Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the Harry Potter verse. The production of this story is simply for recreational purposes. It is for my own enjoyment and that of my readers. This story was not created for monetary gain.


Chapter Two

Culture Shock


Things for Vernon and Petunia Dursley had suddenly taken a turn for the better once they had discovered that their strange nephew, Harry James Potter, had disappeared. They'd been so delighted with the turn of events that they'd all but forgotten about the ten-pound note he'd left with. There had been no awkward good-byes, embarrassing shows of emotion, or anything else out of the ordinary. He'd just up and left. It was the kind of good-bye they had always hoped for, so they certainly weren't going to complain. They were, after all, now free of him, his odd friends, and his freakish ways. There would be no more explaining to the neighbours why the boy seemed a bit odd. Most importantly, at least where they were concerned, no more owls and unexpected visits from individuals just as strange as Harry had been.

Unfortunately, as they say, all good things come to an end. In this case, an immediate end. Even though the Dursleys had not cared for the last Potter, there were certainly others who did and they had arrived right on schedule. After the initial discovery that Harry was missing made by one, Arthur Weasley, Vernon and Petunia's belief that they would no longer have to suffer the presence of Witches and Wizards in their home was completely and hopelessly shattered. Magical being after Magical being seemed to step in and out of their home, each one asking a barrage of questions. Where's the boy? What have you done with him? Had there any strange visitors? Did he have his wand with him when he left? Do you know where he might have gone? Why did he leave?

It wasn't until Albus Dumbledore had calmly stepped into their living room that Vernon and Petunia really started to consider the consequences of their actions. For being as old as Albus was, he certainly had a way of dominating a room that was all together intimidating, despite the rather gentle smile and twinkle in his eye. Dumbledore had sent owls and representatives in the past, but he had never before darkened their doorstep personally. The simple fact that he was now there, showed the seriousness of the situation.

"Vernon. Petunia," Dumbledore greeted, taking a seat in the chair that Vernon liked to assume was his and his alone. This, naturally, caused the vein in Vernon's temple to throb angrily in response. Of course, the comment that immediately sprang to the tip of Vernon's tongue remained locked safely behind the somewhat crooked row of his teeth. Vernon Dursley wasn't entirely dimwitted. If nothing else, he did have a certain sense of self-preservation. It was an entirely different thing to snap at Harry. The little brat couldn't use magic in retaliation. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was allowed and, no doubt, very good at it. Vernon's eyes moved back to Dumbledore as the old man continued, "I am well aware of the relationship that stands between yourselves and Harry. I also understand that you do no see eye-to-eye on many levels, however, it is imperative that we receive your full co-operation in discovering his immediate whereabouts."

"Why is it imperative for us?" Vernon spat, disdainfully. "Good riddance, if you ask me!"

"He's underage! He can't use magic! He's out there on his own with Merlin knows who after him! You're supposed to be his family! You foul, loathsome-"

"Nymphandora, please restrain your anger. It is justified, however, this is neither the time nor the place for it," Dumbledore's soft, yet commanding voice was just enough to keep Tonks from using every offensive spell she'd ever learned against the two despicable Muggles in front of her. As far as Tonks was concerned, Minerva had been completely right. They truly were the worst sorts of Muggles.

Once it was obvious that he would not be interrupted again, Dumbledore continued his direct line of questioning with practised ease. "It is my understanding that you, Vernon, had sent Harry to run an errand for you. An errand that you knew would take him quite a bit of time to complete, is that correct?"

"Yes, I did!" Vernon snapped. His chest puffing out, succeeding in making himself seem even larger than he was. "It's about time the little freak started to earn his keep. We've fed him, clothed him, even gave him Dudley's second bedroom and look how he repays our kindness! The moment he gets his hands on my hard earned money he vanishes, leaving us to clean up the mess. Well, I won't! Do you hear me! He's a criminal! I've been saying it for years."

Tonks all but growled her frustration and annoyance, her finger automatically tightening around her wand. This was getting absolutely ridiculous. The fact that Harry had to remain within the Dursley household in order to benefit from the blood magic was starting to look like a pathetically weak argument, particularly considering the amount of years Harry had already endured. Tonks opened her mouth to say as much, but Remus' hand was already covering it. The brief warning look he shot her distinctly said that speaking would be a bad idea, no matter how much he agreed with her.

