The Magical Bat Year II Chapter 1: Prequel, Second Year, a batman fanfic

The Magical Bat II.

#include stdDisclaimer.h: Batman, Catwoman, Alfred, Babs, Dick, Lucius Fox, and the others, are DC Comic's toys. Hogwarts, Albus, Minerva, the Weasleys and the others in the Potterverse belong to the fabulous JK Rowling. I'm just playing with them, and they'll be put back later. The Morton family is used with the permission of GITM. Everyone else, they're mine. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead is purely coincidental.

This is a sequel to my stories: The Bat & The Cat, redux, The Magical Bat, and Magical Bat: road trip.

1 – Prequel, Second Year
Saturday, July 3, 1999:
Ottery St. Catchpole, the Burrow garden (Weasley family home)

Albus Dumbledore asked, "And do you, Ginevra, take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and health, for richer and poorer, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"The rings, please." After a bit of fumbling, "Under the laws of Great Britain, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." The organ played as the wedding certificate was signed and general excitement (and fireworks) were let loose.

Saturday, July 10, 1999:
New York City, Central Park, 5th and 72nd street

Julie waved at her neighbor, calling "Hi, Beth!" Her blonde neighbor joined her on the bench, saying, "Julie, I'd like you to meet Miles, he's a co-worker at the UN."

Miles dodged a cyclist, saying "Blimey, as bad as London!"

The two women laughed as a pair of inline skaters zipped past, followed by a young teenage girl jogging with a large dog. "So, Miles, the British legation, I presume?" Julie asked.

"Yes, both Elizabeth and I are in security work," Miles admitted, "Although in different agencies, of course. May I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the bench.

"My, my, this is more information than I had on my mysterious neighbor." Julie grinned, and patted the bench, "Tell me more, Miles. What agency?"

"Special Boat Service of the Royal Marines. Our mutual case involves Yanks at British boarding schools."

"Specifically, a certain school in Scotland that Connie will be going to in September," Beth said. Julie looked startled, as Beth said quietly, "Does the name Hogwarts ring a bell?"

"How?" Julie gasped, as Beth smiled.

"Come now, even the Times has run stories about the paranormal at Langley. You think you're the first reporter with a wizard relative?" Beth passed a business card over, adding, "I'm a graduate of Salem in Boston, myself. The Agency is concerned about a wizarding terrorist. He seems to be focusing on Americans at Hogwarts, which is why we're talking to you."

"But… shouldn't the FBI be involved?"

"If it was an American school, yes, they would. The Agency is involved because of the eight Americans currently enrolled at Hogwarts. Connie will be the ninth, and is the only American in her year. The Bureau is looking into the wizarding shops in Greenwich Village and Soho, along Seventh." Beth grinned, asking gently, "You thought Connie was the only witch in the city? She's not even the only witch in Central Park. The two skaters that almost ran Miles down go to Hogwarts."

"On average, witches and wizards are about one in a thousand," Miles said. "As far as we can tell, it's a set of regressive genes, and some of them can't do more than parlour tricks. We know several that work in casinos. Most of them don't even realize they're wizards. Your daughter is fortunate that she's the opportunity to train up in how to do things."

"But… terrorists? I don't know…" Julie said.

"There were incidents last year," Miles admitted. "Her Majesty was bloody awful about it, went there personally, and roasted the Headmaster over an open flame. Her grandson goes there, ma'am. That's a reason one of my mates will be teaching there as an adjunct instructor. Not only is he a Royal Marine, but a bloody good wizard in his own right. He'll be teaching self defense, and one of the students is offering classes in the martial arts. She's from Gotham City, a second-year that's a second degree black belt herself." He sat back on the bench; adding, "Do you see the girl coming up on the left in the grey top, running with the dog? She's the black belt I mentioned."

Julie watched the girl run past. Beth said, "We understand if you'd rather not have Connie go there. However, we'd like to have the chance to nail this terrorist, and we have a plan to protect her." The inline skaters rolled past, and Beth added, "Could you come by my apartment with Connie tonight, about eight-ish?"

