As the day wore on, I got to see some exciting demos on the stage. Witches and wizards from around the world were at the conference, and they had brought with them flying gear that was technically illegal in Britain.

Wizards from the Far East had brought their flying swords. From India and the Middle East, several companies showcased different flying carpets designed for families to fly on.

While most of what was shown were classical flying instruments, there were some new innovations as well. A young wizard in his early twenties from the states brought out a flying skateboard and tried to convince the crowd it was the next big thing in the world of flying.

It was a shame none of it was legal to fly in Britain. It didn't always use to be that way. Fifty years ago, witches and wizards could fly in the sky in whatever manner they deemed fit.

But, the rise of the modern racing brooms changed all that. Broom Makers were a dime a dozen back then. Then one day, a few got together and realized that if they could convince the Ministry of Magic to create a list of what was legal to fly on, their profits would soar.

To hear dad tell it, a lot of gold was involved in 'convincing' the Ministry to institute the ban. Now anything that isn't a broom is on the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects.

Hopefully, one day the Ministry will pull its head out of its arse and lift the ban. After all, what does it matter if someone rides a rug, sword, or skateboard through the air? It's not like those things are somehow more noticeable in the sky than a broom.

Of course, not everything was pleasant to watch. It didn't take long for Delvin Whithorn to waltz in surrounded by an entourage of minions from Nimbus.

Delvin was dressed in a dark set of his finest robes that did nothing but broadcast wealth. His dark hair was slicked back, and his mustache and goatee had been waxed. He had come prepared to be interviewed and to have his picture taken. But, I bet by the end of Dad's presentation, being interviewed will be the last thing on his mind.

As Delvin made his way through the crowd smiling and shaking hands with other big names in the flying world, I could sense that this was what he loved most. His eyes shined with delight as others paid homage to the producer of the fastest broom in the world.

Maybe it says something about my character, but I was quite looking forward to taking that away from him.

Soon, I noticed Delvin and his entourage making their way in our direction. He never could seem to pass up an opportunity to run his success in our family's face. But that's ok. I have a nasty reporter on standby who will ensure our success is all he reads about in the Daily Prophet.

"Henry," Delvin greeted pleasantly as if there weren't a blood feud between them. "It's good to see you here at the conference. Your father, George, never missed a single one. I'm sure he would take great pleasure seeing you here."

Now, Dad was not what I would call a violent man, he wasn't prone to outbursts, and he always seemed to be in complete control of himself. But everyone has a weak spot, and Delvin seemed to be his.

Delvin always seemed able to get a rise out of Dad, and he took great pleasure in poking and prodding him like a goblin torturing a chained dragon, knowing that the dragon wouldn't be able to fight back. Little did he realize that the dragon had slipped its leash and was hungry for revenge.

But, instead of rising to Delvin's bait, Dad just smiled like he had a big secret and coolly agreed. "You know what, Delvin? I think you're right. My father would enjoy seeing what happens at the convention this year."

Leaning forward, he added cryptically, "In fact, I think you will be seeing a lot more of me at these gatherings from now on."

Delvin paused looking confused, and unsure of dad's reply. Whatever he had been expecting dad to say, agreeing with him wasn't it.

Shaking it off, Delvin curled his lip and replied, "Well, I must be going. So many people to meet. Sometimes it's a burden being so desirable."

Unable to help myself, I rolled my eyes as Delvin sauntered off.

Sharing my opinion, Rebeca piped up, "What a goober."

She said it in such a matter-of-fact way. It caused the rest of us to burst into laughter.

Soon it was time for dad to get ready for his presentation, and he had to make his way backstage. As for me, I positioned myself where I could keep an eye on Delvin. I didn't want to miss a single expression on his face as his worldview crumbled.

Eventually, Dad made his way up on stage. The few assistants he had brought with him helped set things up.

While they were setting up, my friends caught up with me. They were excited to see the Firebolt in action for the first time.

While setting up the stage, many of the crowd's eyes were drawn to a long rectangular object resting on a table. A shimmering blue cloth-covered it, drawing everyone's interest.

As for Delvin, an unhappy frown had appeared on his face the second my dad walked out on stage. Whatever his feelings towards my dad, not even he could deny that dad was recognized as one of the best Charm-Crafters in all of Britain.

"Welcome," Dad's magically enhanced voice rang out over the crowd.

"It doesn't matter that everyone here is from all over the world. We all share something in common."

Dad paused for a moment before beaming, "Whether you like the rush of speeding through the air. Or the beauty of flying through the clouds. We all share a passion for soaring through the sky."

"My passion was brought to life by my father, George Fawley. He dreamed of creating the fastest racing broom in the world. Although he never realized his dream, I inherited his ambition."

