He walked back into the castle as the wind got stronger and suddenly found himself in front of Dumbledore's office. Of course he didn't know the password, but he thought that since he was there already, he could try anyway. He knocked and waited for answer.

Albus Dumbledore had only recently concluded a meeting with Marvo and Randal. The boys appeared to still have a running battle going to try to out-do each other with Marvo definitely enjoying the fact that his position at the school was now openly acknowledged.

He now made his way down to his public office from which he conducted his day-to-day business of running the school. As he approached he spotted Nathan Lagrand standing outside.

"Ah, Mr. Lagrand. Good afternoon. Were you just passing or did you wish to see me?"

"If you have time, sir..." Nathan said politely, but there was an almost anxious strain in his voice. "I don't want to steal your time, but I have a question about the Inter-School Quidditch... about the Hogwarts team, to be more precise. Do you have a minute or should I come back later?"

"Of course I have time." said Dumbledore with a smile. He opened the door to his office and ushered Nathan in and invited him to sit down.

"So now what is your question about the team?"

Nathan leaned forward, his face tense. "Professor, I know that my father has contacted you... about me having too many extra activities." He quickly bit his lip. "Like Quidditch."

Dumbledore nodded. "Go on."

"He - he wants me to finish school early, so that's why he has forbidden me to play this year, but Professor," Nathan looked up with pleading eyes, "I think he was just so busy that he forgot it's the inter-school Quidditch this year! I mean, he MUST have forgotten it, otherwise he wouldn't have forbidden me to play..."

"So," Dumbledore asked, "you want to play Quidditch then?"

"Yes." Nathan swallowed. "Don't you see, Professor, I HAVE to! I - if things go well, I'll finish school after this year! This is my only chance for this... do you HAVE to tell my father if I get on the team?" he finished his speech with a pleading glance.

Dumbledore looked kindly at Nathan, "Your Father was one of those involved in setting up this inter-school tournament, I am sure he will be watching the outcome closely and be quite aware of who is playing for Hogwarts."

He paused, "Nathan, I am sympathetic to your desire to play for the school but the training for this event will be intense as will be the pressure during the year. If you wish to go out for the trials I will not prevent it but if you are successful, your father's permission will need to be sought."

"I see." Nathan lowered his head. "But thank you for your time." He sighed. "Back to the books then, I suppose. Nothing else I can do anyway."

He forced a smile and walked to the door, but stopped halfway as if to say something. He hesitated for a long moment. Then he shrugged. "Thank you," he said, the words almost sounding like a despairing sigh, and then he made for the door.

"Nathan...." said Dumbledore before he reached the door. "I could write your father and put the case for you taking part. After all even with sitting your N.E.W.T.S. this year rather than next, you can't study non-stop."

Nathan put on a calm smile. "Thank you, Professor, but that won't do anything. My father has decided I'm going to finish school this year and that I won't play Quidditch, and nobody will be able to convince him of anything else." The smile turned dry and faded slowly. "Not even a Dark Lord or anyone like that, and, no offence, sir, no headmaster.

Thank you for your help though." Nathan sighed. "I'd better go back to my books - if my father learns I spend more than an hour a day not studying.. well, let's just say I don't love Howlers too much."

**************

"...and there you have the explanation as to how Alwyn Agglesboon successfully won that landmark case. Do you have any questions, Anders?"

Dmitri Georgious smiled to himself as his young apprentice ripped his gaze away from the law book on the desk and stared at him in an expression of almost horror. "Questions? Er...no, no questions."

"Then you understood everything I've said?"

Anders hesitated, then rubbed his nose. "Frankly, sir, not a word."

Georgious laughed brightly. "That is a good start. If you'd told me you'd understood, I would have known you were lying. I have been studying this case for forty years and I've never yet been able to understand it all." He closed the books and glanced up at the clock. "Don't you have to be back at Hogwarts for the Quidditch Trials?"

Following his gaze, Anders' jaw did a fairly impressive drop. "Oh, gods...thanks for reminding me...I'm supposed to picking up some shopping in Hogsmeade and going up for a lesson with Dumbledore after the trials, too...I'd better make tracks." He got to his feet and picked up a veritable mountain of books. Georgious put a hand on top of the pile.

