A few days later, Dad and I made our way to Barbara Lancaster's office in London. Originally, I thought she ran her business out of Diagon Alley, but I guess that location was too small for her to run her business.

"Are you sure this is the right address?" Dad asked while looking at the tall muggle building.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment that had an address scribbled on it. After checking the numbers on the building to make sure we're in the right place, I showed Dad the paper and said, "I think so."

I understood his confusion. We were in the heart of London. I would have assumed Barbara's headquarters to be a little less conspicuous. But, maybe she was hiding everything in plain sight. It wasn't like it was unheard of in the magical world, both St. Mungos and the Ministry were in London.

Inside the lobby, our footsteps echoed off the marble floor as we approached the help desk.

"Can I help you?" A bored security guard whose cap failed to hide his balding brown hair asked while reading a muggle newspaper.

Dad checked the scrap of paper I gave him again, and hesitantly said, "Yes, we're looking for Lancaster Commodities."

"Do you have an appointment?" The guard asked.

Dad checked his watch and replied, "Yes, our appointment is at five."

The guard sighed, clearly annoyed that he was going to have to do his job. He set down his paper, picked up the phone, and called someone to get approval for us to enter the building.

Hanging up the phone, the guard issued us visitor badges, pointed out the elevator behind him with his thumb, and said. "Take the elevator to the top floor."

Satisfied that his job was complete, the guard picked up the paper and resumed reading, content to ignore the lobby.

After pushing the button for the tenth floor, Dad and I rode the elevator in silence. Soon, the elevator dinged, indicating we were on the tenth floor, the doors opened, revealing a small reception area.

A dark-haired lady with glasses motioned for us to take a seat. I wasn't sure if she was a witch or not, but my magical senses were starting to itch, indicating that there were probably enchantments all around the room.

It didn't take long for Barbara Lancaster to arrive. With her long blond hair, she looked like an older version of Anna, minus the violet eyes. Rather than wear robes, she was wearing a sharp grey women's suit.

Upon seeing us in the lobby, she smiled and greeted, "Henry, Alex, it's good to see you, let me show you around." She motioned for us to follow her through the wooden door she came through.

On the other side was a fairly mundane office divided up into cubicles. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Outside of a couple of goblins who appeared to be working on accountants, this place looked pretty mundane.

"Why does an apothecary need an office in London?" I asked.

Barbara smugly smiled and explained, "I don't just run a simple apothecary. While I have apothecaries on all six continents, that is only a small portion of my business now."

Throwing open a door that sizzled with magic, we left the office behind. On the other side was a massive warehouse filled with shelves holding ingredients that ran to the ceiling. "You see, some years back, I realized something was missing from the magical world. Before me, apothecaries had a hundred different suppliers they had to deal with to get potion ingredients. But now, with Lancaster Commodities, you can get every ingredient you need from one convenient place, and with the amount of volume I deal with, my prices are the lowest in town."

With a pleased smile on her face, Barbara continued, "I've grown so big, that I even supply my competitors in the apothecary business. Now it doesn't matter if someone buys ingredients from my stores or someone else's, either way, I profit."

I couldn't help but be impressed with Barbara. In a world where the majority expected squibs to slink off into the background and be unnoticed. She had built an empire. I tried to imagine how many galleons her company was making. Was Anna richer than me? Looking at the warehouse that stretched into the distance, I had a feeling that if she wasn't yet, she soon might be. Next time we went for ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, she was paying.

A little curious, I asked, "How do you deal with… Aggressive competitors?"

Dad gave me a frown. I think he thought I was being rude in pointing out that she might not be able to defend herself. But I was just impressed. Being able to hold onto a business like this in the magical world was impressive. She would have all sorts of people trying to sink their claws into her business.

Barbara gave me a toothy smile and explained, "I hire only the best to protect our company. It's expensive but well worth it."