Dad's gaze passed over Delvin as he paused for a moment. Delvin looked a little unsure at Dad's speech. Like an animal that senses a predator nearby but hasn't quite figured out where the danger is coming from.

"For several years, I have labored untold hours towards this goal. To create something never seen before in the world of broom racing. In my restless pursuit, I have broken new ground and created a masterpiece the likes the world has never seen."

At this point, the whole crowd was utterly hanging onto every word. The exception was Delvin and his entourage from Nimbus. Alarm bells seemed to be going off in Delvin's mind as a nervous sweat had begun to appear on his brow. His assistants looked quite nervous as well, and they appeared to be whispering to an unresponsive Delvin.

Dad pointed his wand towards the shimmering blue cloth, banishing it away, revealing what it had been concealing. "I present the Firebolt."

The crowd murmured in appreciation at the sight of the Firebolt. Even to the untrained eye, every inch of the Firebolt screamed acceleration, power, and above all else, speed.

Delvin, of course, had a different reaction. He clearly recognized the name that grandpa Geroge intended to give to his work. Almost unconsciously, Delvin leaned back as if warding off a blow that originated from my grandfather's spirit but was delivered from his son.

Distracting me from my thoughts, Cedric gave me a nudge, "Your dad's pretty good at showmanship."

Before I could agree, Alicia fiercely hissed, "Shhh. I don't want to miss anything."

Having been silenced, we turned out full attention back to the Firebolt on stage.

The handle was polished ebony wood with gleaming goblin forged iron gears attached above the birch and hazel twigs. On the front edge was a golden registry of numbers, 001, which marked the broom as the first of its kind.

The only people in the crowd who didn't appear appreciated were Delvin and his entourage. Delvin's face was nearly magenta as he appeared to have forgotten to breathe properly.

"Now, rather than just spout out how fast the Firebolt is, I think it would be more fun to show you."

Dad raised his wand and shot a red flare into the sky.

The crowd looked into the sky, eager for the show.

Off in the distance, two black spots were rapidly approaching. They zipped over the crowd so fast some missed it because they were blinking.

As noise erupted from the crowd, the two flyers turned back and made another pass. More prepared this time, flashes of light erupted from the crowd as reporters took pictures.

On the stage, Dad started listing out the goods.

"As you can see, the Firebolt boasts unparalleled speed and is capable of reaching speeds of 240 kph (150 mph.)"

Alicia tore her eyes off the riders and turned her puppy dog eyes to me.

"When do we get ours?" She drooled.

I gave a half a shrug, "Probably not till the end of summer. The Firebolt is a complex web of enchantments, and it's taking me more time than anticipated to master it."

The crowd drowned out our conversation when they went nuts upon hearing the top speed. Everyone could sense that the Firebolt heralded that the world of competitive racing brooms was upon a vast precipice of change.

I glanced back at Delvin, wanting to savor every second of his pain. The purple color in his face was gone, replaced by a pale white as he recognized that his world was ending.

Dad shot a green flare into the sky, and both riders pointed their firebolts up into the sky, gaining altitude. Once they were mere speaks to us on the ground, they turned 180 degrees and started driving towards the ground at their top speed.

As they approached the ground at blazing speed, a few people cried out warnings of the dangers of a crash. But, just as the two flyers seemed liked they would slam into the ground. They hit the breaks and seemingly stopped on a dime hovering a mere few feet above the crowd.

On stage, dad explained their actions, "As you can see, the Firebolt's unique design and build allows for near-instant breaking all while remaining completely stable. As an added benefit, it allows the rider to change directions instantly without risking the rider or broom."

To demonstrate, the riders rocketed to the sky again, demonstrating instant turning that allowed them to change directions without missing a beat.

As dad continued his presentation, I stopped paying attention, focusing entirely on Delvin. He seemed to have lost touch with reality as he stared glassy-eyed off into the distance. He didn't even seem to hear his pack of minions who were moving around him like chickens with their heads cut off.

As dad's presentation came to an end, he informed the crowd that he would be here the whole weekend and had a tent where questions could be asked, and orders could be made.

It seemed like nearly half the crowd was prepared to leave right then and there, wanting to mob the tent mum had set up. But, a playful look appeared on Dad's as he spotted Delvin. The best comparison of his look was Athena decided that she wants to play with her food.

"Before anyone leaves, make sure you stick around for my good friend Delvin Whithorn. Owner of the Nimbus Racing Broom Company. I hear he has a great presentation for us. Let's all give him a warm welcome."

Eyes in the crowd wandered in the direction that dad was pointing towards.

I smiled when I saw that Delvin's face was blank, lost, like his world crumbled when his back was turned, and he was still trying to puzzle how things had gone so wrong.

