The morning light filtered through the large oval windows; bright and golden, vivid as Hermione's shiny curls - his gaze swept over the Main Hall and landed on the professor's smooth head.
It was for the best if he did not think of her.
Hydrus took a seat at the table, feeling the terse, agitated atmosphere. The air smelt of rank liquor, mixed with the putrid stench of bile. Incense burned in three of the hearths, but it only made it worse, as if someone had chewed a leaf or two of sage - perhaps the entire plant - and puked it all over the floor.
Any appetite he might have had was suddenly gone, and so Hydrus Malfoy shoved food down his throat in the cold company of the professor and Rodolphus Lestrange.
The house-elves had prepared toast and butter, all sorts of marmalades and jams, fresh fruits plucked from the orchards, scrambled eggs and hot bacon… yet the man touched none of it.
He stared into the distance, his dark eyes unfocused, brown stubble clinging to his chin. There was a sort of broodiness to him, a wave of repressed anger only waiting to explode. Hydrus thought he knew why.
Her screams had reverberated throughout the castle, jarring and shrill, waking even him, sedated under the effects of the Dreamless Sleep Potion. It seemed it was not with her lawful husband that Bellatrix Lestrange had spent the night.
The professor turned to him and set down the paper. "You ought to see this."
He reached out and set the paper before Hydrus. Lord Black took it, and reflexively, he gave a nod of thanks. It had been so very long since he had last read something.
There were twenty-four hours in a day, and he spent almost a third of that with Norberta, another quarter sparring with the professor. The words came to him, but it felt stiff and unnatural. He should read more often. The thought was a bizarre one in his mind.
A recent investigation has led to the dismissal of Quirinus Quirrell, professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, after the use of the Cruciatus Curse on a student. A warrant for his arrest has been made, yet the man has not been sighted in over six weeks.
An investigation has also been launched, regarding the competency of the current Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Wards have been placed around the magical institution to detect any use of Unforgivable Curses, and Rune Masters from all over the country have assured us that the wards are in perfect order. The Headmaster of Hogwarts was notified of the use of the Cruciatus Curse, yet did nothing, until the student herself was brought before him, shaking from the after-effects.
"It's sheer incompetence, really," says Augusta Longbottom, grandmother to a first-year student. "The man is too old to be running a school - madness has gripped him. Albus Dumbledore was a formidable wizard in his youth, I do not doubt, but the achievements of our past do not define who we currently are. I say he ought to resign. A man of such irresponsibility is not fit to be the Headmaster of any school, much less a great institution as Hogwarts."
The concerned sentiment was echoed across many parents, who have since then called for the resignation of Albus Dumbledore. For more information on pending results, visit page 5.
"I visited her," says Lucius Malfoy, member of the Board of Governors. "Such a fierce spirit, unbroken by the horrendous acts committed against her. She will be returning to Hogwarts in the fall - her parents insisted she return to the muggle world - she is a muggle-born - but the young witch refused. There is something special about the girl. A one to watch in the coming years."
The young witch will be making a full recovery, the Healers at St. Mungo's assure us of as much. As for the Headmaster of Hogwarts? His fate is not so certain.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of eating, as the professor took dainty bites of his bacon and scrambled eggs. Hydrus Malfoy looked at him.
By cursing her… Hermione would be protected by the Ministry over the summer… she could not be harmed by the Dark Lord… and when the attack came in the fall… she would most likely not be there…
I am in your debt, Quirrell. You have saved her in ways that I never could.
Their eyes met for a moment, and slowly, his thanks were passed. Quirinus Quirrell gave a nod.
Then, Hydrus Malfoy spoke.
"Will he be sacked?"
Rodolphus Lestrange turned his gaze over to them, his dark eyes swirling with resentment. "Who?"
"The Headmaster," Lord Black told him, feeling the sudden discomfort of speaking to a man who had spent ten years in a prison cell. "Albus -"
"Albus bloody Dumbledore," he spat. "All the better for us then. Without power, the old codger can't very well fathom to start his little army of squawking pigeons." Rodolphus Lestrange tapped his empty glass. "I want whisky."
Hydrus Malfoy could smell the rank odour of alcohol that clung to the man like a dark cloak. "I'll have the house-elves bring something -"
"Now, damn you."
