Hello there. If you're new here, I do recommend that you check out Philosopher's Stone, Chamber of Secrets and Prisoner of Azkaban first. Hope you enjoy it!
The Invitation
John was walking slowly around a small kitchen watching an elderly man in his pyjamas limping around, preparing a hot water bottle. Over the summer, he'd gotten a lot better at realising when he was having a vision, and this is where he was now. He knew because the man couldn't see him, nor hear him, but the broken hearing aid that John spotted may have ruled that out anyway. In truth, he had no idea why he was being shown an old man, but he tried to memorise as much detail as possible. At least that way, Sherlock might be able to figure it out.
There were muddy boots by the back door, with a rake and shovel hanging on pegs above them. He must enjoy gardening, John thought. There were unopened letters on the counter addressed to Frank Bryce. Since there didn't seem to be anyone else living here, then this must be Frank.
At that moment, both John and Frank noticed a flickering light in one of the top windows of the large manor house outside. Frank began muttering angrily and limped up the stairs as fast as he could to get dressed. John waited for him in the kitchen, staring at the flickering light with a sense of unease.
When Frank returned, he grabbed a rusty old key and a walking stick, and John followed him out into the garden. It was dark and eerily quiet. There was a faded plaque above the front door. It was difficult to make out but John thought it might say 'Riddle'.
Frank continued around the back of the house and put the key into a door almost completely hidden by ivy. He let them both into the kitchen and John was forced to listen intently for Frank's footsteps, as he couldn't see where they were going. He chuckled to himself slightly at the irony.
The two of them trod carefully through the house. Though John couldn't make any noise, he couldn't help himself. They went upstairs and a little light escaped from under a door that was ajar at the end of the hallway. Frank and John edged closer to the door and looked inside. A fire had been lit inside the grate and Frank stopped as he heard voices inside the room. His hearing aid must be working after all.
John heard a timid voice first. 'There is a little more in the bottle, my Lord, if you are still hungry.' John shuddered as he recognised it as Peter Pettigrew, or Wormtail.
'Later,' said a second voice. This one was strangely high-pitched and cold. John's eyes widened and his blood ran cold as he realised who it must belong to. His heart began to race, and the scene wavered around him. No, he thought to himself. Concentrate. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself as much as he could. As scared as he was, this seemed to be important and, after all, no one could see him.
'Where is Nagini,' said the cold voice.
'I- I don't know, my Lord,' Wormtail said nervously. 'She set out to explore the house, I think…'
'You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail. I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly.'
'My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?' asked Wormtail.
'A week, perhaps longer. The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over.'
'The-the Quidditch World Cup, my Lord?' Wormtail stammered. 'Forgive me, but – I do not understand – why should we wait until the World Cup is over?'
'Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty. On watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait.'
John bit his lip and strained to keep his concentration. He was unsettled that they seemed to be planning something, but they had at least until the World Cup to warn someone. If he had any idea where this was, he might even be able to have them arrested or something. He looked around vaguely, as if hoping to see some indication of their location.
'Your Lordship is still determined, then?' Wormtail said quietly.
'Certainly I am determined, Wormtail.' There as a note of menace in his cold voice now.
John shuddered again, sincerely grateful that he was not Wormtail in that moment.
'It could be done without Harry Potter, my Lord,' Wormtail suggested.
John stiffened at the mention of Harry. It was becoming ever more difficult to remain in the vision.
There was a slight pause and then, 'Without Harry Potter? I see…'
My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!' Wormtail said hastily, voice rising to a squeak. 'The boy is nothing to me, nothing at all! It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard – any wizard – the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allow me to leave you for a short while – you know that I can disguise myself most effectively – I could be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person-'
'I could use another wizard, that is true…'
'My Lord, it makes sense,' said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly relieved, 'laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult, he is so well protected-'
So they were after Harry, were they? John grimaced and tried to steady himself. This was already the longest amount of time he'd ever spent focusing on a vision, and he could feel it starting to slip away, but this was important, he couldn't give up now.
