A/N: Thanks again for all your feedback! Here's Chapter 7! :)


Harry wandered aimlessly around the castle, having no real purpose. He'd helped the others with clearing away the worst of the destruction of the castle, but he felt he couldn't any longer. Every broken wall, every smashed window just made him feel guiltier.

He'd excused himself, and wandered off, wanting something better, something more useful to occupy his time, but nothing had come up. So now he was just wandering around being even more useless than he was before.

It was now late-afternoon and the castle rang with voices. Re-enforcements had been called in from the Ministry, professional magical masons, restorers and enthusiastic volunteers poured into the castle, eager to help. Kingsley had gone back to the Ministry, the Hogwarts professors were leading the clear-up, Dumbledore's Army were helping co-ordinate everything, the Order of the Phoenix was out there helping round up more Death Eaters, Remus was back at St Mungo's with Tonks who'd now regained consciousness … and still Harry was here, feeling like the proverbial fifth wheel.

He scuffed some debris with the heel of his shoe. He needed something to do!

He emerged into another corridor which was seemingly untouched by the battle, when he noticed another figure already occupying it.

Martin Emrys was standing halfway down the corridor, closely looking at a painting hanging there.

Harry started towards him. He noticed as he drew closer, that Martin was staring at the painting with a strange emotion on his face. It was intense, and made Harry feel rather invasive.

Harry looked at the painting. It seemed fairly nondescript to him, being a simple landscape of some ancient castle, but Martin was staring at it so fiercely it was almost as if he wanted to climb into it himself.

"Hey," Harry said, speaking quietly, somehow he felt this was a private moment.

Martin started and looked around as though alert for danger, but relaxed when he saw Harry.

"Oh, it's you. Hi."

Harry moved closer, himself looking at the painting. As he drew nearer he saw a tiny bronze plaque underneath it, spotted with age, with the word Camelot clearly engraved on it.

He looked back up at the painting with increased interest. This was Camelot? It was different than he would have imagined, certainly nothing like the films he'd seen at the Dursley's when he was younger.

"Wow," he said. "It looks grander than I thought."

Martin smiled, almost sadly. "It was said to be the greatest city that ever existed. The epitome of tolerance, peace and chivalry."

Harry looked back at it. "What happened?"

Merlin sighed, looking grim. "King Arthur died, and with him, all that he believed in. The kingdom crumbled away, the people forgot all that had been good. They began to fear magic once again, and the magic of the Old Religion fell into decline. Within fifty years of Arthur's death, it was nothing more than some forgotten backwater settlement, known for its degradation. Its glory was lost, never to be regained."

Harry heard the sadness in his voice. "But what about Merlin? Couldn't he have done something?"

Martin looked at him strangely, and when he spoke his tone was bitter.

"Merlin wasn't there when Arthur died, He'd been tricked by Morgana, his enemy. She led him into a trap. No one knows what happened to him after that. Some say he was killed by Morgana, others that she had him confined inside a crystal cave, and that he is still alive, ready to return when he is needed."

Harry looked at him closely. "And what do you believe?"

Martin looked back at the painting. "I don't know. Perhaps he will return one day."

Harry frowned. "I hope so, and I hope it'll be soon. I really need him."

Martin laughed. "Perhaps you don't need him as much as you think. You underestimate yourself, Harry."

Harry made no answer to this. Then another question popped into his mind, something he'd meant to ask Hermione.

"What is the Old Religion anyway? I get that it's really powerful and all, but what else?"

Martin looked suddenly wary. "No one really knows much about it. It was like a sort of external force, ever present in the world. It existed in all living things, in every person, in some more strongly than others. These people were able to harness this power to use magic, really powerful magic, wandless, and commanded by words from Old English, rather than the Latinised spells you use nowadays. Then, Arthur died, and for some reason the Old Religion fell into decline, and although it's still out there, people have lost the knowledge and ability to be able to harness it again."

Harry listened avidly, trying to make sense of it all. "But, how was Voldemort able to use it?"

Martin sighed. "I wish I knew."

They stood in silence a few moments longer.

Harry sighed. "I just wish there was some way to find out more about what I'm facing. Kingsley won't let me help at the Ministry, but I need to know as much as possible about all this if I'm to one day defeat him. I feel like there's nothing I can do."

