Kyaa! Thank you all so much for the loverly reviews last chapter! I feel so flattered. I really don't deserve the compliments, really.

NOTE TO READERS: I'm toying with the concept of splitting this into two books, thereby removing the need for some major time skip. Leave in your review how you feel about that.

NOW! (Smirks) Onto business…

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah. No matter how many times you hold me with a gun to my head, I'm never going to figure out that it's impossible to get the ownage papers for Yu-Gi-Oh and/or Harry Potter.

And I know that I don't own them, okay! (Cries)

Chapter Fourteen

When Trouble is Looming

"Okay, so we've got a plan."

"And what's that?"

Malik slammed the noticeably blank piece of paper, originally thought to be his grand 'plan', onto the coffee table of their little room. "We need to think of a plan!" He declared enthusiastically.

Bakura had to remember that Malik plus caffeine equaled headache and unnecessary problems. "And is that going to need planning too?" He deadpanned, his cheek resting against his palm. Malik had been like that all day, and Bakura was beginning to be bored of it.

"Gah!" Malik shouted, whirling to face Bakura. The mug of coffee that he'd been brandishing in his left hand jolted slightly, and the brown, murky liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim. "Bring Ryou out! He'll support me!"

"No he won't." The spirit countered, rolling his eyes, "And besides, he's sleeping. He stayed up all night reading like the idiot he is, and now I'm the only rested mind between the two of us."

"Isn't your body tired?"

The question was totally stupid, but at least Malik appeared to have calmed down slightly. The young Egyptian male had pulled an all-nighter along with Ryou, and was only so active due to his unhealthy intake of caffeine.

Bakura sighed, leaning back in the comfortable chair he'd situated himself in. "Yes, but it's manageable." He turned a page of his book.

"Touché." Malik retorted.

The white-haired male's eye twitched, "Okay, it didn't even make sense that time."

"So?"

"So, shut up." Bakura snapped, exhaling deeply to avoid leaping up and strangling Malik until the fool stopped breathing. Ryou probably wouldn't be very happy to find Malik had been murdered and stuffed into a closet to avoid arousing outside suspicion. Another page was turned.

Malik took the spirit's advice, and plopped down into a chair. Setting his coffee down onto the little table in front of him, he drew a book from the small pile that Ryou had brought back from the library the previous night. It was leather-bound, like a journal, almost. A small, gold-leaf dragon was stamped on the front. The title Ancient Myths and Mysteries was printed in the same golden colour as the dragon picture.

He opened it up to the first page, not really expecting anything interesting. He really could care less about the wizarding world's folk tales, and he had no clue what this sudden reading escapade had to do with anything at all. The young man blew out a weary sigh, rolling his neck to get a small kink out of it.

"What does this have to do with finding that Neville Longbottom kid?" Malik asked the white-haired male across from him. Bakura turned another page of his book, eyes indicating that he was reading.

Malik pursed his lips impatiently, "Well…?" He demanded.

Bakura turned another page.

"Jeez, are you speed-reading or something?" Malik suddenly queried, cocking a brow at the pace in which Bakura was making his way through the text.

"Or something," The spirit responded in a deadpan voice, but his lips quirked up at his little crack. "We should be finding Neville Longbottom," He continued, to answer Malik's question, "But we're not."

Malik took a sip of his coffee. The sudden need to help with the reading had sobered him in a surprising amount of time. He set the mug back down, spinning his finger around the rim of the cup a few times. He was unimpressed with Bakura's response, or lack thereof. "And the reason for that is…?"

"We don't know who 'Neville Longbottom' is." He said it as if it were plain as day. He also added that extra touch of condescending sneer to make Malik feel a little big stupid.

The Egyptian curled his lip in response to that, "Well, then. Shouldn't we be finding that out?"

Now it was a match of wits. It was like a small battle between the two of them. Whoever could outwit the other won, and the loser had to submit to subconscious defeat and the winner's superiority.

"You can if you want to."

"No," Malik argued in a heated tone, "We both should be doing that. This is ridiculous!"

"Calm down."

"Stop slacking."

One sleek, white eyebrow arched, "You're one to talk about slacking. Weren't you just on happy crack, or whatever?"

"What the hell is happy crack?"

Bakura smirked, a broad, delighted evil grin that made Malik double-take. His mind blurred through the conversation that had just taken place, and his face became sour.

