Martin,

We can meet at the Black Boar on May 1, 2018. I should make it after work, around 8:00 PM.

See you then,
Gregory King

Gregory King had a long day at work, still finding some time to study for his last semester exams. Graduation was around the corner, and he'd already signed up to take the bar for his license. Life was swell, Talisha offered an associate appointment with her practice after he graduated and things were steady with Sophie.

Tuesday nights weren't too busy at The Black Boar, and Greg slipped in through the back entrance, passing through the kitchen and into the bar-front where he found Sophie Anderson working the bar. "Hey Sofa," He said teasingly. Greg planted a quick kiss on her cheek and tapped her ass before weaving his way past her, "Got some business to take care of." He informed her.

"Blimy, Sophie. Get a room." One of the older bird-faced regulars jested, laughing at the pair.

"Bugger off, Jones. It's not my fault Sophie is a 10." He snapped back, as he poured himself a cup of water.

"Water, Greg?" Jones looked at the cup, "Get yerself an ale, at least."

He flipped the bird at the regular, "I've got work to do, might take you up on that later." He answered, cheekily. They'd drank together in the past, the older gent smiled and watched him pass.

Jones turned back to Sophie tapping his empty glass on the bar top, "'nother cup."

Grabbing his glass of water, and moving past the bar top, Greg made his way into the pub and found an empty seat at one of the booths hugging the back wall. The dim lighting set the mood, a calm atmosphere. He opened up his satchel and took out a notebook and quill, just incase he needed it and waited for Martin's arrival.

It was a few minutes before 8pm once Martin made his entry into The Black Boar. Call it a scent, or a difference of pressure, but he was happy to feel that sense of magic entering what could have otherwise been the average alehouse dotted across muggle London. He was still dressed far too formally compared to the casual wix appreciating the pub atmosphere. Not completely beneath him, but if King had suggested a non-magical establishment Martin would have turned up his nose in disdain.

He looked around the pub for signs of Gregory. Spying the law student, he first placed his order at the bar, noting one of the barmaids was more vividly red haired than anybody in the last five generations of the O'Doherty family.

"I'm joining Mr. King. Gaelic punch.[1] Leave the bottle if you don't have everything for the mix."

He turned, continuing on to Greg's booth. "Thanks for meeting me, Gregory. You seem familiar with this place. Come around often?"

Martin was loosening his tie and cufflinks. As fastidious a dresser as any in the family, although wearing some styles of suit this late felt annoyingly oppressive.

1.	I almost picked 'Mr. J' but that sounds too sweet for him. #16 on list

A restrained bass carried from the bar, and Gregory's ears picked up Martin's distinct Irish pronunciation, that stood out among the cities standard. He stopped his doodling, and turned the page to a blank page as the older wizard made his order. By the time O'Doherty approached the booth, Greg stood up from his side of the booth to give a firm handshake and usher the older gent to the opposite side of the booth.

"I suppose you could say that." He picked up and brought his water to his lips while Martin loosened his ties and cufflinks around his hands. A few moments later, Greg followed Martin's lead, and rolled up his sleeves on his own navy blue knitted jumper. His tie, tucked and loosened.

"I can get my own tab," He stated referring to the offer of a free meal in the letter. "But we should order something small with your drink. Did you want peanuts? pretzels? crisps?" Though the deal was coming from Martin, Greg still wanted to feel like a generous host. It was strange, he didn't work at the Black Boar.

 Martin was firmer than his usual milquetoast handshakes when he returned Greg’s. Only just so, as he continued pocketing his cufflinks.

“I’m not as familiar. Last few years I’ve never been able to settle on a new routine,” he replied. The Black Boar looked fitting enough to conduct business. Not all of Martin’s usual business, mind, but the locale was suitable for what he was needing to ask of Greg.

“Sometimes I stave off dinner until this late. I suppose peanuts to snack on, if there’s anything else you’d like.” By Salazar’s Shiny Pate the staff hopefully shucked their own peanuts. He hadn’t seen any shells on the floor when he entered. He idly glanced at a menu.

Pub fare! Martin almost hated slumming it, compared to the haute cuisine he was used to. But the “break of routine” had been from the loss of the house elves. Scarcely any O’Doherty had cooked for themselves before then.

“What would you recommend?” Martin asked, as Greg seemed fit to remain host.

"Mhmm." Greg nodded his head at Martin. He too, had late dinners and snacks thought it wasn't necessarily by choice. It was easy for him to get caught up in work and preparing for his final exams; there wasn't always time to think about eating. "Peanuts are good." Greg assumed it would be about time that Martin's drink arrived so they could make the order after his drink arrived.

"So.." Greg began trailing off, "Should we get started?" He asked. Picking up the glass of water, he took a drink and flattened the parchment in front of him.

Jones had continued to drone on about something after Greg set off to find a spot to settle in for his business meeting, but she wasn’t fully paying attention. The phrase “Mr. King” had caught her attention and she heard Martin place his order, inconspicuously glancing over as her fellow bartender, Sasha, took his order and began preparing it.