"Mondor, a bottle of Odgen's finest Firewhisky, please."
He appeared, giving a grand bow, his floppy ears brushing against the carpet.
In silence, they finished their meal.
_(O.O)_
The news of Sirius Black's escape spread like fiendfyre across the Wizarding community. All the Daily Prophet ever posted was pictures of the illusive man; reports, accounts, false sightings and more… they told the story of Harry Potter once more, the infamous Boy-Who-Lived, the jagged lightning scar, the defeat of You-Know-Who.
Lord Voldemort had laughed when he read the article, before ordering that all copies of the Daily Prophet were to be burned and that the subscription could go on no longer.
"Filth," the Dark Lord told them. "I will not have it read in my presence."
Nonetheless, Hydrus had a good look at the paper before they were all burned, and read the various little quotations of all sorts of witches and wizards, sending their prayers, cursing the Ministry for their incompetence… others wondering if Sirius Black knew that Harry Potter had been emancipated… what would happen…
It was all useful information to have. In half a week, he would go meet with Cornelius Fudge, as he said a month and a half past in the Wizengamot courtroom. This would be good to sway the man, as the Dark Lord might have intended.
When the time came to meet the Minister, Lord Black wore his best robes and Floo'd over to the Ministry.
Cornelius Fudge greeted him with a nervous handshake. "Lord Black," he said, his portly frame jiggling as he walked to his desk.
The Minister of Magic's office was a quiet, boring place, where the walls were wooden, the floor wooden and all of his cabinets wooden. Great gaping windows showed a magically enchanted outside, a pleasant view of mountains and lakes and forests.
"There's no need to call me Lord Black, Minister," he said. "Hydrus shall do."
Not for the first time, a headache was creeping along the fringes of his forehead, cursing him for another sleepless night. They had started diluting the Dreamless Sleep Potion, half a quart of water for every two of the sedative. The nightmares had come, but it was better, the professor told him than having an addiction.
It was for the better then, that he had omitted the silver-bronze circlet from his outfit.
Cornelius Fudge took Lord Black's words with a more calm, comforting smile. "You are too kind, Hydrus. Too kind by half."
They took their seats, the Minister of Magic on a throne-like contraption that swivelled as he sat down, and him on a common, cushioned chair.
"The passing of your grandmother, Lady Belvina Black has been most unfortunate," Cornelius Fudge said. He clasped his fingers together. "It is a tremulous time for all, and for you especially. My condolences, Hydrus. I did not know her well, but I know she must have been a wise and strong woman to have influenced you as such. Becoming emancipated is such a daunting step to take, and I may only congratulate you for having the courage to do so."
Lord Black smiled graciously. "And you say I am too kind. Your words are too generous, Minister."
Cornelius Fudge fingered the edge of his ever-present lime-green bowler hat. "There is no need for such formalities… at least… while we remain in private… do feel free to call me Cornelius."
"You honour me, Cornelius," Lord Black told him.
They shared a quiet moment of satisfaction, as each smiled to themselves with barely concealed glee.
"Cornelius," he said. All of last night, he had been mulling over his words, trying to find a way to worm the information from him… "You are a competent Minister. Has anyone ever told you so?"
"You are too kind, Hydrus…"
His voice was warm and relaxed, but his eyes were sharp and eager, ready to consider the next words of his eleven-year-old guest.
"I do not wish for there to be enmity between us," Lord Black told him.
"Oh, no." Sweat had broken out on Cornelius Fudge's forehead, and he twiddled his fingers nervously. "No, no, you are a marvellous young man… I would never want for such…"
"I do not intend to return to Hogwarts, Minister," Lord Black said. "While the happenings there maybe none of my business, a close friend of mine is a student, who has been grievously injured due to… incompetence in the teacher selection process."
At the word 'incompetence', Cornelius Fudge leaned forward.
Lord Black continued. "An Unforgivable Curse was used on her, Minister. Hogwarts used to be the safest place a young witch or wizard could ever attend. And now? I am not so sure."
"Yes," he said hesitantly.