"Where did you send him?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring the exchange behind him.

"He was supposed to be picking up a few items from Bastien's Store," Vernon responded waspishly, wanting nothing more than to throw the old man and his lackey's out onto the street. The only thing stopping him from the attempt was the wand gripped tightly in Tonk's fingers.

"Do you know which direction he took?"

"I don't know where he went! He clearly didn't do what he was bloody well told, now did he?"

There was just the briefest moment of silence before Dumbledore stood, the gentle smile gone from his lips. "If Harry returns to this house, you will contact me immediately," he instructed, a hard and unfamiliar edge to his tone. It was an edge that made Vernon and Petunia immediately nod for fear of the consequences.

After making sure the Dursleys wouldn't be disappointing him again, Albus took his leave of the now quiet home, followed closely by a worried Remus and Tonks.

"Now what are we suppose to do?" she asked, glancing up and down the street. "For all we know, thanks to that lot, Voldemort could already have Harry."

"Remus, take Tonks and search the area surrounding Bastien's Store. If I recall correctly, you shall locate it on the southern end of Saint Andrews Drive," Albus instructed calmly, his eyes focusing on a spot in the distance. He knew Harry wouldn't be there, however, it was apparent that keeping Tonks busy was a must. "If you find him, you must bring him to Hogwarts, rather then Headquarters. It's not like Harry to just wander off without contacting anyone. He may not be himself."

"You don't think-"

"I think it's best not to rule out any possibilities."

The truth behind those words did nothing to ease the worry Remus felt as he watched Albus stroll leisurely back down the street. There were some possibilities that the Werewolf simply didn't want to contemplate.


Even when his eyes were closed tightly, the light invaded his mind. He simply couldn't hide from it, no matter how hard he struggled. The bright flashes lit up the darkness with ease, allowing, what felt like, all aspects of himself to be barred. Never had he felt so completely exposed. It was as though calloused fingers were prying apart his every thought, the movement echoing loudly through his mind.

From the corner of his limited vision, Harry spotted thick, dark tendrils starting to creeping around the edge of his vision. Their colour complimented the very idea of eternal darkness. There was absolutely nothing that could penetrate it. Anything it touched seemed to be engulfed and there was a part of Harry that could do nothing but yearn for the peace he knew the darkness offered. To be swallowed completely, protected from the harsh light and invading presence was something Harry desperately wanted.

As though sensing his desires, the tendrils started to inch their way closer, moving with an almost forceful determination. There was something all together wrong with the way they moved, but Harry's fevered mind was far beyond noticing. As they came closer, the dark whips of shadows swallowed the light, creating darkness and shadow in its stead. Eternity seemed to pass as Harry waited for the first tendril to reach him. When it did, the darkness seemed to caress his pale skin and calm his rapidly beating heart. The smallest sigh of contentment slipped past his lips as the darkness began to wrap Harry in a protective embrace of it's own.

"Wake up."

No.

"Open your eyes."

No.

"If you don't break free now you will be forever lost within the darkness inside of you. If you allow the darkness to control you it will mean your end and the end of your line."

As the familiar voice continued to whisper, Harry could feel the darkness coiling around him as a snake coils around it's prey, breaking bones and suffocating the life from him. The atmosphere had changed without him noticing. This wasn't the soothing quiet he had longed for.

Stop. Let go!

Despite his pleas, Harry continued to sink deeper into the darkness that had, only a moment ago, seemed like a blessing. Now it held nothing more than the chilling familiarity of a grave, his voice forever echoing through the darkness.

"WAKE UP!"

Harry's eyes snapped open, a terrified gasp still clinging to his lips. Gone were the harsh lights, the darkness, and sinking feeling of an overwhelming despair. A rushing sense of relief flooded through him as his eyes landed on the image of bedroom furniture rather than darkness. For just a moment, he allowed the feeling to stretch to his very core, however, it wasn't to last. None of his surroundings were familiar: the bed, the walls, the mirror, nothing. This room wasn't his and the panic was already starting to claw at his chest, his muscles stiff beneath his chilled skin.

"You are in no danger here."