Our family wasn't the only one in the crowd who enjoyed how frazzled Delvin looked. For over two decades, Delvin had been top dog, and he had made quite a few enemies among his competitors in the flying world. They all seemed to be shooting him looks of schadenfreude.

Cedric leaned over and whispered, "I almost feel bad for Whithorn. Anything after the Firebolt's presentation is going to seem lame."

I shot him a mischievous grin, "I know, right. It's almost like it was planned that way."

While we were talking, Delvin was nearly pushed to the stage by his employees, who hadn't quite grasped how bad things would go for Nimbus. Of course, they didn't know what we knew. For the first time in a long time, Nimbus was financially vulnerable. Delvin had taken the profits from the Nimbus 2000 and sunk everything into launching the Nimbus 2001. Had Delvin taken it slow, milking the Nimbus 2000 for all its worth before ramping up a new model, they would have been fine.

But, he got greedy and pushed when he should have patience. In an ironic twist of fate, Delvin's impatience is what's going to let us sink Nimbus for good.

Now, the die was cast. The first domino had fallen, soon my grandfather's work will be back where it belongs. The best part was, I could see the wheels spinning in Delvin's eyes. He could see the train wreck coming, but it was too late to get off the train. For a moment, we locked eyes. I couldn't help but flash him a contemptuous smile. I was looking forward to watching him squirm on stage.

By the time his team had assembled everything on stage, Delvin seemed to recover somewhat and begin his presentation. Unlike dad's presentation, Delvin didn't bother hiding the new model from the crowd.

Rather than its predecessor, which was made up of polished mahogany and golden bronze, the Nimbus 2001's color was black and silver.

Behind Delvin were white banners that showed people in quidditch uniforms flying around on the new model. Overall, the presentation wasn't horrible, but coming on right after the Firebolt made the Nimbus 2001's presentation seem lackluster.

There were a few unpleasant muttering in the crowd. The fact that Nimbus was releasing a new model so soon after the Nimbus 2000 made people feel like they had been duped. The ones who looked most upset were representatives of professional quidditch teams. They had bought vast quantities of the 2000s, and less than a year later, Nimbus released a faster model, which would make their current models second rate.

I shook my head at Delvin's arrogance. That was going to cost him.

The rest of Delvin's presentation was filled with unplanned pauses as he was forced to reword his memorized speech. No longer could he claim to produce the fastest broom, and outside of a few who were diehard nimbus fans and perhaps a plant or two. I think Delvin could sense he had lost most of the crowd interest. He cut his presentation short and stormed off the stage, completely embarrassed.

As I watched him disappear into the crowd, I raised a complaint, "Hey, he's not supposed to leave yet. He hasn't seen my presentation yet."

Dad patted me on the shoulder, "Don't worry, Alex."

He pointed out some of the Nimbus employees who stuck around. "I'm sure he'll get the memo."

I couldn't help but pout a little. I wanted to see the look on Delvin's face when he realized how much my spell would be taking from him.

A heavy pat on my back pulled me from my dark thoughts.

"Alex, my boy. It's good to see you out and about."

Turning, I saw Geovani Mancinelli, the Italian leader of the Charm-Crafters Guild.

Before I could say anything, he spun towards grandma, sending his deep red robes flying.

"Danielle," he greeted, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her fingers. "You haven't aged a day. You're still as beautiful as the day I met you."

I blinked when grandma giggled like a schoolgirl in response. Grandma didn't giggle. She laughed or chuckled.

I narrowed my eyes and gave Geovani the stink eye when he winked at me, and I wasn't alone. Dad was right there beside me, doing the same thing.

"Geovani, you rascal." Grandma greeted him fondly. "I see you're still up to your old tricks."

Geovani clutched his heart as if he were wounded. "Only for you, my darling," he promised.

Dad coughed, breaking up the moment.

"What are you doing here, Geovani?"

Geovani turned his attention away from grandma and wrapped his arm around me, "Why, I'm here to support our guild's youngest member as he shows himself to the world."

Dad grumbled, "More likely you're here to use Alex's success to drum up more publicity for the guild."

Geovani flashed an innocent smile, "Why can't it be both?"

Before Dad could reply, Grandma interrupted their bickering and asked me, "Alex, are you ready to start your presentation."

I nodded and waved to a small group of people, motioning for them to join us. They were representatives of the three companies that had signed contracts with Fawley's Arcane Solutions.

During my presentation, we would be showcasing all the slipstream edition models to the world. Originally, they had wanted to do their own press releases on the matter.

But, grandma was sneaky. She had secretly slipped in verbiage into their contracts that prevented them from announcing on their own until I had come forward. She also included that they would have to send reps to demonstrate their products during my official launch.

Universal, Cleansweep, and the Comet Broom Company had grudgingly sent their reps with the finished products.