"Especially ever since the escape of Sirius Black…" Hydrus Malfoy forced a look of deep chagrin, made easier when he thought of Hermione. "He will go to Hogwarts, Minister, for that is where I should be. My friends - innocent students - they all live there. Please, reassure me that they will be alright, Minister. I understand I shouldn't be telling you how to run a school but…"
Cornelius Fudge lay a hand on his wrist. "Measures are being taken -"
"Such as what?" Perhaps he had gone too far. For a moment, Hydrus could see it in his eyes - a rapid shift, a flicker of something - but then it was gone. "I - I do apologize for what I have said…"
"No, no, no, none of that…"
"It is only… my very best friend was cursed - tortured by a professor. I do not want more harm to come to her… or any other student… please, Minister, reassure my worries… tell me I have no reason to fear."
Cornelius Fudge fumbled with his lime-green bowler hat. "There are to be Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade, security checks, the mail… security will be increased come tomorrow… plans have been made -"
"Azkaban has Dementors," Lord Black said.
"Hogwarts is not a prison -"
"My brother -" my brother whom I haven't spoken to in weeks "- my brother attends Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucious Malfoy. For his sake, and for the sake of all the students who will be put in danger because of me…"
The Minister of Magic stopped fumbling with his hat. Slowly, he reached for a quill. "A favour."
"A favour," Lord Black agreed. "But not for me. For the lives of the students inside of Hogwarts."
"Yes," said Cornelius Fudge. "Of course."
And he began to write.
_(O.O)_
The school year had ended half a week ago, but Hydrus Malfoy never would have known. He spent his days in the purple-blue dome, training Norberta to follow his every command. She learned quickly, but grew even faster, growing so fast she seemed to stretch like a rubber band. Her scales were like flakes of black obsidian, catching the light as she scampered across the green grass, a flash of gold-and-silver.
Norberta had learned to fly, unfurling her black, translucent wings, grown three feet long over the months. She flew in circles, her weight oddly unbalanced by her extra head. It took time, hours spent, watching as she dipped through the sky, flying in odd lines, before, slowly, her tail learned to compensate for what her head could not.
"Norberta," Hydrus Malfoy commanded. "Fly."
The larger of her heads - Hydrus had taken to thinking of her as Bumelia - blinked its red eyes and roared.
A torrent of golden flames escaped from her mouth, the fire catching on his Acromantula Silk robes, draping him like a fiery cloak. They tickled Lord Black, kissing him with their small, passionate lips.
It seemed, work still had to be done.
"Does it ever hurt?" His voice was hoarse like dry wood, splintering into a thousand pieces as he spoke.
Hydrus Malfoy turned around.
From behind the purple-blue dome, Sirius Black stood, his pale skin shining like ice. The Dark Lord had decreed that no mutt shall ever wear clothes, and so, the beast had been granted the freedom of the castle, as all dogs were given, to wear naught but a leather collar around his neck.
"The fire you mean?"
Sirius Black nodded vigorously. His dark hair, grown ragged inside of Azkaban, bounced as he bobbed his head, in the same delirious way it did on Bellatrix Lestrange. "Yes," he said. "The fire."
Hydrus shrugged. "It cannot hurt me. Magic is strange, Sirius Black -"
"My name is Mongrel," he roared.
Lord Black looked at the beast. I suppose it is. "Fire cannot hurt me, Mongrel. It seems Dementors cannot hurt you either. Magic has a will of its own."
"Dementors," the beast whispered. "Yes, I remember them. That's all… that's all I remember from before… before the Dark Lord saved me… he saved me from the darkness…" His hands shook as he spoke, trembling like leaves blown in the wind. "But the cold… the cold still follows… I want to be warm… can I feel the fire? Can I feel it?"
Hydrus Malfoy did not know what to do. There was a sort of maniacal glint in his eyes, a horrible sparkle of insanity that made him want to run away. He lay a finger on Bumelia and whispered, "Go now, before you scare our visitor."
The head gave him a look filled with reproach and ambled in the opposite direction, snorting grey smoke as she went. Her other head turned all the while, its fiery eyes watching Sirius Black with avid curiosity.
"The Dark Lord has ordered me to obey your every word," the mongrel said to him. "May… may I enter? To feel the fire?"
Slowly, Hydrus nodded.
The dome parted for him like the watery sheets of a curtain, welcoming the beast into the hot, dry sanctuary made to contain the only two-headed dragon to ever exist.
His gaze was reverent as he stepped before Lord Black, his bronze eyes staring at the orange flames that danced across Hydrus Malfoy's cape. "Can… can I touch it?"