"Damn." He hissed. Bakura had won. He'd managed to off-track Malik from the argument entirely, which named him the victor.

Being a very poor sport, Malik tossed the book across the room. It hit Bakura in the chest with a resounding smack, and the spirit let out a slight 'oof' at the impact. They scowled at each other for a few moments, before Malik let out a snort.

"Well, I'm hopped up on caffeine and you're not." He grumbled, groping for an excuse.

Bakura pushed the book off of his lap and let it land on the floor. Neither occupants of the room moved to pick it up. "And I'm running on zero sleep." He countered.

"That says nothing," Malik snapped grumpily, "So am I."

"Well, I'm still smart enough to not get side-tracked by the stupidest of comments."

Malik let out a very loud, very obnoxious bark of laughter, "That only helps my argument, you fool."

Bakura's eyes widened slightly, as he realized his own folly. His scowl deepened, and he shoved his nose back into the book he'd been reading before their little competition took place.

"Tie game." Malik quipped in a cheerful tone. Bitch. He added, in his head. He'd used that particular little wisecrack back when Voldemort still had them captive, but he found its use appropriate and necessary both times.

A rare smile appeared on Bakura's face. It was that of light amusement, something that was quite often lost on the spirit's demeanor. "Smart ass," Bakura told the young man, and the smile disappeared as quickly as it'd come as he once more immersed himself into the passage he'd been reading.

"What are we doing reading all this crap, anyways?"

Bakura didn't look up from his book. "We're trying to see if there was anything that ended the snake-bastard's last killing spree."

"When was that?" Malik queried interestedly.

"Seventeen years ago," Bakura answered in a semi-quiet tone. He was trying to multitask: reading and responding to Malik's questions. "I believe that's about when he was supposedly killed. He resurfaced briefly six years ago, the attempt reported by one Harry James Potter."

"Who…?"

Bakura's eyebrow creased, "He's 'The boy who lived'. According to this text, which was recorded by an unknown source within the school during the past two decades, Potter here had a hand in Voldemort's first defeat. He's also been the main defense in halting the snake's progress for the past few years. Three years ago, however, Harry was tricked by a botched Tournament final and Voldemort was reborn in a new form made entirely of magic."

Both of them looked at each other. "A new form made entirely of magic." Malik whispered, rolling the words around on his tongue.

"That's why our magic is useless around him. It's just like with this school. It's so concentrated because he is made of magic." Bakura said.

Malik frowned contemplatively, not really understanding the relevance of it, "But we already kind of figured that."

"Yes, but there's a difference between assumptions and knowing," Bakura interrupted, his eyes going viciously pleased, "This is good news. If we can access our magic soon, we could overpower him. Once we've adapted, their magic should have less effect on us."

"So, it's like building an immunity to their magic." Malik summarized. He took a long swig of his coffee.

"Not 'like'." Bakura corrected with a grim smile, "That's exactly what it is."

"Sweet."

"Indeed."

Malik gestured towards the book in Bakura's hands, "Hey, who wrote that, anyways?"

Bakura shrugged, "Don't know." He flipped the book closed, peering at the title. "Minerva…" His eyes suddenly widened.

"What is it?"

"This book was written by one Minerva McGonagall." Bakura breathed, surprise evident in his tone.

"No way," Malik exclaimed, practically leaping over the coffee table and the giant pile of books, "She recorded this Harry kid? Why?"

"There must be a connection," Bakura clenched the book tightly in his hand as he came to his conclusion. "She was certainly a teacher of his, but she must've known him more personally than that. Something else."

"A comrade?"

"A friend." Bakura corrected, standing up. "A guardian, almost. A 'guardian angel'." He smirked slightly. "All of the other books contradict the things written in this particular text. Don't you get it? She was recording everything so that someone could see the truth."

"Are you sure it's the truth?" Malik asked skeptically. He didn't want them to jump into something completely misinformed. It was a rare moment of insight for the young blonde.

Bakura nodded, "Almost positive." His fingers moved along one of the lines on a page he'd stopped at, having re-opened the book, "Here she mentions some kind of prophecy." He looked up to Malik, "We've got to find out what it means."

"Why?"

"Because Harry Potter is obviously the key in winning this war, and is this world's best card. Fighting behind him could make the difference in saving Ryou's father-"

"Or not." Malik finished, realizing that Bakura was having a tough time finishing. Ryou must have woken up.

