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After closing the game by thanking everyone for attending, Quinn turned to the professors while getting up from his seat. "This was fun, professors. I hope you all enjoyed the game and the little changes we made to the gameplay."

"It was a fantastic game, Mr. West," nodded McGonagall, looking as if she had eaten a scrumptious meal, "now, I'm looking forward to the upcoming games — it'll be a fun quidditch season."

"That's good," said Quinn smiling before clapping his hand once, "Now, I'd take my leave; I've to meet some important people. . . I'll see you all at the after-game party."

Then he exited.

There was nothing to do in the stadium, and they also had to make sure students went back correctly, so the professors also rose from their seats, but then Quinn peeked back in,

"Even though I said it, please don't come to the after-game party. People will kill me if they know I invited you guys. Have your own party — I can arrange for drinks and snacks; contact me if you need that."

He didn't wait for a reply and ducked back out, leaving for real this time.

Flitwick looked at his colleagues, raising his betting parchment, "I had a decent game today. Do you all want to gather this evening? I'll pay — my treat."

The professors looked at each other, contemplating the offer; they all had a tough past few months with arrangements.

"Sure, why not."

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- (Scene Break) -

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For the guests to arrive at the stadium, they had to go through the grounds while walking a clearly marked path that went from the main entrance straight to the stadium.

Near one of the stadium's exits stood George and Lia West, waiting for Quinn to arrive — the family had decided that Quinn would escort the two out after the game.

"I'm here, I'm here," said Quinn, jogging his way out of the stadium. "I came here as fast I could."

"Yet, you're late, my child," said George, taking in the appearance of his grandson.

"What do you mean?"

George didn't pull his hands from behind his back, although he subtly nudged his chin towards Quinn's back.

Quinn turned halfway to see the minister with his peripherals, along with various VIP guests walking right towards them.

"Ah, I'm indeed late," said Quinn turning back, "you don't think we would be able to make a run for it without it looking like we're avoiding them."

"I'm too old for running," smiled George, "It doesn't matter; I came here knowing well that I'll have to talk to some people. . ." he sighed as at the sight of the incoming people, "I just hoped that they would be a little smarter."

"Not all of them are that bad," commented Lia, matching the faces to the information she had in her memory.

"Yes, but the one in the lead is as smart as a bait."

"Okay, they're here," said Quinn and acted like he never saw the incoming people.

"Mr. West!" called out Fudge, sounding absolutely delighted.

"Minister," greeted George.

"Mr. West, I heard that you were attending though I was surprised not to find you in the VIP box; may I ask why? Was there an error in seating arrangement?" Fudge glanced at Quinn at the end.

George caught the look. "Minister, do you really think my own grandson won't put me in the VIP box."

"No, I mean —"

"There was no mistake; I asked for to be seated where I sat."

Fudge spluttered in response, not knowing how to continue. Fortunately, there was another person to continue.

"I'm sure there wasn't a mistake, Mr. West — Mr. Quinn West, that is — is very component. So, the question remains —why were you seated there? I'm truly curious."

George looked at the jolly old man standing just behind Fudge. "If one truly wants to enjoy a quidditch game, then the place to do it is in the stands with others and not in a VIP box, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Ah, I see," smiled Dumbledore, "some say the secret behind enjoying a quidditch game lies with the company."

"Wise words."

"That they are."

Quinn stared at the two men stare at each other.

'This is nice,' he thought; while Quinn always stepped carefully around Dumbledore, his grandfather was different; George West didn't need to be careful.

"How are you feeling about what your grandson has done here?"

"I'm proud of him; something of this level takes time and effort. He did a great job with the organization of this event."

"So, it was expected?"

"Hmm, Quinn tends to succeed at everything he picks up. Given his achievements, though an exceptional accomplishment, isn't something. . . unexpected."

"What about him employing a lot of West-owned companies? Do you think Mr. West would've been able to pull this off if he didn't have those resources?"

"He just used the cards he had been dealt. Quinn utilizing, making legitimate business transactions, with West-owned companies was him simply being resourceful — a quality that I'm glad that he has picked up.. . . Now, if he would have succeeded if he didn't have those — yes, would have; it would have required him to work faster and harder, but I'm sure he would've reached this same exact result or who knows, even better."

"You think he could've done better than this? Surely not."

"Everything can be improved, headmaster. I'm sure, a couple years down the line, when Quinn looks back at this time, he would think about how he could've done things differently — I, to this day, think back. That's how people grow."

"Isn't that true for all of us?"

"That it is."

After a quick back-and-forth, the two men once again fell into silence.

'What was that? They just talked about me,' thought Quinn, 'well, they're my grandfather and headmaster.'

"Ah, Quinn did a great job organizing the game," praised Fudge when he saw that Dumbledore and George had stopped talking and it was the right time to gain attention.

"Thank you, minister. I'm glad you liked it," said Quinn, smiling humbly, "I hope I'll see you all again next week and the week after that to see more games."

