Amita - Comet Chaser

The delegation had gathered in a room close to the Ministry of Magic.

"Is the first diversion in place?"

"Yes, it's in place."

"I'm certain something's happening."

"Nonsense. It's all quiet on the Quidditch front," said Ron. "Team Mercury isn't even playing this week."

"I know. It's an exhibition game – the Earth All Stars versus the Solar All Stars – with the proceeds going to charity."

"So, what's the problem?" asked Harry.

"Everyone thinks it's a fun event for a good cause. Everyone's guard is down, the perfect opportunity for those Mercurians."

"We're on to them, Hermione, and those simple-minded prats are focused on winning the tournament," said Harry.

"Even villains take a day off," said Ron. "You're disappointed because you don't have an excuse to confront two handsome wizards. I bet they've been flattering you."

She turned to Percy for support, but he was deep into filling out administrative request forms and writing memoranda. No one was constantly vigilant anymore. She left Ron and Harry to their argument about the best Keeper and Percy to his paperwork.

The lack of response from her comrades had left her frustrated. Keeping the Mercurians in line and the confrontations with Severus – she meant Mr. Snape – along with her ambiguous feelings about Mr. Snape had left her exhausted. Being civil to Ron, who had suddenly appeared on the committee, had taxed her to the limit. She would take the rest of the day off.

Her thoughts drifted toward an austere wizard. Being dedicated to one's profession was praiseworthy, but there was such a thing as overdoing it. Didn't he ever do a jigsaw puzzle or play Sudoku or spend time on anything just for fun. How was she to relate to him in a relaxed manner? Would life with him be a series of intense work-days?

Lost in thought, she drifted to the noise and merriment of the Home Team Center. A pair at the edge of the crowd had a table set up under a banner that read "Support Your Home Team," and they were offering a chance to bet on the Earth All Stars at odds of one-to-one. She considered that strange since the Solar All Stars were the big favorites, but people were demonstrating their faith and support by buying tickets.

Oh, why not? she thought and bought a one-Galleon ticket.

She admired the sport paraphernalia and was tempted to buy a banner, but she had to remain outwardly neutral. As she was hesitating, there was a disturbance at the table taking bets. The two manning the table were refusing to sell any more tickets and telling people to come back later. Before she left, they were taking bets again.

The next day she wandered over to the alien sector where another betting table was selling tickets at two-to-one in favor of the Solar All Stars. Hermione remembered the different odds for the tickets sold to Earth Team supporters and smiled. Emotion ruled the day. The two taking the bets were constantly consulting a communication device, and once, they announced they couldn't sell any more tickets until certain funds had been cleared. An hour later, they were back in business.

The rational part of her that favored the better odds warred with the loyal part of her that had bought the Earth Team ticket. Suddenly, the parties and pep rallies weren't fun, and she headed home.

Her dreams that night consisted of the kitten chasing two Galleons alternating with one Galleon chasing the kitten while Crookshanks cried out, "Beware the odds of Mercury." As she scrambled the breakfast eggs, it struck her. It couldn't be true. It had to be true. It wasn't the Mercurians this time. She only knew one wizard capable of this. No, not even he would do such a thing. This was terrible. Wow, this was brilliant.

"That tosser is out to make some quick silver at everyone's expense," she told her pets. "Wait 'til I explain this Arithmancy scheme to Ron and Harry." She reconsidered. "Well, maybe it's better if I act alone."

She faced Crookshanks and the kitten. "You know this is strictly business and Ron's accusations are false, don't you? Of course, you do."

The delegation reviewed their plans.

"We have probed deeply into the nature of Brit wizard society. It needs a hero."

"Their famous saga sings of a young person with hairy feet who retrieves the wand ExElder from the crux of the Lady of the Knight, undertakes a perilous trip with his dining-mates to locate the source of power and nearly dies while expelling a circular table of ring-eaters to their doom."

"Touching."

"It must be full of Earth-symbolism; I don't understand it."

"Be that as it may, the 'masterminds' didn't believe we could act without their guidance, but we were able, by a careful and clever analysis, to identify the key individual. Now, we'll show them what we can do."

"It's time for the second part of our plan to isolate the essential Earth-person from the people who could offer protection."

Ron wandered through the alien stalls and displays as he had been doing for weeks. It was pleasant to be distracted, and he was beginning to make some sense out of the wild images that beat on him from all directions. There was usually a gaiety here although after the last game, the ladies in one booth were silently crying. He wondered if their hopes of moving to Earth had been dashed. And they were such kind and lovely ladies. He wouldn't mind comforting them or even keeping them. He imagined basking in their gratitude. But gratitude never lasted for long. Besides, maybe all the females from that planet were very intelligent. He shuddered.