With a surprised gasp, Harry sat up, his head spinning and his muscles screaming their protest. "What's going on?" he demanded, his teeth gritting against the pain as his fingers crept toward the pocket his wand was normally kept. A portion of his memory was simply gone. It was a gaping hole in the middle of his mind. "Who are you?

"I am Soren Lotharien and I am one of three High Lords residing over the British Realm."

"What?"

"The British Realm. All communities of the Elves are removed from that of the Wizarding world. We do not like to find ourselves involved in the petty problems of men, much preferring to remain within our own realms."

"Elves?" An image of Dobby immediately invaded Harry's mind and he nervously let his eyes can the room briefly to see if the small creature was somehow involved.

For the second time, soft laughter and a hint of amusement danced behind onyx eyes. "All shall be explained, of that you have my word. For the moment, however, you must drink and regain your strength. Your body has exhausted itself during the change. It will be a few hours yet before you are back to full strength."

Harry's fingers carefully wrapped around the crystal goblet he was handed, a deep scarlet liquid painting the side of the glass as it moved. Despite it's continuous presence, Harry couldn't force himself to worry about the discomfort and tension that coursed through his muscles. How could he when he was much more concerned with trying to figure out what was happening. Despite the exhaustion his mind was curtained with, Harry kept attempting to piece together an explanation. He was positive that quite a few pieces were missing.

"Drink. It will help greatly."

Harry glanced down at the goblet in his hands, a slight frown marring his features. If they had any intention of harming him, surely they would have already attempted it. Bringing the goblet to his mouth, his hands shaking slightly, he took a sip. The sensation was instantaneous and shocking, to put it simply. The liquid slid over his tongue and down his throat with ease, tingling and warm as though it was stretching to reach every inch of him.

"You must drink as much of the liquid as you can," Soren's calm voice cut across the relaxed stupor that had immediately settled over him, "otherwise it will be ineffective."

Ineffective? How could anything that felt this good be ineffective? Harry wondered vaguely, bringing the goblet to his mouth once more. He continued to drink the strange liquid, gulp after gulp, until the pleasant warm sensations had grown to a painful burning that seemed to linger beneath his rib cage. "No more," he gasped, trying to take in air, "no more!"

"That shall suffice," Soren nodded, stepping forward to take the glass from Harry's shaking hand and eyed the small amount of liquid that remained. "The pain will ease as your body replaces the impure blood that it has dispelled."

"Impure blood?" He hadn't thought it possible, but Harry was now more confused then ever.

Soren smiled gently, having seen many young Elves through their change. Patience certainly wasn't an issue. It had been something Soren had learned many years ago. In a single, fluid motion, Soren stood and extended a hand. "Come, it is best if you see the results for yourself. I don't believe you will be too disappointed. The change has treated you kindly."

The moment Soren had extended his hand, Harry was hit with the strongest urge to retreat back to his earlier state of sleep. He was suddenly not so sure he wanted to know what had happened. With more than a little trepidation, Harry finally scraped together enough of his Gryffindor courage to reach out and accept Soren's hand.

Soren held him steady as Harry walked on shaky legs. Harry wondered briefly if this was what learning to walk had felt like. With careful and slow steps, the two men moved as one until they were standing in front of a beautiful full-length mirror. It took a moment before Harry found his image in the reflective surface, when they did green eyes widened almost comically, his jaw corresponding as it dropped in surprise. He barely recognized the person in front of him. This wasn't Harry Potter. This was some exotic being he'd never before seen.

His hair had remained the same length it had been when he'd left the Dursleys but it appeared far more smooth and silky, falling down and framing his now pale face in long waves. The summer tan he'd earned from spending long hours in the sun doing yard work had all but vanished, leaving him with a pale, milky complexion, creating a dazzling contrast to the dark shade of his hair. His eyes were no longer hidden behind wire frames and thick glasses, allowing the bright, almost ethereal, colour to show clearly. As for his height, it seemed that he had not been finished. He now stood at an even five feet, eleven inches: a height he never though he'd reach. His muscle mass had also shifted. Rather than being located in his stomach, legs, and forearms, it was now more evenly spread, which gave him an overall toned appearance. Instead of a Quidditch build, his body resembled that of a runner.

