, not You-Know-Who or those other stupidities."

Justin smiled. "My saying it really bothers Susan, Hannah, Ernie and Zach, but my parents brought me up to fear no one really. We do live with tight security - kidnappers and such. That threat scared me as a child, but I was taught to fear properly as I've told the other Puffs. I just can't give Voldemort such irrational control over my life."

Harry smiled broadly. "You and I are going to be good friends, Justin. I like the way you think. It even took Hermione a while to say 'Voldemort.' Now, as to fighting his efforts with the goblins, the best way is to do what you really want to do, make a profit with them where they profit too."

Harry went on to tell Justin how to treat goblins properly, and everything else he remembered from his time with Gultangk and the books the goblin had given him. Then Harry changed the subject by asking about what types of charitable giving FTFT was involved in.

Justin proudly outlined the benevolent activities of both the business and his family in supporting worthy causes in every country where the organization had operations. Harry found himself liking Justin more and more, and chided himself for not becoming better friends over the years with students outside of Gryffindor.

"I believe, Justin, that your family is not as interested in a quick return so much as a long-term stable and profitable relationship, correct?"

Justin nodded.

"And you have a generous budget to work with I hope?"

Justin nodded again and Harry smiled broadly.

"Well then, Justin, let's spend money together to not only create a good business relationship, but to also create good will with the goblins."

Harry briefly told Justin about the ideas forming in his head to change the way things were in Wizarding society. It would takes decades to accomplish Harry's plan, but he was committed to this world he loved, in spite of its many faults. Therefore, Harry planned on working to change it in the only way that would achieve lasting changes at a societal level - slowly. Justin seemed enthused about Harry's ideas. He said he'd like to think about these long term plans further, but that Harry could count on him for help.

Harry then explained about Gultangk's charging him by the hour, and other such matters.

"We don't really pay for bankers' services that way, Harry, but we do so with solicitors and accounting firms. You say that they are scrupulous in charging the fees, so... let's do it. I received access to a trust fund this past birthday, and I've already earmarked it for business purposes, so... proceed. I'll follow your lead."

Harry went to the door and called for Gultangk, who arrived momentarily.

Justin stood and bowed to the goblin. "Director Gultangk. I apologize for my actions and words this day and every other day I've been here. I insist that you charge me the premium rate for your services that Harry pays from this day forward, and I also insist that I pay his rate for the time we've spent together.

"In addition to that, I'd like to pay a half hour's standard rate to Director Printden, and any other goblin I've offended and to render my apologizes in person. I will do so now or at any other time you can arrange that meets our mutual schedules."

If a goblin can look amazed, then perhaps Gultangk looked that way for just a moment.

"Potter, I see I was correct when I stated that you undercharge for your time. Mr. Finch-Fletchley, I accept your agreeing to my premium rate from now and going forward. However, I insist on paying Potter's rate for the day. Have you gentlemen discussed business with each other?"

They both looked confused.

"Potter, you are currently working with two concerns on Diagon Alley, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and your fashion start-up. Do they need raw supplies? FTFT makes nothing for sale to the public, but makes the processed goods and components that go into finished goods."

"Justin, does your family's company make fabric?"

"Finch Trading Company started by importing fine silks and brocades from the orient. It's a small but profitable piece of our business still. My dress robes for the ball our fourth year were made from Finch fabrics. The school robes we wear are rubbish. I've been tempted to have a Muggle tailor make my robes for me with our fabrics, but that would be hard to explain. You're into fashions, Harry?"

Harry discussed his financial interest in Clarinda's start-up and Justin readily agreed that there was a definite need for updated clothing designs in the magical world.

"Gentlemen, I believe I see a new business relationship forming. Mr. Finch-Fletchley, have you opened your business account with Gringotts?"

"No, Director."

"Well then, let me offer you the same new account services I gave Potter. This hour is free and the next one too if needed. Do you have a draft or pounds with you?"

Justin handed over a bank draft.

"I see you are serious, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. We at Gringotts are, too, at least now that you are talking to me. I apologize for my other colleagues. I'll apologize to them for you as is proper, but no penalty fees are needed for their time, since they really never offered to serve you as you required, Mr. Finch-Fletchley.

"Umm, Director, I'd ask you to call me Justin, but I know from Harry the offer would be to call me by my last name. However, Finch-Fletchley is not really shorter than Mr. Finch-Fletchley. I'm not asking so I can call you Gultangk, I don't deserve that and I know I must work to overcome my previous bad manners. Finch-Fletchley is a mouth full in the Muggle world as well. However, with no strings attached, would you consider calling me what my father is called by his business friends? They call him 'FF.'"

"It would be an honor, 'FF,' and for your sake, for now, I must have you call me Director. Forms and conventions must be followed. But you've made true progress today.

"Now, have you, Potter, heard from Mages Importers and Distributors, Ltd. yet?"

"Yes, Gultangk. I'd have probably come to see you this afternoon if you'd not called me first."

Harry told Gultangk and Justin about the affair with Jenkins. Justin was angered by this and commented on how his family had dealt 'decisively' with such matters over the centuries, from pirates in the South China Sea to organized crime in shipping and trucking today.

Gultangk seemed like he'd expected this. "The Mages Importers and Distributors, Ltd. are just like organized crime extortionists. They buy from poor foreign sources for many goods so items wear out quickly. They buy the quality goods from Muggle retail stores I believe. They don't want an established business relationship with Muggle companies in the traditional sense. I'd feared this might happen, Potter, but not until you opened your doors for business. I did plan to call you in and warn you about this. I failed you by not doing so earlier."

"It would have been nice to be forewarned, but that's spilled cauldrons now," Harry said. "What can we do to protect the shop and more importantly the people? I know about Gringotts' warding services from Bill Weasley and others. What about security guards or a rapid response force or something? And while we're at it, what about shipments from Justin's company? The M.I.D. could attack them as well."

"You are in luck on that point, Potter. Goblins can ward places of business to a degree, particularly while closed for the night. But when they are open, you cannot stop possible customers from entering, and we've never been able to ward for bad intentions. However, only for old Three-Thirty-Three Families and their businesses the law still allows Goblin Overseers to be implemented.

"We could install an alarm for someone to press if threatened in your home or business. We keep a number of Goblin Overseers on call at any one time. Sound the alarm and a trained Overseer arrives ready to defend you and yours to the point of death - hopefully the attacker's death," he said, before grinning briefly. "The Overseer also has the jurisdiction to call for other Overseers if the situation warrants it. This is much less expensive than a full time guard, and the Overseer arrives via goblin Portkey, seconds after you call. No dependence on the Ministry of Magic.

"This should cover the shop's security needs. As to the shipping concerns, just use industrial Portkeys for the goods. You could receive a license from the Ministry, or we could provide them, for a charge of course."

"We'd insist on paying to ensure the best Portkeys, wouldn't we Harry?"

Gultangk smiled the toothy grin that disconcerted so many magical folks, but Justin, like Harry, seemed unconcerned. "Now you're learning, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, er, FF. I'll roll your security services purchases into the same discount structure as you receive, Potter."