Tonight, there was something new. He had heard about it before he had left the Ministry building. In the Terran sector, they were offering an opportunity to bet on the next game, but if he had heard correctly, the odds in the Terran sector were one-to-one on a team with little chance of winning. Here, the odds were a more realistic two-to-one. He weighed the possibilities of coming out ahead, suppressed a guilty twinge, and bought a ticket for the Solar All Stars. His salary wasn't that great, and he had a lot of catching up to do in the wealth department.

He caught a familiar aroma. The aliens celebrated the variety and abundance of Earth cuisine even though, in their hands, it came out different. He had been enjoying the difference, but tonight the scent was very earthlike. He followed his nose to a stand that advertised fish and chips. No, it didn't advertise fish and chips. It offered fish and chips, but it advertised CosmicSauce™. He elbowed his way through a crowd of enthusiastic Terrans and placed an order. The chef flourished a newspaper wrap of the Brit basic and, with a bigger flourish, lightly sprinkled the condiment over it. Ron took a bite. He couldn't help it; he lived the cliché of a smile spreading from ear to ear. He had to have that sauce. He joined a long line of people waiting to buy it by the case.

"Did you plant the final diversion?"

"Of course."

After Ron had left the Ministry building, the magazine, Witches of Venus, lay between Harry and Percy like a moral challenge.

"Too bad Ron's so restless these days. He could assess this publication better than either of us."

The other wizard reluctantly picked up the publication. "We'll have to check if there's a wee bit too little of a costume in any of the photos, and we'll have to examine every page for nefarious material. They don't think like us, you know. I'm certain they're the decent sort, but they're decent by their standards." There was a rustle of pages being turned. "Hmm. A stellar spread. This is going to require some attention."

"This is going to work. This is going to work. The sun will rise on us."

"Stay calm. Don't number your egg-layers until they've broken out of the shell."

She burst into his office. "I know what you're doing, you ... you pilchard."

Severus crammed his copy of Witches of Venus into the top drawer of his desk. "Do you really," he said.

"Yes, and you've got to stop it," she said.

He didn't want to stop. In honor of the interplanetary competition, the magazine had an astrological theme for its photography. The Taurus model resembled the eighteen-year-old Molly Prewett. Arthur, you lucky twit. As soon as he could tear his eyes away from Molly, er, the Venusian model, the Gemini twins, resembling the twenty-year-old Andromeda Black, awaited his divided attention.

His attention was shifting to an overdressed overachiever. Duty unto everlasting dullness. Didn't she ever relax and have fun?

"Look," she was saying, "it's an exercise in Arithmancy."

Perhaps if we subtracted some clothes, he thought.

She waved her wand, creating symbols in the air. "Suppose we have k bets on Team A at one-to-one and n bets on Team B at two-to-one."

What are the odds she's wearing knickers? he wondered.

She continued waving her wand. "If Team A wins, you collect k minus n Galleons; if Team B wins, you collect 2n minus k Galleons."

I have a wand. If I wave it, can I collect you minus your inhibitions?

"Both are positive if k is between n and 2n," she announced. "You make a profit with either outcome."

I'd be positive if I were between something. And I'd profit from the outcome.

"That's why you have to stop selling tickets every once in a while: to preserve those proportions," she said.

Ah, yes, let's preserve your lovely proportions. His eyes took in the harmony of her spheres. Everything is number.

She looked at him admiringly. "That's brilliant – unethical, but brilliant."

"Are you suggesting we set up a gambling scam?" he asked. Keep looking at me like that.

"What," she said. "Aren't you doing this?"

She recovered her train of thought. "You hid something when I walked in. I bet it's the gambling tabulation."

"No," he said, pulling out another magazine. "It's a crossword puzzle. What's a Regency romance novel word for wallflower?"

"Antidote," she said, "to love."

"What's an eight-letter word for diligent?"

"Sedulous."

What's a nine-letter word for cheap souvenir?"

"Tchotchke," she said.

She gave him a critical look. "You were acting pretty suspicious for a crossword puzzle."

"You have me jumpy from your accusations," he said. "Care to make amends by helping me finish this one?" He held up The Big Book of Crossword Puzzles. "And do another?"

She pulled up a chair.

"We're almost there. Once we remove the key person, Brit society will collapse. We win."

"One small step for a Terran, a giant leap for us."

The wizard who had not committed to examining the Venus publication locked his papers in his desk, threw on his cloak, and stepped into the night. And into those waiting for him.

They pounced.

They delivered their ultimatum to the Brits.

Surrender. We have Percy at our mercy.

Keywords used: antidote, sedulous, and tchotchke. 

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