Even though his appearance was striking, the height, the eyes, nor the hair was what caught his attention. It was his ears. Long slender ears peaked out from the dark curtain of hair. In fascination, he watched himself in the mirror as he lifted a hand, brushing back his hair, and touched the pointed tip. The sensation proved to himself that they were, in fact, real and extremely sensitive. He wasn't dreaming.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice faint as he caught Soren's eye in the mirror. "What have I become?"

"You're a Dark Elf," Soren responded, offering him a gentle smile. "And not just any Elf. You're the Dark Prince of the British Realm. We've been waiting five generations for your arrival."

Suddenly Harry no longer felt like he could stand. The breath seemed to rush out of him and he was trying desperately to find it again. Another responsibility? Another so-called destiny? "You've got to be kidding," he eventually whispered, the question coming out with a nervous laugh. "I couldn't possibly-"

"I would never joke about such things," Soren said, seriously. "There has not been a Dark Elf in the Potter line for five generations. In the Elven Councils one's place can only be inherited through direct blood connection. This council has been struggling without a ruler for far too long. It is time that you took your place among us."

Harry could do nothing but shake his head, his mind frantically trying to think up some sort of explanation: a way out. "No … I can't. It's not possible. If I had Elven blood in my family I would know. Someone would have known!"

"You cannot fight this, Harry. The Fates have made your path clear. There is no point in attempting to run for they have an uncanny ability to discover you, no matter where you choose to hide. Your destiny will continue to haunt you until you accept your true place in the world.

"Are you insane? I can't rule anything!"

"You will do splendidly. It is in your blood, after all. Fate has chosen you for a reason, Harry. When the time comes you will understand what you'll have to do." Soren wasn't stupid, he could see the terror hidden in the depths of Harry's eyes and he couldn't hold that against him. He was born into a rather large responsibility and he had not been given the necessary amount of time to grow accustomed to that responsibility. "If you stumble along the way you have three High Lords behind you, each one ready and willing to hold out a steadying hand when the need arises. We have managed since the death of the last Dark Prince, but the people need to be united under a one figurehead. Tradition calls for it."

"This is crazy. You are crazy!"

"You do not need to doubt yourself. It is pointless. This is your destiny, like it or not, and you will learn to be confident in yourself. In time you will find the strength that lies within you," Soren soothed, his voice calm and confident. "If you allow fate to take its courses the struggles in your life will lesson. Things will become easier."

"Things will become easier?" Harry asked, incredulously. "Do you know who I am? Do you know what Voldemort will do to get a hold of me? He'll tear this entire place apart just to reach me and you want me to stand up and be a figurehead?"

"You need not worry about this Voldemort character. If you take your rightful place you will be surmised at who will be willing to stand at your side."

"Oh great. An even bigger list of casualties."

Soren, despite his best efforts, was starting to feel impatience stir at the back of his mind. The boy was still quite young and had dealt with more than his fair share of tragedies, so it was expected for him to be skeptical. Above all else, Sore had to remember that. "I will be blunt, Harry. If you do not accept who you are, you will die."

Silence met this particular statement. It was the kind of silence that lingered heavily in the air. Harry couldn't say anything. What was one suppose to say when someone plainly told you of your own mortality? Or rather, what was one to say when someone other than Professor Trelawney told you that you would die? Arguing the point didn't exactly seem like it was worthwhile, especially since he knew that there was a very real possibility of it coming to pass.

"Your people have been waiting five generations for you, but I will not allow you to ruin the stability of this council because you are not ready to accept who you are. You need to decide if you want this. Being an Elf will grant you abilities that you never had as a wizard, but you will need training and guidance. In that respect, I can help you. But if you accept my help than you are accepting your place and purpose among us."

Once again no sound could be heard, the silence stretching for several long minutes as the situation and its possible consequences ran through Harry's tired mind. "I don't know how to rule anything," he sighed, eventually. "How can I possibly be what's right for this council? I know nothing about Elves or politics."

"Every great ruler has had to start somewhere. Everything you need to know, I can teach you."

Harry paused, considering his options. He had no idea what was happening to him. He could always wait and ask Dumbledore but that would mean returning to the Dursleys, which was something that he never again wanted to do. If he were being honest with himself, there would be no one better to describe and explain the responsibilities he would face as an Elf than another, more experienced, Elf. If Soren was right about developing abilities he wouldn't otherwise have, than he could very well gain an advantage over Voldemort and that was something he didn't want to give up lightly. It could mean the difference between life and death. On the other hand, if he agreed to this he would be the ruler of an entire kingdom. That wasn't something to take lightly either. People would be depending on him and every decision he made would be affecting the lives of hundreds of people.