Gultangk paused, and then smiled again. "Do you two wish to form a clique?"

Harry said, "Umm, I'd hoped to someday join your clique, as more than an affiliate, if that is possible."

"Oh no, Potter. Humans can't join our cliques. As an affiliate you are as high as you can reach. A faction head may one day make you as an individual a Confederate of the faction, but there hasn't been one in nearly two hundred years, and she was so named after nearly seventy years as an affiliate.

"However, you could form your own Gringotts recognized organization known as a clique. It acknowledges your status as separate businesses working together. You could not form one with Weasleys' or your fashion business, since you partly own them. But you could form one to join your concerns with Mr. Finch-Fletchley's business - two separate entities are required to start a clique. From your perspective, it can mean whatever you wish it to mean, but we see it as a growing concern with more than just one mastermind involved. As long as you two work together in any business matter, the clique is maintained as viable.

"In the long-term your clique can grow to the point where your clique and my clique can associate. Strong clique associations eventually lead to your clique being recognized as a master clique in our faction, if we choose you and you choose us. Nothing in our charters or laws prevents a clique with wizards from being fully integrated into a faction. You would never be required to be aligned with anything but wizard entities, but you could be treated as Muggle companies consider, "business partners" nowadays. There has not been a wizard clique in hundreds of years, and never has a wizard clique received master clique status. However, we have passed laws for it to happen in hopes that one day it might be possible.

"Clique formation fees are one hundred Galleons. I'd pay the fee myself for the privilege of being here for this event, but the law does not permit it. You must pay fifty Galleons each to form the clique, and each new clique member must pay his or her own fifty Galleon entry fee. Oh, though you form it as separate business owners, it also can have individual memberships. You can invite anyone to join your clique for the fee stated, but they must be part business owners in some concern themselves. So, either of the Weasley twins, or both, could join, and likewise, Miss Jordan, after you two form the clique. In addition, we encourage entrepreneurship, so any person who works full time for another company, but has started a business on the side, may also join your clique.

"It behooves you to grow your clique, but not haphazardly. Your members will reflect on you and your clique. The last wizard clique was denied associate status because one member was a rabid bigot, even though he never said anything against goblins per se." Gultangk showed his teeth as he continued, "Now I'll call Dolderap in to manage the paperwork."

"Er, Gultangk," Harry asked, "Isn't Dolderap in a clique in the other faction? Why ask for him? I know he came in for property management issues, but why have him here now? I want all my Gringotts business, property and all, under your clique, or at least under your faction."

"I appreciate your concerns and your confidence in me. However, it is our custom to have the secretary for a Director to be aligned with the other faction. It is a safeguard for insuring no mis-filings or illegal contracts are recorded. He will scrupulously take notes and arrange that any contracts, deeds, etcetera are done correctly, and I will review his work. We file and record together. It is a checks and balance system that keeps us quite proper.

"It also informs the opposition formally what goes on, so there are no surprises. My nephew, Klinkjod, acts as Printden's secretary. I could ask for no better training for him to advance in our clique and faction.

"Also," Gultangk bestowed on them another dubious smile, "I want to see Dolderap's face when he hears of your new clique formation. I hope it gives Printden his seventeenth heart attack. At twenty, he has to take a sabbatical."

Dolderap entered and arranged for the paperwork with a look of both loathing and fear on his face. Justin and Harry signed the clique formations contracts and contracts for the security measures the two would need.

After Dolderap left Justin said, "Well, gentlemen, er, that is..."

"I know what you meant, FF," said the Gultangk.

"Umm, sorry, well, would you two be my guest for lunch today? It's half twelve. I've heard that Greenbees is nice."

Gultangk sucked in his breath. "You invite me to dine with you?"

Justin squirmed. "Yes, but if I've offended you I apologize. I've not read the book you gave Potter. He'll loan it to me if you agree. I'm sorry--"

Gultangk politely held up his hand. "You do not offend me. It's just that no wizard has ever offered me such hospitality. Might I suggest... er, Greenbees is a good customer, and Harry Greenbee would serve us, but his clientele, would be outraged for the most part if I entered the establishment. I won't let my comforts cause a client's business to suffer.

"Gringotts maintains a small dining room for those at third level and above. There are humans who eat there, so food to your satisfaction is available. I'll reserve a private table for five minutes from now. I'll charge your account, FF, if you still agree, or Gringotts will--"

"No, Director. Please let me pay for lunch. I owe you and Harry."

The three entered the cafeteria and all eyes turned and followed them. The room was as Spartan as all of the conference rooms were, but the ornate tables and chairs were of the best manufacture, Louis XIV style.

Harry ordered fish, Justin the beef. Several of the dishes of Gultangk's meal wiggled of their own accord, and all of it was unrecognizable. Business was discussed and it was agreed that Justin would go straight to Clarinda's after lunch to discuss the types of fabrics she needed. He would then return on Monday with a number of samples for her consideration.

"Director," Justin queried, "Now that my banking relationship is on a sound footing, it's FTFT common practice in a new marketplace to arrange legal representation. Can you make a recommendation of a soliciting firm? You probably know better what counsel I'll need in the magical world than I do." "Do you have established representation, Potter?"

"No, Director."

"Then you'll need a soliciting firm as well. I'd suggest hiring a firm that works in both the Muggle and magical world. There are several, and the largest is on retainer with the M.I.D., so you may want to consider another. There is a very fine smaller firm that does excellent work, and also is as forward thinking on societal relations as you are. That is, they are friendly towards goblins and other sentient magical beings. I'm biased because of that but would never steer you towards any firm that would not serve you well."

Justin stated that he'd appreciate such open-mindedness, since he was Muggleborn. Harry agreed that this type of firm appealed to him as well.

Gultangk said, "The firm of Tonks and Tonks we hold in high regard. Theodore Tonks, who insists on being called 'Ted' is Muggleborn. He studied both magical and Muggle law. He met his wife, Andromeda Black Tonks studying Muggle law at Cambridge. She's from an old pure-blood family, but rejected their bigoted ways.

"Your godfather, Potter, was Mrs. Tonks' cousin, and her daughter I believe you know, the young Metamorphmagus Auror seeing the Gringotts employee, William Weasley."

They spent the last few minutes of lunch discussing the factors Gultangk felt the two young businessmen should consider at the onset of a legal representation relationship.

Harry took Justin to the shop after bidding Gultangk adieu and introduced everyone all around. He told Clarinda, Lee, and George about his preparations for security and about the clique formation. Lee and Clarinda looked confused when Harry discussed their new clique, but George looked like Christmas had come in August.

The goblin security services manager, a witch named Sheila Clarkson arrived a short time later to finalize their arrangements. Justin asked to stay for his own education, as Clarinda, Lee, George and Harry debated their needs. In the end Harry asked for the full boat and paid from his own funds, saying that it would help him sleep better at night, since this would guard them against Death Eaters as well. He also contracted for the same security services for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but George insisted on paying half of the charge for their shop.

