AN: I have been rather busy recently, exams and final year of University - alongside a busy work and social life. Please enjoy my most sincere apologies for the delayed post - but better to enjoy the update.
I do very much hope you are having a fabulous new year & new decade!
Follow for marvelously missed deadlines and to get an update.
Italics represents thoughts/Tom thinkings
Bold represents parseltongue
This represents Harry's thoughts
Chapter 7 – Restricted Knowledge
"And finally, there will be no silly wand waving in my classroom." The potion master finished his long introduction to the first-year potion students.
The classroom was dark and sinister, even for the dungeons. The windows were covered by shelves of potion ingredients, and was dimly lit by candles. The classroom had their parchment and quill out, and were taking notes on everything that he said. Much to the Professors pleasure – he preferred when the students kept quiet and listened to him.
"Mr Potter," He couldn't resist as he finished the register. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry was flabbergasted; Tom could only laugh. It was such a Severus thing to do. "Well, sir… I…" Harry fumbled a little bit. "I do not think this was covered in our textbook."
"I didn't ask if this was in your textbook, Mr. Potter, I asked: what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry noticed Hermione's hand was stuck in the air, sticking out amongst the crowd. Harry grew increasingly frustrated with the Professor, and, rather than speak and vent his frustration rather improperly, he decided to swallow his pride and stay silent. Somewhat out of character for Harry, but his Slytherin instinct told him that lashing out in public would not make the situation better.
"Do not know, do you? Let's try another – and this one is in your textbook. What is the difference between Monksblood and Wolfsbane?"
Harry took a moment to take the question in, and then visualise the two plants. Listing out the characteristics in his head, and then swallowing a little before saying "n-nothing? Sir."
Snape cocked his eyebrow ever so slightly. "Five points to Slytherin" he felt the words escape his tongue, but somehow disbelieved he was saying them. Almost an out of body experience. He shook his head slightly, "indeed, they are the same plant – aconite. Anyone who read the first-year textbook 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' would know this."
Snape made a mental note and then went back to tormenting. "Weasley, you're not even writing that one down. You must an expert. Where can I find a bezoar?"
Ron was utterly frozen. Harry could swear his cheeks were blue.
Hermione being rather frustrated took her chance to say, "stomach of a goat sir".
"Does Weasley need a translator now, Miss?"
"Granger, sir. Some of the rest of us might know the answer to these questions too"
"You might need to learn a different lesson – detention Miss Granger, for speaking out in class"
Hermione sat in silent for the remainder of the classroom, the first time she had ever received a detention from a teacher – or any form of disciplinary for that matter.
Perhaps Potter wasn't the same as his Father, thought Severus, despite his look the demeanour was rather different. He obviously wasn't lazy, didn't lash back too much, didn't display much arrogance – yet. Harry may not be the living memory of James Potter, rather he would be the boy that James would not be able to stand. He looked similar, but represented the opposite.
Fantastic, he heard in his head at a moment during lunch. Harry had to do a doubletake, with Tom becoming increasingly quiet around Hogwarts. We have the afternoon free, and we shall be running some errands.
Harry didn't respond with words, rather made a mental agreement.
"Harry," Draco spoke after he finished his sandwich. "Crabbe, Goyle, and I were thinking about playing exploding snap – wanna join us?"
"I'd love to, but later? I've got to do a couple of things to do – and then we need to discuss that letter. Did your Father respond?"
"Yes – he sent a draft. It is focusing on" Draco turned to a whisper, "teaching dark arts"
"Really? Interesting take." Harry nodded approvingly.
"If you approve it today or tomorrow, we can have it ready for the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet – when most people read it."
"How about an approve in principle, and tell Lucius to send the final draft. Not the first draft. Let us have it ready to print."
"Father thought you would say that, so this is the final draft. All it requires is for you to sign and return by owl." Draco was terribly excited. This was the scheming and plotting his Father had spent long teaching him about, he was almost salivating at the mouth as his prey took the inducement. His teeth were showing. It was a schoolboy tactic, get him to commit early. Bait him in with a proposed draft and when he accepts it tell him it is the real thing.
Harry felt a little bit of a pit in his stomach. He wasn't expecting the plan to go ahead this quickly. Somewhere deep in his mind, he could find another part of him saying this was a very bad idea. He didn't know if that voice was telling him that this was a bad idea because he would get caught out, or that this was wrong. He supposed the former, but refused to rule out the latter. Yet a stronger part of him was goading him to move forward – that was Tom. It shouted louder, but it wasn't clear how strong it really was.
