Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.
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He woke up after a few hours of rather restless sleep, still feeling emotionally wrung out. Strangely the events of the night were all very clear in his memory. Which meant that at least he was spared a repeat of the feelings of dread as he realised, that yes, it was all true. He knew right away it was all true. He also did not want to get up and face the awful reality of his new-found identity.
But he knew someone would come and get him if he didn't show up soon. The lack of sunlight, which usually made the heavy drapes shine oddly in the morning hours, indicated that it had to be approaching noon. And so he pushed the covers away and sat up. Toes fishing for the slippers under the bed, he grabbed his glasses. Stared at them and put them back down again with shaking hands. Right. No need for glasses anymore. So he got up and opened the drapes and busied himself with looking for what he would wear today. On what would essentially be his last day as Harry Potter. Because tomorrow he would have to start being Corvus Black instead.
Corvus Black. He turned the name over on his tongue, felt its strange weight. He didn't actually mind the Black. It reminded him of Sirius, and it was easy enough to imagine that his godfather had adopted him. Only of course Sirius was dead. Dead. Gone forever. And the people who were most responsible for his death were … himself … and his mother. He shuddered and felt despair starting to well up. He squashed it resolutely. Best not to go down that lane. He turned his mind to the other half of his new name instead.
Corvus … now that was an unusual name. Of course, after a few years of astronomy, he knew it was a constellation, like Orion and Sirius and Regulus. Quite a typical name for his family, really. He wondered if Bellatrix had been the one to chose it. And what it meant if she had actually named him. Corvus was also the Latin word for raven. The black bird of ill omen. So ... he was the Black Raven. And ill omens had followed his life from the start. Child of a dire prophecy, his … adoptive parents murdered because of him. Plenty others as well who had died for or because of him since. A fitting name for him, then.
He stared at the faded jeans in his hands, slowly took a black T-Shirt from the shelves. Black would suit his maudlin thoughts, he decided. He just didn't feel cheerful right now. And all too soon he would have to pretend to be. Merlin, how could he make it through this day? The Weasleys and Hermione were due to arrive after lunch, for an afternoon spent happily together. Chatting, talking about their summer so far. What plans they had for the rest of it. Harry Potter would have looked forward to his birthday party, to seeing his friends again. But Harry Potter had not really made it through the night. He sighed heavily and rested his head against the wardrobe, closing his eyes in defeat.
Footsteps were coming up the stairs and along the corridor, making the old wood creak. He opened his eyes again, and reluctantly turned to face the door which opened after a knock. Remus stuck his head inside and his face clouded in concern when he spotted Harry leaning dejectedly against the wardrobe.
"Oh Cub," he said softly, crossing the distance between them swiftly and drawing Harry against him to give him a hug.
"I ..." he broke off in frustration. "I wish I could tell you that everything will be all right. But that will not help you right now, I know. I want to ask you if you are all right," he continued, hugging Harry harder.
"But I know that you likely are not. I want to wish you a Happy Birthday … and I do … but I know it will probably feel like a farce of one to you. This is not a birthday present I would wish on anyone, least of all you." Remus gave him another squeeze, and then just held Harry, gently stroking his tousled hair.
Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut hard to keep from crying at the sympathy in the werewolf's voice. Remus was just too right. And all this was not really that much of a big deal in a way … and at the same time it was. Terribly so. Because it changed everything. His life was now a lie, or rather had been one before and now wasn't anymore. Only now he would have to lie to all his friends, and pretend to be … who he was. Harry Potter had no reality, but neither had Corvus Black. Not yet, at least.
"One day at a time," he heard Remus say. "You have to take it one step after the other. Try not to think about it too much. There is nothing you can really do about it, and over-thinking will not help. Just concentrate on getting though this day. Tomorrow will sort itself out. Things will get easier. And we are all here for you. You will not be on your own."
He tilted Harry's head up. "Come on. One step at a time. And today you are Harry Potter, eager to meet your friends and celebrate your birthday. Just think about that. The rest does not matter right at the moment," he stated, looking intently at Harry.