Just past 2:00 Justin Flooed off and goblins arrived to begin the ward work. Harry bid them farewell and headed out into the Alley with his hood up. It was a Friday afternoon and the Alley was fairly busy. Harry walked to Quality Quidditch Supplies where he quietly asked for a private meeting with the manager.

Ten minutes later he called Dobby, who was charged with delivering the broomstick blanks and glue pot Harry had purchased to St. Simon's along with the book on flying broomstick repairs.

Harry bid the manager good day, swirled his cloak behind him, and Apparated away.

"Blimey," the manager said, "That was silent Apparation."

~*~

It looked like an abandoned Muggle warehouse, and it was. Most of the square footage had been warehousing, but a hundred years ago there had also been a small horse-driven grinding mill in the corner of the factory farthest from the nearby town of Ottery St. Catchpole. The slap dash wards and charms caused Muggles to flee and magical folks to wander in a circle before arriving at the office.

A printing press now stood where the old horse drawn mill had been. It wasn't just any press, but a magical sheet-fed press. The Quibbler's sheet fed press was slow and its output was not of a high quality. But it did print the issues the monthly publication needed for its subscribers and the small amount of newsstand business it generated.

Or, at least it used to. Now that Harry Potter had been the subject of two powerful issues, containing information not previously printed in the Wizarding world, subscriptions were up. The orders from newsstands were up as well. The old press could still deliver, but Sol Lovegood needed to spend more and more time working on it before each print run to make sure it would complete the larger monthly orders.

In the past if the monthly periodical came out every five to six weeks, its few faithful readers hadn't seemed to mind, or even notice for that matter. Now, many of the new readers of the magazine actually wanted the monthly delivered every month. Imagine that.

Since the events of two days before, Sol Lovegood's daughter had been confused. Luna used to understand her father's mind as well as he understood hers. Now, Sol would suddenly stop and stare off into oblivion for minutes at a time. After one of these episodes Luna's father would either burst into tears or launch into an inexplicable flurry of activity.

Luna did not really understand what had happened to her father. At times Luna thought she knew, but then she'd be confused again. The one thing she had figured out was that she needed help. After receiving Harry's message in response to her Owlpost, Luna found herself anxiously awaiting his arrival.

Bypassing the rickety old wards, Harry Apparated just outside the office of The Quibbler and knocked on the door.

Sol Lovegood muttered what he thought was a Muggle swear word, but was really a request for pickled lamb's feet in Turkish. He walked from the press, wiping grease from his hands with a rag, and then pulled his wand to clean them further.

"I'm coming," he called.

Luna ran out from the back office where she had been writing an article entitled, "Flying Flobberworms: Fiction or Ministry Forest Fire Weapon of Mass Destruction?"

"Father, we didn't receive the proper warnings of a visitor. We're under attack!" She screamed the last and they both pointed their wands at the door.

Harry heard her last shouted sentence and Apparated into the office with his wand drawn. "Where are they, Luna?" I'll hold them while you get your father out."

Harry stood in the middle of the office, both wands drawn, and looking like the angel of death for any one who dared attack his friend. One sensitive to magic would notice that the room crackled with portent. Sol smiled; his face showed that he could appreciate the finer points of what Harry said beyond the mere words. Luna staggered slightly. She could feel magic like a Squib might, but she was a powerful witch in her own rights.

Luna let off a small scream, and Sol Lovegood started laughing after a moment. Luna only looked out of sync with the world, but she was actually quite perceptive. She realized what had occurred and raised her wand hand toward the ceiling.

"It was you, Harry. Ginny told me you had learned to Apparate. You Apparated past our old wards somehow. You've always been more powerful than anyone else I've known. Welcome to The Quibbler. This is my father, Sol Lovegood, and I always like to introduce my mother's painting. It's not magical, she died before it was finished, but here she is, Stellar Lovegood." Luna indicated a painting of a beautiful woman on the wall near the front door.

Harry was shaking Sol's hand when he heard Luna's mother's name. He said, "Er, Stellar? Not Stella?"

Sol chuckled and Luna giggled before Sol answered. "Of course, Sol and Stellar Lovegood had to name their daughter, Luna. It was written in the stars."

Sol had a dreamy look in his eyes not too dissimilar to Luna's when she didn't feel comfortable with those around her as he continued. "Both sets of Luna's grandparents believed in giving names for their children to live up to. Mine named me Solomon hoping I'd seek wisdom. My sister's name is Charity, for the biblical idea of charity as love, not giving to the poor or such, although that type of charity should stem from love. Love Lovegood wouldn't have worked.

"Stellar's parents, Honour and Excellsia McTeague, believed in a similar naming convention. Stellar pointed towards a fine performance, and she was a stellar student and person all around. Her brother was named Bravenel. He lived, and died by his name, fighting Death Eaters in 1978.

"So, Stellar and Sol Lovegood had to name their daughter Luna. It was written in the stars." Sol barely repeated these last words before he burst out laughing again. Luna joined him instantly. Harry laughed several long seconds later.

"I like it," Harry said, "Truly I do."

Moments later Sol offered a chilled butterbeer, summoning three from the back room with his wand. They sat on rickety looking old office chairs that were magically sturdy.

"I received your letter, Luna, late last night. I had hoped to come sooner, but business got in the way. I hope I wasn't too late to help you."

"No rush, Harry, none at all now it seems, though I'm still a little unsure."

"I'm the problem, Harry," Sol said, "Luna was concerned for me. It was... well, please let me start from the beginning. Do you have some time?"

"I've no plans for the next several hours, so please." Harry knew it was too late to find Hermione and discuss Spell Mongery this day. "When Luna's mother died - no. I must go further back." Sol pulled a large plaid handkerchief and blew his nose nosily. "I finished Hogwarts the year before your parents started. I immediately went to work for the Daily Prophet as a cub reporter making a pittance and given the worst assignments to cover. It soon came out that I had a nose for news." Sol stopped and raised his oversized, crooked and pointed nose in the air and turned his head as in demonstration. Luna giggled again.

"I found news in the strangest places, and reported on the many odd occurrences with the fight with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters, and there were many, believe me."

"Call him Voldemort, please, Mr. Lovegood. It's just a made up name for a half blood, probably bastard son of a dull if not retarded witch and a love potion-ed Muggle. How he succeeds in commanding pureblood followers in a fight for pureblood supremacy is beyond me."

"See, father, I told you it was true."

"Very well. Vol-. Vol-de.... Hmm. Vol - de - mort. Umm Volde-mort. Voldemort. Voldemort! VOLDEMORT!"

Sol Lovegood stood and ridiculously pirouetted around in front of them, and then sat. Luna heartily chuckled and Harry joined her.

Harry said, "I wish others broke through that easily."

Sol seemed refreshed and said with great enthusiasm, "There. Voldemort. Not hard at all, and he didn't appear or anything. Well where was I? Oh, yes."