"The fire will hurt you."
"Fire is nothing to sorrow… to the cold… to ice…" Sirius Black reached out a shaky hand and caressed the fiery light that danced across Hydrus Malfoy's cape.
"You shouldn't -"
"I should."
His fingers began to sizzle, growing red and hot like thin sausages. The beast let out a delirious moan of pleasure, whispering all the while, "Kiss me fire, kiss me with your passion… kiss me… kiss me…"
They were darkening like burned wood, turning black like soot.
"Take your fingers out of the fire," Hydrus demanded. He tried to move but found that his feet stayed firmly planted to the grass. "You're going to burn your fingers off. Take them out, Mongrel. Take them out."
"Kiss me," the beast whispered. "Kiss me, fire. Make we warm again."
His forefinger was nothing but a grisly bone, blackened on the edges, burned clean from the flames. Still, Sirius Black ran it across the blaze, murmuring his words in quiet prayer.
"Norberta," Hydrus cried. From a half a hundred paces away the two-headed dragon let loose a burst of golden flames.
She raced across the grass, her talon-less feet crunching anything in its way. Fifty pounds of dragon meat crashed against Sirius Black, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"Kiss me fire," he whispered, as Norberta rammed her four legs into him. "Kiss me."
Hydrus found that he could move his feet once more. He looked down at the beast, watching him clutch his right hand reverently, staring at the blackened remains of his fingers with awe. It was possible to see pale bone in three of his digits, jutting from pale flesh like yellowish knives.
He spared one last glance towards Sirius Black before he turned his eyes back to the castle. The Dark Lord would want to hear of this.
_(O.O)_
"My Lord," Hydrus Malfoy said, bowing as he entered the room.
The office was small and quiet, a table set for planning with scrolls of yellowed parchment and gilded pots of ink. Three chairs had been placed, only two of which were occupied; Lord Voldemort sat facing the door, Quirinus Quirrell to his right.
Hydrus had not had the moment to properly thank the man for what he had done… I am so very deep in his debt… does the Dark Lord know what he has done?
"And so here we are," said the Dark Lord. His fingers were thin, iron daggers as he reached for a scroll. They unravelled it with a delicate sort of elegance, spreading it out onto the wooden surface, flattening the edges before looking up. "There are twenty Death Eaters in the Inner Circle… a thousand Dementors… with the werewolves, we are perhaps twelve hundred strong. Enough to lay attack to Hogwarts… but then after that, the Ministry will be ready for us…"
Hydrus studied the parchment. It was a map of a great castle, with towers and halls and rooms and kitchens; not Hogwarts - there were too many floors, too little battlements…
"Do you recognize this place?" Lord Voldemort tapped his fingernail against the parchment. "This is Durmstrang, the greatest Wizarding Institute of Sweden. Their future Ministry workers will come from here, and nowhere else. To secure their allegiance is to secure the future of this country. Igor Karkaroff, the defector, he is the Headmaster there… had he returned that night… Nonetheless, the future graduates should be ours… there is growing unrest in the school… they do not admit mudbloods. Did you know that? I suppose you do now. Not too long ago, Gellert Grindelwald reigned with terror over Eastern Europe… there are still fanatics, there will always be. All we need to do is find them."
"More allies will come as time goes on, my Lord," said the professor. "You need not worry -"
The Dark Lord waved his hand. "Yes, yes, they shall come. But first, I must prove myself a necessary threat… it will be easy to attack Hogwarts, with the aid of the Dementors and the incompetence of the British Ministry… but then my return will be public knowledge and that cannot be afforded. Half of my most trusted Inner Circle is of dubious loyalty, the other is insane from spending ten years inside of a prison. Do you understand my current position? I have followers, yes, and I have allies, yes, but not the strength to take a country. The school year at Durmstrang will end in a fortnight. By then, should I play my cards correctly… we shall have two hundred perfectly capable wizards…."
Lord Voldemort tapped his finger once more against the yellowed parchment, a look of mild satisfaction writ upon his face. "They will need to be introduced, of course, carefully, to ensure that none lose faith and report my return to the Ministry… that task shall fall to you, Quirinus, through whatever means necessary. Your creativity and inspiration have proved invaluable to my service. An International Portkey will leave for Germany on the morrow. Bring me the two hundred witches and wizards, and I shall reward you beyond your greatest dreams."