"You will not be alone in this."

Harry glanced up, torn from his internal musings.

"I can understand that the idea of ruling can be very intimidating but you will not be alone. The role of a High Lord is to help you make decisions that will help the entire Kingdom. It is impossible for a single individual to know the wants and needs of all the people and that is where we come in. I, for example, reside in the eastern corner of this realm. I shall give you insight into what is needed in those lands."

Harry took a deep breath, weighing this new piece of information and the options presented before him. "Okay … um, if I was to … accept my role here, what would … how would this work?"

Soren hid a smile. Harry didn't need to say anything more. Things were falling into place, as they should. Despite Harry's unease and fear, he was taking the first steps that would lead him down his true path. "First thing, I and the other High Lords will continue to keep everything in order while you study and learn everything from politics to etiquette. As you progress we will transfer more and more responsibility to your shoulders until you are able to rule confidently."

"Okay. That sounds all right … I think."

Soren nodded, leaning back in his seat. It would be a trying time, he knew, but he had no doubt about Harry's abilities. They were unrefined at the moment, but it would only be a matter of time.

"I'm going to have to know a lot of people … aren't I?" Harry asked, his mind bringing up more issues he wasn't exactly comfortable with. "I don't exactly like being in the spotlight. I get a lot of attention in the Wizarding world and it isn't something I enjoy."

"You need not worry about being thrust into the limelight. In the current situation the Elves of the British Realm are aware that you have been found, but until you are ready you will not be placed in full view. The British Realm isn't the only Kingdom of Elves. There are eight other realms in eight other countries. Some of them are Dark Elves and some are Light. In the past, a great ball was organized in order to introduce a new ruler to the other realms but, in this case, I believe it might be better if we arrange for a more personal meeting with the other rulers before holding a large function. This way you will be able to become comfortable bit by bit."

Harry had paled at the mention of meeting eight other courts. That would mean a ruler, and three High Lords, not to mention any spouses that might come along. He wasn't very good with names and he was sure that he was going to mess something up. "I think I like the more personal visits."

"I figured that might be the case," Soren chuckled, lightly.

"When did you plan on starting the meetings? I mean I've only just been through this change. I'm sure the entire Wizarding world is looking for me and I still have no idea how any of this happened. To be honest, I don't think it's really even sunk in."

"Your first step will be to learn your own court before you attempt to learn that of others. In order to be a successful ruler you will need to build strong relationships with the people closest to you. This must be done before anything else can be considered."

Harry nodded, leaning back against the headboard, intently listening to what Soren was explaining. He was still nervous about the entire situation but he had all but agreed to this. He wasn't about to screw everything up this early.

"The court is made up of an entirety of fourteen people. A Dark Prince, followed by three High Lords and their consorts," Soren explained. "Although it isn't common, there are situations were a Consort is replaced with a second. Instead of a Lord's mate ruling at their side they have taken a second, who is an individual more suited to ruling than the Consort. Your High Lord of the Western lands, is a perfect example."

Harry remained quiet, carefully storing away the information he was being given. He didn't know how much he was going to recall, but he was hoping for at least the basics.

"Each of the three High Lords resides over a section of the British realm. You're residence is located in the Northern section of the realm. I am the Lord of the Eastern Lands. My consort Rosalind rules at my side. Lothair, the man who had accompanied me in locating you, is the High Lord of the Western lands. In his case, he has a second ruling at his side. His second is Arsen Greenbowe, a true equestrian. Finally, the Lady of the Southern Lands goes by the name of Ilaria. By her side is her consort Caedmon. Beneath the High Lords there are five Royal Healers and a High Seer. Their names you will learn during your first introduction. It is a tradition that had long been held within this realm.

Harry nodded, silently running over the list of names for a second time. He was pretty sure that he would need to be reminded several times in the future before they stuck. Silently doing the math, he frowned. "That's only thirteen. I thought you said there was fourteen people in the council?"