"In 1976 I became too good at finding the odd stories, and soon I was fired for discovering that a Wizengamot family was probably connected to Death Eaters. The Sheets family to be exact, but I could never find the solid evidence I needed. I refused to give up the story when Barnabas Cuffe, who was then assistant editor, demanded I do so. I was fired and he was promoted to editor in less than three months. He's now the publisher and editor."

"I understand he's the one who lets them write such terrible things about me; do you think so?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry. He at the very least approved, if not commissioned the derogatory stories."

"Are the Sheets involved with the Daily Prophet?"

"Highly unlikely, at least I'd wager there is nothing that could be proven. I spent a month trying to confirm it in 1976, and they could not be directly linked with the Prophet in any way. I wasted a month proving it."

Sol ran his hand over his face and left the slightest bit of press grease on his nose. He didn't seem to mind, and neither did Luna. "Just four months before my dismissal, a great aunt, who loved my stories by the way, died and left me a comfortable sum. I bought this press and rented this building and then started The Quibbler. I named it that to poke fun at the quibbling staff at the Daily Prophet who feared writing the truth about Voldemort. That's easier to say every time I do it.

"Well, I worked hard and figured a monthly publication would work, since I could do everything myself in a four week time frame.

"I am not much of a businessman now, but I had no business mind then. I was printing the first issue when I realized I had no outlet for my pub. No subscribers, no advertisers, and no newsstands to carry it. I put on my best robes and went to every newsstand and any other possible outlet and eventually convinced them to carry it for free and take all the profits for any they sold.

"I next tried to sell advertising, which can keep a free paper alive, but they refused to buy unless it had so many subscribers, or could say that so many each month were sold at newsstands. Therefore, I gave away free advertising so it would look like a profitable news monthly. I now had advertisers giving me no money and paper sellers giving me no money. Also, few people were actually buying it.

"I hired the services of an Owlpost delivery company for a few months and sent The Quibbler to different chunks of magical folks around the country, hoping to generate interest and subscriptions that way. After two issues, I sent a letter asking them to subscribe. Few did.

"By this time I was exhausted and going broke quickly. The Daily Prophet had been publishing ridiculous stories that I knew weren't true, but sensationalized works that feed on the public's fears. Their circulation was up to record highs. I became disgusted and published an outlandish piece making up the most preposterous stories. This was going to be my swan song, and I'd go to America to seek work there, even as a Muggle reporter if need be. I am a half-blood and I had visited my mother's Muggle relatives in the States during three consecutive summers as a youth. I can pass for a Muggle, or I could back then. I also placed a back page ad in that last issue shamelessly asking for subscribers and offering to publish any story a paid subscriber sent in. I then sent it to the newsstands and to everyone who had received an Owlpost delivery.

"I think I might have been consuming a little too much Ogdens back then.

"Lo and behold I received several hundred subscriptions, and a number of wacky stories to boot. Several advertisers sent me letters wanting to upgrade to paid, larger ad sizes. This gave me the idea of charging everyone for advertising. I sent them all messages that I was charging now and a rate sheet. Sixty-two percent of them sent in prepaid ad copy and mock-ups.

"Finally I went to all of my newsstands and told them I needed forty percent of the price on the cover and would repay them for each issue not purchased. Most offered for twenty percent and no return. They had sold out on my last issue. I settled for twenty-seven and a half percent and no returns.

"I was in business."

"Two years later in 1978, a recently finished Hogwarts student, Stellar McTeague, darkened my door and asked to work for me. I couldn't afford to pay her, but Steller offered to work for free for three months and let me see. She reorganized the business, reorganized my life and discovered enough savings for a small salary for herself. I gave her double what she asked. In another three months, we were man and wife."

Sol stopped and pulled his handkerchief again. He noisily blew his nose and Luna moved behind him and hugged his neck.

Sol said, "Thank you my little radish."

Harry glanced to Luna's radish earrings, and she winked at him.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. Stellar was a lively girl with a sharp wit and a sharp tongue for all who believed our less-than-true stories. The serious news back half of each issue was our real work, but few appreciated it. We wanted to do more important journalism, but we were too happy together to try to figure out what it took to gain serious readership. Our lives were full, and we wanted a child.

"Now that I think about it, we were probably not attacked by Death Eaters because no one believed the true things we wrote."

Sol looked off wistfully through a window. Luna gave him one more hug and sat again.

"So," Sol said abruptly, "One day Stellar and I stopped using the Pre-Conception Prevent charm. Our little Luna was born nine months later." He beamed at her, and it was Luna's turn to pull a huge paisley handkerchief and delicately blow her nose.

"We went along, merrily saving our money, and hoping to reach the point financially where we could slowly convert The Quibbler to a serious news monthly, then weekly, that could rival the Daily Prophet, which was becoming more ridiculously slanted pro-Ministry and anti-sanity. When Fudge became the new Minister of Magic, the Daily Prophet kicked into a high state of pro-governmental drivel.

"Then six years ago.... Well, Stellar was brilliant. She wanted to be a Ministry Arithmantic Spell Crafter, but her ideas, which all seemed so good to Professor Flitwick and the other professors at Hogwarts, caused her to be rejected immediately when she applied. So, she dabbled with Spell Creation and was always searching for what little was written on the subject and available to the public.

"She began to make some headway when an experiment went terribly wrong. Luna walked in just in time to see her die, and was badly hurt herself. I paid a Legilimens to search Luna's mind, and her memories clearly showed Luna did not distract her mother, so I was able to convince my daughter she was not to blame right from the start.

"But I went mad the weeks Luna was in St. Mungo's. I mean literally off my noggin, not just a little mad like people think Albus Dumbledore is mad. I'd sit by her bed at night and mutter about the truth of the weird stories we published. When she was well, Luna and I began to seek out these fabrications, and I'm afraid my little girl was damaged by my actions."

Sol broke out in tears at this confession, and Harry panicked about how to help. Sol and Luna stood and hugged each other forcefully. Harry looked at Luna, and he noticed her change before his very eyes.

Luna had grown into her face over the past year. She was not nearly as wide-eyed as she'd seemed on the train at the start of Harry's first year. Now Harry saw Luna close her eyes, then blink a number of times. When she opened her eyes Luna was even less wide-eyed. She shook her head and her expression changed from one of dreamy detachment to clear-headedness. Luna stood straighter, but then slouched back down a bit.

"Father, I've always known the truth. I've only played this game with you because I love you, and I wanted to be with you in grieving for mother. You must admit, we've had fun, and I've led my schoolmates on a merry chase these years."

They cried for a few very long moments. Harry felt he should be anywhere but here. He stood finally when he regained his wits and said quietly, "I'll just leave you two--"

"NO!" they both exclaimed, and then laughed tearfully together.

"Please stay, Harry, stay," Sol said, "You see, you caused this reunion, I guess you could call it that. I went mad for a few years and acted like the crazy stories I wrote and edited were true. Luna went along with me. The other day when I re-read your instructions on producing a Patronus, I had to go deep down within myself to reclaim the happiest moments in my life. That action, along with the emotional release of casting that spell, seemed to... I don't know... break through the shell I'd created. Now I'm back, and it seems that my little girl is back with me.

