It seldom surprised people that Fitz Prewett was involved with combative magic—he had that sort of reckless reputation that was not hindered by his brief imprisonment for creaothceann, in which someone had died. That he was involved in an organized group did, however, come as a mild surprise, particularly to those still baffled he held down a Ministry job.

But he was a member, and as he was not participating today—he and Camilla were preparing to host in the countryside and Fitz had been loath to turn green or grow a slug head or whatever—had been tapped to moderate some bouts. Fortunately, Fitz Prewett had never lacked for showmanship.

"Today," the wizard announced broadly after going rather swiftly through the rules, "we have the Professor—" he gestured to Lissington "against the man of business," and this time, to Minks. A betting man, of course, would have placed his galleons upon Lissington, but Minks was enough of an unknown entity in the wizard's estimation that even if Fitz could have honourably placed a wager on the bout, he would have refrained.

"Professor Lissington, you may begin!"