Soren remained silent for a long moment. This was usually the part of the explanation that gave him the most trouble. The individuals in question would respond one of two ways. Either they loved it or they loathed it. "Yes, there will also be a High Consort."

"A High Consort?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds important. Who is it?"

"We don't know?"

"Why not?"

"Dark Elves are similar to other magical creatures in one aspect. When we love it is with every part of our hearts. We are a very conservative race and we do not share our bodies with anyone except our mates … our consorts."

"A mate?" Harry frowned, not at all liking the sound of that. "You mean you don't have a choice in who you love?"

While he didn't like to think of it in those terms, Soren nodded. "You won't have a choice, per say. Fate already has a plan for you, which includes the identity of your Consort."

"Wait."

Soren paused. He could see the wheels turning in Harry's head and he prepared himself for the coming reaction.

"High Consort," Harry muttered. "That's not just any consort … that's my consort, isn't it?"

"Yes."

It took another moment of silence before the predicted reaction came about.

"I can't have a mate! Voldemort will kill them!"

The older Elf restrained the urge to roll his eyes. "If it is their destiny to die by the hand of Voldemort than it will happen. It does not matter whether or not their destiny is tied to you. You must let fate take its course."

"How can I even ask someone to step directly into the line of fire? To put themselves at risk like that is a step short of suicide!" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit. "How am I supposed to find my Consort, anyway? Do you have some ridiculous ritual for that too?"

"You will not be able to ask them anything. When you find them the bond will develop until there will be nothing more important than being with them. They will become your world," Soren explained, a fond look in his eyes as he did. "And no, there is no ceremony. You will find your mate and complete the bonds between you when you are ready."

"When I'm ready?"

"Yes."

"And how do I know I'm ready? What if I meet my Consort and completely miss the signs? What happens then?"

"You have to trust fate. That is the key to a happy existence," Soren responded, calmly. He hated to repeat himself, but Harry needed to understand the importance of fate. "Until you do that you will be full of doubt. Once that doubt has cleared you will find everything in which you seek. Your Consort will not take their place until you are strong enough, both mentally and physically, to provide and protect them."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, but hesitated, unsure of how he should breach the subject. The Wizarding world was semi-tolerant and the Muggle world was hardly tolerant. He had no idea what a society of magical creatures would react. "What if a person isn't looking for … someone of the opposite sex?"

"Your Consort is not chosen on gender or appearance and your love will not be based on that either. You will be paired with someone who is your equal, someone of opposite characteristics. Someone to offer you balance, to make you whole. Gender does not matter."

"So there are no prejudices about same sex couples?"

"I should hope not. The Dark Princess of Japan and her Consort are both female," Soren smiled. "Love knows no boundaries in any race. You and I will live far longer than the social norms of the world around us. In fifty years the individuals who are creating the borders surrounding what is socially acceptable will be dead or dying and new individuals will take their place and create their own ideas. You and I will watch the change come and go for many years. It is not for us to conform to their guidelines because we will outlive them."

Harry was both upset and content with his answer. He was content because his sexual preference would not be condemned, however, he was upset with the life span attached to his new role. He may live for centuries but those he loved and cared about would not. He would ultimately have to watch as they grew older and passed on, leaving him one by one.

Soren read the emotions that flashed across Harry's face as only one who had seen it a thousand times before could. It was hard for those who were not born into the Elven realm. They had a connection with the outside world that kept their hearts tied to those lands. To fully realize that, at some point, all of those ties would be severed by death was not something to be taken lightly. Before anything else could be done, Harry would need to face that and the only way he could accomplish that was on his own. Only he knew the entirety of his thoughts and emotions. "You have had a very long day, my Lord. I will take my leave and return tomorrow morning. You will need to be transported to your new home and your lessons will begin shortly after. There is much to discuss. I suggest you get lots of rest. I'm afraid that you will need it."

Harry nodded vaguely, watching the door close firmly behind the Elf with a resounding thud that seemed to echo in the silence of the room. The changes were supposed to stop when he turned seventeen but things had only become more hectic and strange. He was becoming a ruler of an Elven realm and yet he was so tied to the Wizarding world that he simply couldn't understand how he was supposed to be in both. The Elven realm needed him to rule and the Wizarding world needed him to save them. Both wanted something from him that he wasn't sure he could give.

What have I gotten myself into?


to be continued...