"Go back to sleep."

Ryou's response was a jumbled, barely coherent 'okay'. The poor boy was completely conked out from his all-nighter.

Bakura let out a semi-relieved sigh as he felt Ryou slip back into sleep. His eyes rose, and met Malik's curious violet irises. The Egyptian's body language was stating that he was awaiting Bakura giving a task.

They nodded at each other, in silent agreement. It was an unnecessary form of communication, since they were alone together, but one could never be too careful.

With that, they slipped out of their room, moving like ghosts towards the main corridor.

"Damn," Malik hissed, peering through the clumps of students talking to one another. "How come she's elusive only when someone wants to find her?"

"Perhaps because she knows that we are looking," Bakura replied ominously. His frown broke into a smirk, "That or we just suck at searching."

"True."

Bakura blew out a sigh, however. He was obviously not in as good a mood as his little quips suggested. He brushed some hair out of his face in an effort to improve his searching skills. "She should be either out here, or in the Great Hall."

"Let's go in, then." Malik indicated past giant, open double-doors leading into the Great Hall, "I can't see her out here."

Bakura nodded, following Malik as they moved silently through the crowd, only noticed by a select few students. One of whom was Draco Malfoy, who looked on with an indiscernible expression on his face.

"Hey, Draco,"

He looked up, to see Crabbe and Goyle staring at him expectantly. The young blonde male put on his school-famous sneer and crossed his arms. "What?"

"Didn't you hear me?" A boy asked. He was tall, but muscular. That, at least, was evident through the fabric of his shirt. He had shaggy brown hair, pulled back into a low ponytail. Side-bangs framed a sharp face. His eyes were a deep blue, considered a calming colour. This male was anything but calm. In fact, he was quite hot-headed, and extremely good at ruining reputations.

Malfoy looked at the boy from a side-angle. It was a subtle way of asserting dominance in a conversation. He was above this boy. "Obviously not, or I wouldn't have asked." A cruel smile worked onto his face, "Try speaking up next time, Darius."

The brunette scowled, clenching his fists, "Whatever." He met Malfoy's eyes evenly, "I asked you, did you hear the news today?"

"No, why?"

Darius's smile was crueler than Malfoy's had been when he was mocking the brown-haired male. "The Dark Lord got wind of Potter, and some of his men tracked them to the suburbs of London. Says they escaped by Apparating, but that red-haired kid…Weasley. He got splinched."

"Did he die?"

Darius gave Malfoy a curious glance at the genuine question, spoken without a hint of amusement or meanness. "No, the mudblood girl fixed it up before any of Voldemort's men could stop her. He's right mad, they say."

Yes, completely insane. I agree. But Malfoy knew that the 'mad' he was thinking about wasn't the 'mad' that Darius had been referring to.

Darius frowned, "You know what, Draco?"

"What?"

"You've been awfully off lately." Darius continued, his eyes boring into Malfoy's. Draco was careful to school his expression almost completely, even adding a nice little sneer for effect.

Barely here a month and they're already onto me. Malfoy growled, berating himself for being such an utter failure of an actor.

Crabbe and Goyle blinked, both stupidly awaiting Malfoy's beck and call. The young blonde male glanced at his two friends, before turning back to Darius. "How about we take this elsewhere…?" His eyes narrowed, "You obviously have something to say to me."

Darius smiled, "I do."

"Then, shall we?" Malfoy indicated for them to leave the hallway and head down a less populated corridor. The young man glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, "You two head back to the dorms. I'm fine here."

"But Draco, we-"

He cut Goyle off, "No. It's fine. This is between Darius and me, not between all four of us. Go." He all but hissed the last instruction.

The two boys scampered off like their butts were on fire. Malfoy snorted slightly, which actually kind of worked for his whole act. Perhaps Malik and Ryou were right. Crabbe and Goyle weren't his friends. They were more like cronies.

He shook his head slightly, to dispel the thought. There was no way that he could be letting anyone, two almost-strangers of all people, get under his skin. He had to keep his cool. Stay collected.

Darius walked beside them as they made their way through the crowded hallway. It only took them a few minutes to find an area that was almost entirely deserted.

Malfoy turned to his fellow Slytherin, "What is it, Darius?"