Martin turned to him, a slight mischievous glint in his eye.

"From what Dumbledore tells me, you've never really been one for following the rules. Perhaps there is a way you can help."

"How?" Harry demanded.

Martin smiled at him. "I hear Hogwarts has quite a good library …"


"Remind me again why we're doing this?" grumbled Ron, as they entered the library.

"Be quiet Ron!" chided Hermione. "If Kingsley won't let us look at the Ministry then we might as well try here!"

"Yeah," said Ron sceptically. "I'm sure the answer to all our problems will be found in a school."

"You never know what might be lurking in a forgotten corner," Martin said, winking as he passed by them and headed into the cavernous Hogwarts library, miraculously undamaged.

Ron huffed. "There isn't going to be anything here! The Old Religion stuff's been lost for years!"

Hermione didn't look fazed however, and began peering at dusty titles on the shelves.

"You never know what you'll find at Hogwarts, Ron," she said distractedly. "The castle's over a thousand years old; there's bound to be references to the Old Magic."

Ron wasn't convinced. "The Ministry will find it, Hermione, you heard what Kingsley said; they've got more official records than anywhere! Why would all this knowledge be here?"

Harry moved past him to Hermione's side, and began examining books of his own. "I'm not just going to sit back and let the Ministry handle everything, even if it is Kingsley who's in charge."

Ron scowled. "This is some sort of pride thing isn't it? You still feel like you have to make up for not finishing Voldemort off aren't you?"

Harry whirled around to face him, anger simmering beneath the surface. "This is nothing to do with my pride, Ron! Voldemort is still out there! And we need all the information we can get!"

Ron said nothing, and Harry returned to examining the bookshelves, his heart pounding. He observed Martin observing him out of the corner of his eye. He looked more amused than anything, watching their interchanges. Harry felt a slight unease; he trusted the man, but he was still too mysterious for Harry's liking.

"Will you help us?" Harry asked him.

Martin looked down the aisles of the library, lined with the ancient volumes.

"I'll try," he said. "But this library looks huge."

"Too right," grumbled Ron, looking around miserably.

Hermione took charge. "Well, I suggest we start from the beginning. The oldest books are at the very back. There's bound to be some references in there."

They moved down the aisles, their footsteps ringing out in the empty library. Harry was disconcerted. He'd seen the library empty before, but now it seemed almost ominous as he considered the fact that the answer to his problems may be hiding here.

They approached a small alcove at the very back of the library. The air seemed to be tingling with a magical energy, books so ancient Harry was surprised they were even still intact lay heavily on dusty shelves.

Hermione approached them reverently. "There's a whole host of protective charms on them naturally, to keep them from crumbling into dust. They're centuries old; some of them even belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw herself. "

That explained the tingly magic about the place, Harry thought, looking at the books in interest. Their titles looked faded and worn away, some written in languages he couldn't begin to understand.

"Are you sure we'll be able to read these, Hermione?" Harry asked. "Hasn't writing changed a bit over the years?"

Hermione gasped. "Oh yes! I completely forgot!" She thought for a moment. "There ... is a charm that might help. It translates the written word; no help in translating actual speech of course, but it might just … " She broke off biting her lip. "It's incredibly complex …"

"Leave off, Hermione," Ron said. "If anyone could do that spell, you could."

Hermione flushed slightly as Ron's praise. "Well, I might … but it would be a whole lot easier to just read them. The spell isn't fool-proof and it's very slow."

"I can help there," interjected Martin. "I used to help my father with his research, and a lot of that involved reading ancient manuscripts. I might be able to translate a little."

Hermione's face lit up. "Really?" she breathed. "That'd be really useful!"

"Yeah," said Ron, looking bored. "Listen, why don't you two read these ones, and Harry and me will go and look somewhere else?"

"Where?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno, the Restricted Section maybe? I bet there's loads in there. I mean, it's where Voldemort learned how to make Horcruxes."

Hermione looked doubtful. "I don't think we should …"

"Come on Hermione!" said Ron. "You don't need to worry about rules for Merlin's sake! Madam Pince isn't even here! Besides, I reckon we've done enough to be allowed in there anyway!"

Hermione nodded, reluctantly. "I suppose. Just be careful will you? Some of the books in there are quite nasty."