“I’ll take it over to them Sash, ok?” she said quietly once Martin made his way over to the booth Greg had set up in. Sasha was a great worker, but she had a tendency to be a bit chatty, which normally was a positive quality to have considering their line of work, but not at this very moment. If this was work related she wasn’t about to let Sasha shanghai the meeting with her endless small-talk, even if she meant well.

Sweeping the cocktail off the bar Sophie glided over, motioning for a bowl of salted peanuts to follow her to the table.

“One Gaelic Punch.” she said cooly, a friendly smile on her face as she plucked the bowl from the air and placed it between them. “And something to snack on. Is there anything else I can get you two?”

Sophie was pulling out her best “customer service” performance. Normally she wouldn’t hesitate to shamelessly flirt with her boyfriend, and though she was doing a stellar job reigning it in, it didn’t stop her from shooting a quick wink at Greg when Martin wasn’t looking.

Martin ended his dressing down by removing his tie, folding it into the palm of his hand. With the sigh that punctuated being able to breath again, one would imagine he'd reached the end of a very long work week. But it was only Tuesday night.

The vivaciously haired redhead delivered his drink and some nuts. A dish in every sense of the word. She looked twenty years to young for him, although a brief glance left enough of an impression in his imagination.

"Thank you," Martin took the drink. "I'll place an order for steak and chips. Shortened seasoning, and whatever Mr. King wants."

He took a sip of the drink before turning to his briefcase, during Sophie's show of restraint next to Gregory. The Irish attorney certainly wasn't bothering to determine if they were a couple. "I'm representing a joint claim between two plaintiffs for patent infringement," Martin began, to answer Greg's question about business. He laid out a prepped dossier.

"The local client is the Comet Trading Company. The other company is Japanese. But the company under breach of patent is Phaëthon Artifice."

The front page outlined terms, with a Phaëthon Artifice business card clipped to the corner. Which, from Gregory's side of the table, meant the names of the founders stood out on the shifting bronze-silver filigree of the card:

Had he been anyone else, Greg may have been more obvious with overt flirting. He watched his girlfriend put the drink in front of Martin and roasted and chucked salted peanuts in the middle of the table. Seemed that Sophie knew what his preferred bar snack was without him requesting it. "Maybe a fizzy pop for me." He added to his order, "I'll get dinner later, Martin." Greg wasn't too hungry, himself.

Really he'd probably eat a granola bar and call it a night, later. "Thank you, Sophie." Greg grew a little rosy and his view lingered on Sophie a moment too long before turning back to Martin.

Taking the offered front page, Greg skimmed while listening to Martin explain.

He recognized the names of the founders, they'd gone to Hogwarts at the same time as him though he believed Casey to be younger. "Alvis and Casey?" Greg stated, reading it outloud. Were Caesy and Martin related? Greg picked up a few peanuts and popped them in his mouth as he considered their relations. He wasn't quite sure, O'Doherty wasn't an uncommon surname. It must have been mere coincidence.

"A patent case seems simple enough." Greg nodded his head, "What would I be helping with?" He asked, taking a sip of his cold water. 

“Steak and chips, fizzy pop. I’ll have those sent over to you in a bit.” Sophie said smoothly, repeating their orders before turning to head back to the bar.

“Just hollar if you need anything.”

Walking back behind the hardwood bar she filled a cup with Greg’s drink, then sent it floating off to his table, watching carefully as it set itself down in front of him without issue. She didn’t want to keep interrupting them unnecessarily.

“Hey! Steak and chips please, send it over to the table Greg is at, it’s for the man with him.” she called into the kitchen. Greg was around enough that The Boar’s cook would recognize him and get the food sent over in a timely manner.

Stepping up to help another customer, Sophie kept and eye on the kitchen window, pausing what she was doing to watch Martin’s food float to him. She didn’t want anything to go wrong for Greg’s meeting if she could help it.

It seemed Greg wasn’t that hungry. Odd that the young attorney wasn’t reciprocating Martin’s offer to foot the bill. During brief meetings at the ministry Greg had offered to cover the tea when they’d first talked extensively. No matter.

“The founders,” Martin repeated, catching the hint of recognition in Greg’s reply. “Younger than you, Class of 2011 if I’m not mistaken. Started an innovative start-up in 2015. Only not innovative enough, given the infringements. Which leads to why I wanted to call upon your assistance, Gregory.”

The arrival of Greg’s fizzy pop brought a brief pause. A fragment of memory. When Martin had missed the signs of things changing at Doherty Manor. Before his niece and nephew had started Hogwarts, but halfway through Casey’s years, suddenly one of the pantries was loaded with the stuff. Soft drinks hadn’t been ordered previously, the fizz was too much for his offspring’s digestion. And Kennedy had barely graduated from bedwetting, so who had tasked the elves that should’ve known better?