"Julie, Connie, come in!" Beth said. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Rum and Coke?" Julie asked as she took a seat. "This has been an interesting day."

Beth mixed, giving Connie a Diet Coke and taking a glass of white wine for herself. "Well, you remember the saying, 'May you live in interesting times.'" The three clinked glasses, and Beth asked, "I'm sure you have all sorts of questions. I'll answer what I can."

"So, how long have you worked for the…"

"CIA? Also known as 'The Company' in a lot of bad spy fiction?" Beth grinned. "Eight years, just out of Salem. Now, enough questions about me, any questions about Hogwarts?"

"Mom said there was something about a terrorist?" Connie said.

Beth nodded, "Lucius Malfoy. Right now, we don't know what his plans are, or how many allies he's got." She pulled a photo out of a file, adding, "He's a racist bastard, obsessed with enslaving and killing anyone who's not a 'pureblood' like him. Malfoy tortured and killed his own son Draco (another photo) when he dared to disobey orders to kill his schoolmates. Draco's haunting Hogwarts, by the way, so you can ask him yourself. However, since indications are that Malfoy's targeting Americans, we felt it better safe than sorry."

"Why not simply pull the Americans out of school?" Julie asked.

"We considered that. However, the Wizarding Ministry of Education would know that we know something, and indications are that some of them are in Malfoy's pocket. In addition, the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge (another picture) runs the Wizarding government as his own little kingdom. There's a civil war brewing there, one in which Americans are already involved."

"How so?" Julie asked.

"Remember the runner with the dog, and the two skaters I pointed out to you in the park?" Beth asked, and Julie nodded. "That's no dog, that's a British werewolf; she goes to school with the runner, one Martha Wayne from Gotham city. Both of them were kidnapped in January by Malfoy, the two skaters are fellow New Yorkers who were also kidnapped and tortured by Malfoy. All four of them are second-years at Hogwarts. Wayne was falsely imprisoned and tortured by Fudge. One reason we're concerned about Connie is that you received a note from the Ministry, asking for hair and blood samples?"

Julie nodded, "Yes, the note said it was a routine matter."

Beth shook her head. "Connie, a good rule of thumb is to never allow an enemy to gain possession of your hair or blood. There's too much dark and black magic that can be done with it." She sighed, adding, "Our plan is to run you in as a ringer. One of our people will take your place in Hogwarts; you'll simply be another American student. Different face, name, and so forth, and we won't tell the Ministry. The Headmaster will know to expect two new Yanks instead of one, and once in school, you'll be reasonably safe."

"I don't like the word 'reasonably'," Julie said.

Beth shrugged. "Aside from locking her in a steel vault, she'll be as safe as any other student at Hogwarts. If you decide to go along with this, I'll do a few small spells on you and Connie before you leave to match your documentation. Once in London, one of our agents there will meet you and be Connie's 'father' for other parents to see in King's Cross Station. Hogwarts does have email; we'll provide you with an appropriate account here in New York." She smiled, "That's just a precaution. Malfoy, Fudge and their cronies seem to be firmly fixed in the fourteenth century. We'll need to know your decision by Friday the 30th. Do you have any other questions?"

Monday, July 12, 1999:
New York City, Fifth and 73rd, 15th floor

"Beth!" She put a hand out at Julie's voice, to stop the elevator from closing. The blonde smiled at her neighbor, asking, "How are you and Connie this Monday?"

"Good." The doors closed, and as they rode downward, Julie added, "Regarding the … project we discussed? We're going to give a tentative go-ahead." The elevator stopped to let people on, and they fell silent. Once they were in the building lobby, Julie hung back, asking in a low voice, "We'd like more information. Can you come by tonight?" Beth nodded, asking, "Eight-ish?"