Harry nodded, remembering only too well the books he'd encountered in the Restricted Section in his first year.

They walked off, stepping over the low rope that covered the entrance to the Restricted Section, leaving Hermione and Martin heaving down copious ancient volumes.

Ron ran his fingers along the spines of the books, looking wary.

"D'you really reckon we'll find anything here?" he asked Harry doubtfully.

"Only one way to find out," said Harry, reaching for a book.


Merlin's eyes were beginning to glaze over as he skimmed over the passages in the ancient book they were perusing. It was deadly boring, as he'd expected.

He didn't really expect to find anything; he was pretty much sure all the knowledge of the Old Religion had been more or less lost, both due to time and his own interference. But he'd guessed that Harry needed something to occupy his time to make him feel useful, and this had been his suggestion.

He was regretting it already. Ancient writers really like to drone on, and on, and on …

He felt his eyes begin to droop

He jerked himself awake, as he began to fall slightly forwards. He needed to look focused!

But Hermione had noticed.

"Is there nothing in there?" she asked.

Merlin shook his head. "Nah, it's just some old chronicle about cauldron exports. Nothing useful."

He closed the book, and levitated back up to its shelf with his wand, and summoned another even heavier book.

Hermione watched him curiously. "How did you learn these languages? Even the writings in English from a thousand years ago make no sense to me without this charm, and even then it's dodgy at best, I don't think I did it right."

Merlin smiled. Because this is the language I grew up with.

"My father taught me all of it." He answered.

Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "You must have been really close," she said softly.

Merlin's lips twitched. "Not really. I- I didn't really see much of him growing up. I was still devastated when he died of course, being murdered and all when I really needed him. But, he left me with his legacy, you might say."

There; one of the first things he'd said in the last couple of days that was completely truthful, if a little vague.

Hermione continued looking at him kindly. "What was his name?"

Merlin hesitated. As far as he knew his father's name had never been recorded in history; Muggles had concocted some silly story about him being sired by a demon, and Merlin had never mentioned his father's identity to anybody, save Arthur and the Knights.

"His name was Balinor," he said finally. "He was wise, and brave. But he suffered a lot in his life, began to resent the world for its cruelty. He was grumpy to the point of being insanely annoying. But he was a good man."

Merlin finished, lost in his own memories. He looked over at Hermione.

"You miss your parents don't you?"

Hermione looked down at her feet uncomfortably. "Yes, all the time. They're safe, they're in hiding. But I can't help but miss them, and want them back here. But at the same time I'm afraid they'll be angry at me for sending them away."

Merlin frowned; he knew of what Hermione had had to do to ensure her parent's safety, and he admired her courage for it, and her pure selflessness.

"They won't be," he tried to reassure her without letting her know he knew about what she'd done. "When all this is over, you'll be able to find them, and they'll be so thrilled to see you they won't even think about being angry. They'll be incredibly proud of you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione ducked her head, her bushy hair covering her face. Merlin suspected she didn't want him to see her emotional. He pretended to become absorbed in the book in front of him again, and waited until she finally gave a great sniff and brought her head back up to his level.

"Thank you, Martin," she said, gratefully. She looked down at the book in front of her and sighed at the difficult looking runes there. "I'll never get this done."

Merlin shot her a grin. "And I bet you said that about your O.W.L's."

Hermione laughed, the sadness lost from her face. "At least then I knew what I was dealing with. I doubt memorising the ingredients for a Shrinking Solution would help me now."

"You never know," said Merlin, flicking through the pages of the book in front of him. "Did you ever expect you'd have to break into Gringotts the first time you walked inside?"

Hermione smiled at him. "I've done a lot of things I'd never expected."

"Well then," said Merlin bracingly. "'Expect the unexpected', that's what I always say. Life's just a little crazy like that, believe me, I know. You never know what might be around the corner."

Merlin started staring at his book again, leaving Hermione to ponder his words. Sometimes she just didn't have enough confidence in herself, something that was uncharacteristically stupid of her. All of the things she had already accomplished at such a young age she should never have to feel she was out of her depth. He knew if anyone could solve a mystery, this bright young witch could.