The professor nodded. "You honour me, my Lord."
"Go on, prepare your bags."
He rose from the chair, bowed and then left the room.
The Dark Lord watched him leave, his dark red eyes a swirl of judgement. He waited until the professor's footfalls faded into the distance before continuing. "Quirinus is fickle. The man is a loyal servant; intelligent and wise, too much, perhaps. He fooled even me. A blubbering idiot, he pretended to be when we first met; a delirious fanatic. I let my guard down. It pains me to say so, but I did.
"Keep the sharpest minds close to you, my water snake. They will bring the smartest advice and the wisest counsel. But keep them happy, for as easily as they advise you, they may come to advise the enemy."
And who is the enemy? Albus Dumbledore? The muggles? The muggle-borns? The Ministry?
Lord Voldemort tilted his chin as if he could read Hydrus Malfoy's thoughts. "No one is entirely loyal to a cause. There are things in the way: past priorities, family, beliefs, morals, things a sane, humane person will refuse to give up. The insane, the… fanatics, they will drop those as instinctively as a sane man will hold. You have met them yourself: the ten Death Eaters from Azkaban. They are loyal and they will die for me, but they are not naught more than machines. They will kill, they will follow whatever my orders may be… and nothing more. They cannot serve beyond violence.
"I was foolish when I struck ten years' past. Too much blood-shed, too little stability. An empire of such type does not remain a singular empire for very long. The two hundred recruits will represent the future. I do not doubt that some will be of questionable loyalty. That is alright, so long as they are aware of the great treasures they will earn while under my service."
"I mean no offence, my Lord," Hydrus began slowly, "but… to recruit new members… is not… it is… I… forgive me, my Lord -"
"The job of a recruiter is a low one, you mean?"
"I… it is not my place to question your orders, my Lord."
The Dark Lord waved his hand. "One man can only do so much. Two minds are greater than one, so long as one bow to the other. I told you to keep your smartest allies happy, and yet I send my wisest one abroad, to do the job of a common herald. Perhaps that is, in it of itself, a great honour. Perhaps, the knowledge of what the two hundred witches and wizards shall become is glory enough for him. A smart man is no threat. A smart and ambitious man, however…"
"Is he?"
"Ambitious? Yes. Very much so."
"Then - I don't understand…"
"He is intelligent and ambitious, but no matter how smart a person is, when they are wanted across Great Britain for casting an Unforgivable, their options become limited. Remember this, my dear water snake. Remember the limitations you can place around the wrists of a person."
The Dark Lord clasped his hands together. "His loyalty has been guaranteed, at least, until a better offer comes along. What about you, Hydrus Malfoy? Are you loyal?"
"Yes," he answered immediately. "Yes of course."
Lord Voldemort gave him a look. "That is a most obvious lie. Do not try to deny it. I said earlier, a sane man can only be called sane if they are willing to draw a boundary between loyalty and life. For you… you do not care for your life… it means nothing to you. But the lives of others… a certain mudblood, your brother… your ex-betrothed. I was there in Hogwarts, underneath the turban. I could not see, perhaps, but when I possessed Quirinus, I saw. I saw you, as you cried over the termination of your betrothal, as you cried over the pain of your flames. You are very much an eleven-year-old boy. Perhaps I should have known of their inherent immaturity… it was unrealistic for me… to expect a cold being prepared to lay down all that he had known… after all… that is not you…"
Hydrus Malfoy did not know what to say. "My Lord… I -"
"I am loyal? Loyal until where? Your best friend is a mudblood. Quirinus cursed her. I know very much about the impact it has had on your relationship with him. I was there. I heard. I see, now. How can the ruler of a faction of my empire be sympathetic to the mudblood cause if he is to rule in an anti-muggle empire? But then I thought, perhaps it is alright that he is kind and compassionate. Rulers stay rulers because of the control they have over their people. For some, it means fear. For others, it is kindness and justice. For most, it is a combination of both. But where do you draw the line? Do you terrorize the commons, or threaten them with punishment? Do you sprinkle gold galleons from the sky, or do you withhold the precious currency, to be given only to your most loyal? Difficult questions to answer. For most, it is easier to be feared than to be loved. More stable, in the short term. And yet… I will never die. Perhaps peace is easier. Perhaps kindness is truly the way to govern… nonetheless, regardless of what I hope to achieve, necessary sacrifices must be made…"
Lord Voldemort looked at him. "Tell me, should the day arrive, whose side will you choose?"