Friday, July 16, 1999:
New York City, Central Park West, 22nd floor, Cortez apartment

A 'ding' and the soft announcement, 'You've got mail!' drew Shaundra's attention. Rolling over on her bed to grab a bookmark, the Arcus pendant and her magical temporary use permit dangled from her neck. She glanced at her laptop, and opened the message.

To: The Cortez twins, Arthur Morton
From: Mattie Wayne
Subject: Shopping !

Hey, guys! Gotten your grades yet? I really blew the Transfig exam, how'd you do? Fingers and toes are crossed! Gaaa!

Only real news from here is that Mom and Dad got a couple of the Malfoy's spare house-elves, at least the ones that Hogwarts didn't snatch up. Retraining them not to grovel and cringe has been "fun" (meant sarcastically, of course!). The next step is to keep them out of public view during the social set (balls, soirees, etc. BLECH!). Arthur, be GLAD you don't have to be 'presented' as a debutante in a few years. DOUBLE BLECH! The last step is to actually get them to accept wages and days off!

sigh One thing at a time…

Aunt Sheila has to fly over to London to be inducted into the English Bar Association, or whatever they call it. Basically, it's so she can practice and handle our affairs and investments over there. She's flying over on Friday, August 20th, gets inducted Monday the 23rd, then gets RE-inducted into the Magical Bar on Thursday the 26th. You'd think once would be enough, but Nooo!

So anyway, we were thinking we could fly over with her and get all our shopping done. Run it by your folks, and let us know no later than Wednesday the 18th. I know it's a bit of a short notice – sorry about that. If your folks have questions, they can call us - you should have the number.

Mattie

PS: Pack your laptops for school. Reliable information - hint, hint!

She fumbled with her printer; then called, "Mom!"

"Arthur! E-mail!" Mrs. Morton called into the backyard.

"I bet it's from your girlfriend," Billy, the youngest of the Morton family, said from the safety of the tree house.

"You know, I liked you better when you didn't talk so much," Arthur said as he gave the tire swing holding his little sister Julia one last push on the way into the house.

Arthur's computer was an ancient black and white Mac Classic II, without an Internet connection. When he got e-mail, it came to his mother's new G4 iMac, which he was seldom allowed to touch. Reading the message and replying to Roshawn and Shaundra took only a few minutes, but replying to Mattie took longer, as it always did.

To: mwayne
From: amorton
Re: Shopping !

Mattie,

Sounds fun but I'll have to pass. Hank made starting cornerback during spring practice and I promised him I'd go to his first game which is August 27th. Since Teela made the cheerleading squad this year, that's another reason I have to go. (I fly out Columbus-JFK-London at 3 AM the 28th. 'Blech' right back at ya.) I am not looking forward to the crowds, but a promise is a promise.

Have you considered owling Sprink and asking her if she wants to go shopping with you? She'd probably enjoy it more than me anyway. The only other news here is that I finally got glasses.

Arthur

Looking over the letter, Arthur decided it said what it needed to say, but probably not everything that it could have said. He clicked 'Send' and once his reply was transmitted, deleted it and Mattie's message using a program that not only 'deleted' it, it also overwrote the appropriate section of the hard drive and emptied the RAM cache. The encryption and security systems the Waynes had shared with the Morton and Cortez families were extremely impressive, and Arthur wanted to keep it secure at his end.

"Well?" his mother asked as Arthur exited the walk in closest she'd turned into a home office. She gave her children as much privacy as she could, but since the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts the previous winter; she wanted details on anything magic related. There had been a long argument about whether or not to allow Arthur to return to Hogwarts, which she had lost.

"Nothing much," Arthur replied. He added, "Mattie asked if I wanted to head to England early to do some shopping for school. I said 'no' because I promised Hank I'd go to his first game as a starter." Pulling down a glass from the cabinet, he took it to the refrigerator and pressed the 'Crushed Ice' button.

"It took you half an hour to type that and send it?" she asked as her son stuck his glass of ice under the refrigerator's water tap and pushed the button. A slight exaggeration, but only a slight one.