Harry nodded after a moment. He could do that. He lined the words up in his mind, set them to repeating like a mantra. He was Harry Potter, eager to meet his friends. He was Harry Potter, who would now go and take a bloody shower. Harry Potter would get dressed in Harry Potter's clothing. Harry Potter then would have lunch with his teachers. He screwed up his face. Harry Potter would bloody well do this. Harry Potter would go and bravely face what looked to be the last day of Harry Potter. And Harry Potter would not cry like a baby just because he didn't know anymore who he was.
He pushed himself away from Remus, nodding again. "Right," he said, looking for his wash bag while fishing his clothes from the floor, where they had ended up when Remus had grabbed him.
"I'll be down after a shower," he said simply, not trusting himself to say more.
Remus studied his face for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. "You can do this," was all he said before he left.
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Half an hour later Harry Potter, cleaned, dressed and combed – the long, curly hair was a nuisance he had decided, even if it was more manageable – went downstairs. He had avoided looking into the mirror as much as he could. It was hard being Harry Potter when you didn't look like Harry Potter. Which meant he should probably have a good long session with his reflection after they put the glamours on him.
He didn't really feel hungry, as his stomach still felt in knots from … no. He would not think of the night. Harry Potter would not think of it, and instead go and eat lunch. He pushed the kitchen-door open and felt his stomach do another slow turn as he saw the three men waiting for him. Remus was fine of course, and Dumbledore was giving him another one of his fond smiles. But Harry's eyes were drawn involuntarily to the third man, as usual dark and forbidding even though he wore comparatively light robes. Still black ones, of course. Severus Snape's face was a study in careful neutrality.
So. He could do this. Harry Potter would go and talk with Corvus Black's father, who just happened to be a teacher that Harry Potter did not like very much. But he could be polite and just not think about things. As he stood in the doorway, vacillating, he watched a frown form on his … Professor Snape's face. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Apparently Harry Potter couldn't do this after all.
"Harry? Are you all right?" he heard Dumbledore ask in concern. Harry realised his hands were trembling slightly. He opened his eyes again, fixed them on the dark-haired man whose face had gone unreadable and shuttered. Disregarded the others.
"Sir? Could I speak with you for a moment?" he forced himself to say, trying hard to keep his voice even. Watched suspicion and maybe even a trace of hurt go through Snape's eyes. Drat, he had forgotten about the 'sir' again. But the other man assented and got up, moving to the door gracefully. Harry backed up and perched himself on the stairs, aiming his eyes resolutely on the banister. He heard the door close. And drew a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly, trying to forestall the other from speaking. "I ….. today I need to be Harry Potter. And I can't think of you, or anything that happened this night, or tomorrow even. If I do, I think I'll break down." The banister was rather dusty. His finger was drawing swirls in the dust.
"And I can't think of you … today … as anything but a teacher that Harry Potter doesn't really like at all." He knew that his voice was unsteady despite his best efforts. He didn't want to look at the other man. Didn't want to see his face or what he might read there. He waited.
"I understand," he finally heard after a lengthy silence. "I will leave after we have done the charms. Do not worry yourself," the voice was smooth, soft, blessedly devoid of criticism. He felt deeply grateful for that. "Tomorrow will be soon enough."
A hand touched his head gently in what almost felt like benediction. He leant into it, felt oddly comforted by the brief contact, and suddenly bereft when it left him again. But Harry Potter would not cry that he didn't have a father to comfort him, no sir. Harry Potter was used to that. Harry Potter would go and have lunch and then meet with his friends to celebrate his birthday. He followed his … teacher back into the kitchen.
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The next half hour had been fairly torturous. The three older men had immediately started with the charms, though they were eventually forced to use a pensieved memory to guarantee that he looked exactly like he should. Fortunately, the only parts of him affected were really his face and hair, which made their work easier. The way the charms had been carefully woven together by his teachers would hopefully reduce the risk of anyone penetrating their work. However, it had taken them several tries to get it just right. All the while Harry had been sitting there, staring fixedly at the broken handle of a kitchen cupboard. Running his Harry Potter mantra through his head.
