Dame Rowling owns Harry Potter. I don't. Pity, that.
I own a keyboard and have internet access, so you're getting a new chapter!
Enjoy!
EDIT, 7/10/2018: Re-did the pre-chapter historical entry.
[..\|/..]
PUBLIC COPY
INTERNAL MEMO
Attn: All DoM Agents and Staff
From: DoM Assistant Head of [REDACTED]
Re: Incident [REDACTED]
There seems to be some confusion regarding this event, and the Boss has asked me to clarify exactly why no one can remember where most of the stone circles in [REDACTED] are.
The short answer is that our Agents, at my behest, placed a Fidellus Mortus on the [REDACTED] so that what happened near [REDACTED] doesn't happen again. If it weren't for our quick response time to the incident, the Statute would have been irrecoverably broken; as those in the Ministry Department of International Magical Cooperation can no doubt tell you, the ICW is quite hacked off that the [REDACTED] was nearly broken by a couple drunk Purebloods, not to mention that I've been in meetings all week assuring said big hats that this will never happen again. And it had better not.
For those of you who have been out of the country and still don't know, three wizards, [NAME EXPUNGED], [NAME EXPUNGED] and [NAME EXPUNGED], drunk on Firewhiskey, kidnapped a young Muggle woman, and took her to the circle at [REDACTED].
[3 PARAGRAPHS OF REDACTED TEXT]
Therefore, I don't think it needs to be said that placing Fidellus Mortus on the entire [REDACTED] was the least we could do. We've already salted the earth, and several Druids are still purifying the surrounding lands, so quit asking me why you can't remember the plans you made for the Solstice or you have research missing as a result. Get over it.
Finally, we've put out a separate memo and have prepared information brochures on stone circles for the Ministry and public, respectively. You're not children by any stretch of the imagination, but I'll say it anyway:
DO NOT USE MAGIC IN A CIRCLE THAT ISN'T ON THE ATTATCHED LIST!
For [EXPLETIVE DELETED] sake, people, if you find or happen to know of a circle that isn't on that list, bring it to [REDACTED] or a responsible Druid so we can figure out if there's any taint and cleanse it! Before this happened, we'd gone 245 years without an incident, but it's clear putting signs that say DO NOT ENTER isn't sufficient to keep some drunks from accidentally summoning one of THEM. Looking at you, Michelson; stop whining and put the bloody wards up, or else.
And if it somehow still isn't clear what's got the Boss' knickers in a twist, see Incident Record H-1433b-12Q, and use your imagination.
-Public copy of an internal memo
released to the British Department of Mysteries
following the accidental summoning of a malevolent spirit
which claimed the lives of 12 Muggles and 6 DoM Agents
before being banished
May, 1923
[..|..]
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Chapter 2:
Into the Forest
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It was two hours of walking and one sandwich later that James came across a strange part of the forest. The sounds of nature were still around him, and the trees were humming contentedly in the warm breeze blowing though their leaves, but something felt… off, to James.
'Just go North, find the stone circle,' thought James as he gazed at the sight before him, 'Easier said than done…'
In front of James were the tallest trees he'd ever seen; trunks as wide as his relative's house, with branches reaching up to the sky, they were like mountains to the child standing just outside their eaves. At their feet, large roots wound between each tree, making it hard to see the ground through a thick moss covering every root and patch of dirt, a rolling green carpet as far as James could see; which wasn't far at all. The tree's branches and leaves were so thick that the Sun's light barely touched the ground; further in, everything was shrouded in a deep gloom. He couldn't see more than a hundred feet or so into this forest!
The strange thing about this place was that James hadn't been able to see it until he was right at its edge; he'd walked around a tree about thirty paces back and suddenly, these massive oaks, beeches, chestnuts and ashes were right in front of him!
Biting his lip, the shaman-in-training tried to figure this mystery out logically, like Jean would do if she were here, 'Maybe it's like my 'Unseen' ability; no one can see it unless you're right near it. Wow, it must be hard hiding an entire forest! Maybe the faeries that nice chestnut warned me about have something to do with it…'
Another idea came to James, then, 'If it's made of Power… I wonder if I can feel it…' The young shaman tapped his staff against the ground and let his Power flow through the wood and into the soil; he'd found, as he was walking this way, that the ground conducted Power very well, allowing James a heightened awareness of the world around him.