"You don't *have* to take all these home, Anders. What's wrong? Don't you have chairs and tables and need something to sit on?"

"I'm just determined to learn as much as I can," he said, fiercely. "I know I'm three years behind the other apprentices, and that bothers me sometimes."

"Anders, you've only been studying for a couple of months. You can't expect to learn it all overnight. Plus you have these Quidditch Trials and lessons with Dumbledore. Time management, my boy. You need to learn about the..."

"Uh...Mr Georgious? I'm sure this will be very interesting, and you can tell me all about it tomorrow...but I really have to dash," came a voice from behind the pillar of books. He stepped into the fireplace and hesitated. A muffled curse came as he realised he couldn't reach into his pockets for the Floo powder.

"Mr Georgious?"

"One step ahead of you, Anders," smiled the lawyer, throwing a pinch of the powder into the fireplace.

Anders disappeared and reappeared in the fireplace in his small house in Hogsmeade, much to the shock of Wilbur, who'd been quietly sleeping there on a bed made from some of Anders' socks that had escaped the ever-growing laundry pile.

He tipped the books onto the sofa and sat down at the table, shoving some papers to one side and carefully hiding the remains of that morning's half-eaten toast under some others and wrote out a shopping list in his spidery handwriting. Fortunately for him, the shops in Hogsmeade stayed open fairly late. He would have to do the shopping AFTER the Quidditch trials and BEFORE the lesson with Dumbledore...or maybe AFTER the lesson with Dumbledore and BEFORE the studying...

He folded up the list and, putting it in his pocket, grabbed hold of his meteor shower and began the walk up to the school at a light jog. Then he slowed to a walk. He was going to be late anyway: what was the point in rushing and making himself exhausted?

**********

Hagrid was kneeling down in front of his hut apparently talking to a box when Fee arrived.

"Yer need ta eat it. It be fer yer own good. It be very nice yer know. All crunchy and yummy." As Fee approached she would could see him waving a maggot at a small ball of prickles. What ever it was he was trying to feed obviously had no appetite.

He looked up as Fee's shadow fell over him.

"Ah. Ello Fiona. Seems this little fellow 'as no desire to eat these maggots." He shook his head.

"And what can you be doing 'ere? You look troubled.

"It's McTavish," said Fee, thrusting the ball of fluff at Hagrid. "He's sick an' I can't make him better. Have ye any idea what could be wrong with him?"

The haggis squeaked in alarm as Fiona thrust him towards the half-giant and she absently scratched him behind what, for want of a better guess, were its ears. It was so furry it was near impossible to make out anything but a pair of beady black eyes and a button nose. "Would ye take a look at him?"

"A course I can." Hagrid took the little bundle of fluff from Fee.

He lifted the little creature up carefully and turned him over. He gently prodded McTavish, checking to see what might be wrong. He even opened the little guy's mouth that was not the easiest of things to locate.

"I can see nothin wrong. He's in perfect health. Jus looks a bit down. Wan me ter look after him a bit?"

He thought for a minute. "Don't 'spose you seen Kat about at all 'ave yer? She's still not been down 'ere much since Joss died. Anyway, she has that technique for gettin inside minds, see. And I thought she might be able to find out wha is wrong."

"Would ye mind?" Fiona's eyes filled with tears. "He just isn't himself lately and I'm a bit scared." She sniffed loudly and dug a hanky out of her sleeve and blew her nose on it. McTavish stared up at her with a slightly dull, vacant expression.

"I see Kat all the time," she said. "We're in th' same class for most things. I hadn't thought about asking her t'take a wee peek at McTavish. I was jus' in a panic with him..."

The little furry pet suddenly started making a strange sound and Fee pointed at him triumphantly. "Ye see? He's crying! He has terrible mood swings! He should be squeaking happily!"

Hagrid looked concerned as the little Haggis started to cry. "I'll give 'im me full attention, don you worry."

He held McTavish in his arms gently. "An when yer see Kat next, maybe you can ask her to come an 'ave a look." He smiled at Fee. "I'm sure we'll get im sorted."