He was aware that his … Professor Snape had given him some odd, thoughtful looks, but he had steadfastly refused to directly meet the other man's eyes. Instead he had concentrated on remembering past meetings with his friends, of happy moments and laughing together. On remembering Harry Potter's summer so far. A couple of weeks being bored and ignored at the Dursleys, and then here with Remus. Which was bad, because the house made him remember Sirius, but still better than stuck with his relatives. Harry Potter's relatives, he reminded himself. Corvus Black wasn't related to them at all. Which really meant no more Dursleys, ever. He perked up at that thought.
When the three wizards had finally pronounced themselves satisfied with the result of their efforts, Professor Snape had excused himself and left. Which was perfectly all right with Harry Potter. Who would want the old bat from the dungeons spoiling their birthday after all? Harry Potter would totally ignore the way that his eyes stung. That was probably just the dust anyway. So he had gone and checked out his Harry Potter face in the bathroom, and then settled down to eat lunch.
Fortunately the other two had avoided the subject of the night before, or possibly his … Professor Snape had talked with them about Harry's problem. And a few hours and some new information should not really make that much a difference about how he felt about the man. But thoughts and feelings were apparently really treacherous and didn't want to behave the way they should. Bastards.
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And then he had been waiting nervously with Remus in the sitting room. The older man had tried to distract Harry with lively anecdotes from his travels on the continent. Harry had even laughed and enjoyed his favourite teacher's gentle jokes. But finally the floo flared and the Weasley clan descended on them, complete with Hermione. Mr. Weasley was unfortunately delayed at the ministry, and his two eldest sons couldn't get away from their work, either. Percy had not been invited in the first place.
Harry Potter was really happy to see them all. He was swept up in numerous hugs, heard exclamations of pleasure, endured being asked how he was and being congratulated on his birthday. And nobody seemed to notice that his answers were rather vague, or how often he turned their questions right back at them, asking about their summer instead. Aside from Remus, of course. He could feel the older wizard's eyes on him quite often, and his smile was reassuring whenever Harry turned to meet his eyes.
Harry Potter had the time of his life. He also had pastries, and sandwiches, and tea and Butterbeer and sweets, though he avoided everything the twins handed him. Because right now he was rather unsure about looking like anything but Harry Potter. But he laughed as Ron's hair turned green with purple stripes, and Hermione screamed in outrage at being turned blue with yellow polka dots. Smiled softly at Ginny who was retelling some of the twin's choicer escapades from this summer.
And then there were more presents. Really, he had never gotten so many presents in his whole life. Mrs. Weasley of course presented him with a new knitted jumper, and had brought a delicious looking cake with sixteen candles spaced evenly around it. The twins proudly presented him with a big box full of assorted prank items, which predictably did not go down too well with their mother. Harry suspected they would get a scolding later for leading him into temptation. If only all temptations were so harmless …
Ron had gotten him new quality gloves for Quidditch. Which was a nice present in itself, but yet another thing which reminded Harry of his impending loss. Because he would no longer be the Seeker for Gryffindor. Yes, his ban had been lifted, or so Dumbledore had told him. But he was not likely going to be in Gryffindor again. Not unless the Hat did the unexpected and insisted in putting him back there after all. And even if he should end up going back to the house of the Lions, he still wouldn't be Harry Potter, star seeker. Instead he would be Corvus Black, who likely wasn't too great at the game. Because he would have to hide his Quidditch talent to avoid comparison with Harry Potter.
Fortunately Ginny distracted him from his increasingly morose thoughts when she shyly offered him a small parcel gaily wrapped in colourful paper. The content made Harry smile again, as a small golden play-snitch escaped the wrapping. It hovered playfully in front of his nose, emitting charming twittering noises, before zooming rapidly about the room.
"It's charmed to respond to a few simple commands," Ginny explained. "Like 'come', 'follow' and 'avoid'. There are some instructions in the package. I'm afraid it's no good for training real Quidditch, but they are quite amusing and good for the reflexes."
Harry had to agree with her as he watched the antics of the small golden thing. It seemed to delight in hovering next to people's heads, only to dart away when they turned towards it. And the twittering sounded just like a small happy bird. He tried telling it to 'follow Ginny' and had to laugh as the redhead started a game of dodge with the little snitch. Yes, this was a good, happy gift. Something to make him smile.