They remained in silence for a good while longer, the light from outside dulling to become evening. Merlin read through the endless amounts of books. He'd read most of these before, during his many times at Hogwarts when he'd felt like doing some research into this type of magic's past, but he couldn't ever remember them being this boring. There was some pretty fascinating things written here, but he was in no mood for them. Even for the ones written by the Founders.

His mind wandered back to Voldemort's final appearance, and the words he'd spoken before he'd vanished. The true path to immortality … the powers of the Old Religion …

"Oh!" squeaked Hermione, grabbing a book closer to her.

Merlin turned sharply. "What? What have you found?"

She pointed at a line of text. Merlin stood up and moved over to her, reading over her shoulder with relative ease the words she'd so painstakingly translated.

'The magics of the Old Religion have been forgotten by most peoples since the downfall of the great Myrddin. But some still say that the power lives on, and even once walked the hallowed halls of Britain's most prestigious magical establishment. The Founders themselves were once said to have had this power in abundance."

Merlin frowned. This wasn't exactly true; the Founders certainly had had very powerful magic, some of it contrived from the Old Religion which had seemingly bestowed it upon them for some greater purpose, but they had never actually used Old Magic. At least, not the same kind he had.

The name Myrddin also slightly annoyed him. He'd never gone by that name! Silly Muggle rumours …

Hermione turned to stare at him, her mouth open. "The Founders had Old Magic?"

Merlin pretended to look intrigued. "I'm not sure. They were very powerful, but I doubt they ever actually used it. It might just be someone trying to make them seem bigger than they were."

Hermione shook her head, looking ever more excited. "But the Founders were around a thousand years ago! It wasn't too long after the time of Merlin was it? Maybe some of it still survived?"

Merlin didn't feel much like curbing her enthusiasm. He might as well just let her think so. He doubted it would get them anywhere, but he could see no other option. He wasn't even sure what path he should be directing them towards. He had no idea himself of what he should do, what he should be doing to stop Voldemort and find out more about his plans.

But, maybe this would help the three of them get on track. Perhaps the Founders did have some part to play in this. He never had discovered the reason for the Old Religion bestowing that magic on them. Was this what it had had in store for them all along? Was this why he had been so compelled to teach them Old Magic, even though they had been unable to pass it on to others? Was this part of one greater purpose that Merlin simply hadn't been able to understand back then?

He'd known he'd been taken to the school by the Old Religion for the purpose of helping them build their school, and he had been able to see for himself all the good that the school had done in the subsequent ten centuries. But why had he taught them that new form of Old Magic? At first, he had believed it was because they were the people he had been waiting for, the ones to bring the Old Religion back to the world. But when he'd realised that wasn't the case, he had still continued teaching them, because he knew deep inside of his himself that it was vitally important. Was he now about to see the conclusion of those actions he had taken so long ago?

He'd never even seen the Founders at all towards their latter years, save that one fateful final day. It was possible they might have discovered something, however unlikely, something that might be relevant to Harry and his friends in the present day. He remembered vividly Helga's final words to him: the prophecy she had had of a great battle, and a boy with a lightning scar. Undoubtedly, this was Harry. Was whatever they had done in the past now about to impact directly on his life? Was he linked to them?

He noticed that Hermione was staring at him, eagerly awaiting him to agree with her.

Merlin just smiled, keeping his musings secret for the present. "Maybe."

"You two found something then?" Ron moaned, coming around the corner with Harry, whose sleeve was smoking.

Hermione gasped. "What happened to you?"

Harry grimaced. "A pissed off Encyclopaedia of Poisonous Fungi. These books are dangerous."

"I told you!" Hermione reprimanded sharply. "Never mind that now, did you find anything?"

"Nope," said Ron, throwing himself into a chair at the desk. "It's like looking for Horcruxes all over again. There's some references to it, but it's all stuff like 'has been forgotten for many centuries' or 'was considered the most powerful of all magic'. Why mention it all if you don't know anything about it?"

Hermione looked slightly disappointed, but gestured for them to come closer. "Well, I think I might have found something. Look at this!"

Harry and Ron looked at what she was pointing to, and then looked at each other, clearly baffled.

"Hermione, we can't read runes."

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, and translated. By the time she was done the two boys were looking as awed as she was.

"The Founders used Old Magic?" Harry asked, looking slightly dumbstruck.