We were anticipating that my presentation would drum up a lot of business. In particular, we thought my spell would be a big hit with the Flying Carpet crowd. Flying carpets tended to be relatively slow, and companies were always on the lookout for something that would increase their speed.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to the stage and went on.

Delvin's POV, starting from Henry's presentation***

Delvin tilted his head in confusion when he saw a familiar face appear on the stage. He couldn't help but think, What is Henry doing up there? Fawley's shop doesn't have anything to do with the flying community. I made sure of that years ago."

Delvin's mind conjured up the scene that led him to become a leader in the flying community.

George Fawley tore his eyes off the basin whose liquid had a shimmering image of his wife and two sons setting up a picnic in a wide-open field.

"You're mad," he whispered fearfully.

"You should be thankful I'm giving you a choice at all." Delvin coolly replied. "My father would have simply killed you and your family, leaving nothing behind."

"Now make your choice, your family's life or ownership of all the spells related to the broom you've spent the last decade designing."

George shook his head as if he were still trying to wrap his mind around things. One minute he had been heading out for a picnic with his family, but then Delvin asked him to step into his office for a quick discussion.

If being shown a live image of his family had raised questions, having their lives threatened raised even more.

"Why?" George asked. "We're partners, friends. Why do this?"

Devlin sneered back at him. "You may be one of the best enchanters in Britain, but you lack vision. I've done all I can to expand and grow the business, but I've had to fight you every step of the way. Always claiming it's not about the money."

"Well, guess what," Delvin suddenly snapped, sending specks of spit everywhere. "It is about the money. If it weren't for me, your store probably would have gone out of business years ago. Consider this payment for services rendered."

Delvin held up a magically binding contract that would give him complete ownership of all George's unique spells related to the broom he had been designing.

"Now choose. Your family, or your precious broom."

"It's not even a choice," George replied with a disgusted look on his face. "If you had a family that loved you, you would know that."

George froze when he noticed that Delvin's left eye was twitching dangerously—worried that he may have pushed Delvin too far and that he might do something to his family in response. George reached out and grabbed the contract that would sign over his life's work.

"There," he said. "It's all yours, now leave my family alone as you promised."

"But, of course," Delvin silky replied as if there were never any doubt. "After all, I'm a man of my word."

Delvin leaned forward and whispered something into the basin. The scene quickly changed, showing the people who had been stalking his family disappear into thin air.

George sighed deeply, with most of the worry leaving his face. With the immediate danger to his family gone. Thoughts of what came next rushed to the forefront of his mind.

"What now?" George bitterly asked. "You going to kill me?"

Delvin placed a hand on George's shoulder and laughed, "Kill you. Why would I kill you?"

Annoyed at Devlin's cavalierness, George snapped. "You're not dumb enough to think that contract will be enough. My family is highly respected in the wizard community. All it would take is a single word from me, and the Ministry would launch an investigation."

"That would require you to remember this happening."

Deldin nodded at someone behind George. Sensing someone else was in the room, George turned and caught a glimpse of a wizard with skin as black as night. The wizard made a strange motion with both of his hands, and a flash of red erupted from them, rendering George unconscious.

Delvin smiled at the sight, "Thank you, Samuel. You're the best."

"Send your thanks to your father," Samuel rebuffed. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him."

Delvin's smile grew strained at the mention of his father. "I'll be sure to do that. Now make sure George doesn't remember anything about this conversation."

"You know, he has a point. It would be cleaner just to kill him." Samuel remarked as they moved closer to George's unconscious body. "I can do it for you if you want."

Silence filled the room as Delvin pondered Samuel's offer. After a few moments, he rejected his offer. "No, it would draw unwanted attention. I have my own plans for moving forward."

Delvin took a deep breath and calmly added, "Besides, we have to do the same to his family, and the Fawley's are too well known to disappear. They're related to half the purebloods in Britain, and they're friends with the other half. There would be too many questions if they all disappeared."

As Samuel placed the tips of his fingers around George's skull, Delvin made another request.

"While you're in his head, I need you to do one more thing to George's mind. You see, he made a point when he pointed out his connections. Rather than killing him, I've come up with a much better idea. There have been a few anti-ministry gatherings by some upstart calling himself Voldemort. Seeing how George isn't a huge fan of the Ministry, it should be easy to stroke his interest in attending these meetings. I'm sure once the Ministry gets wind of who is attending these meetings, any influence he might have at the Ministry will dry up."

Delvin's mind was pulled back to the present as his employees jostled him.

This can't be happening, Delvin pleaded to himself as Henry continued his presentation. George was a genius enchanter. His work was so good we are still using it all these years later. His son can't possibly have made a better broom. It wouldn't be fair to have two genius enchanters in a single-family.