Hermione gifted him with a dicta-quill. She thought that it would be useful for note taking, as it was charmed to write down spoken words exactly. Harry was pleased to find that it could be set to a specific handwriting. Because he would have to try to change the way he wrote. That had been another topic discussed … half a day ago. It just wouldn't do for anybody to recognise the handwriting of Corvus Black as that of Harry Potter. Fortunately he always had an untidy scrawl, so trying to write legibly instead would already go a long way to disguising his writing.
But if he could set the quill to write with his old handwriting … that would be useful. That way 'Harry' could continue to write letters to his friends. And maybe it would also be something for 'Dora to use when she had to do 'Harry's' homework. Though there might be a charm to take care of that instead. There were after all advantages to having an Auror impersonate you. And really there was an amazing number of things to take into account for their mad plan to work ...
Finally Remus had gotten him several advanced Defence books, which he tendered with a slightly apologetic smile.
"I'm afraid this is a rather boring present," he explained. "But I thought you might have use for them, what with your past extracurricular activities," he finished with a wink.
Harry just smiled at him happily and gave his teacher a hug. Naturally Hermione immediately wanted to check the books out, but Harry prevented her by laughingly holding them out of reach.
"Do you really want to spend my birthday reading my presents?" he asked her with a smirk. Which caused her to blush a bit uncomfortably and laugh ruefully.
"Well, you know me and books ..."
"Oh yes. Whoever you end up marrying will probably only ever have to worry about you eloping with a library," he teased her.
Which of course made her blush even harder.
And then they were lighting the candles on his cake. Harry looked at his friends while they sang him a birthday song and the candles flickered merrily. And tried not to feel his heart break at the thought that Corvus Black would only be seeing them from a distance.
Because Corvus had chosen having a father over having friends. At least for the foreseeable future. He might get new ones, of course. He couldn't really imagine making friends amongst the Slytherins, but he had to admit that he didn't know most of them that well. And not all of them were Death Eater spawn. Of course he was now essentially Death Eater spawn himself. He winced at the thought. Tarnished forever. But that was Corvus. Right now he was still … Harry Potter.
He met Remus' eyes across the room. Harry Potter could do this. And Harry Potter would now blow out the candles, and wish for … for …. everything to turn out all right. He blew as hard as he could. Watched the smoke spiral upwards. Saw Hermione giving him an odd look.
"You look like you need a break," she commented. "Lets grab some cake and go to the library."
Trust Hermione to associate libraries with places of well-being. He groaned inwardly, remembering what else was in the library. He followed her anyway, after accepting a slice of cake from Mrs. Weasley, who had taken over cutting it up. He was trying hard not to think of what lay ahead. He felt Remus' eyes on his back again as he left the room and turned for a moment, meeting the pointed look in the werewolf's eyes. But Remus just nodded at him calmly and smiled reassuringly.
The library was fairly dark even now, but with the windows open to the summer air it felt much less gloomy than … last night. And it was nice and quiet.
"This place is really getting to you, isn't it?" Hermione asked softly when he settled himself next to her on the deep window-seat.
"Or is it … Sirius, still?" she added hesitantly.
Trust the girl to come straight to the point, while missing it completely. He sighed. It was something he could let her believe. It was true, anyway. Just not all the truth. Not even the worst part of the truth, anymore. But still, not a lie.
And he could just imagine her reaction if he told her the truth: 'Hey did you know Bellatrix is my mum? No really, I'm her illegitimate love child with Snape. Why are you throwing up? Oh, and incidentally, Malfoy is now my cousin.' Yeah, that would go down really well.
"Yeah, it's been hard since … well you know," he allowed, letting his eyes drop and stalling a moment longer by taking a bite from his cake and chewing, while he worked out what to tell her. She looked sympathetic.
"I feel guilty, and upset, and my feelings are just such an awful muddle at times. It's hard being happy, if you know what I mean," he said, giving her a wretched smile. Let her blame any strange behaviour of his on that. He toyed with his spoon, took another bite. It was really excellent cake.
"You shouldn't blame yourself, Harry," she said, touching his hand in entreaty. He refused to meet her eyes.