"They can't have!" Ron said. "I remember stories from when I was a kid. They all used wands; it's said Godric Gryffindor stuck his up Salazar Slytherin's nose when they had an argument once! They can't have been using that kind of magic!"

"Maybe they used a sort of hybrid form!" said Hermione excitedly, not noticing Merlin's subtle smirk as he recalled this particular incident. "Perhaps they combined the two forms of magic! The Old Magic might have still been around in a diminished form at the time they were alive!"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, looking slightly awed.

Ron turned to Merlin. "You're the big expert in Old Magic. What do you think?"

Merlin was slightly surprised at Ron asking his opinion; he'd gotten the impression Ron didn't trust him as readily as Harry and Hermione.

"I think it's possible. It was said they had incredible power, of a kind that hasn't been matched since. Perhaps it was some form of Old Magic."

Hermione looked breathless with excitement. Merlin was suddenly glad he'd never had to witness Hermione in class or doing homework; she was positively frightening with her enthusiasm.

"Oi! You lot!"

They turned to see another one of the Weasley brothers coming towards him. Which one was he? Not the one who was chasing the dragon, but not the one who'd been fighting with Fred during the battle either … how many of them were there?

"What's up?" Ron asked, still distractedly staring at the book in Hermione's hands.

The brother came closer, and a frown crossed his features as he took them in.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked, his eyes crossing over the various books lying open in front of them.

"Just looking," said Hermione, her obvious lie betraying her.

The Weasley brother stared at her before shaking his head in resignation. "I won't even pretend to understand what's going on with you all. I'm just here to let you know mum's looking for you. They're about to start dinner in the Great Hall, and we've got some stuff to go over."

The four of them exchanged glances. "We'll be down soon," promised Harry.

The Weasley nodded, and backed away still looking curious. They waited until he had vanished out of sight, before rounding on each other.

"What will we tell them?" asked Hermione apprehensively.

"Nothing yet," said Harry firmly. "We don't know anything for sure anyway. We'll wait and try and see what Kingsley finds out before we say anything."

Ron nodded, and then looked at Merlin. "Think you'll be able to keep a secret?"

Merlin almost burst out laughing. Keeping a secret was his specialty. He didn't miss Ron's subtle accusation though, reminding Merlin that he still hadn't forgiven him from keeping his knowledge of the Horcruxes secret.

"I'll do my best," said Merlin, smiling again.

They emerged into the Great Hall a few moments later. It was busier than it had been that morning, with the extra workers called in to help restore the castle. The Weasley family wasn't easily missed; a gaggle of red-haired people were crowded around each other at the Gryffindor table.

They made their way over to them, Harry and Merlin both purposefully ignoring the stares that seemed to accompany them. As they approached, Mrs Weasley broke off the group and hurried over to them, pulling the three younger ones into a huge enveloping hug.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you're all alright!" she said, pulling back to look into their faces. "I haven't seen you all day! What have you been up to?"

"Just helping out, you know, Mum," shrugged Ron. "Cleaning up the mess the Death Eaters left."

Mrs Weasley stared. "You cleaning? If only you were so inclined to do the same thing in that pig sty of a bedroom of yours!"

The tips of Ron's ears turned red, and he hurriedly sat down at the table and tucked into some roast pork, Harry and Hermione sitting on either side of him.

Mrs Weasley turned to Merlin, a hesitant expression on her face. "You're welcome to join us too, dear."

Merlin smiled at her. He liked this woman. He was guessing she had forgiven him for his decision not to help Harry Ron and Hermione on their 'Horcrux Hunt'. Or was at least trying to.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," he said graciously, and sat himself at the table across from Fred Weasley who smiled at him.

"So, what's going on?" asked Ron with a mouth full of food, ignoring Hermione's look of disgust.

"We're all leaving," said Mr Weasley, who was sitting between his two oldest sons; Merlin still didn't know which one was which. He really should know; he'd been at Bill's wedding in disguise for goodness sake! But he'd had other things on his mind at the time.

"Leaving?" echoed Harry, looking at him. "Why?"

"The Ministry is moving in several Aurors and other officials," answered Mr Weasley. "They're going to finish up the job of restoring the place. They have to redo all the wards around the castle, the Death Eaters left them in ruins and we can't leave the school unprotected. It's easier for them if we get out of the way."