"Yes, yes," said Fudge with a big smile before turning to George, "Mr. West, I was hoping that I would get some of your time. . ."

"Minister, you're aware of how to schedule a meeting with me," replied George, giving the man a look.

"A-Ah, yes, of course," sputtered Fudge.

George studied the short and portly man for a second before silently sighing. "I've some free time next week, minister. I suggest that you make the appointments for then."

"Thank you, Mr. West! Yes, I'll get to it as soon as possible."

The people stared at the smiling Fudge, and except the man himself, they all knew that it was 'pity' that had got him a chance to talk with George.

"I would also like to talk to you, Mr. West," chimed in Dumbledore, "I've some subjects that I would like to discuss with you."

"Send a letter to our main office, and they'll see if I have a free spot in my schedule — MagiFax is the preferred mode of communication," replied George; he, of course, how much free time he had and could give both Fudge and Dumbledore a slot right here and then, but George wasn't sure if he wanted to give his precious time to these two men.

'I'm sure Dumbledore would be fine, but Fudge,' sighed George in his thoughts. To this date, he couldn't believe how Fudge had won the election; it made him think if he could have changed the results by endorsing other candidates.

"Ah yes, MagiFax, I've bought one for myself but haven't got to opening it," said Dumbledore, "this will finally give me the motivation to set it up; it will be a fun evening."

"Don't fiddle with it, headmaster," said Quinn, "if it breaks, repairing charms will put it, but it won't work."

Both Lia and George gave Quinn a brief and discreet look. While Quinn didn't notice the look, he did feel the urge to smack himself in the head. His decision was to keep his name hidden as the inventor; not many people knew about his involvement in the development (like Gary and Ben). Right now, Quinn's words didn't give any inclination that he was the creator, but it did open him up to a multitude of questions.

Fortunately, no one took the opportunity to ask the questions.

"I will keep that in mind, Mr. West," said Dumbledore.

"Now, ladies and gents, it was a pleasure to meet you all, but I will take my leave now; I've some previous commitments that I need to take care of," said George.

"Will you be visiting again?" asked Dumbledore.

"If the time permits, I will," replied George.

"I see; allow me to escort you to the main gate."

"That's not needed; Quinn is taking care of that."

No more words were exchanged as the Wests walked away, leaving the others behind with their thoughts and chatter.

"That wasn't so bad," commented Quinn.

"Nothing bad could've happened with me talking to them. You worry too much," replied George. "I just didn't want to waste time by making meaningless small talk with no clear motive in mind."

"Are you going to meet Dumbledore?"

"Yes, I've decided to see what he wants. That man is persistent if nothing else."

"Keep me informed."

The family of three talked about various things until they reached the main entrance.

"So who will be coming next week?" asked Quinn.

"Uncle Elliot wants to visit," said Lia, "He wants to visit the castle if possible."

"Hmm, okay, I'll see what I can do," said Quinn thinking about how to get Elliot inside the castle, 'Professor McGonagall or Flitwick will be my best bet, or should I act sick. . . no, I have to host. . . I'll think of something.'

He brushed his thoughts aside and addressed his family,

"I guess I will see you two on Christmas."

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- (Scene Break) -

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"Listen to me, you two!" said Eddie standing on his bed, "As I expected, my great mind was right to suffer for a year to play quidditch; just with one game, my reputation is flying high with no signs of ever coming down!"

"Yeah~. . . good for you," said Quinn, finally fixing MLE in their dorm room while Marcus sat on his bed watching both his friends.

"My magnificent skills have charmed the ladies," declared Eddie, "I can tell — I've entered the scene!"

"Yeah~. . . good for you."

Eddie gave Quinn a stink eye before continuing with the same enthusiasm. "But this isn't the time to rest on my laurels — It's time to strike the iron while it's hot."

"Yeah~. . . good for you."

"Sod off!" barked Eddie before once again continuing his speech, ". . . ahem, as I was saying, I need to take this chance to score big, and the perfect opportunity has presented itself to do that — The Yule Ball."

"Yeah~. . . good — Yule ball!" exclaimed Quinn, almost falling off the stool he was standing on.

"Oh ho, it seems I have finally got your attention. Yes, the Yule ball! A traditional part of the Tri-wizard tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize if you know what I mean~. Perfect opportunity for me to turn one date into two, which will turn into another one, and before you know it, your mate would have already escaped singlehood."

"Yule ball!" repeated Quinn jumping down from the stool, "When was this announced?"

"Today, in the last class," said Marcus, "it was after McGonagall called you out of the class. Flitwick announced that the Yule ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall."

Quinn sat down on his bed, holding his face. He had been so busy that the Yule ball had slipped his mind. Even today, he had been so busy, after all the work, Quinn spent some quality time inside the Room of Requirements, peacefully reading on some new charms, and while reading, he lost track of time, missing the time for the dinner feast, making him eat in the kitchen — he remembered the hostages but how half of them were selected slipped his mind.