Gently clearing his mind, eyes lidded but focused, James directed his Power to examine the area in front of him; at first, he felt and heard nothing but the contented dreams of the earth and the quiet hums and sighs of the ancient oaks as they basked in the sun and breeze.
Then, it came: a faint feeling, like brushing a hand through a curtain of fine lace, or running his fingertips through a pool of warm, still water; it certainly felt like James' 'Unseen' ability, but with other things that he wasn't familiar with mixed in, all of which had to do with hiding things! Pulling back on his Power, James looked at the strange forest with an awed expression, 'Someone must have hid this part of the forest! Is it another Shaman, or Power user? The faeries?' Shaking off the surprise at, apparently, finding a place that was hidden with Power, he resolved to get to the bottom of this mystery place!
'One last thing, though,' pulling out his brass compass, James glanced at the needle to make sure he was on the right track; it was still pointing North, but… the needle was twitching from side to side!
Blinking, the young Shaman wracked his mind, trying to remember if there was anything he'd read about that could interfere with a compass needle, 'It points north when I'm in the Northern Hemisphere… but there's certain places where Earth's magnetism can disrupt the needle, like volcanoes and the like, but, again, I'm nowhere near anything like that. Is it Power? Maybe…,' James looked up at the trees before him again, contemplating what he felt in the nature around him, 'Maybe, when there's a lot of power in one place… it can make compasses act weird. Oh, I wish Jean were here to help me figure all this out! A real adventure, and-,' James gasped suddenly, 'I FORGOT MY NOTEBOOKS! Oh, darn! Jean's going to be so mad, when I find her again! All these discoveries I've already made, and I can't take notes!'
James sighed regretfully; he really should've thought to bring his school bag with him… 'Well,' he thought, stuffing the compass back in his pocket and picking up his battered suitcase again, 'Nothing for it! Onward!' Away James strode, into the shade of the ancient forest.
A dozen strides later, he decided to look back; the normal Forest of Dean looked so small and young, compared to this place. Gulping back his fear, he turned toward the deep green darkness that marked his path.
'No fear. Fear is the mind-killer,' squaring his shoulders and putting on a determined face, James Stormcaller strode carefully forward, his staff tapping the moss-covered roots and green eyes flicking side to side as the dark enveloped him.
[..|..]
Though James didn't know it, as soon as he entered the forest, a wardstone under the front lawn of Number 4, Privet Drive began to lose power.
He would also never know that, at the exact same moment, a series of spindly silver instruments in a castle tower far away in northern Scotland ceased to function; their owner, away on important business on the continent, wouldn't notice for a week.
By then it would be too late.
Harry Potter, now James Stormcaller, was hidden from all eyes. He would not speak to another human for many months to come.
[..|..]
Sitting on a great root, about an hour into the dark forest, James frowned at the lantern in his hand, 'Broken light bulb. Of course…' He sighed, wondering what he, personally, did to make Vernon hate him so, recent events notwithstanding.
The world around James reminded him of a passage from The Silmarillion: "…trees whose tops were crowned with cloud as they were living mountains, but whose feet were wrapped in green twilight." That was what this forest was like, a dark hall with massive dark brown monoliths seeming to hold up the viridian sky, the rare sunbeam slipping through its canopy to light a mossy mound covered in blue flowers, or pools of stagnant water, mayflies and mosquitos buzzing over them as they went about their brief lives.
It was beautiful, but James' Power told him there was something different here: amidst the earthy scents of the forest and the contented waves of Life flowing uninterrupted was a bitter undertone. A metallic scraping, distant and old seemed to come like a far-off whisper to his ears whenever he tried to Listen; it made James wary of this place, as it seemed like trouble might be ahead.
'Not that I'm not in trouble as is,' mused James to himself as he set the broken lantern back in the now-empty suitcase, having moved all the supplies to his backpack; hiding the suitcase in the roots of the tree he'd been resting beneath, the young Shaman's gaze fell back on his compass.
Its needle was waving back and forth erratically between East-Northeast and West-Northwest, jittering the whole way; he hoped he was going in the right direction. The only other forest he'd been in, on the school field trip a year ago, had well-signposted trails, and there were certainly no hidden old-growth forests that made compasses misbehave!