"I can't help it. If I had only listened to … people ... Sirius would still be alive, and none of you would have been hurt," he told her sadly.
"So why don't you try to do that more from now on? You know, in his memory?"
He froze. She was right, of course. Now more than ever. Harry Potter had messed up big time thanks to rushing in and not listening. Or rather listen to the wrong person … Voldemort. Corvus Black could really not afford to do that. He had a father that he needed to protect. He closed his eyes. Damn, but the library was dusty, too.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?" he said hoarsely, keeping his stinging eyes closed. He couldn't let her see him cry.
"You really need to talk with someone about this," she said, her voice full of distress. "You are bottling everything up. You won't even let yourself cry." Curse her for being too perceptive at times.
"I just can't deal with it all right now, 'Mione," he finally admitted, listlessly scraping his spoon on the plate and staring out into the garden.
"There is just too much stuff going on," he added. "And it's just Remus and me here and he has been busy and … yeah, here is pretty dreadful to be at. But it's still much better than with the Dursleys," he finished quickly.
She sighed, clearly dissatisfied with him. Casting him sideways looks full of frustration. But there wasn't anything Harry Potter could do. Largely because as of today, there wasn't really such a person as Harry Potter anymore. And it was therefore time to introduce her to Corvus Black, offspring of infamous Death Eaters. He suppressed a shudder.
She was still looking at him reproachfully. So really, he couldn't be blamed if he got up and moved around the room restlessly, abandoning his half eaten cake on the window-seat. And if he ended up in front of the tapestry, absently poking at one of the burnt spots … well it was hanging there on the wall, wasn't it? Looking entirely innocent and blameless. He glared at it.
"Oh, leave the horrid thing alone. It hasn't done anything to you," Hermione chided. "And you can't vanish things by giving them the death glare either," she joked, pretending to shriek and duck out of his way when he whipped around and fixed the glare on her. He gave a short, strangled laugh and turned back to poke at Sirius' name. His face fell. And the pain he felt welling up wasn't fake, either.
If it had not been for Harry getting lured to the ministry, his godfather would not have gotten himself killed by Harry's … mother. Though of course she was really Corvus' mother. And how Sirius would have taken that piece of news was anybody's best guess. He might have gone totally spare. Not only was Harry the son of his cousin Bellatrix, but also of Snape! His godfather had hated both of them with a passion. Would Sirius still have been able to accept him? Would he have been able to see past Harry's newly discovered parents? Or would he have disowned his godson along with them? Harry kept staring glumly at the name on the tapestry.
Unfortunately he would never know. But he wasn't very confident that Sirius would have been able to take this. He might have gone crazy. Might have totally flipped out. Because well, he had to admit to himself that Sirius had not been particularly stable, either. Really, he had to hope that both Bellatrix's and Sirius' … insanity and instability was due to both their extended stays in Azkaban. Because otherwise he would have to assume it ran in the Black line. And that was not a good thought at all. He sighed unhappily.
Which finally lured Hermione over. He was starting to feel bad about that, too. He was playing her, manipulating her … when had he turned so very Slytherin? Well aside from the fact that the Hat had apparently been ever so right to want him there. He sighed some more and finally managed to pry his eyes away from Sirius' name. Instead he pretended to look the thing over listlessly. His eyes were carefully avoiding one particular spot, however.
Hermione was now actually carefully looking the tapestry over herself. "It's self updating, isn't it? I wonder what kind of spells are needed to manage that? And it all had to be woven into the initial design. Fascinating, really," she murmured breathlessly, her eyes glazing over with that look she normally reserved for particularly large and dusty volumes.
'Yes, 'Mione', he wanted to say. 'But kindly shift your gaze and notice that last little bit of self updating the tapestry did … less than a day ago, really. That little bit with the glamour over it to change the date. There. Just an inch to the right. No, don't get stuck on Malfoy, please. My cousin. Ugh.'
"The first time I saw Malfoy on here I nearly fainted," she commented, tracing the outline of his name. "To think that the prat is related to Sirius … it boggles the mind." 'Yes, it does. But kindly notice the other Black related to Sirius, will you? The one who got him killed.'
"Hmm, what's that?" 'Finally!'