"I'm glad Luna Owled you, Harry. I wonder... I'll print the issue with your Shielding spell instructions - brilliant work by the way. I paid attention to how it felt, before and after doing your exercises to strengthen my shield; it made a great deal of difference when I followed your instructions.

"Anyway, that issue should go out next week. I was wondering what else you can write, on any subject? These two instructional articles are important public services, but I'd also like articles on subjects like the first piece we did in the early spring. People need information. Heck, I'll even research any subject you want to send me after."

Sol paused, expectation on his face. Harry was flabbergasted by the confidence Sol demonstrated by his offer.

Harry answered slowly, thinking as he spoke. "Mr. Lovegood, I like the idea of this, but I've never really thought about writing.... Well, there is one article I'd like to do, about Voldemort, telling all about him and showing him to be the sham that he is. A deadly and extremely dangerous sham, but a fake nonetheless.

"You know he claims to be Lord Voldemort, but he's no lord. We wizards don't have lords and ladies or other such titles. It's all a game he's playing with our minds to cause us to surrender before the fight."

Harry stared into the distance and father and daughter looked at each other and winked.

"I suppose I could work on something from time to time... as the mood hits me... and when I have a break in my schedule, which is going to be pretty busy in the school year."

After saying that Harry realized he hadn't told any of his friends about his teaching assistantship yet. He quickly said, "I'll think on it and write something maybe, no promises, but I'm grateful for the offer. I might have a business for you to investigate soon, Mr. Lovegood, but I need to see where things go for a few days at least."

The three visited amiably for nearly ten more minutes, before Harry departed. After saying goodbye, he simply Disapparated away.

"Luna, Harry was silent. Is that possible?"

"Father, Harry specializes in the impossible, but please don't mention it to him. He hates being singled out for his abilities, other than playing Quidditch, and even then he's rather modest about it.

"Now, what say we really have fun, Father, with the Crumple-horned Snorkack and other such beasties, and really give our readers some stories to talk about?"

"I love you, Luna."

"I love you too, Daddy."

~*~*~

Saturday found Harry in the part of the grounds around St. Simon's where Father William Martin told him he could practice Spell Mongery. He wasn't Mongering at the moment. He was reading the book on repairing broomsticks.

A racing broom would never be repaired if there was a major break, but everyday brooms used by families to visit magical neighbors in the next country home, or to look at crops, or for children to learn on, were often repaired by the craftsmen at Quality Quidditch Supply. However, they also sold the supplies and books to do repairs yourself.

Harry did not need to repair his Firebolt; it lay against a nearby tree. He had conjured a workbench, and had his repair supplies nearby. He practiced the End Cutting and Sharpening spells on several dead branches he'd gathered. He also practiced the Hole Boring spell to create the male/female mating of broom pieces. After perfecting his work with dead branches, he used one broom blank to create end-to-end and end-to-side holes and mated pieces. He felt he'd perfected the spells, so he stopped.

The broom repair book told Harry that the spells and charms to make a broom blank into a simple flying broom were basic and not very powerful. The incantations used to make a fast and maneuverable broom were trade secrets. If Harry's Firebolt were damaged, it would have to go back to the factory for repairs. Even shops like Quality Quidditch weren't trusted with such knowledge. Harry didn't want to make the contraption he was creating fly. It was the control charms he was interested in.

The control charms in the book were very sophisticated, for safety purposes. A major lawsuit over a hundred years before had almost bankrupted Cleansweep Brooms when its repair book failed to provide control charms of sufficient reliability. A racing broom might have a few advanced control charms for high speed maneuvering, but the basic control charms were all first rate on all brooms and in all broom repair books.

The control charms were Harry's only interest this day.

Harry did some measuring on himself and his broom. He then took out the written measurements Mrs. Weasley had sent him in an Owlpost. He wrote out several simple calculations in his Mongering journal, and compared notes on several pages. Then he started to measure and mark the broom blanks, then using the Cutting charm. He cast the Boring charm where he marked it, and compared the fit of each intersecting piece.

He assembled the pieces using the special broom glue, and cast the Cement Hardening and Bonding spells on each joint. He looked at the odd rig he'd made and smiled. Then he applied a Cushioned Seating charm on the rig.

Before he cast any more spells, he opened the book by Filius Flitwick on placing permanent charms to objects so they could link to the charms on another object without harming either object or damaging the enchantments involved. He reread the marked places in the booklet, and looked at his newly crafted contrivance. He smiled a most devious smile and shot his wand out of his arm holster again.

~*~*~

Sunday found Harry going to Grimmauld Place after morning services at St. Simon's. It was Ginny's birthday, and Harry was touched that she'd insisted the party take place at Headquarters, even though many of her friends would not be able to attend there for security reasons. However, because of its tight security, Harry was able to attend.

Because Harry was a strong Apparator and could leave anywhere pretty quickly, he would not have been in danger if the party were held elsewhere. However, his attendance would have endangered other partygoers. In reality, any normal party for Ginny would probably have been noticed by Death Eaters and attacked on the chance that Harry would be in attendance. All things considered Dumbledore and the Weasleys were pleased by Ginny's request to have a small birthday party at Headquarters.

Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were present, as was Hagrid. Remus had attended services with Harry that morning and thanked Father William for all his help on his ward's behalf. The two came to Grimmauld Place just in time for the birthday lunch. Tonks attended with Bill, and Charlie and Fleur came by way of international Portkeys the Weasley parents had purchased. Of course the twins were there, causing excitement as usual. Their tabletop fireworks display launched prematurely, just before the meal instead of after the presents were opened.

Neville, Luna, and Colin Creevey also attended by way of a special Portkey Dumbledore had created and camouflaged with the Twin's special secure Portkey powder. These were the only students in attendance other than Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Mrs. Granger was there, but not Hermione's father. All Madge Granger said, and all Hermione said she knew, was that Ted Granger was away on business for the Order. Harry had received a note telling him knife-fighting lessons were postponed for an indefinite time - and no explanation.

The big surprise and delight occurred when Arthur went to the door, admitting Percy and his intended, Penelope Clearwater. Percy and Penny had already met with each Weasley (except Charlie) to clear the air. He and Charlie had Owled back and forth several times. Most of the siblings had reached an agreement, although Percy had received a black eye from Ron, which he wore stoically for several minutes, until Ron quit hugging him and Penny could heal the bruise. After meeting with the twins, it took an hour for Percy to stop clucking like a chicken and stop laying eggs, but the twin's revenge wore off soon enough. No one knew just what Bill had done, and Charlie punched him on the arm just before they hugged today.

Ginny saw Penny's engagement ring first and jumped up, shouting for all to hear. Penny apologized to Ginny for stealing a little of the joy of her day, but Ginny exclaimed that her joy was only increased.

Lunch was the usual Mrs. Weasley culinary triumph, with substantially larger Paladin sized portions for Hermione, Ron, Neville and Harry.