"There was other stuff, but that was the main thing," he replied before drinking.

"Interesting that an 11 year old girl would send my 12 year old son a letter asking him to go shopping with her."

Arthur topped off his glass, then said, "Don't worry, Mom, she sent it to the Cortez twins too."

She raised an eyebrow, adding, "I'm allowed to be nosy."

"Yes, ma'am, you are," Arthur agreed with a smile. He took another gulp of ice water as he slipped out the back door.

"Gets more like his father every day," Mrs. Morton said to no one in particular.

Sunday, July 18, 1999:
Columbus, Ohio, Morton home

"Arthur! E-mail!" Mrs. Morton called.

"Coming, mom!"

"Two in three days! When's the wedding?" Billy said from his side of the room. Arthur threw a handy pillow at him before ducking out the door.

To: Arthur Morton
From: Sheila Hawking
Re: Re: Shopping!

Arthur:

Glad to hear about your brother and sister, and we completely understand. However, we aren't in favor of your wandering around London and Heathrow by yourself (no matter how competent you are). That's what family and friends are for!

I know your parents were concerned about the Death Eater attack on the school, so unless we hear differently from your folks, we plan to pick you up on the 28th. Arthur, we're concerned about your safety, which is why we've made arrangements for it. There's pride, and then there's common sense.

Sheila Hawking

USMCR

Arthur considered this, and hit 'Print' so his parents could see this. He knew his mother especially had been worried about his trip. He then hit 'Reply' and typed:

To: shawking
From: amorton
Re: Shopping!

Yes, ma'am! I'm due in to Heathrow at 19:10 London time on American Airlines. Actual arrival time, I got no clue.

Arthur

Monday, July 19, 1999:
Hogwarts, Headmaster's office

"Mr. West! How pleasant to see you again," the Headmaster said. Waving his wand, he conjured two squashy armchairs, asking, "Tea? Lemon Drops? Is this a social or a business call?"

"Business, I'm afraid. Allow me to introduce a colleague from the embassy, Mr. Hansen," the ancient attorney replied.

"Ah, yes. What can Hogwarts do for the American government and the Central Intelligence Agency?"

Mr. Hansen looked at his colleague, who shook his head. The Headmaster smiled, asking, "This is in regards to a student, I presume."

"Yes, Miss Constance Koslowski. We have indications that she is being targeted by a terrorist, one Lucius Malfoy. We do not know what his plans are, or how extensive his organization."

"You also do not know how deeply he has penetrated the Fudge Ministry," Albus said. "He has connections, deep connections with senior Ministry officials." The other two nodded, and the Headmaster continued, "With tax revenue to the Ministry reduced, Mr. Malfoy has become a prime financial backer to Minister Fudge. There are only so many staff positions Cornelius can cut, and departments he can eliminate. He has concentrated on funding the DMLE and the Aurors, to ensure their loyalty." He steepled his hands, and regarded the two men. "This has not guaranteed his position, but it has reduced his risk, as various members of both agencies remain for their own reasons, some of which are not compatible with Mr. Fudge's."

The Headmaster took a sip of tea, asking, "This relates to Miss Koslowski in what manner?"

"We aren't sure," Mr. Hansen said. "We plan to substitute a ringer for Miss Koslowski and her mother with our operatives, and enroll her under a different name, as Miss Lee Fook. Naturally, we will use assorted spells to ensure success beyond a simple glamour or polyjuice spell. She will be funded through various cutouts, the New York branch of Gringott's has been most co-operative."

"I am to presume that you do not wish the Ministry officially informed of Miss Fook's existence?" Mr. Hansen nodded, adding, "We have engineered the appropriate paperwork through our own sources in the Fudge Ministry, so grades for her examinations and such may be reported as usual. We would appreciate your keeping this confidential, restricted only to yourself and," Hansen glanced at the Sorting Hat, "Alastair."

"Drat." Alastair said.