'And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute? I wonder… perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than an attempt to desert me?'
'My Lord! I have no wish to leave you, none at all-'
'Do not lie to me! I can always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting ever returning to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me…'
'No! My devotion to your Lordship-'
'Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?'
'But you seem so much stronger, my Lord-'
'Liar. I am no stronger, and a few days alone would rob me of what little health I have gained under your clumsy care.'
There were a few moments of tense silence.
'I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail – courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort's wrath-'
'My Lord, I must speak! All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head – my Lord, Bertha Jorkins's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I curse-'
'If?' whispered Voldemort. 'If? If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has disappeared. You will do it quietly, and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition… come, Wormtail, one more obstacle removed and our path to Harry Potter is clear. I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us-'
'I am a faithful servant,' said Wormtail, the merest trace of sullenness in his voice. 'What of the Seer?'
'What of him? It is as you said, Wormtail. The boy hardly seems aware of his own power. If he could see us, we would already be in the hands of the Ministry.'
'But what if he learns?'
'There are ways it can be dealt with. It does not worry me. Though for it to be done, I need someone with brains, someone whose loyalty has never wavered, and you, unfortunately, fulfil neither requirement.'
'I found you,' said Wormtail, now definitely sounding sulky. 'I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins.'
'That is true,' said Voldemort, sounding amused. 'A stroke of brilliance I would not have thought possible of you, Wormtail – though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?'
'I- I thought she might be useful, my Lord-'
'Liar. However, I do not deny that her information as invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward. I will allow you to perform and essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform…'
'R-really, my Lord? What-?' Wormtail sounded terrified again.
'Ah, Wormtail, you don't want me to spoil the surprise? Your part will come at the very end… but I promise you, you will have the honour of being every bit as useful as Bertha Jorkins.'
'You – you – you are going to kill me too?'
'Wormtail, Wormtail, why would I kill you? I killed Bertha because I had to. She was fit for nothing after my questioning. In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone to the Ministry with news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Ministry witches at wayside inns…'
Wormtail muttered something and John leaned forwards trying to hear him.
'We could have modified her memory? But Memory Charms can be broken by a powerful wizard, as I proved when I questioned her. It would be an insult to her memory not to use the information I extracted from her.'
John leaned against the wall heavily. He knew that Voldemort had killed someone and that he was after Harry. He was about to let the vision go when he heard Voldemort begin speaking again.
'One more curse… my faithful servant at Hogwarts… Harry Potter is as good as mine. It is decided. There will be no more argument, now be quiet. I think I hear Nagini…'
A second later, John heard strangulated hissing sounds, which he recognised as Parseltongue. He spun around as was confronted by a gigantic snake, at least twelve feet in length. Frank also turned around at the sound of Nagini sliding along the floor.
They both stood stock still as Nagini paid them no mind and entered the room. Then Voldemort spoke again, this time in English.
'Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail,' he said.
'In-indeed, my Lord?'
Indeed, yes. According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say.'
John sucked in a sharp breath and wished more than anything he could tell Frank to run as fast as he could.
Wormtail flung open the door and John felt disgust curdle inside him.
'Invite him in, Wormtail, where are your manners?'
John shook his head. No, don't go! He wanted to scream, but it would make no difference.
Instead, Frank limped over the threshold at Wormtail's beckoning, and John followed, against his fear and revulsion.
Inside, an antient armchair was facing the warm fire, and Nagini was curling up on the rug at the foot of the chair.
'You heard everything, Muggle?' came Voldemort's voice from the chair.
'What's that you're calling me?' Frank said defiantly.
'I am calling you Muggle. It means that you are not a wizard.'