"I'll make this quick." Darius sneered, something fairly akin to Malfoy's own trademark expression. "I'm onto you. Don't think that I haven't seen you fraternizing with those beneath us." Huh. So now there was a social scale that divided the Slytherin house? He only recalled 'fraternizing' with fellow Slytherins. "Don't think that I don't know that those prefects are on your tail. I've seen them talk to you." Yeah, more like plotting with them.

"What are you implying?" Malfoy asked in a cold voice, his eyebrows knitted slightly. He didn't like that Darius seemed to be more on his trail than anyone else was. Like a true Slytherin, this guy was disloyal to the bone. He'd ruin Malfoy's reputation in a heartbeat, given the opportunity.

Darius's mouth twisted into an ugly smirk, "I'm implying, Draco, that you're different now. Whatever happened between you and your father dearest over the summer made you start questioning the Dark Lord's ways. I'm not stupid. I can see it." His grin grew, "And all I need to do is prove it."

"Feel free to try," Malfoy snapped, pushing his best intimidating act onto Darius, "But you're wrong."

"Anyone would say that. It's called denying the truth." Darius scoffed.

"I'm not denying anything."

Darius snorted, turning away from Malfoy slightly, "I just wanted to tell you to watch your back a little better. I'm going to be keeping an eye on you. The first chance I get to prove that you're becoming a follower of Potter, I'll expose you school-wide. Maybe even turn you in to the Dark Lord."

"He favors my family to yours, I recall." Malfoy watched as Darius's expression turned sour. It was a dirty trick, pulling family rank in a debate that really had no place for such a comment, but Malfoy was feeling a little desperate.

"Not for long." Darius hissed venomously, his eyes narrowed into hateful slits, "I'll make you a disgrace. You are a disgrace."

Malfoy didn't respond. Darius threw him one more vicious glare before stalking away, trying to keep his back straight and his nose up. Draco knew well that his family remark had just made Darius a powerful enemy. This was not looking good. He would definitely need to take Darius's advice, and keep a keen eye out for unfriendly eyes. He'd have to be more careful than ever.

Bugger.

Malik growled under his breath, his eyes searching for the telltale hat that would give away McGonagall's whereabouts. There was no hat to be found.

"Where the hell is she?" Malik grumbled. It was fairly obvious that the teacher was not in the Great Hall. Neither was she in the main foyer area.

- Where could she possibly be? -

"It's a huge school, Ryou."

- Well…yes… -

Bakura's mind snapped back to reality. He'd been quite put out also, not being able to find McGonagall. He'd really hoped that they could find the damn woman and ask her questions about this Harry Potter child.

He was starting to get more and more annoyed about the fact that this woman was obviously playing some powerful cards in this stupid game.

Still, her prowess at fighting a war had nothing to do with how annoyed Bakura was. Seriously, they'd even pinned students against walls and demanded if they knew her whereabouts. About all the information they'd gotten was begging that they didn't know and if they would please, please, please not kill them.

Malik kicked a loose piece of stone as they passed the courtyard. It was a bright, sunny day outside, but the two prefects were lurking in the shadowed, stone pathway. It was already a little cool outside, due to the ever-looming winter weather, and it was even colder in the shade.

The two of them were far too preoccupied with their task to really care about how cold it was.

"May I ask the two of you why, exactly, you've been searching for me all day?"

Malik and Bakura spun around simultaneously at the familiar voice. McGonagall was standing behind them, in all of her stereotypical witch-clothed glory. There were darker-than-usual shadows under her eyes, and her sharp, dark irises themselves were looking a little troubled. Her lips were pulled down into a frown, and her arms were crossed.

All in all, she looked like a really, really scary teacher. Or a really scary teacher who took a liking to dressing up like a storybook witch.

"Well…?" She pressed, tapping a foot lightly against the stone pathway. Her lips pursed. She wasn't going to let them go without an answer. That much was obvious in her expression and her body language.

Bakura stepped forwards, the book she'd written, or rather, the journal she'd recorded was clenched in his hand. She didn't appear to recognize it, however, as something of hers. "We have a few questions to ask you."

"Ah?" She queried, a mocking smile twisting onto her face, "Am I suspect for treason?"

The spirit shook his head, letting out a derisive chuckle, "Hardly. In fact, we're looking for treasonous answers."