Albus chuckled. "If necessary, I will inform Minerva, but no other," he said. "I presume you are looking for authentic reactions?" The two men nodded, and he stood, shaking their hands. "Then we shall sort the two young ladies into different houses, and see what becomes of them."

Saturday, July 31, 1999:
Azkaban Prison, Block A

"There you are, Nott. I was beginning to wonder."

"My apologies, Lord Malfoy. There is a storm outside, the passage was very rough."

"Ah, yes," Lucius Malfoy said, glancing out the large windows of his 'cell'. He sipped brandy, adding "It shall pass. Did you bring the charms?"

"Of course, milord!"

"Good. Let us proceed. You shall have a relaxing holiday here, finishing out my 'sentence' for the next few months, whilst I will proceed with my plans, plans that have already been delayed far too long."

Friday, August 20, 1999:
London, Gatwick International Airport, Queen's Customs

The lines were long to clear Customs, but we waited patiently. Others were not so patient, and cursing was heard as people seemed to fly through the 'Commonwealth only' booths.

"How many in your party?" the official snapped, as passports were presented.

"Four, including myself," Sheila replied. The Customs man suddenly stiffened and blanched, then said, "Please forgive me, ma'am. Please, go right through!" He stamped passports, and ushers came running up with carts. Curious, Mattie glanced at his screen, and saw a red flashing 'Queen's Favour' on his screen.

"Ms. Hawking?" the young officer asked. She nodded, and he asked, "May I see your passports, please?" He inspected them, and then returned them, saying, "This way, please."

"One moment, please," Sheila said. "The challenge is: 'Professor Harry is eight feet and hairy', and your response?"

"My apologies, ma'am. My response is: 'His eyes are green'." Sheila relaxed, and he smiled, saying, "Nought to worry, ma'am. Leftenant Martin, Queen's Own, Royal Marines. You're safe as in your mum's arms."

"I had spotted three of your men, but still…"

"Bother. You weren't supposed to. How, may I ask?"

Sheila grinned, "Major Sheila Hawking, United States Marine Corps Reserve."

"Ma'am!" the Leftenant said, saluting. "I was not informed!"

She passed over her Marine ID card for his inspection, saying, "As I don't have my cover, no need to salute, leftenant."

He passed it back, saying, "Yes, ma'am. Orders?"

"When you return to base, please make sure your information is updated, and let's proceed with your original orders."

"Ma'am! Please come this way. If we can get your luggage claims, we'll handle that for you. We have reservations for you at the Leaky Cauldron."

Sheila stopped. "The Cauldron?"

"Yes, ma'am. All my men are wizards and witches. This way, please."

Stopping at luggage claim, the leftenant passed over the claim forms to a sergeant, then motioned to a grizzled veteran, saying, "Ma'am, this is Sergeant Major Thompson, Royal Marines. Sergeant Major, this is Major Hawking, US Marine Reserves."

The Sergeant Major braced, saying, "Ma'am!"

"At ease, SarMaj. Status?"

He relaxed, saying, "Luggage coming ashore now, ma'am. Estimate another ten minutes, if you wish the comforts."

"We'll do that, thank you, Sergeant Major."

He nodded, and barked, "McKinley! Evans!" Two young female Marines appeared, and he said, "Escort the Major here and the girls to the loo." He grinned at the curious expression on the twin's faces, and said, "Old warrior's advice, girls. Don't turn down the comforts." He elaborated, "Food, sleep, piss, beer and broads, although the last two wouldn't apply, I 'spect."

Saturday, August 28, 1999:
London, Heathrow International Airport, Queen's Customs

Arthur waited in line, his carryon duffel being kicked along with the line. Eventually, he got to the booth, where the official asked, "How many in your party, mate?" as Arthur offered his passport.

"Just me, sir. I'm being met," Arthur added, as he cleaned his new glasses.