Delvin continued to reassure himself over and over that Henry couldn't top his father's work. But, when Henry ripped off the blue cloth and announced the Firebolt to the world, Delvin forgot to breathe.

Shit. Shit. What is the... Dragon... Fucking...Phoenix... Pissing shit is that contraption?

That isn't a racing broom. It's… It's an unholy melding of goblin steel and magical wood. What dark god did Henry sell his soul to, and how can I contact him.

Delvin felt a constant tapping on his left arm

"Sir. Sir."

"Shut up, Gimley." Delvin roared." I'm trying to think."

As the tapping ceased, Delvin softly reassured himself. "Maybe it's just cosmetics. People do that, right? They make fancy things, but the spells can't match up to the design."

After a red burst of light in the air, Delvin heard others in the crowd point out two flying objects in the sky rapidly approaching.

Devlin shook his head in denial and repeated over and over, "It can't be. It can't be. They're moving too fast. Brooms don't go that fast."

Delvin was quickly proved wrong as the two firebolts zoomed by. Delvin's vision nearly went white when he heard what Henry said next.

Dazed, Delvin asked Gimbel, hoping he misheard. "What did he say?"

Gimbel seemed reluctant to speak, fearful of Delvin's response.

Trying to be helpful, another employee spoke up, ruining Delvin's day, "He said the Firebolt's top speed was 240 kph."

His voice trailed off when he noticed how pale Delvin was. For a split second, he even considered if his boss had died and somehow become a ghost.

For the rest of the presentation, Delvin remained silent, lost in his own world.

He came to when he realized his name had been spoken. Looking around, he saw people in the crowd were looking at him.

Gimbel tugged at his arm, "Sir, it's time for our presentation. We need to go."

"Are you crazy?" Devlin scoffed. "We can't go on right now. What are we supposed to say? Hey, look, our new amazing broom is much slower than the broom you just saw. Please buy it."

Gimbel shrugged helplessly. "What do you want us to do? There are no more available spots. Maybe we can trade with someone."

"Hmm… that's not a bad idea," Delvin said. But as he scanned the crowd, he saw his competitors' faces shooting looks of schadenfreude towards him gleefully.

Delvin murmured to himself, "Somehow, I doubt we can find anyone willing to accommodate us."

Another employee from Nimbus, whose name escaped Delvin, suggested, "Maybe we should just cancel and not go up."

The nameless employee's suggestion seemed to bring Delvin out of his spiral of despair.

"Nonsense," He snapped. "I have a reputation to maintain. Nimbus has a reputation to maintain. We will just have to press on and accept that there will be some changes."

As Delvin's employees started to set things up, his mind was racing. All his plans had changed in an instant. If Nimbus were to survive the Firebolt emergence into the market, adjustments would have to be made. It would be difficult, and they would lose their high-end customers, but it was still possible to survive this.

As Delvin scanned the crowd, he locked eyes for a moment with the Fawley spawn. Delvin burned with rage when he spotted the smug look the kid was giving him.

How dare you look at me like you're better than me, you little brat. You should have done the world a favor and died last year. Delvin viscously thought to himself. If you think your precious Firebolt is enough to end me, you have another thing coming. I have been doing this business since your father was a brat.

The rage Delvin felt was enough to snap himself from the world of despair he had been floundering in. Ideas began pouring in as he continued the presentation. When it was over, he moved quickly off stage, wanting to return to his offices.

The more Delvin pondered the day's events, the angrier he became. How had this happened without him getting word from his contacts in the Ministry? Not one word of warning was given to him.

Delvin paused for a moment when he reached Nimbus's headquarters. The four-story brick warehouse was hidden in a sea of similarly built warehouses. Even with the crappy day Delvin had been having, the sight of his headquarters always cheered him up. This was the seat of his empire, one he had seized and taken to unparalleled heights. And he would be damned if he was going to let it be taken away from him.

By the time Delvin reached the top floor where his office was, he already had a list of people he wanted to speak with. Brushing off his secretary's greeting, Delvin snapped, "I want Oliver Hawthorn in my mirror in less than ten minutes."

"But sir, it may take some time to get a hold of him."

"TEN MINUTES!" Delvin roared before slamming the door to his office shut.

As Delvin sat in his leather-bound chair, he did the one thing that always calmed him down. He poured himself a glass of brandy. Drinking deeply, Delvin drained the glass in one gulp and poured another while he waited for Oliver to contact him.

It didn't take long for a pudgy wizard wearing bland robes to appear in the full-length mirror Delvin had in his office.

A few feet away from the mirror sat Delvin, who was turned in the opposite direction, seemingly quiet and lost in thought.

"Ahem," Oliver deliberately coughed.

Without turning around, Delvin mused in a calm tone, "Do you know many galleons I've spent over the years ensuring you rise in the Ministry."