"That's dangerous ground to tread on." McGonagall warned, but it sounded more like musing. Perhaps she found their circular antics amusing. Well, they sure as hell didn't.

"Are you willing to answer?"

McGonagall's entire aura became wary, and a little distant. She was definitely not in a very cooperative mood. "Willing, perhaps, but actually giving you the answer you want may be a different matter entirely."

Malik stepped in, his hands fisted at his sides. He wasn't much for what they were doing, and it was starting to really antagonize him. "Let's stop matching wits and actually be productive for once, okay?"

Bakura elbowed him, "Shut up, before you do some damage." He hissed.

Malik's mind suddenly went back to the day before, where Bakura had made a huge show of intimidating Luna until it was quite possible that she'd write them off as lost causes entirely. His eyes narrowed. "Hypocrite," He hissed under his breath.

McGonagall straightened, facing the two boys head-on. Her hand discreetly brushed a near-hidden pocket in her cloak. It must've been where she was keeping her wand. She wanted to make sure that she had it handy, it seemed.

No matter what they said, McGonagall would not trust them simply due to their affiliation – no matter how unwanted – with Voldemort.

"Who's Harry Potter?" Malik demanded, stepping forwards to ascertain that he would instigate the conversation. He was sick, so sick of the stupid mind games. It was time for some straight answers.

McGonagall didn't appear taken aback. Her face went blank, and the blankness was quickly replaced by amused disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me that you aren't aware who he is?" One silver eyebrow arched.

"Yeah, we know that he's some kind of Chosen One, and that lots of crap happens around him." Malik snapped, crossing his arms. "Is there anything else?"

"To judge a character by such simple words is downright insulting." McGonagall admonished, folding her hands. She had decided that her wand was unnecessary. "Yes, there is much more to Harry James Potter than is said by students and teachers alike here. Very few know much of his true character, and fewer still were fortunate enough to be his friends."

"Any names in particular?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed, "I've told you before that I will not stand for needless infiltration, and that I am not beyond causing a very dramatic scene. Please, do not underestimate my means."

"Don't mistake ours, then." Bakura murmured, fixing the old woman with a very deliberate stare. His ruby irises bled a near-brown for a whisper of a second. Ryou was definitely helping the spirit along. Well-meaning confrontation was not Bakura's forte; therefore it landed in Ryou's responsibility to assure that nothing went horribly, terribly wrong…

…not that Bakura couldn't just take forceful action should he decide to do so. He'd demonstrated such power over Ryou the day before, by blocking him completely from any scrap of control that Ryou may have attempted to wield.

"How am I not to?" McGonagall queried. Her voice was very teacher-like. The hardness, the coldness, though, was still quite detectable. She was trying to mask it, and was not succeeding. Her emotional ties to the quarrel were far too prominent to let her act apathetic.

When neither spoke, she continued. "The both of you have exhibited very suspicious behavior. You disappear on a constant basis, and neither of you are willing to explain your trips. I also saw that little demonstration with Luna Lovegood. Heaven knows what the child was up to, but I can assure you, any harm to her and many powerful wizards and witches will be after your heads."

"Yourself included, of course." Bakura added, grimacing at the thought. She looked very authoritative, as she was. He knew well that she wielded enough power behind those strong features to do some serious damage.

"Myself included." She admitted with a wry, slightly territorial smile.

Malik snorted derisively. "How many times do I have to stress that Voldemort is a freak? I'm all for uniqueness, but this is one type that I'm not going to willingly stand by."

"I will stand by what I told you the last time we argued. There are far too many sacrifices in war to behave as selfishly as the two of you do. I could care less that you boys weren't involved before. You're involved now. This isn't just some juvenile adventure. There are real people dying out there, ones with families and loved ones just like you two. Unless and until you boys can accept that, I unfortunately cannot be of any service to you."

"But-"

McGonagall glared at them, harsh and unsympathetic. "Good day, boys." She was gone almost as quickly as she'd come, disappearing down the shadowed walkway and back into the school.

Bakura swore under his breath, turning and ramming his fist into one of the stone pillars with such force that the stone quivered slightly, from his strength.

"That's not going to help us any." Malik told him.

Bakura blew some hair from his face, "Yes, I realize that." He spat. "But that woman is as stubborn as she is female, and there is nothing that we can do to change her views. She finds us childish and blind, running into something that we didn't realize the consequences of."