We followed Barbara back through the door into the main office. She led us to the far side of the building to a door with her name on it. Inside was a reasonably large office that even had a wizarding fireplace in the corner. Sitting down in her expensive chair, she motioned for us to take a seat in the two chairs on the opposite side of her desk. Leaning back, she asked, "So, what can I do for you two?"

Dad looked at me awkwardly. We hadn't really discussed how we were going to broach the subject with Barbara. Dad gave me an expectant look, clearly communicating that I could explain everything since this was my idea.

I decided that I might get it over with, so I blurted out, "We're going to take down the Nimbus Broom Company, and we need your help."

Barbara's eyebrows rose in surprise, whatever she had been expecting me to say. Taking down the world's leading broom racing company probably wasn't what she was expecting.

She held up a hand to stop me for a second, "I think I need a drink," she said. Getting up, she walked to a cabinet in the corner.

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Pulling out a bottle and two crystal wine glasses, she poured out a rich purple wine and offered Dad a drink, "Seelie Elderberry Wine." She boasted with a smug grin.

Dad's eyebrow rose as he took the expensive glass of Seelie Wine while Barbara poured another and settled back into her chair. "I find a glass of wine is best when plotting the demise of enemies."

Turning her gaze from me to my Dad, Barbra asked, "So, how about you start from the beginning."

This time, I let Dad do all the talking. By the time he had fully caught Barbara up on everything, she had drained her glass of wine.

"I don't know how much help I can be," She admitted. "Delvin Whithorn and I don't run in the same circles."

"It's not your help, so much as the advice that we need," I assured her. "We don't have any experience in setting up such a large operation."

Barbara leaned forward with her elbows on her desk and rubbed her temples, contemplating our request. After a few minutes, she looked up and said, "I have a few thoughts on where you need to begin. The first thing you need to establish is ironclad contracts for your raw materials. Make sure you buy from multiple sources, so if one is shut down, it won't interfere in your production."

When she saw Dad's raised eyebrows, she gave a slight smile, "Don't look so surprised, you are going after a world-spanning company. Delvin will have investors he can turn to for help, don't be surprised if they try and go after your suppliers. It's one of the easiest ways to undercut someone's business."

Hearing her tone, I was guessing that she was speaking from experience. But from her tone, I think that she may have been the sneaky one in her business dealings.

Dad thought about it for a minute before replying, "It shouldn't be too difficult to set up multiple contracts for the broom materials. There are plenty of suppliers for the wood that I use in the broom's construction."

"I employ several highly educated squibs who specialize in magical contract law. I can ask them to give your contracts a thorough look." Barbara offered.

"I'm sure that will be helpful," Dad replied.

"What about the goblin iron-forged material?" I pointed out.

Barbara winced, "You're relying on Goblins for material. That is a bad position to be in, especially for a new company."

"They've been pretty consistent so far," Dad defended.

"For now," Barbara sneered. "But, once they realize that you are dependent on them for your product, you can bet that they'll start holding out until they get more gold."

"Couldn't we just ask another Goblin Clan to help if they did that?" I asked.

Barbara shook her head, "That won't work either, the next clan would pick up on your need and probably hold out for even more."

Dad's eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he scowled, "What about a contract? I've always known Goblins to follow them religiously."

Barbara nodded, conceding his point, "True, but over the years, many witches and wizards have discovered that goblins are devious when it comes to interpreting contracts and are often able to twist things to benefit themselves."

"Then, what do you suggest?" Dad asked.

Barbara bit her lip worriedly as she clicked her nails one at a time on the wooden desk in front of her. After thinking it over, she advised, "Give them a stake in the company. Not only will it provide you with additional capital to help set up everything, but you will also ensure that they are motivated to keep supplies running smoothly."

While Dad and I both scowled at the implication that our family wouldn't fully own the company, Barbra rolled her eyes. "It doesn't have to be a large stake," she explained. "You could give them five percent and get your iron-forged material for free. Not only would they not screw you, but they'll also protect your company from other goblin interest."