Settling his backpack on his shoulders, James took off his hat and squinted in the direction North should be in; from the looks of things, he'd have to go uphill and over all these huge, twisting roots to get to the circle.
'Well, if it wasn't going to be difficult, it wouldn't be much of an adventure!' James thought as he began determinedly walking again, staff thumping along as he used it to balance himself as footing became more treacherous, 'Besides, the destination's worth it; a secret stone circle, in a hidden forest rumored to have faeries, of all things, living in it! I might have to send Uncle Vernon a thank-you card-wha?!'
The last part of that thought had less to do with him thanking his Uncle for anything and more to do with the massive tree roots that were suddenly blocking his path!
'Where'd those come from?' wondered James, having not felt any shift in the land around him; he looked left and right to see if there was a way around this blockage, to find himself boxed in by thick, dirt covered roots in every direction except back the way he came. James frowned, feeling Power lace the air around him through his staff, as the air became colder and a small voice, probably trying to be spooky, filled the clearing.
"Turn back, monkey," it said, making James raise an eyebrow; was this a prank? "Turn back, you're unworthy of this place-place-place-place… place… place…" Yeah, this was a prank.
Then James blinked, 'Oh crap. Faeries are pranking me!' He'd read a few stories about the creatures (mostly at Jean's insistence), and knew that they could be quite pesky indeed; which would be an understatement for the (alleged, in James' opinion) more powerful breeds of Fae folk, some of which could tear a person apart with a thought! Considering the simplicity of this 'prank', such as it was, he was probably dealing with a few of the weaker faeries living around here; they probably saw him walking about and decided to have a lark at his expense.
James smiled and shook his head; when he'd found out about his Unseen ability, one of the toughest things he'd dealt with was making himself Seen again. After a while, he found he could turn it off by imagining a gust of wind and thrusting his Power out of himself, blowing the Unseen… cloak, he supposed, away! 'That should work here too,' thought James as he swirled Power through his staff, into the tree roots, and directed it beneath the, what he assumed were, illusory roots.
Figuring he shouldn't antagonize them much, James called, "Nice try!" and, directing the Power he'd sent out, rapped the butt of his staff against the soil and blew the faerie-made illusions away.
There was a sound, like a stone plopping into a pond, and the way ahead cleared up! There was even sunlight, seen through the trees a ways up the hill! Grinning, James began moving a bit faster, but keeping his Sense ability sharper; those faeries really snuck up on him, but he could Sense them now, like three little buzzing balls of static electricity that nonetheless felt very… forest-y, to James anyway, about thirty feet to his left and hiding behind some roots.
Confident that he wouldn't be caught unawares again, James soldiered on a bit faster to the light, which was hopefully the location of the circle.
[..|..]
Meanwhile, lying on her back behind a tree root, Breech was freaking out!
She and her brothers, Snapper and Louie, had been out looking for mushrooms, minding their own business, when they'd seen a human walking through the forest! While this wasn't unheard of, this one smelt like he'd come from the Muddy world, and was a little kid at that! Figuring they should be good neighbors (Muddy kids could get hurt in these parts, after all!), they set up an illusion to scare the pretend druid (snicker) back to his family… or wherever he came from… or just for laughs, in case he was the spoiled son of some rich wand-waver in disguise or something!
It wouldn't be the first wand-waver they'd driven off, after all.
But then, right when Bree was about to break out the rattling chains and thudding feet, the kid snarks "Nice try!" at them and obliterates Snap and Lou's illusions, all in one go! To top the whole thing off, the three faeries now had frizzy hair, from the sheer amount of raw magic that puny human threw at them, and they'd been knocked flat on their wings!
So, yes, Bree felt quite justified in her panic.
"Winter, what was that?!" whispered Lou from where he was sprawled out on the ground next to Sam.
Springing back up to the edge of the root, Bree watched the kid continue to climb the hill right in the direction of the stone circle. "He must be a wand-waver, a sorcerer's apprentice that found out about this place," she mused out loud in her squeaky voice as her brothers joined her.
"Are we gonna just let a wand-waver strut up to the circle like it's nothing, then?" Snap put in, wings jittering in agitation.
"You," Breech snapped, pointing at Snap, "are gonna go get Landlady. Tell her some kid blasted through our illusions like they were nothing; me an' Lou-"
"Lou and I," corrected her youngest brother, not that Bree cared.