"Who is this? Harry? Have you ever heard of this … Corvus Black?" 'Yes, of course 'Mione, you are standing right next to him.'
"Who? What? Never heard of the guy. What about him?" he said, back to staring guiltily at Sirius' name and pretending that he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. He didn't want to lie to her, not really. But it came so easily, so natural it was almost frightening.
"Ehm, Harry? I think we need to tell Remus about this …" Hermione said slowly. 'No we don't. He already knows.'
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Shortly afterwards the party was in an uproar. And Harry felt simultaneously proud and ashamed of himself. Proud for having pulled the manoeuvre off flawlessly … Hermione had been the one to discover the name, and she had easily bought his act of ignorance. And ashamed, because it had been an act, and he had pulled it off so well. And kept doing so when they all gathered around the tapestry to exclaim and look puzzled, or affronted, or shocked and generally were trying to make sense of it and how it would affect things. And what to do about it.
He felt like rolling his eyes. Wanted to tell them: 'Don't worry it's fine, we've got it all sorted out. And we know who the guy is. He's standing right here. Right here, lying to you with every breath I pretend to be Harry Potter.' He caught Remus' eyes. The werewolf looked pitying. And Harry Potter just rolled his eyes at him, because really, there was nothing to be done. Nothing that would make it better. He was just going to have to deal with it. One day at a time.
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AN: It finally came to my attention that I had overlooked some crucial bits of time-line regarding the summer of 1996; as I had assumed that certain events (mostly Dumbledore's curse and Snape's vow) had happened later in the year. Instead they would already have taken place before Harry's birthday. Therefore the point where this story diverged from canon would be the end of the fifth school-year, with the exception of course being the hidden real parentage of Harry/Corvus.
During the summer some events started to work out differently:
Harry did not go to the Weasleys after his mandatory stay with the Dursleys, but instead went to live at Grimmauld Place together with Remus. Thus he also celebrates his birthday there and not at the Burrow. Dumbledore had earlier informed him about Sirius' will. It was, however, still contested because Sirius' name had not been cleared, leaving the way free for Corvus to assume the inheritance later.
Also frankly, I have never liked the Deathly Hallows. Therefore I had already decided, when I started writing this story, that I wanted to leave them out. Which means the headmaster was not tempted into stupidly putting on a cursed ring. And therefore he was not dying. Which also means that Severus Snape really didn't want to make the unbreakable vow to kill him, because it's one thing to put a dying man out of his misery, and another to kill him when he is perfectly healthy.
And so I assume he just weaselled out of making the vow, what with him being the head of Slytherin and supposedly quite cunning and all. If he could handle Voldemort himself, then he should really have been able to outmaneuver one distressed mother and her insane sister. Instead he simply ended up promising Narcissa that he would try and protect Draco to the best of his abilities. And there may well be another confrontation with Narcissa and Bellatrix about the matter … later.
Also Ollivander wasn't abducted because of the Elder Wand, but simply because Voldemort wanted a different one made to avoid the priori incantatem. And depriving the wizarding world of their most important wand-maker would certainly be an added bonus.
The reason I had to explain all this is simple: since I had assumed the thing with the ring and the vow would happen later, I could have worked it into the story directly. I already had such a lovely confrontation between Severus, Narcissa and Bellatrix all written up. Instead I now had to work out why that happened differently beforehand, which feels a bit like cheating. And oh dear, the 'thing with the ring and the vow' sounds like I'm talking about a wedding!
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AN: Thanks to anybody who left a review. :)
TheSapphireGoddess: Harry is currently struggling badly with what happened to him … and well it's not even been a day. He really hasn't had any time at all to deal with things yet, and he has just had a nasty shock. It's no wonder he feels unbalanced. So if the story feels a bit depressing at this point, then I clearly have done my job! However, Corvus will be quite a bit more Slytherin than the canon version of Harry. Ravenclaw wouldn't really suit him at all, because at this point in life his main priority is survival, not studying for the enjoyment of learning.
adenoide: Which is of course probably the reason Mrs. Rowling introduced the Elder Wand. However, there are other ways to solve that particular problem. You'll just have to be patient and let me tell the story my way. ;)