"Well, that is kind of how it went down." Malik commented offhandedly, shrugging one shoulder in a mildly defeated manner.

"I just wish we'd gotten something out of her. She knew we wanted to know about that prophecy. I could see it. She was far too wary, warier than usual. She wasn't lying when she said we were treading on dangerous ground. We were dangerously close to something that she wants under wraps."

"And we're going snooping, I take it?"

Bakura smirked coldly, "Soon, but not yet." His eyes sharpened, "First, we need to focus on finding that Neville Longbottom kid. I'm sure that if we can't find him any other way, the Headmaster will point us in the right direction. We'll say he's suspect for the prank against Alecto Carrow a little while back."

"Yeah, too bad he'll be looking the real culprits in their faces."

"But no one needs to know that." The spirit cut in, spinning around so that he could lean against the slightly indented pillar that he'd driven his fist into not a moment before. "This Neville kid is priority one right now. We'll write off McGonagall…for now."

"She's not talking. I don't see her being useful any time soon." Malik said in concern, frowning deeply.

Bakura grinned widely, flashing his elongated canines at his partner-in-crime. "Shall we? If we can't get it out of the Headmaster, we can beat it out of some students."

"Because that's going to earn us some brownie points." Malik's frown deepened further, and his hand went to his stomach. "One sec. I think I ate something funny yesterday. I'll catch up."

"You'll catch up." Bakura said with a shrug, turning on his heel and heading towards the school.

Malik's hand went to the stone wall that only reached waist-high. Using it to steady himself, Malik leaned over it into one of the small flowerbeds. "Think I'm going to hurl…"

The pain intensified instantaneously. It was like something was eating him from the inside out. He hissed out at the pain in his stomach, cradling it gently. What the heck was this? Had he eaten something bad? He wouldn't have been surprised. Some of the food was pretty weird.

All humor was lost as agony ripped at his stomach, as if that something that was eating him had suddenly decided to tear its way to the outside world.

He crumpled, biting his tongue with enough force to drive it straight through, trying to will the bile back down his throat. He let out a tight-lipped, pained groan.

That was when a jolt of pain lanced up his body, from his toes to his head, and back down to rest at his very center. Not his heart, but his very, absolute core. He balled his hands into tight, painful fists.

He knew this feeling.

No…

Bakura slowed to a halt, his head falling down. Sweat pricked at his brow. What was this?

An abnormal shiver ran up the spirit's spine. He growled under his breath, not liking the sensation one bit.

- Yami…? -

"Hush, Ryou. It's fine. You need rest."

- I'm awake. What happened? What's wrong? -

Bakura chanced a glance behind him, unable to see Malik through the throng of students in the corridor. The shiver returned, much smaller this time. Had he not been alert from the first one, he'd have mistaken this second one for just a chill. After all, the door was open.

A chill…

"I don't like this."

- Don't like what, yami? -

This isn't good, the spirit thought to himself ominously, running his fingers up and down his goose bump lined arm gently.

Not good at all.

Somewhere, far within the depths of the countryside, a woman stirred. She sat up slowly, her eyes focused directly upon the roof of her little tent. Her eyes snapped to the sleeping man beside her, his chest rising up and down softly in the calm of sleep.

She couldn't bring a smile to her face, at the gentle sight. Instead, she slipped out of her thin sleeping bag and unzipped the tent. Stepping into the early throws of morning, she shielded her eyes from the relentless African sun. Oh yes, it'd still be a long way to India.

Though it was already beginning to heat, the ground warm beneath her bare feet, Ishizu Ishtar shivered. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. It was a familiar sensation. One that led to terrors that she knew far too well.

She took in a shaky breath, hand covering her eyes, accidentally smudging the kohl that she'd forgotten to remove the night before. She pulled her hand back, and it was smudged with black.

To her, it looked suspiciously like a black, evil shadow lurking within the creases of her hands. She fisted her hand, trying to get rid of the image.

The first words she spoke to the new day were not happy ones. They were a pained, fearful whisper of monstrous things to come.

"It has begun."

End of Chapter

Uh-ohes! Looks like more trouble is on the horizon for our dear protagonists! What shall happen? (gasps) You'll just have to come back next time to find out! (And the time after that, and the time after that) XD

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