The Customs man smiled, then suddenly stiffened and said, "Right-o, mate! English schools, finest in the world! Enjoy your stay, and please, go right through!" He stamped Arthur's passport, and turned to see Major Hawking standing with a Royal Marine a few yards away. Arthur turned to see a red flashing 'Queen's Favour' on his screen as he was waved through customs.

"Major Hawking," Arthur said. "Thank you for meeting me."

"No problem, Mr. Morton. Allow me to present Leftenant Martin of the Queen's Own Regiment, Royal Marines." Arthur nodded politely, and Sheila added, "Leftenant?"

"Right-o. Mr. Morton, we'll collect your baggage, and then it's off to the Leaky Cauldron for the night. The plan is you'll have a bit of time for shopping tomorrow on Diagon Alley, and then we'll see you off on the train September first. "

Sunday, August 29, 1999:
London, The Leaky Cauldron

A loud knock startled Arthur. Major Hawking's voice was heard, calling "Arthur, its 06:00! You ready?"

He swallowed, then answered, "Yes, ma'am. I'll be down in a minute." He heard the creaking of the floorboards in the old inn as she moved away, and then dived for his trunk, muttering, "No time for a shower. Damn, I hate jet lag."

"G'day, Mr. Morton," Tom, the ancient owner said. "They're in there, be wi' ye in a tick."

Arthur replied, "Thank you, sir," as he pushed open the door.

"So, what have you lot got left to do?" Sergeant Major Thompson asked as he drank his tea.

"Pick up my new robes and uniforms, and my potion stuff," Mattie said. "Arthur?"

"Um, just my potion stuff and textbooks, sir. I don't need new clothes, these are fine."

The Sergeant winked at Major Hawking, and said, "Don't call me sir, I WORK for a living! Got that, son?" Arthur looked confused, but nodded.

"Your father's Navy, isn't he?" Arthur nodded, and Major Hawking continued with a smile, "That explains it. The squiddies have never understood about real work, have they, SarMaj? Besides, your clothes need replacing. You've grown a couple inches since last September."

"Too right, Major," the Sergeant agreed. He set down his teacup, and poked a beefy finger at Arthur. "One thing you'll learn, son, is to never, ever, disagree with the ladies about clothing. You want to be shipshape and Bristol fashion to start school." He looked at the twins, and asked, "Now then, what about you two?"

They glanced at each other, then one said, "Pick up our new uniforms and robes, potion supplies, and I wanted to look through the bookstore again." The other twin said, "Quality Quidditch for me."

"Then it's agreed," Major Hawking said. "Uniforms, then I will leave you in the SarMaj's tender mercies while I meet with a colleague, and Arthur, please stop by the clock shop." He looked guilty, and she continued, "You will follow the SarMaj's orders, and we'll meet at 13:00 back here. Leftenant, is that suitable?"

"Most suitable, ma'am. It's 06:45; the shops open on the tick of 07:00. That gives this lot plenty of time to clean up. SarMaj?"

"With your permission, I'll detail a personal escort to each, which will allow us to split up." The leftenant nodded, adding "So ordered, SarMaj."

As people started to leave, Arthur hung back, asking, "Major?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"My mom took care of my robes, I really don't…"

"Arthur?" He looked up at her, and she knelt next to him, and said quietly, "It's taken care of. Don't worry about the money; we've arranged it with your family. The Wayne foundation does this kind of thing all the time. Go with Mattie, she'll take care of the details."

Sunday, August 29, 1999:
London, Diagon Alley

Diagon Alley was always bustling and wild. Aside from witches and wizards in town for the day, you had college girls in jeans, businessmen talking outside at the Wooden Goblet pub on their cell phones; and teenagers in both wizarding and muggle clothing talking and laughing together. The Americans fit right in.

Arthur Morton dodged a shopkeeper's assistant outside the cauldron shop, and ducked with the rest into the robe shop. The animated mannequin in the window turned to display the new robes as a witch said, "G'day, there! What can we do for you?"

"Wayne and Cortez, picking up our school robes," Mattie said.