Ginny seemed delighted by all of her gifts, graciously thanking each giver, but the look on her face showed that she looked forward to opening the broom-shaped package from her parents. She'd asked for the new Cleansweep Twelve, slightly faster but more maneuverable that Ron's Cleansweep Eleven of the year before. That present would be saved for last.

Arthur came forward with Molly at his side, carrying the broom shaped wrapped package that Ginny had been glancing at all afternoon.

"Ginny, it's our tradition to give our children a special gift if they make prefect or some such other title. You've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and Professor McGonagall told us you could have been prefect also."

"Dad, hush," she said and blushed. She turned to the students in the room. "You lot don't tell whoever gets it, you hear?"

Arthur looked embarrassed, but Molly said, "We're just proud of you dear."

"Anyway," Arthur continued, "We had a broom all picked out, but then Harry approached me... well, open it. He joined us in this gift."

Arthur thrust the package into her hands and she pulled the bow, which opened the gift by itself for all to see.

Ginny was speechless, but Ron wasn't. "It's the new Firebolt C - the Firebolt redesigned especially for Chasers!"

Still the rest of the group was quiet, waiting for the response from the birthday girl. She hadn't said anything, but her wide-opened eyes showed she was pleased.

Suddenly she launched herself at her father. She had tears in her eyes and muttered her thanks incoherently. She tore herself away and hugged Harry.

Harry looked over at Ron. He was genuinely delighted for his sister's good fortune that she could have such a broom. Then Harry looked at Hermione, and they both knew what he was thinking. Ron quickly joined her other brothers in congratulating her on the broom and on her captaincy.

After the congratulations died down, Harry said, "And I have something for you, Ron. It's not a gift, so much as a secret weapon to help us win this year in Quidditch."

Everyone looked at Harry in surprise, and he pulled a small box out of his pocket, tapped it with his wand, and it expanded to about three feet by three feet.

After a moment's hesitation, Ron advanced and opened it. He pulled out an odd device constructed of broom wood. It had triangular shapes and several posts sticking out at parallel angles. "Er, thanks, Harry, just what I wanted." He smirked.

"You prat," Harry said, "You don't even know what it is. We need to go out back to see it in action."

Everyone followed him to the back garden. The garden was within the boundaries of the Fidelius charm that covered the house. The space was wider than the house at fifty feet, and nearly one hundred feet deep. The warding went up to the top of the three-story house.

Harry drew his wand and called, "Accio Ron's broom!" The broom arrived in several seconds out of a second story window, and came to a stop right beside him. He placed the device on the broom and pointed his wand at it.

"Whoa," Ron said, "What are you doing to my broom? The directions say not to stick anything to it or you can mess up the charms and spells that make it fly safely."

"I won't hurt it, Ron."

"Are you sure?"

"I tested it on my Firebolt, yesterday, then rode it after I removed this device and pushed it to the limits. It was all right."

Ron looked at him and said, "Good enough," and grinned.

Harry grinned back and said, "You're going to love this, Ron."

He joined the device to Ron's broom with a sturdy but removable Sticking charm. McGonagall nodded in approval and Dumbledore twinkled. Harry cast a number of spells and charms that no one seemed to recognize, until the end.

Dumbledore said, "Some of Filius' Mastery thesis work, I presume?"

"Correct, Professor." Everyone else looked confused, and Hermione barely looked like she could contain herself. "On you go, Ron."

Ron looked at his jury-rigged broom, and said, "You first, mate."

"All right." Harry climbed on and shuffled around placing his legs inside the contraption and on the parallel pieces. His feet rested firmly on what was now obviously footrests. He sat up straight and began zooming around the close quarters back garden. He backed up, zoomed straight up and down, went sideways and upside down, and rolled several times.

The amazing thing was that he did this without ever placing his hands on the broom at all. He had complete control, even when flying upside down, and both arms and hands were free to block any Quaffle coming near the goal posts.

Ron's face was splashed with ecstasy. "That's beyond brilliant! Come down and let me try, mate." Ron was dancing in place, and everyone else was excited also.

"Have you checked the rules on that, Harry?" Percy asked.

McGonagall answered, "There is nothing in the school or professional rules to preclude such a device. Nothing such as this has ever been envisioned before, so it will be controversial."

"That's why, Ron," Harry said, "You can't take this from here until after September first."

"But I want to test it with the goals at Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head. "No, the rules can't be changed once the school year starts, but any head of house can ask for a rule change to stop us from using this before that date."

"How politically ingenious of you, Potter," McGonagall said with a rare grin.

"Delightfully devious," Dumbledore stated nonchalantly.

"Positively Slytherin of you," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron agreed with a satisfied look on his face. "Think what the Slytherins will say when I ride out for the first match on this baby."

They all laughed.

Harry started casting Cushioning charms all over the ground.

"What's with that, mate?"

"You'll need them when you first try, Ron."

"Not me," said Ron, "This baby was built for me."

"I know," Harry said. "I built it for you. But I wish I'd put these on the ground yesterday when I first tried it. I was almost knocked unconscious."

"Not me, I've been looking for this all of my life."

In less than ten seconds Ron slammed into the cushioned earth, and then climbed right back on after thanking his friend for the protection, and lasted for almost thirty seconds before crashing again. In two minutes he was hovering steadily and doing simple maneuvers. In several more minutes he was about as proficient as Harry had been when demonstrating the device in the first place.

They all went back inside for cake.

Harry had thought earlier in the summer that Luna and Neville were a couple. She had written that she had her eyes on a Gryffindor, and Harry knew Luna was helping Neville teach his childhood friend, Eloise Midgen some Defense spells and hexes and such. However, Luna seemed to spend all her time with the twins when not speaking to Ginny. And Neville spent most of his time with Ginny.

Neville was just an inch shorter than Ron. But Neville was considerably more muscular than Ron, and Ron was in great shape. Harry went to speak with him when he moved towards the punch bowl by himself.

"Nev, looking good, mate. The Paladin Program seems to agree with you."

"Hi, again, Harry. You're looking like it agrees with you as well." Harry stood four inches shorter than Neville, and was not as powerfully built as his formerly pudgy friend. Neville's stature would now be considered impressive by amateur Muggle weight lifting standards. Neville continued, "I was caught by Luna kissing my partner on Aberration Day, only a minute after it started. She hexed me onto the magical treadmill and all I could do was exercise.

"Well, you've probably heard that whatever one of us were doing that hour, we were sort of stuck in. I know a little about your fight, and the growth spurt it put you under. Well, I couldn't seem to stop exercising for a week. And even though the exercise and potions up to that point had really helped, I have now outstripped the Expansion Charm on all the new shirts Gran bought me at the start of summer holidays."

Harry and Neville compared notes for a few minutes and then Harry said, "Neville, I'd intended to get you a birthday present this year but with the problems we just discussed..."

"Forget it, Harry. I didn't buy you anything either. Your friendship's enough."