'I don't know what you mean by wizard. All I know is, I've heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have,' said Frank. 'You've done murder and you're planning more! And I'll tell you too, my wife knows I'm up here, and if I don't come back- '
'You have no wife,' said Voldemort. 'Nobody knows you are here. Do not lie to Lord Voldmort, Muggle, for he knows… he always knows…'
'Is that right?' Frank said roughly. 'Lord, is it? Well, I don't think much of your manners, my Lord. Turn around and face me like a man, why don't you?'
John shook his head. Lord Voldemort was the last person he wanted to see. He hesitated. He could leave now, but he couldn't help but feel he needed to witness this. There had to be a reason he was here, so, though it was painful, he forced himself to stay.
'I will face you, Muggle,' said Voldemort. 'Wormtail, come turn my chair around.'
Wormtail gave a whimper.
'You heard me, Wormtail.'
Slowly, and with his face screwed up, Wormtail did as he was told.
It was worse, so, so much worse that John had expected. A small, child-like thing was sat in the chair. It had dark, raw skin and floppy limbs, but the worst part was the face. Scaled, flat, and noseless, it looked more snake than human.
John looked into its red eyes and the terror he felt at their lifeless, evil gaze ripped him away from the scene. The last thing he saw was a flash of green light and Frank's dusty screams.
All at once, John was sitting at Sherlock's kitchen table, gasping for air. He could still hear Frank echoing around in his head. He looked down at the crisp, white table and saw fresh blood dripping onto its surface. He flinched as someone pressed a cloth to his face.
'It's all right,' said Sherlock, wiping away the nose-bleed. 'You're in my kitchen and it's August, nineteen ninety-four.'
John nodded, still breathing heavily and still quite disorientated.
'Here, drink this,' said Sherlock, holding a glass of water to his lips. It was pleasantly cool and made him feel marginally better. Soon, though, the adrenaline wore off and John fell forward. Sherlock's hand on his chest prevented him from hitting the table, however. He carefully leaned back in his chair, trembling. 'How long?' he asked.
'Forty-seven minutes precisely. Your longest so far.'
John nodded again, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. 'You sat here the whole time?'
'I couldn't leave you. Not while…'
'Thanks.'
Sherlock shifted in his seat. 'Are you going to tell me what you saw? You were clearly frightened.'
John cleared his throat, wondering where to begin. He shuddered as the image of Voldemort flashed through his head.
Sherlock made a noise of disgust. 'What was that?'
John sighed. 'That was Voldemort,' he said quietly, ignoring Sherlock's flinch at the name.
'Are you sure it was him? Because whatever that was, it's repulsive.'
'It's an evil, scaly baby that drinks snake venom, and he's after Harry. Who else do you suppose it is?'
'That's a good point.' Sherlock pulled some parchment and a quill towards himself and began scribbling.
'Okay, er, he's got some sort of plan involving Harry and a servant at Hogwarts. He's killed someone from the Ministry. Bertha Jorkins.'
'Bertha Jorkins? She's been missing for a while.'
'That'll be why then.'
'What else?'
'We've got at least until after the World Cup. He's not going to do anything until then…' John trailed off.
Sherlock looked up from his parchment. 'What's wrong?'
'He's going to do something to me. Whoever he has at Hogwarts will do it and I won't be able to see him.'
'That's not true, it can't be done.'
'Can't it? He killed Frank right there, so what if that's what he means?' his voice rose to a slightly higher pitch.
'No one's going to hurt you.'
'How do you know? If Voldemort wants someone dead, then they're dead.'
'Well Harry is an example of that not always being the case. Look at me, John.'
John looked into Sherlock's clear, confident eyes.
'This is a letter to Dumbledore,' he said. 'We may not know what his plan is, but at least Dumbledore will be alert to anything suspicious. You're safe.'
'I don't feel safe.'
'You should. You've got me.'
John chuckled, shaking his head. 'Yeah, I've got you all right.'
'Who's Frank?' said Sherlock, changing the subject.
'The Muggle groundskeeper for the house they were in.'
'Do you know where? Did you see anything that might be a clue?'
'No, I didn't see anything like that.'
'Describe the house to me,' Sherlock said urgently, leaning closer.