As she carried on as though Lou had said nothing, "-are gonna follow him, make sure he doesn't do anythin' dumb like-like… I dunno, summon one of the big hats?" Bree shuddered along with her brothers; the idea of some idiot kid summoning one of the Court Knights by accident was too terrible to give voice to.
Not to mention how angry Landlady would be, if they survived.
So it was that Snap shot away to find Landlady while his siblings followed the strange kid at a distance; as the lad neared the top of the hill, Louie worriedly asked Bree, "What if he does call one of the Knights, Bree?"
The young faerie adjusted her ash-leaf overalls and sneered, "Then we bugger off home while the big-hat's distracted with the brat, and…" she gulped as said brat paused at the edge of the circle clearing, "hope to the Seasons the big-hat isn't one of the curious sorts."
[..|..]
'…Westgate has been hidden, guards in place, this is good… Through the storm they sailed and found port, he is home again, smells of lavender and cinnamon and her, the call of the sea quiets in her comforting embrace… Highgate remains broken, stones buried deep, none shall ever find it… His car hasn't started again so he will be late to work again and probably lose his job, doesn't know the homely woman he slapped in a bar a month ago is a witch, Hel hath no fury… Wealdgate has been corrupted, the Weave has been cut from it, safe but impure…'
James Listened raptly as the feminine voice prattled on from the edge of the forest clearing, wondering if this was where he was supposed to be.
It surely seemed that way; a ring of standing stones, like great grey potatoes with mossy coverings, made a ring around two menhirs that looked as though they'd once been an archway, though they were now cracked and leaning in the gnarled roots of an enormous, ancient yew growing between them. While not as large as the trees around them, the tree's branches still cast the dozen-or-so-feet-tall menhirs in shadow, reaching for the sky and the edges of the circle of stones.
James had seen pictures of ancient yews in his school library, but hadn't had the honor of seeing one in person; given the relative size of the stones standing in the two hundred foot wide clearing, it had to be over a thousand years old! The yellow and white dragon-snappers and daises scattered in its shade near the ring of boulders went well with the dandelions and nightshade blooming in the tall grass surrounding the circle.
That, and it was talking to itself constantly, the trees around it quietly ignoring the prattling old woman voice whispering, '…Twins in blood and soul share a glance and a grin, their little sister really wants to fly but their mother is too traditional, a plan forms in their shared minds, the eldest sibling will help them, no doubt… Another boy, now a man, sits across his grandfather and hands him the shard of green glass, the oldest tragedy is passed on… Rivergate is guarded, hidden, sealed, never again they say… This has all happened before, and will happen again…'
Removing his shoes, as this place had a sacred feel to it, James stepped into the clearing and, removing his hat and standing straight, cleared his throat when the yew paused and spoke respectfully, "Good afternoon, venerable madam. May I rest in your shade?"
A jolt of surprise came from the ancient tree, followed by a feeling of warm wind suddenly rushing out from it and washing over James; after a pause, the yew spoke again, '…You are far from your home, child who Speaks and Listens. What has brought you here?'
Once again forcing down the sadness of being abandoned, James replied solemnly, "I'm a shaman-in-training, madam, but my relatives hate me for my abilities… So they left me at the edge of the Forest of Dean; some nice trees said this would be a good place to listen to the power of nature, so…" James shrugged; really, he hadn't thought this adventure completely through, and was beginning to think he might be in over his head.
'Ah, so you wish to become a shaman… An odd choice, in these days,' the yew replied in an interested tone, 'Tell me young one, do you understand what such a path entails?'
"Well," James began slowly approaching the circle, taking care not to step on any flowers, "it involves taking care of nature, speaking with spirits, and doing all sorts of amazing things, right?"
The yew gave a raspy laugh at that, its branches rustling in humor, 'A small fragment of what a shaman could be, child… You come from the mundane world, yes? Those who live in the world of cold logic can never understand what it means to be Shaman."
The boy stopped outside the ring of stones, frowning up at the great tree, "Have you known many shamans, then?"
'No. But their ways are known to me.'
Realization dawned in James' mind, "When you were talking to yourself… You were Listening, weren't you?"
'My, how perceptive!' the yew laughed, 'Yes, child shaman; what know you of the stone circles that litter this land?'