Merlin saw Harry, Ron and Hermione look at each other with a barely concealed disappointment. He knew they were desperate to resume their search for more about the Old Religion.

"Where will we be going?" asked the Weasley girl, who Merlin had only just noticed sitting on the opposite side from her mother from him.

"Grimmauld Place," her father answered promptly. "It's been cleared of all the Death Eaters that were living there and the Fidelius Charm's been recast. Kingsley's the Secret Keeper now. Which reminds me."

He pulled out several scraps of paper, and distributed them around the table. He hesitated only briefly before handing one to Merlin.

"Kingsley told me to give you this, and to tell you he hopes you can become a useful and integral part of the Order of the Phoenix."

Merlin took it gratefully. "I'm honoured he's including me in this. We've only just met."

Arthur smiled at him. "You've made quite an impression."

Merlin bowed his head, and made no answer. He read the scrap of paper quickly. It was what he had expected; the location of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix written in Kingsley's elegant script. He'd never actually been inside of Grimmauld Place. He'd known it had existed, but Dumbledore had never seen fit to give him the location. It wasn't out of mistrust, he simply believed it just wasn't necessary.

He was touched, and glad that Kingsley had made this gesture of good-will. He hoped this meant they were truly beginning to accept him.

The conversation drifted back towards Grimmauld Place.

"When will be going, Father," asked one of the older boys- Percy?

"Tomorrow morning," replied Mr Weasley. He smiled at his son in an expression of fondness, and Merlin remembered with a start that until recently one of the Weasleys had been estranged from the family; it looked like all was forgotten. "It'll be quite crowded with all of us there, but it'll be easier than at the Burrow- we'll be more accessible to the Order this way. We're trying to coordinate all our efforts in a single place. Of course, with Kingsley as Minister now, London's the obvious choice."

"Will we still not be allowed into the Order meetings?" asked Ron dully.

Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at each other for a few moments before answering.

"Actually, Ron, Kingsley believes that after all you've done, you've earned the right to become fully-fledged members and take part in all our activities. And, well, your mother and I quite agree."

Mrs Weasley nodded, her expression determined, with only a tinge of worry.

Harry looked up brightly. "Good. Then we can help instead of sitting around."

Mr Weasley nodded. "There's a lot to do to try and get the country back under our control. We'll need all of you to help."

The three of them grinned, and Merlin was happy they now had a feeling of purpose.

Mr Weasley was soon conversing with his elder sons about the whole Gringotts affair, one telling of his continued fruitless attempts to find the dragon, and the other about the diplomatic relations with the Gringotts.

Merlin listened with interest; he hadn't thought modern day dragons were intelligent enough to elude capture this long. After all, how could something so large hide itself so efficiently? Perhaps there was something of the Ancient wisdom left in them after all.

Hermione waited until Mr Weasley was deep in conversation, before dropping her voice and whispering to Ron, Harry and Merlin.

"What'll we do about the … research?"

Harry looked at each of them. "We'll wait. Kingsley might find something useful at the Ministry, and if not, we can always come back here to search. At least in the meantime we'll be doing something that'll actually strike out at the Death Eaters."

Ron nodded in agreement, and the three of them continued their meal, looking slightly happier than they had been.

Merlin however, was lost in thought. While he was glad at the thought of being able to be a part of this organisation and help fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he didn't feel that this was the right path. He still felt they should be focusing their efforts … well, elsewhere. Where, he had no idea.

But still, he thought, I might as well go with them. I'll help in any way I can, and hope the Old Religion will guide me when the time is right.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that the answer was here, here in the castle. It was as though he was being told to stay by the Old Religion itself.

Perhaps they'd be back sooner than they thought.


A/N: Well, will they find out anything more about the Old Religion or how Voldemort's using it? Will they return to Hogwarts? And will they ever catch that dragon? :)

Please continue reviewing! Seriously, they really shape my story! I've had loads of ideas that I'm now planning on including. You inspire me! :D

And please let me know if you think anyone's OOC. I've tried to keep Merlin still 'Merlin', but obviously slightly different as he's centuries older now. Don't hesitate to tell me if I'm getting him wrong, or anyone else for that matter :)