Just as Oliver was about to reply, Delvin answered his own question, "Hundreds, if not thousands. All to ensure you rise high within the Department of Magical Transportation and keep me informed of any developments that may concern me or my company."

Spinning his chair abruptly, Delvin got up and hurled his glass of brandy into the fireplace, which sent out a jet of flame.

"So why, in Merlin's name, did I just get blindsided by Henry Fawley and his new Firebolt? Are you just incompetent, or did you betray me?

Oliver's jowls jiggled as he opened his mouth to defend himself. "It's not my fault," he pleaded. "The Broom Regularly control only released Information about the Firebolt yesterday. The Fawleys somehow bypassed the normal route of getting Ministry approval and went straight to the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, Myria Sterling. From what I've heard through the grapevine, Myria and Danielle are good friends."

The more Oliver talked, the angrier Delvin became. With his face flushed red, Delvin spat, "Useless."

With a wave of his wand, Delvin dismissed Oliver. One by one, Delvin contacted each of his informants in the Ministry. Each person revealed a small piece of the puzzle of how he was blindsided.

It was that bitch, Danielle Fawley, who was responsible. Apparently, she had been a busy little bee as she spent the two decades repairing the Fawley name after George disappeared. It was no wonder he didn't receive word of what was going to happen. She had her fingers in everything.

I underestimated her, Delvin fumed. I assumed she would slink quietly off into the night after George's disappearance. But from the looks of things, she has been preparing her revenge against me all this time. Ungrateful sow, I should have taken Samuel's advice and killed the Fawley's years ago.

Delvin spent the rest of the night downing glasses of brandy and planning for the future. It would be painful, but Nimbus would survive the Firebolt.

Having slept in his office, Delvin was slightly disheveled the following day. Having called an emergency meeting of the board, Delvin did his best to straighten up. Appearance were important, and he needed the board to have complete faith in him.

Delvin strode into the conference room, projecting confidence that he didn't feel inside. As he glanced at the other five board members, he felt pleased that he could project confidence while most appeared defeated. It supported the belief that he was a natural leader.

Of the five members, the only one who didn't show any emotion was Filnock. He was the goblin representative of Clan Crusher.

Of course, it mattered little that Flinock showed little emotion. Flinock rarely showed emotion at board meetings.

As for the other four members, two were wizards, and two were witches. They all came on board as investors years ago when Delvin first started the company.

Their initial funding was what allowed Delvin to grow the company into what it was today. It was a point of pride with Delvin that he received no financial support from his father.

Nimbus had grown to an international level under his guidance. No matter what his father said, he couldn't deny everything Delvin accomplished.

Wanting to seize the momentum, Delvin got started.

"I know yesterday must have been a shock to you all. I know it was for me."

As a murmur of agreement went around the room, Delvin felt bolstered and continued his speech, "The Firebolt's emergence into the market changes things for us. I can almost guarantee we will lose the Quidditch leagues."

One of the witches nodded reluctantly and said, "I can confirm that. I've already had dozens of cancellations from Quidditch Leagues, and we can expect the trend to continue."

Although he was annoyed that he was interrupted, Delvin pushed down his feelings and said, "Thank you for that, Susan."

"Now, as much as it hurts to lose the leagues, they only represent a portion of our sales. While I'm not sure of the Firebolt's final price, I'm sure it will be out of the reach of at least half of our customers."

Delvin frowned at the lack of reaction from the board. So he reminded them, "We still have the second-fastest broom on the market. Speaking of the Nimbus 2001, I've already stopped all production. As long as we can sell our current stockpile, we can get through this tough patch."

Refusing to be deterred at the looks of confusion members of the board were giving him, Delvin continued, "I have already come up with several strategies to help us sell our stockpile. First, we can lure back old customers by offering discounts by turning in their old Nimbus models for the latest model. We can also offer deals by selling models in groups."

Delvin's left eye twitched in annoyance when he was yet again interrupted, this time by David.

"Delvin," he sighed. "How early did you leave the conference?"

Confused at this line of questioning, Delvin cocked his head and replied, "Right after our presentation for the Nimbus 2001."

Seeing the looks the other board members giving one another made Delvin wary.

"I didn't have any time to waste," he hastily explained. "I spent all last night planning Nimbus's response to the Firebolt."

This time it was Susan who spoke up.

"Delvin," she said kindly.

Immediately the hairs on the back of Delvin's neck rose. The tone in which Susan said his name would be recognized by anyone. It was the tone you used when you were about to deliver devastating news, and you wanted to break it to them gently.

"It's not the Firebolt that has us all worried. We all know that we're too big to be brought down by simply being bumped to second place."

"Then why do you all look like the sky caved in?" Delvin asked. "I spent half the night coming up with strategies, and you all look like you don't give a damn."