"Erm… The ancient druids built them for various reasons," calling on his history research, James steadily answered the tree, "Some were built to their gods, some were used as seasonal calendars, and some… some were built to glorify nature, um, right?" He hoped he was right.
After a brief pause, the ancient yew said, 'Somewhat. Sit in my shade, child shaman, and I shall tell you of the path you seek.'
Grinning, James stepped between two of the outer stones, their mossy heads rising above his head; finding a sturdy root to sit on, he slung off his pack and leaned his staff against the great tree, asking innocently, "Do you have a name, madam?"
'No. Do you?'
"I'm James Stormcaller. It's nice to meet you."
'Likewise. None of your kind has tread this land in many centuries, and never has a shaman visited here,' the great yew replied, 'At least, not so long as I've stood.'
James was awed; how old was this tree? "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but… how old are you, madam?"
'Old enough to have witnessed the rise of three ages of man,' was the yew's somber reply, 'I was planted by a Roman girl who lived nearby with her family, one thousand, eight hundred springs past.'
'Blimey!' James thought, eyes widening in awe, 'That would make her one of the oldest free-standing yews in Britain!'
Before he could give voice to these thoughts, however, the yew went on, 'But my history is boring and dry, and not what you are here to learn. You know how to listen to nature, and how to speak to it; verily, these are the first steps on the path of the shaman. I will tell you what I know, and then you may make your choice, so do not interrupt,' she paused, James sitting up straight in eager attention and wishing, once again, he'd thought to bring his notebooks.
'As you have no doubt learned, the mundane world sees shamans as those who speak with spirits in order to guide and heal those in their respective tribe,' the yew patiently explained, 'While not incorrect, it does not do the position justice; a true Shaman, James Stormcaller, is a conduit for the will of Gaia, Mother Earth if you will. They are her caretakers, her emissaries and, in times of sorrow, her warriors and her judges; very few people can travel down the path of the true Shaman, however, as a true Shaman must have magical blood, otherwise they cannot take even the first step on that path.'
James wanted to deny that he had magical blood, that he had Power in him instead, but the yew hadn't finished, so he kept quiet as she continued, 'As for spirits, the true Shaman can not only speak with the souls of the departed but can also commune with the animal totems of the Spiritual Realms, though their spiritual familiar generally reflects their own personality; for example, the brave Shaman usually has a bear or monkey familiar, while the clever generally bond with ravens or foxes. It is good that you came here, actually;' the yew's voice took on a mischievous tone as she concluded, 'you see, young Shaman, the circle you sit in was of old called Rivergate, and was part of a network of thirty magical gateways throughout the world. In these places the fabric which separates this world and the Spiritual Realms is thinner than elsewhere; therefore, calling a spirit should be rather easy.'
Blinking, James raised his hand and asked, "So… When you were rambling about Highgate and Westgate, you were Listening for the other gates?"
'Yes. Though I should caution you, young Shaman: the gates were broken or sealed for a reason.'
When she didn't continue, the boy sitting on her roots looked at the standing stones on either side of the yew; if what she was saying was true, those stones might once have been like the arches of Stonehenge, two stones holding up a capstone.
Shaking his head, James decided not to ask more about the gates; instead, he asked, "Why were the circles built, then?"
'They were built so that the flow of nature would be tamed,' the yew explained, 'Most of them, anyway; those built in the highlands of Scotland have a more… sinister past. Without the taming of nature's flow, magic would still be wild, and the world would be a much different place.'
"Different how?"
'How to describe it? Imagine, young Stormcaller, a world where spirits walked the world in the same way a deer or bear does; where dreams could shape reality, or a hand gesture could change the flow of a great river. Such things are still possible, of course, but they are much more controlled than they once were.'
Drumming his fingers on his staff, James said slowly, "So… Without the circles… the world would be more chaotic?"
'Perhaps.'
The yew fell silent then, and James didn't try asking her any more questions; he felt he had enough to try calling a spirit. The only question left was what kind of spirit would he get?
Standing, he began pacing around the once-again muttering yew, thinking about what he should do. 'From what the yew said, my spirit rattle should work really well here. But how will a spirit hear me?' James stoked a finger over the rattle's rib-bone handle, taking comfort in its warmth. 'Spirits might not like the mundane world… But if I become a caretaker to nature, like Yavanna… Maybe…'
James slid the rattle from his belt loop, looking at the charm bracelet Jean gave him. Gulping at the memory of the last time he did this, James stretched out his Power into the world around him.