"Neville, you can count on it. I suppose Eloise told you about our letters, about you in the Department of Mysteries?"

Neville blushed. It looked different on the young man who'd traded in his baby fat for a ruggedly chiseled cleft chin and prominent cheekbones. "That was nice...you, you..."

"Every word of it true," Harry stated firmly. "You were amazingly brave to take on Death Eaters without a wand or the ability to verbalize spells. I'm glad you're on my side, Nev."

"I am too, Harry, count on it. I'm taking this seriously, this training and all. I haven't decided if I want to be an Auror, but I want this training, and I'll fight when and where we need to. I'm not just doing this to defend myself. Call on me, Harry, if you need me. I, er, I owe them."

"I know, Nev. We both do."

~*~*~

As the party wound down, the two professors left, and so did Percy and Penny. The newly engaged couple felt they should limit their first exposures to the family and whispered as much to Harry when they came up to thank him for his role in reuniting the Weasley clan.

Not ten minutes later, Bill and Tonks, and Charlie and Fleur left together. Because Bill and Fleur had dated and broken up, the two eldest Weasley siblings wanted time together to settle in as the new couples they now were. Charlie and Fleur would be in England for three more days and would spend the time with the Weasley family, but Bill had a short-term assignment in Egypt he had to accomplish this coming week.

In moments only the Weasley parents, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione and her mother were left in the large room. Harry realized he'd not informed his friends about his role in the up and coming school year, and decided to do so now before they heard from other sources and their feelings were hurt that he hadn't told them. He launched into a modest rendition of position as a teaching assistant for regular Defense classes, and also explained the new Practical Defense classes in the afternoons the coming year.

"Those Practical Defense classes sound brilliant," Ginny exclaimed, "Did Dumbledore design them or did some other expert? Why, they sound a little like advanced DA sessions."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "You designed those classes, didn't you, Harry? That's why you're on the teaching staff. Who better to teach than the course creator?"

Harry's blush would have done a Weasley proud. It told them all they needed to know. He quickly attempted to draw attention away from himself by explaining that he expected the three of them to help in the Practical Defense classes. They readily agreed.

~*~*~

Hermione caught Harry's eye and pulled him to a corner of the large dining room where the cake and presents had been a short time before. "Harry, that was sophisticated magic you performed with the... what do you call that thing you created for Ron?"

"I don't know. I've just sort of thought about it as a Keepers's Rig, but I haven't ever said that out loud until just now. I guess that will do, but if there's a market for it I guess I'll have to name it something."

"Were those mongered spells?"

"Well, no, except for one piece. The control spells were standard safety spells for controlling a broom in flight. The wood and glue are regular broom supplies, and the cutting and joining spells come straight from the broom repair book I bought.

"The charms linking the controls on the rig to the controls of the broom itself come from Professor Flitwick's Mastery thesis on connecting two enchanted items without damaging the charms or the items. Simple, but brilliant work he did. I'll loan you the copy he let me make from his original. It was a short run publication and none are available that I can find."

"But what did you Monger?"

Harry smiled. "The simplest thing really. Flitwick's work connects magic to magic. Nothing exists, that I can find, that physically connects two enchanted devices without altering the magic. Flitwick's original study connected the magic between a torch and a Wizarding Wireless nearby. Wizarding Wireless was invented when he was a lad and he found it fascinating. He even told me he had hopes of a career as a broadcaster, but his voice... er, can you imagine it on the air?"

Hermione laughed gently. "No, not even as a comedy act, no disrespect to Professor Flitwick, but he's too squeaky."

"Oh, he laughed when he told me about it, so I doubt he'd mind you saying so. Anyway, we can use a simple spell to light a torch on a wall and turn it off. Those who work on their magic can make a single torch vary in brightness, but most just have different torches around and light as many as they need like Muggles turn on additional lamps. We also have a charm to turn the wireless on and off, and change volume.

"Flitwick's interested in sound waves, and I admit I am too. He combined several old spells and figured the power levels adjustments needed so that he could have a nearby torch vary in intensity with the volume of the wireless. It proved the point and his Charms Mastery thesis was accepted. Then I asked him why he wanted to do such a thing in the first place."

Harry looked at Hermione and grinned. She loved it when he broke out in a genuine smile for just about any reason. Since he'd started the Paladin Program, and especially since he'd killed the Death Eaters just before his birthday, Harry had lost some of the spark in his smile. She'd seen true joy on his face when he was being entertained by the twin's outlandish cavortings, but that lasted only for seconds.

She'd also seen him genuinely happy when talking about Spell Mongery. That alone made her commit to always defend the practice Harry had revived after roughly a thousand years, even if it had a terrible reputation. If Harry valued it, she'd defend it and him Mongering. It was perhaps the first time she had wholeheartedly accepted anything that did not align with most of her books and professors.

She said, "You seem tickled with his response to your question. Why did he assembly this spell linking combination of magic?"

Harry grinned even broader. "He was courting a young lady at the time who was as fascinated with the wireless as he was. They'd sit for hours listening. He wanted a subtle way for the torch light to slowly lower as more romantic music came on the set."

"Don Juan Flitwick," she said, "I'd have never imagined." They both chuckled over this. "So, what did you Monger for the Keeper's Rig?"

"I had to have a way to physically connect the broom and the rig. I could have used glue and no magic would be needed that would interfere with the spells on the broom or the rig, but then they'd be permanently joined. I needed to be able to connect and disconnect the two, and existing Sticking charms and such would interfere. So I cranked up my Monger Spell Analysis Charm and looked at the spells involved until I found a hole I could fill with magic that didn't interfere. I actually combined part of the Sticking charm with part of the Papoose spell that mothers use to keep their babies on their backs while gardening, doing housework and such. Simple really."

"Harry, I hate to say this, but do you know how amazing that is?"

Harry's smile faded slightly, but returned as he concentrated on her eyes. She barely resisted shivering under his gaze. To keep their conversation private they had moved very closely together. His face was mere inches from hers. The thought flitted across her mind that Muggles would say that he was invading her personal space, but she ruthlessly stifled the thought, wishing that he'd close that distance with a kiss, preferably of the searing, non-brotherly variety.

She didn't know if it was a second or an hour later that he said, "I know that probably less than a quarter of the magical population could use such a spell, Hermione. I've given up on saying that I'm just like everyone else. We're all fearfully and wonderfully made, each with weaknesses and strengths. Those that seem less able than others should enjoy what they have, so how can I not enjoy, carefully, in private or with a good friend, what distinctions I possess."

She inhaled a bit sharply. "Harry, that is so, I don't know, wise of you."

"I understood that when Father William pointed out how much I admired you," Harry replied. "I'd been telling him about how you are the smartest witch of our generation, and yet in achieving that you struggle with trying to maintain a modest ego and deflect those who harangue you for your intelligence. Don't misunderstand, you're not egotistical at all, but you work on it, and probably don't take compliments like you should. Also, you don't receive enough recognition, and all that makes it tough on you.