Sensing that we needed a final push, Barbra informed us, "You're going to need investors anyways. Unless you want to risk your family fortune, investors will allow you to get the gold to build a global company's infrastructure.

Barbara's face clearly showed how idiotic that would be. "Besides," she soothed. "I know for a fact that the Nimbus Broom Racing Company has goblin investors. You can bet that they will not simply roll over and let profits sift through their fingers."

Dad sighed, "Fine, I'll set up a meeting with the goblins I've been working with."

Pleased that he had given in, Barbara continued, "The next thing you need to focus on is production, you'll need to hire employees so you can ramp up production. I imagine you don't want to spend all of your time working on firebolts."

"I've already got a few people in mind," Dad reassured her.

"Good, now that leads me to my final point. If you really want to take the Nimbus Company down, you have a small window to act." Barbara explained.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "No matter when we release the Firebolt, it should decimate Nimbus sales around the world."

"I'm not saying it won't," Barbara explained. "But, even if you make the best broom in the world. Being the second-best will ensure that the Nimbus will still have a piece of the market, even if it's a much smaller piece. That's why it's critical you act within the next year or so. I've heard from my contacts in the market that next year the Nimbus 2001 will be released."

Dad furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "But, they just released the Nimbus 2000. Why would they release their next model so soon? If the Nimbus 2001 is better than the 2000, why even release the Nimbus 2000?"

Barbara smiled as if she admired the moves the company made. "Because," she explained. "Instead of having the faster broom on the market. Now, they'll have the two fastest brooms on the market. I'll bet they plan to milk these two models for all their worth for the next decade."

Barbara's brown eyes twinkled with schadenfreude as she gleefully pointed out, "But, the first couple of years are periods of vulnerability for the company. I guarantee you that they have ramped up production in preparation for both of the model's release. They probably have huge stockpiles of the brooms ready to go. So, what would happen if all of a sudden, there was a huge decrease in demand for both the Nimbus 2000 and 2001?"

Seeing where she was going, I smiled, the Nimbus would have to slash prices to stay competitive. Not to mention, if they ramped up production that much, I bet they borrowed money to do it, banking on the two brooms being so successful that it wouldn't be a problem to clear their debts.

Now, that I think about it, I can see another way to sink the knife in deeper. What if instead of keeping the spell I am working on for ourselves, I sell the spell to the Comet and Cleansweep Companies. While both of their best models are slower than the Nimbus 2000, they are also cheaper to make.

If the spell I am working on allows their brooms to overtake the Nimbus 2000 and 2001. The Nimbus Broom Company would be forced to sell their models even cheaper than the Comet and Cleansweep models. I think that would be the final nail in the coffin at the Nimbus Broom Racing Company.

Since Delvin won't be able to turn to his father for a gold infusion that would let them survive, I'm sure the investors would start bailing out, which could allow us to buy their shares and seize control of the company and reclaim what was stolen from us.

While I was going over future plans on the best way to screw Delvin out of his company. Another bright idea occurred to me. Turning to Dad, I said, "We should time our release of the Firebolt to coincide with the release of the Nimbus 2001."

An evil grin appeared on my face, "If you can, we should try and challenge him to a race. We can turn it into a big event and get the public to follow the story. He'll probably think it will be good publicity for him when in reality, it will allow us to use his brooms as a stepping stone."

Barbara smiled, "That's a great idea." She said.

"Remember, the Whithorns have a lot of influence at The Daily Prophet. They may downplay or bury the story if they lose." Dad warned.

I frowned, Dad had a point. If the portkey incident taught me anything, it was that the Whithorns had good connections in the news industry. But as an idea occurred to me, I smiled. I couldn't help but think about a specific obnoxious reporter who was also an unregistered animagus.

I think it is about time for Rita Skeeter and I to meet. While dealing with her will be a pain, I'm tired of the amount of sway the Whithorns always seem to have with the press. It's time for my family to have some influence on the Daily Prophet.