'Okay. It was big and old, like a manor house, but it wasn't looked after. There was ivy and stuff all over it, and a few of the windows were broken.'
'What else?'
'Oh! There was a plaque above the front door. It was dark so I couldn't be sure, but it might have said "Riddle".'
'Riddle?' said Sherlock, sitting up straight. 'Like Tom Riddle?'
'I – yeah, that could be it.'
'Well there can't be many of them around. Okay, we might be able to get them. The World Cup is in two days, we might still have time. Brilliant, John!' He shook by the shoulders slightly before dashing from the kitchen, parchment in hand.
Silence followed as John was left on his own. He took another shaky sip of his water and sighed at the now mushy cereal in front of him.
'Can Melly get sir some more breakfast?'
John jumped. 'Melly, you scared me.'
'Apologies, sir,' Melly squeaked as she reached up to take the bowl.
'No, don't worry, it wasn't your fault. And please, call me John.'
Melly smiled at him.
'I could eat some toast, if you wouldn't mind.'
'It is no trouble, John,' said Melly. She began bustling around, switching on the gas oven and washing out John's bowl.
Sherlock returned to the kitchen just as Melly placed a plate of hot toast in front of John.
'Do you still want to go to Diagon Alley today? Maybe you should rest,' Sherlock suggested.
John shook his head, munching on his toast. 'No, I'll go today,' he said. 'Cas and Dean will be here tomorrow and we won't have time after.' He caught a glimpse of Sherlock's concerned face and quickly looked away. His stomach was suddenly quite fluttery, so he ate some more toast, hoping it would go away.
Sherlock waited patiently for John to finish, rocking in his chair, then lead him to the large fireplace out by the front door.
Melly lit a fire for them and Sherlock picked up an ornate, silver box from on top of the fireplace.
'Wait, are we going by Floo powder?' said John.
'Yes.'
'I've never done it.'
Sherlock stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out how to explain it. 'Throw the powder on the fire and get in. Then say where you're going. You'll go fast, but try not to get out too early. If you say Diagon Alley, you will come out in the Leaky Cauldron.'
John nodded slowly. 'Right, I understand. I think.'
'Watch me.' Sherlock took a handful of the glittery green powder, then handed the box to John. He threw the powder on the fire which turned the flames emerald. He stepped in, shouted 'Diagon Alley' and disappeared up the chimney.
John just stood, clutching the box.
'John should go,' said Melly, taking the box from him and holding it open. 'Many wizards use Floo powder, so you shouldn't be afraid.'
'Thanks, Melly.' John took a handful of the powder and threw it on the fire, just as Sherlock had. He climbed in, relieved that the fire wasn't burning him, and tried not to choke on the ashes. 'Diagon Alley!' he cried. He too was sucked into the fireplace, spinning faster than he ever had before. He could see other fireplaces as he went, though he flew by too quickly to see anything out of them. Just as he was starting to feel quite sick from the spinning, he shot out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, skidding across the floor. He coughed up all the ash he had inhaled while Sherlock helped him to his feet.
'You'll get used to it,' Sherlock said bracingly, his hands lingering for a touch longer than was necessary.
John dusted himself off. 'Okay, where to first?'
'Let's get our books first,' said Sherlock.
They walked amicably together down to Flourish and Blotts, where Sherlock pulled out their book list and a thin belt.
'It's enchanted,' he said without being asked. 'If you buckle it around a stack of book, it makes them weightless.'
'That's handy, but we only need a few books.'
'That remains to be seen,' said Sherlock as they entered the shop.
John watched as Sherlock moved among the bookshelves, fingers lightly brushing the spines as he went, occasionally taking one and putting it in a pile next to John. At first, John thought he was pulling them out at random, but once he looked at some of them, he realised that they were all either one of a kind, or first editions.
'Our family are renowned for collecting knowledge,' Sherlock explained. 'A pastime I quite enjoy, though rarely get the time for.'
'And you can tell what kind of book you're looking for just by touching them?'