"Marcus, are you going to go to the ball?" asked Quinn, looking at his shy friend; even Eddie looked interested and was about to offer his help to find Marcus a date.

To their surprise, Marcus didn't seem to be flustered and simply nodded.

". . . Are you going to take a girl with you?" asked Eddie, knowing that having a partner wasn't mandatory, at least for anyone who wasn't a champion.

"Yes." Once again, Marcus seemed to be serene, as if he didn't have a worry in the world.

"Have you asked her?"

"Not yet; I'll ask her tomorrow."

''Tomorrow?! So fast!' 'thought Quinn and Eddie at the same time.

Eddie jumped down from his bed and walked towards Marcus. "Who is it? Who're you asking?"

Even Quinn walked near them and stood behind Eddie with his arms crossed.

"You'll know," answered Marcus.

"Tell us now," they demanded.

"No, only after I ask her."

"Tell me, I have a Quinn behind me," said Eddie, treating Quinn as if he was an interrogation device, and Quinn puffed up his chest, playing his assigned role.

"He won't do anything to me; Quinn likes me more than you."

"That's true," said Quinn immediately.

"I'm standing right here!" exclaimed Eddie.

In the end, the two decided that it was easier to stalk Marcus than trying to get the girl's name out of him as one of Quinn's very scarce legilimency rules dictated that he wouldn't use legilimency against friends — they weren't friends if he thought it was okay to use legilimency on them (T&C apply.)

"Who're you going to take?" This time it was Quinn's turn to answer the question.

Quinn looked at his friends as some faces flashed through his mind. "I don't know yet. I'll have to see; if no one agrees, I'm going solo. One Quinn West can trump one couple."

After saying that, Quinn went to brush his teeth so that he could go to sleep.

"Yeah, right!" scoffed Eddie, "Like a girl will reject him; if he goes alone, that means he's either gay, or he didn't want to take anyone with him."

". . . What if he is actually gay?" asked Marcus.

Eddie glanced towards Marcus and shrugged, "You said it: he likes you more than he likes me."

". . ."

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- (Scene Break) -

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Quinn had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas; he did, of course, because of hosting responsibility and tournament organization; even if there would be no games that week, Quinn needed to take care of practice schedules. This year, however, everyone in the fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to Quinn to be obsessed with the coming ball — or at least all the girls were, and it was amazing how many girls Hogwarts suddenly seemed to hold; he had never been cognizant about it before. Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night. . .

"They seem to be staring at you. . . intently," Marcus said to Quinn as a dozen or so girls walked past them, sniggering and staring at Harry.

"I noticed," said Quinn, not bothered by it.

"Why do they have to move in packs? How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?" said Eddie looking around. "Lasso them? — Wait, should I fly down on my broom, pull a girl up, and ask her while flying in the sky? How does that sound?"

"That's just kidna— maybe it will work; prince on a white pegasus of sorts. Use it as your last option," suggested Quinn.

They reached the Great hall and made their way towards Ravenclaw.

"Hey, Luna," they greeted as they sat down — Luna, Quinn, and Eddie on one side and Marcus on the other.

Luna scribbled on her sketchbook with various crayons laid on the table.

"Luna, you know the rule. This isn't allowed on the dinner table," said Quinn.

"But the food isn't here yet."

"Okay, then keep it away when it arrives."

"Okay."

Marcus looked at his three friends: Eddie gazing around the Great hall, surely trying to see who he should invite, Quinn arranging the crayons scattered around the table, and Luna scribbling with her tongue sticking out.

"Luna," called Marcus.

"Hmm?" came the reply.

"Will you come to the ball with me?" he asked.

Eddie snapped his head towards Marcus while Quinn's impressive crayon pyramid scattered back on the table as he stared. Reflexively, big brother instincts were triggered as under the table Eddie pointed his wand while Quinn's hand flexed. But the two looked at each other, realizing what they were doing, and retrieved their weapons while lightly clearing their throats.

Luna looked up from her table and stared at Marcus for a good half-minute.

"Okay."

"Alright, then," said Marcus with a bit of grin on his face and nodded towards his two best friends.

Eddie looked like his world had toppled over at the ease with which Marcus secured himself with a date while he was still thinking about who to ask.

Quinn, on the other hand, clicked his tongue that he missed the opportunity to ask Luna. She was also his first option — his safest option.

"Well played, Belby. . . well played."

"It certainly was!"

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Quinn West - MC - High commodity that a lot of "people" have their eyes on.

George West - Grandfather - Doesn't like dull people.

Marcus Belbly - Mad Lad - "He who strikes first wins."

Eddie Carmichael - Has finally achieved popular jock status - It's finally game time, people!

Luna Lovegood - ( ^_^ ) - Ball? Sure.

FictionOnlyReader - Author - No, he isn't gay. So, don't start.

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