"He encouraged me to tell you that I love that you are so smart, and that you should enjoy it, revel in it, and never deny it when folks congratulate you about it. You be modest about it, but never self-deprecating. Don't deny compliments, just say 'thanks' and go on."

"Oh, Harry, I'm not that--"

Harry held his finger up to her lips to quiet her. She barely restrained herself from kissing it.

"It's true, Hermione. You are brilliant and wonderful. Just accept what everyone else knows and you want to deny. Just say 'thank you.'"

She knew her heart was racing, and she held her breath. The conflict between only looking into Harry's compelling eyes and simply listening to what he said struggled for dominance. Where was her ability to do two things at once?

"Umm, thank you, Harry?"

"It's not a question, but you're welcome." She thought that he now stared into her eyes even more deeply if that was possible.

Then he moved back from her and said, "And now that you can accept the fact of your brilliance, I must say that I am accepting the fact that I am probably towards the top of the power and abilities scale for most wizards and witches."

He stopped and moved in close again, a little more closely than before. "You see, Hermione, what I am going to tell you now is why I asked for your help with this mongering project of ours. Since my request I've become even more convinced that we all can access more power and do more impressive magic. My Analysis charm that I mentioned, it's much more, I don't know, full featured is the phrase Dudley uses when he wants a new video game or computer. Well, if I understand it right, my charm is much more full featured than the spells you use in Arithmancy to look at the content of a piece of magic. They are rather simple compared to mine. Have you used the Crafter's Spell Viewing charm yet?"

"We've not used it ourselves, that comes in the second half of sixth year. But Professor Vector did pull it up twice last year to whet our appetite and show us something we were discussing, but most of the spell analysis we've done looks at diagrams in a book or charts on her wall. Basically we've studied Arithmancy as mathematics and as a concept."

During this explanation a strand of her hair fell from behind her ear to the side of her face. Before she moved to replace it, Harry brought his hand up and moved it for her, barely stroking her face with the pad of flesh supporting the muscles of his thumb. This made her shiver, something she hoped he didn't notice. Whether he did or didn't, she couldn't tell from his face or words.

She whispered, "Thank you."

He said nothing in response to her gratitude, but continued, "I want everyone to know that even though I am powerful, they can be more powerful too."

She wanted to scream.

Why couldn't he just kiss her?

She exhaled very slowly. She knew exactly why he didn't. He had a war to fight and would do nothing to stand in the way, including taking time to have a girlfriend.

However, she did not move away from him. She knew her best friend would notice if she did, and he'd feel like something had gone wrong. Many would think that Harry was flirting with her, but she knew better, Harry was no flirt. Granted, he may be interested in her, it was not beyond him. He would never tell her though, or any other girl for that matter. Blast his noble soul. In the mean time she'd be as close a friend as she could be, as close as he'd let her.

And if they spent days, weeks even this close and never moved anywhere nearer to a dating relationship until years in the future then so be it. Even if years in the future he chose some other girl, she would not regret these moments of closeness.

Hermione knew in her heart, she knew in her mind, every ounce of her being knew that somehow Harry played the critical role in this war, and if her eventual <>spinsterhood could help him fight and live through it, it would be a small price to pay - not for the world - blast the world to perdition. Her very life, she realized in that moment, would be a small price to pay for his victory and survival, even if she wouldn't live to see it.

~*~*~

Harry and Hermione talked in this intimate fashion for over an hour more before her left. They were both lost in their own world of the things they held dearly. All those still present, even Ron knew what was happening between the two, even though neither of them did. Perhaps it is better to say that neither of them realized that their deep feelings for the other would be returned in full measure.

~*~*~

Harry had a large dinner in his room at St. Simon's that evening, with his elves joining him in eating but sitting at their own table as was their custom. He then went through a double session of exercises all straight in a row, three straight hours of hard physical exertions at a blistering pace. Harry drove himself like he never had before. All he saw during this explosion of effort was a pair of fine brown eyes, framed by the loveliest, full-bodied brown hair.

The last half hour Harry began quietly whispering, "I will defeat him and she will survive." By the end of the session, sweat poured from him in spite of the Cooling charms he and the elves had placed on him. The last few minutes he occasionally shouted against the Silencing charms on the room, "I will defeat him and she will survive!"

Winky said quietly, "Who is Harry talking about, Dobby. He's not told me about choosing a consort. Has he mentioned anyone to you?"

"No, sweetie, Harry's not said a thing to me, First Master love him. I thought it might be Ginny Weasley, but now I am convinced it's Hermione Granger."

"I really like her," Winky said, "Now that she's stopped making those ridiculous hats and leaving them around the Gryffindor common room."

"She certainly made it tough on me there for awhile, but I'd do anything for Harry and his friends."

"I know, Dobby, I love him too."

The elves were convinced Harry couldn't hear them during his exercising, so they didn't affect the absurd elf-speak wizards and witches expected from house-elves.

But Harry did hear them, the last few sentences at least.

~*~

In a warehouse in the shadier area of the docks of Liverpool, a wizard, dressed quite believable like a Muggle, but using his wand surreptitiously, was berating two stevedores for clumsily handling a crate marked The Tryon Co.

One man, hidden in amongst the various offloaded crates of this scruffy freighter looked on with a pair of Omnioculars, charmed to work for a Muggle. He looked like any other non-descript dockworker, but his equipment signaled him as anything but.

When he had all of the evidence that he needed, he flipped the lever on the package beside him, and made his way towards the doors, as quietly but as quickly as he could. Luck was not with him as another worker, late for work that night, staggered in drunk and knocked over a rubbish bin, drawing the wizard and the stevedores' line of sight to the man escaping.

Shots rang out from a pistol, and were joined in moments by the burp of a submachine pistol expertly fired in three round bursts. Reductor spells also joined the attack.

He made it out of the door unscathed, but ten feet away a bullet slammed into the meat of his right calf, and he tumbled to the ground. This was not his first firefight, so falling from the wound, he still was able to roll and make it behind a tractor. The bullet probably saved his life. Well actually the tractor did, because the debris from the exploding building hit the tractor instead of him. The spells and arms fire stopped abruptly.

The man rose with the adrenalin of a seasoned warrior who only stopped after completing his mission, or after dying. He staggered to the gate, not knowing if the wards had been brought down by the explosion or not. He had only one chance to escape, and would trigger it only when he was sure.

He reached the post outside of the gate and leaned against it. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a discarded tin can. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a wooden stick. He held the wand, not like a wizard or even a Muggle magician. He held it like a chopstick and touched it to the tin can.

As Ted Granger counted down from ten, he looked up and saw a security camera pointed straight at him.

~*~*~

The next day the Manchester Times had a front page story, below the fold, entitled:

The still pictures showed him running from the scene, the building ablaze behind him.

~*~*~

The Daily Prophet had a similar story above the fold:

These pictures were identical to the photos in the Muggle newspaper, except they moved, like all magical pictures did. The evidence that few could see was that the photos had been Wizarding photos first, then remade for Muggle use. The reverse would not be possible.

~*~*~

Chapter end.