'Usually the texture of the cover, the inlay used for the title and the amount of gathered dust tells me all I need to know.'
'Really? Wow, that's amazing.'
Sherlock gave a small smile. 'You think so?'
'Definitely. Let's keep looking.'
They eventually ended up upstairs, where people rarely ventured. John sat at a table while Sherlock continued to search.
He pulled a book out and flipped it open to look at the pages. Just as he did, light shone through one of the windows and illuminated him. Motes of dust drifted around his soft curls. Sunlight bounced off his high cheekbones and his lips pressed together in concentration.
John fidgeted in his seat, his face suddenly hot and itchy.
Sherlock looked up at him. 'What are you staring at?' he frowned.
'Hmm?'
'I said, what are you staring at?'
'Nothing, nothing. What are you reading?'
'Just an account written by the man who invented the Hover Charm. It's quite interesting, it details exactly how he did it.'
'That's something you want to do? Invent spells?'
'I've already done that, John,' he said, closing the book and coming over to the table. 'I can conjure bubbles at will. Amusing, but totally unnecessary. No, I want to invent something actually useful.'
'Oh. Any ideas yet?'
'Not yet, but I'm sure I'll think of something. Let's go and pay for these, you look like you could do with some fresh air,' said Sherlock, touching the back of his hand to John's cheek. 'Are you all right?'
'Yeah, yeah, it's just hot in here.'
They went downstairs and paid, then went to stock up on their potion ingredient before taking a break at Florean Fortescue's. John was examining their equipment list. 'Dress robes?' he said. 'What do you reckon that's about?'
Sherlock shrugged, staring off into the distance and licking his ice-cream absent-mindedly.
'What's up?' said John.
'I just thought of something I need to ask Mycroft. It doesn't matter right now. We also need to go to Eeylops. I told Mycroft I'd pick up some owl treats.'
'Okay, we'll do that after we pick up our robes. I think you need some new school ones anyway. Your ones from last year are too short.'
'That sounds reasonable.'
They finished their ice-creams and began gathering their things. John looked up and snorted. 'Sherlock, you – you've got ice-cream on your nose,' he laughed. He leaned forward to wipe it off, grinning.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Let's go.'
At Madam Malkin's, they took care of Sherlock's school robes first, then went over to the racks of colourful suits.
'Can I help you, boys?' Madam Malkin asked.
Sherlock was already pulling out a dark blue suit, but John had no idea what to look for.
'Yeah, I've never had dress robes before,' John said uncertainly.
'Okay, not to worry, I have a very good eye. Leave it to me,' she smiled. She turned to the rack and started muttering to herself. She considered a set of black ones, but then put them back in favour of a deep, rich red set. 'This could do the trick,' she said. 'Why don't you boys go and put them on and we'll see what alterations we need.'
They went into separate cubicles and John started to put his on. It was a nice, silky material, but he was slightly dismayed to find that the legs were too long. He did quite like the colour, however.
'Are you ready?' Madam Malkin called through the curtain.
'Yeah.'
She came in to the cubicle and cast a critical eye over him. 'You'll definitely be taking these?'
'Yeah,' said John. 'I like them.'
She nodded, then set to work adjusting the fabric, pulling it in in places, trimming bits off in others. Once she had finished, she let him get dressed and he met Sherlock at the counter.
'Okay, here are a couple of extra shirts to go with those, just in case,' said Madam Malkin. 'Now all you need to do is choose your ties.'
She put their suits neatly on the counter, then brought them to a shelf stacked with tie boxes, with some on display in the front.
'I would recommend you something black, Sherlock, and a white one might look good with yours, John.'
John's eyes were drawn to two velvet bow ties. They were clearly meant to match. One was black with a small white rose embroidered in one corner, and the other was the inverse: a white one with a black rose.
'Those are nice,' said Madam Malkin. 'They'll look good on you.'
John hesitated. The flower seemed a bit much.