And he understood!
The trees all around him pulsed with life, and it was like the warmth of a fire to his senses! Beneath the circle, a river of… Power flowed through the ground, distant whispers coming from within it; James didn't know how, but he knew that most of those whispers were coming from the Spirit Realms! Above his head, the wind brought tidings of so many things that he couldn't comprehend them all, though he blushed when the boar farm scandal reached his mind!
'Is this what it's like… to be a Shaman?'
For a moment, it felt like James would be swept away, like a leaf on the wind, by the whirling of the world; were it not for his staff grounding him to the world he was in, James felt that he just might have been sent tumbling into one of the Spirit Realms!
As it was, he raised his spirit rattle slowly…
And shook it.
'Such a beautiful sound,' thought James with a contented smile as he kept shaking the spirit rattle; it sounded like rain in a forest, pebbles shifting on a slope, wind in the fields, and the hissing of hot springs. A small voice in his head said he shouldn't know what any of those things sounded like, especially given his upbringing, but James didn't care; the music was too beautiful for him to doubt.
Beneath his feet, he felt eddies and currents forming in the river; there were spirits listening! Elated, James began to sing from his heart, though he didn't know where the words came from:
We've braved the forests, braved the stones;
Braved the Dark, the brutal fire!
Conquered countries, crowns and thrones,
but we've never crossed the river…
Oh, my friends, what have they done?
So much stock in rage and muscle.
So I'll open my heart and hands and soul,
and help them cross the river!
Twirling on the spot with his eyes closed, James kept up his rattling even as a soft drumbeat kept time with his rattle and a young girl's voice joined his.
What once was lost can now be found!
In valleys deep, o'er mountains tall,
beneath the seas, or tumbled wastes
that is where we'll surely play!
We'll pay no mind to gold or jewels!
No to lies or weapons that kill!
But yes to joining everyone's hands as one!
Together!
Rattle, rattle, drum-drum-drum!
Together!
We'll show them how to cross the river!
Thumping his staff against the ground to finish the song, James grinned hugely and laughed, "Wow! That was great!"
"I'll say!"
Spinning around so fast he fell on his rump, James looked at the top of the stone behind him, where the voice had come from.
There was a fox sitting on the stone! Its fur was white, with blue on the tips of its ears and its paws, and its whole body was shimmering like a river in the sun! It was also small; its ears would probably make it halfway up James' thigh if it was sitting down.
It leapt off the stone and landed in front of James, and that's when he saw that it had two tails!
"Hi!" she said; James figured it was a she, given the pitch of her voice, "You sing really good and purely!"
"Err, thanks," he replied before shaking himself out of his surprise, "You sing really well too."
Bouncing on her paws and grinning, the fox asked excitedly, "You sang about adventure and putting things right! Are you a druid?!"
"Um, no. I'm a Shaman. My name's James," smiled James even as he thought in disbelief, 'I'm talking to a fox!'
Said fox gasped, "A Shaman?! A Shaman! Ha-ha-ha!" she began bouncing in a circle around a now-surprised James and chattering excitedly, "I found a Shaman! I found a Shaman! I found a Shaman! Take that big sis! Little Vera found a Shaman first! Ha-ha-ha!"
Thunk! And she ran headfirst into James' staff.
"Oh! Are you okay?"
"Ouchie…"
Though neither being knew it then, this was the start of a beautiful and lasting friendship.
[..|..]
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A/N:
That took much longer than I thought it would. I blame my other stories, my fickle muse, and the brown lumpiness that is real life.
Having said that, WOW! I can't believe how many people favorited and followed this story after just one chapter! I'll do my best to get the next one out in a timely fashion, you mark my words!
The song is based on a much better song, 'The Humbling River' by Puscifer. Which I obviously don't own. I'm crap at poetry and songwriting, so I'll mostly be winging it for those parts.
So much research went into this chapter that it's almost scary; suffice to say I don't think I've ever read so much about trees, shamanism, and the differences between various Neolithic structures. Good thing I was on vacation…and then contracted a fever that's kept me out of work. :(
Oh, but we've got Vera now! Next chapter will be partly about kitsunes, partly about… well, I don't want to give everything away!
Reviews make Vera happy! And help the creative juices flow!
~Baked