"Right-o. Up on the stands, please. It'll be just a tick, and we'll do a final fitting." She walked toward the back of the shop, calling, "Lav! Parv! Fitting for Wayne and Cortez!" A busty blonde hurried out to join her friend, neatly folded robes in hand as Arthur found a seat. She eyed him, then asked, "What about you, luv?"

Arthur coughed, and said, "No thanks. My mom took care of it already."

"Right-o. Spells renewed and all?" Arthur smiled, and she asked the girls, "Who's first?"

The bell over the door rang at Zabini Apothecary, and Blaise looked up, waving and calling "Mattie! Be right with you!" Mattie waved back, and Blaise returned to helping an older woman with a stuffed vulture on her hat.

"Hello. What can I do for you?" a fellow in a red company shirt asked. Mattie looked at him, and then said, "Neville isn't it?" He nodded, and then said, "You're Mattie Wayne, aren't you? We've got your stuff ready to go. Second year Hogwarts, right?"

Mattie nodded, and said, "Right, and also for Morton and the Cortez twins." Neville nodded, and levitated four packages onto the counter while the twins looked around.

"How are you doing, Mr. Morton?" Arthur looked up, and saw the smiling face of Professor Harry.

Arthur looked at him, and then asked, "Excuse me, professor. What are you doing here?"

Harry looked down at his red company shirt, and said, "Oh, this? I've invested a few galleons in the shop, so I thought I'd come help out during the rush." Hermione Granger overheard this, and muttered, "A few galleons, he says. Ha!" Harry glanced at her, and continued, "So anyway, this is a particularly busy time, and I'm not above getting my hands dirty. What are you lot doing? Looking forward to school? Thinking about trying out for Hufflepuff's Quidditch team, Mr. Morton?"

Arthur shook his head, "Sorry, I'm not that good a flyer. I'll stick to basketball and chess."

Harry smiled, "I need to introduce you to my friend Ron. Best chess player I've ever met. He's even beaten Minerva, which is saying something."

Arthur slowly said, "I'd like that, professor. Thank you."

"No problem. As a matter of fact… Hermione, do you have the order for the Wheeze ready yet?"

"Except for the ashwinder eggs in the fridge, yes." She had an amused look in her eyes, and said, "I'll get them wrapped up. Won't be a minute."

Harry stopped, and said, "One cardinal rule about the Wheeze: Never eat anything here."

"Professor, are you investing in this place also?" Shaundra said, pointing to the large banner with Harry's face.

"Yes, I have. Mattie, you know Ian MacDonald's working here?"

"Cool!" Mattie pushed open the door, hearing the Weasley version of a doorbell: a loud rip of flatulence. It was a madhouse inside, with Fred, George, Ginny and Ron on the floor, helping the customers while Ian and Lee Jordan worked the till. Harry introduced Ron to Arthur, and Ginny yelled, "Harry! Dive in!"

Harry waded over to her, and said, "Can't, love. I'm with Blaise today. I brought over your potion order."

"Are you REALLY Harry Potter?" a wide-eyed young boy asked. Harry smiled and nodded, and was rescued by Fred (or was it George?), who yelled, "Oi, Harry! In the back, mate!"

"Doing well, I see," Harry chuckled.

Fred mopped his brow, "That we are, mate, that we are. Thanks for recommending Ian, he's a wonder." He poked at the order, and said, "Everything here?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Hermione put it together. Take out the eggs, mate."

"Good enough for me," Fred said, and signed the invoice, giving a copy back to Harry and pulling out the ashwinder eggs, putting them in a muggle freezer.

"Later, mate," Harry said.

"Later, Professor Potter," Fred said with a grin. Harry shot him a look and left.

"I hope none of that's going off in my class, ladies," Harry said to Mattie and the twins with a grin, who blushed. He grinned at them, and then collected Arthur, who was looking at various items. The Wheeze ranked items using a wand system. One wand you could give to an infant, while ten wands rated 'death & destruction'. The ten-wand rated items were securely locked in a display case.