'Let's get those and a plain one of each as well, in case we change our minds,' said Sherlock, picking up four boxes.
'Okay, one more stop and we can go home,' said Sherlock as they exited the shop with their bags. He tied the handles of the bags to the belt around their stack of books, making them weightless too.
They began walking further down the alley, but John stopped outside Magical Menagerie. 'They'll have owl treats in here, right?' he said. 'Closer than Eeylops.'
It was very loud inside, as many animals screeched and howled at them as they walked through the door.
Sherlock disappeared to find the owl treats and John waited with their things by the counter. There were elaborate cages stacked up behind the counter and John squinted at them, wondering what they were for. Suddenly, he felt a weight on his shoulder, and a deep croak in his ear.
'Sorry, let me get that.' The saleswitch said from behind him. The weight was removed and the witch came around to the counter holding an enormous toad in her hands. 'You don't happen to want a toad, do you?' she asked wearily.
'Erm-'
'Yeah, probably not. No one wants toads these days,' she sighed.
The toad wriggled free again and sat on John's shoulder, warbling quietly.
'It seems like it's decided for me,' said John, taking the toad in his hands. It made no move to escape.
'Maybe,' said the witch. 'That one's always seemed a bit smarter than the others. She's always escaping. Maybe she knows you like her.'
John looked into her face and was reminded of the year before when Crookshanks had decided Hermione would be his owner.
'I tell you what,' said the witch. 'If you take her, I'll give you her tank environment for free. I've had enough of her hanging around, if I'm honest with you.'
John bit his lip. 'Can it be delivered? We came by Floo powder and I don't think a whole tank will fit.'
'Yes, absolutely!' the witch said excitedly. She grabbed the toad and put her in a tank across the room. 'Write your address on that bot of parchment and I'll have her to you by tomorrow evening.'
'Great, thanks,' said John.
Sherlock then came up with a hefty bag in his hands. 'What's going on?' he said, putting the bag on the counter.
'I think I just adopted a toad.'
'A toad,' Sherlock said incredulously. 'You never cease to amaze me.'
John sniggered. 'Yeah well, some things are just meant to be.'
Sherlock paid for the owl treats and they made their way back up to the Leaky Cauldron.
'How do we do this?' John asked, looking at their thing.
'I go through with it. It's easy.' He took a handful of the powder from the pot and threw it into the fire, stepping into the flames with their bags in hand. 'Holmes Estate,' he said, then he and the bags spun out of sight.
John took a deep breath and repeated the process. This time Sherlock caught him as he flew out of the fireplace. 'One day I'll do that and not fall over, he said, dusting himself down once again.
Melly emerged from the kitchen with a note in her hands. 'Master Sherlock, an owl came while you were out.'
'Oh, thank you, Melly.'
Sherlock took the letter, and Melly clicked her fingers, making the bags levitate before her, which she transported upstairs.
'It's from Ron,' said Sherlock. 'They're picking Harry up tomorrow afternoon and we should be at theirs for dinner by five o'clock for dinner. Oh, and Hermione's already there. How nice.'
Sherlock folded up the letter and gave John an uncertain look. 'Are you sure you still want to go to the World Cup?'
'Why wouldn't I?'
'I know you've been worried about it lately. Beside, you know who wins.'
'How d'you – nevermind.' John shook his head. 'I can't work out why I feel – uncertain about it, but it doesn't feel dangerous. Maybe I fall over or something. Whatever it is, just because something feels a bit off doesn't mean I shouldn't go. It'll still be fun, even if I do know who wins.'
Sherlock folded his and nodded stiffly.
'Is this because we're going to be in the Top Box?' John asked.
'No,' Sherlock said swiftly. 'I've just learned to trust your instincts, that's all.'
'Wow, I must be good,' John teased. 'But I really want to go, and I'd rather you were there too.'
'Fine,' Sherlock said. 'We'd better go make sure our things are ready.'
Hi everyone! I might have gone a bit overboard with the length of this one, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! See you next time!