Susan gave a pained smile, "It's what happened after your presentation that has us all down."

Delvin's stomach twisted nervously when he heard Susan speak. It was the same feeling he got during Henry's presentation.

Seeing the same grave looks on everyone's face, Delvin whispered, "What happened after I left?"

Susan looked helplessly at the others, "Does anyone have the paper? It would be easier just to show him."

The other witch on the board, Martha Smith, reached into her bag and said, "Hold on, I think I have one in my purse."

She pulled out the paper and handed it to Susan, who in turn slid the folded newspaper across the wooden table.

Delvin glared at the paper wanting nothing more than to vanish it into nothingness. He could sense that it contained more bad news, and to be honest, his plate was already full dealing with Henry and his Firebolt.

But, sensing everyone's eyes on him, Delvin reached out and grabbed the paper. He snarled when he saw the first headline.

Nimbus Falls, Firebolt Rises.

If the headline was bad enough, there were two pictures below side by side. One showed a confidant Henry showcasing the Firebolt. While the other was a horrible photo of himself looking like he just got kicked in the head and needed to puke.

As an afterthought, he noticed the article was written by someone named Rita Skeeter. She had nothing but praises for the Firebolt while reducing the Nimbus to a mere afterthought.

As furious as the article made him, he looked up at everyone. "I don't see why this surprises anyone. We knew it would be bad."

Speaking for the first time, Flinock said, "You're looking at the wrong half. Look at the bottom."

Devin flipped over the paper and spotted the Fawley Brat with a smug grin on his face. Something in his gaze seemed to say that he knew Delvin would be reading the paper and was pleased by all the trouble he was giving him.

Moving his gaze from the annoying picture, Delvin's blood froze upon reading the title.

Like Father, Like Son. A Legacy of Excellence.

Taking after his father, young Alexander Fawley shocked everyone when he revealed himself and his fledgling company, Fawley's Arcane Solutions too the world yesterday. Alex, a third-year Ravenclaw student at Hogwarts, crafted a unique charm that promises to revolutionize the world of flying. For anyone doubting young Alexander's ability to create this spell on his own, Geovani Mancinelli, the Master of the Charm-Crafters Guild, has informed the Daily Prophet that Alex is the youngest member and has reached the rank of silver at the age of 14. If that wasn't enough, jaws dropped when Alex informed the crowd that his spell can increase the speed of any flying object by roughly twenty-five percent.

The paper fluttered to the table as Delvin was too shocked to continue. Unable to stand anymore, Delvin collapsed into a chair.

"Twenty-Five percent," he whispered in part disbelief and part despair. Immediately, he understood everyone's looks. This was a death blow. There wasn't any way to compete against something like that.

Delvin complained to himself, It's… It's not fair. Do the Fawley's have some ancient magical bloodline that ensures they produce genius enchanters. First, George makes the Nimbus. Then his son makes the Firebolt, then his grandson outdoes both of them and invents a spell that makes all brooms go faster. How am I supposed to compete with that? It's not fair.

David brought him out of his spiral of despair, only to make him more worried. "Keep reading. It gets worse."

Reluctantly, Delvin picked up the paper and continued reading.

On stage, Alex was joined by several prominent broom companies, including Fawley's Firebolt, Comet inc, Cleansweep, and Universal Brooms. Each produced Slipstream models of their fastest broom. While the Firebolt Slipstream dazzled the crowd with speeds reaching 300 KPH (187 MPH.) The other three surprised the crowd by revealing that their models could now go toe-to-tow the newest model of the Nimbus 2001. As for why Nimbus, the previous fastest broom, was excluded from the lineup, your favorite reporter Rita Skeeter has unearthed an interesting tale—continued on page twelve.

Delvin rapidly turned the Daily Prophet and felt a sense of alarm when he saw the title of a small story.

Nimbus's Origin.

It was in 1967 when Nimbus took the broom racing world by storm. From seemingly out of nowhere, Delvin Whithorn emerged with the fastest broom in the world. The Nimbus Broom Racing Company rapidly dominated the local markets, then quickly expanded internationally. Nimbus is a model company for all appearances, but for all their shiny appearances, I, your favorite reporter, smelled a dirty secret. After some research, I discovered something you might find interesting. Before Delvin Whithorn was known for running the most successful broom racing company in the world, he was a business partner with George Fawley running Fawley's Wonderous Enchantments. From all accounts, George was responsible for the enchanting, and Delvin handled the business side. But, like so many good things, it didn't last.

Soon, George Fawley disappeared and was initially suspected of being a supporter of he-who-must-not-be-named. After his disappearance, Delvin emerged and started his own company, the Nimbus Broom Racing Company. However, it is now confirmed that George Fawley was one of the first of many to oppose he-who-must-not-be-named and was killed in his rise to power.