Martin sighed, incredibly weary. It was a problem plaguing him for long enough. He folded his arms along the table, slumping slightly in posture. “It’s bordering on a conflict of interest, as my son Casey is one of the co-founders. It’s certainly put a damper on discovery. We haven’t spoken since he’s graduated and he’s a professional duelist to boot.”

“So if he knows I’m asking around on matters he’s liable to hex my face off,” Martin elaborated. “My services came highly requested so I’m in a bit of a bind.” The arrival of his floating dinner plate allowed for Gregory to think things over.

Greg chewed on a peanut while he listened to Martin explain who the founders of Phaëthon Artifice were. Casey O'Doherty was the shite in Slytherin that was constantly getting into trouble! He wondered how the pair made it through Hogwarts without getting expelled. Must have been luck.

They weren't in the same circles so Greg hadn't thought about him since he'd left Hogwarts. Greg had followed some of his professional dueling career in the past, but couldn't recall how well he was doing since he got into law school.

He washed down the peanuts with the fizzy drink that arrived in front of him. Oh. It was his son? Why were they on the opposite side of the courthouse? Was there some kind of family conflict? He didn't want to pry, it seemed sensitive based on Martin's body language. "You had to take the case?" Greg asked Martin rhetorically, but shifted back to the pitch.

Figuring it would help clarify what Martin was asking, "Are you asking me to find information?" Greg asked. He was interested enough to hear Martin's pitch.

Martin cut into his steak. Just to his standards, he supposed that was a point in favor of the Black Boar. He let the steaming juices soak into the chips.

"Initially the only complaint was from the Comet Trading Company. You remember Beatus Mastiff," referring to one of Martin's cases Greg had attended back in February.[1] "As a former pro-Beater he has a major endorsement of Comets. His recommendation that I help craft a Cease & Desist, we thought that was all there was to it."

He continued to cut his steak into smaller bites. "The inclusion of a lawsuit from a second company over infringement has complicated matters. I'd untangle myself if I could, but my reputation for swift results proceeds me."

Gregory had hit the nail on the head. Martin nodded to the law student as he held his fork stabbed into a piece of meat. "Yes. If Talisha could spare you a few hours. It would only be over a few days. You're uninvolved, where my presence around Casey could compromise matters around the discovery. And possibly..."

Martin set down the fork, oddly silent. Humble wasn't the word to describe an O'Doherty, although he did seem deferential. He reached for a silver cigarette case out of his inner coat pocket. "Do they mind if people smoke here?"

1.	Like a Dog Without a Bone - Feb 20 2018

Greg nodded his head, he did remember Beatus Mastiff and the court hearing he'd sat in. "They let a sponsored representative of their company make a recommendation for an attorney?" His brow raised, as he popped another peanut into his mouth. Perhaps Beatus had more influence at the Comet Trading company! His imaged likeness was used in advertisements for some of their products, afterall.

If there was a second company who was joining in the lawsuit, couldn't Martin have asked one of them for help? He still listened with interest, "So what is it that you need help with?" He still wasn't sure as Martin was being cryptic about the evidence? "If the Comet Trading Company and the second already see the infridgement in Phaëthon Artifice's product then I'd assume the case is an open and shut case?" He took a sip of his fizzy drink, "Or am I missing something?"

How could two seperate companies build a patent infridgement case and retain an attorney if they weren't confident that a patent infridgement happened in the first place? Maybe there was something more insidious about this case?

Greg looked over at the bar where other folks in the pub were smoking. "Let me get you a ash tray, I'll take one, too." He got up and came back with an ashtray, putting it between them.

"A return favor, you could say. Comets were the choice of brooms in his Beater days." He took another bite of his steak.

"Once their records are subpoenaed the case will be decisive, one way or another." Gregory was asking plenty of questions, being a young bright law pupil. Martin was starting to feel his age as he sat out his cigarette case.

The Gaelic Punch had sat untouched. When Greg left to borrow an ashtray, Martin slugged back a third of his drink to steady his nerves. He was about to ask a big favor.

He took a moment to light a cigarette with his wand before taking a drag. "It's more of a personal favor, Gregory. I'm not asking you to mediate, by the legal definition, but I was hoping you could help talk some sense into Casey. He's not realizing the gravity of the situation. Because I'm involved, he's viewing this as a continued feud over family matters. There was a time he argued school privilege for the ancestral wand my father owns and got two Heads of House involved, before he was paired with a new wand.[1] This is a case that could threaten the well-being of his partners, investors. People in the crossfire that don't need to be, but knowing Casey he'll continue to play hardball."

Martin took another drag on his cigarette. "I haven't always been the best father. Things changed between us. It was never the same after my wife died when Casey was at Hogwarts."

All a lie. Martin didn't think Darla was dead, he just hadn't found her yet.

1.	Wiki events link back to original threads for Nov 2009; Disarmament, New Dog, Old Tricks