Hydrus Malfoy weighed his words carefully. "The right one, my Lord."
"The right one?" he repeated mockingly. "Now which one is that?"
"The one… the one which shall bring me the greatest rewards."
Lord Voldemort smiled. "You learn quickly, don't you? Serve me well, and anything you wish for shall be yours… even the mudblood… she'll be kept alive…"
"And how do you mean for me to serve you, my Lord?"
His fingers were busy as he spoke, scrawling words down on a piece of yellowed parchment. "A stable rule can only be bought when a man's key members are loyal to him, and no one else. Do you know why Quirinus taught you to use a crossbow? A knife? A bō?
"Magic leaves its traces, my water snake. Hogwarts will have stronger wards, now that you've spoken with Cornelius Fudge, nonetheless, no amount of magic will ever be able to detect common muggle oddities such as these. Complex enough to kill, yet so very simple that it does not require magic to function…"
He admires them, Hydrus thought with disbelief. He admires the very thing he swore to destroy.
The Dark Lord followed his thoughts. "They develop quickly. To make up for their lack of magic, they have created bombs, nuclear weapons, other things… means of communication… devices that wizards never once could have imagined… I was alive during the Second World War - the muggle one. Do you know how it ended, my water snake? Of course, you don't. Muggle history is irrelevant to your life."
His dark red eyes were a swirl of power as he continued. "It was a nuclear weapon… a bomb… levelling Japan… I heard the news… when everyone cheered… they were saved… that was forty-five years past. What other horrors have they developed? We cannot win a war against the muggles, my water snake. Yes, I know very well what you think. The great Dark Lord fears muggles! A ludicrous thought… yet the truth nonetheless. I am sorry - I truly am - for all the mudbloods who may need to lose their lives for this… the pureblood fanatics will not follow me any other way... but if one day… the muggles discover who we are… and they declare war… we will not live to see the dawn of tomorrow… a sacrifice... to save the rest of wizardkind."
Hydrus met his gaze carefully. "I am your servant. There is no need to explain yourself, my Lord -"
"But there is. You were never fully loyal to this cause. Only, know this: the muggles are advancing a thousand times faster than we are. They outnumber our collective population one to a thousand. It is only a matter of time before a drunken fool breaches the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy… war will be declared. And we will all die. The life of your mudblood will be spared in my campaign. She is no threat to us. But her parents - her family… they will all go. It is either them… or your brother."
Lord Voldemort took Hydrus Malfoy's chin in his hands. "Do you wish to see the corpse of your brother? Burned to the bone for being a wizard? No. Of course, you do not. Save him, my water snake. Steps must be done, care that must be taken, sacrifices that must be made to build a better world. Or we can die. At the hands of the muggle race. Do you want that, Hydrus Malfoy? Do you want to see Draco die at the hands of muggles?"
"No," Lord Black whispered. "Never."
The Dark Lord gave a lipless grin. "Then tell me, do I have your backing? Until your very last breath? To do whatever is asked of me?"
Hydrus Malfoy took a deep breath. His insides were quivering, all of him shaking. The answer was at the very tip of his tongue. He knew it, from the moment Lord Voldemort started to speak.
"Yes, my Lord."
A/N:
A slower chapter than I had planned... but still pretty interesting (right?)...
Sirius Black is a very fascinating character, and even though that scene didn't technically add to to the plot... I felt like adding it in nonetheless because of how unorthodox he is.
Another interesting character I touched on today is... the great Lord Voldemort himself. I've always thought of him as a pragmatist, and being around abusive muggles as a kid would probably make him fear them if anything... what do you guys think? Feel free to let me know about your interpretation of the actions of the mighty Dark Lord.
Special thanks to KingZeRopL for taking the time to review my story!
Don't be sorry for saying that my story isn't even close to GoT - that's a relief if anything. Yeah, I think because ASOiAF is the only dragon-heavy fantasy story I've ever read... my mind just goes to that whenever I write scenes with Norberta. Thank you so much for your reassurances!
As always, thanks for reading and I hope to see you guys next week!
Cheers