Perhaps, I should have left this tragic story in the past. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, so my dear readers, I dug deeper. And what I found truly fascinated me, according to an unnamed source, "George Fawley spent years working on a broom that he claimed would be the fastest broom in the world."

Now, my faithful readers. Don't you find it curious that Delvin Whithorn, a wizard with no background in enchanting, somehow emerged with a contract giving him rights to George's design? As for how that happened, I leave it to my intelligent audience to ponder and reflect.

"Rubbish!" Delvin roared while throwing the paper on the table.

Adding insult to injury, the back of the paper revealed another blurb about Nimbus.

Nimbus Almost Does What You-Know-Who Couldn't.

It has come to the attention of this honest reporter that Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, was nearly killed at Hogwarts riding a Nimbus 2000. If the Nimbus can nearly kill the chosen one, what chance do the rest of our children have?

Refusing to read another word, Delvin pointed his wand at the paper and roared, "Incendio."

As a blast of flame consumed the paper, Delvin shouted, "Lies. All Lies. Who the fuck is Rita Skeeter. I'll have that bitch's job by the end of the week."

Silence reigned supreme in the conference room as all eyes watched the slightly deranged leader of Nimbus.

"I take it that we stand no chance of obtaining a contract with Fawley's Arcane Solutions?" Robert, the last board member, inquired.

The question made Delvin gnash his teeth. Of course, they stood no chance of signing a contract. He could only imagine the looks of glee on that stupid brat's face as he denied them, damning Nimbus to oblivion.

Imagining that look helped pull Delvin from his funk. This wasn't how he was going down. Delvin refused to let that brat be the end of him.

Immediately, the path forward revealed itself to Delvin, and he declared, "We need to make our own version of the Slipstream charm."

Looking around the table, Delvin saw looks of doubt.

"We can do this," he implored. "We have half a dozen enchanters under contract. We'll buy every slipstream model available and let our enchanters tear them apart. It will take time for them to engineer their own versions of the spell, but once they do, we'll be back in business."

Not convinced, David pointed out the critical flaw in Delvin's thinking. "Yeah, but how long will it take? We are already bleeding galleons. I've run the numbers, and if sales drop like we all know they will. We will only have months before it's over, and we have to shutter our doors.

"Months?" Delvin asked. "How many months?"

Frowning, David readjusted his glasses. "Two, maybe three or four if we let most of our employees go."

Shaking her head, Susan added, "That's nowhere near enough time for our enchanters to develop our own spell. It will take years, three or four if we're lucky, five or six if we're not. We would need a massive infusion of coin to stay afloat."

Desperate to save Nimbus, Delvin suggested, "We could each add a portion from our personal funds. That way, the burden would be easier to bear."

Silence reigned throughout the conference room. None of the board members were willing to risk their personal fortunes.

Fury flooded Delvin's veins. Their fortunes had been built on the back of his company, and now none of them were willing to pitch in when Nimbus needed help.

Delvin's eyes turned to Flinock, "What about Clan Crusher? Would they be willing to give us a loan?"

Flinock shook his head, "No, my clan doesn't have the habit of throwing good gold after bad."

Flinock looked around the room with his piercing dark eyes, "Since none of you want to voice the obvious solution, then I will. We should sell. We can strip Nimbus for all its worth and sell to the highest bidder."

While none of the other members said anything, it was apparent they agreed with the goblin.

Breathing heavily, Delvin hissed, "Never. This is my company, and I will never agree to sell it."

"Delvin," Susan pleaded. "Be reasonable."

Jumping in, Robert added, "Think about it. If we sell now, we'll make a fortune."

Seeing the other join in agreement made Delvin furious. After all the opportunities he had given them, they wanted to bail at the first sign of trouble.

"No," Delvin spat. "Not happening."

To enraged to continue, Delvin stormed off, leaving the board behind. Back in his office, he poured himself another glass of brandy. He didn't care that it was morning. He needed to think.

Ideas on how to raise money ran through Delvin's mind. He considered going to Gringotts, but he doubted he could get a loan. Goblins could sense weakness, like a shark smelling blood. Even if he did get a loan, the terms would be so unfavorable that one mistake would ensure Nimbus was handed over.

But, there was another option, one that had been swirling in the back of Delvin's mind. His father, and his syndicate could easily keep Nimbus afloat while Nimbus's enchanters worked on matching the slipstream spell.

But, even knowing the syndicate could help, Delvin felt reluctant. His father would no doubt insist on bringing in his people. Not to mention all the snide comments his perfect sister would make.

After a mental battle, Delvin sighed. This was the only way left to him now. He would have to give up some control of the empire he built. But, at least it would stay in the family, so to speak.