"G-g-give me the evening to look over it." Harry slightly stammered, but forced the words out as strongly as he could.
Draco sensed it, and it made him frustrated. He refused to let Harry know this and goaded him as best as he could. "Of course, take the time you need. But you want this out as soon as possible. You know this Sunday will be the most striking time."
It needs to be done Harry. Do it.
"I know" Harry nodded quickly after him. "It needs to be done."
Let's go. Let's read.
"I'll see you in a bit," Harry spoke quickly, snatching the letter from the table and grabbing his books.
"Did you hear?" A girl at the Hufflepuff table spoke as Harry stood up to get up and leave. "I heard he attacked that muggleborn girl with a knockback jinx."
Harry's eyes latched onto the girl speaking, she had light brown hair. She was talking to Hannah Abbott, a blonde-haired girl that Harry recognised as being sorted first. As he started to stare at her, the girl got considerably quite before her mouth was mute. Hannah looked confused, before turning around to see Harry towering over them.
"Rumours are conjecture. Would be best for everyone if you shut up about it." Harry warned rather simply, finding more people looking onto the situation. The girl simply nodded her head, before Harry continued walking out of a much quieter Great Hall. As he left, he could immediately hear the entire hall burst with full chatter again, commenting on the situation.
He reached the second floor rather quickly, before arriving to a rather empty library. It was the start of term, and the only people really studying at this time of the year were seniors.
"What are we doing up here?" Harry whispered to himself, when he was confident no one could hear him.
We are here because we have some business to attend to in the restricted section.
"I thought the point of that was that it was restricted" Harry grunted to himself
It is, and clearly there must be a reason for them to keep restricted books… that's where they keep the best ones.
"The Malfoy's reform will get me all the access I could possibly require."
Indeed, but our work must begin today. I want one of the books out now, so that we have the copy. You aren't the only person in these walls to crave knowledge, but you're the only one with the backing to be able to do so.
"I do not crave knowledge"
No. You crave power. We get there using knowledge – remember when I taught you when you were younger? That's why we are not Ravenclaws. That… and the fact that all the powerful families go to Slytherin. You'd be surprised how making contacts from this early stage will change your career.
"So how do we get to the restricted section?" Harry asked rather innocently.
Past the rope.
Harry walked to the end of the library. He waited to make sure no one was listening, before putting his hand softly onto the rope. He noticed a sign in bold capital letters reading 'RESTRICTED SECTION'. The rope was colder than the room. Nothing happened as he touched it...
What were you expecting? Tom chuckled to himself. Some sort of alarm?
"Shut up" Harry simply put before lifting the rope over his head quickly but quietly, and stepping inside away from possible view. He was pleasantly surprised that it was empty.
Books lined up every corner of the walls, and there were quite a few rows. At least eight. Much of it was dusty, it was clear these books weren't touched frequently. Some appeared impervious to cleaning spells.
He could hear Tom chanting the name of a book in his head, Magick Moste Evile
"So, they just let anyone into the restricted section. No security?" Harry asked in a whisper
The old man assumes that simply calling giving it a restricted name will ward off enough students for it not to be a problem. Tom explained with a snare in his tone. Think about it, Forbidden Forest, do not go onto the third floor. There are no actual security measures to these things. But it is fear enough.
"Interesting" Harry put simply.
Not wanting to use spells in the restricted section, Harry spent ten minutes trying to find the book Tom was chanting in his head.
Just where I left it. Tom figured
Harry lifted the book down from the shelf, it was on the second row just above the dark wood table. He held it firmly in his hand, the evil presence within was radiating. He felt intoxicated by it. However, resisted the urge to open it. Rather reading the cover. It had a cold blue cover, dark and faded. It read that the author was 'Godelot'. The book didn't look very special at all, rather plain and dull. Interesting for a book with such dark secrets to tell.
We can't open it here. Tom spoke with urgency. Let us get out of here for now.
Harry slipped the book between his pile of books, and held the spine to his side – ensuring that no one could read the title. He turned his head, to find the man with the turban standing beside him. Harry's heart leaped out of his chest, and he flinched.
"Potter." The Professor spoke with great authority, towering over him. "You know that one is required to carry a note of permission to look at books from the restriction section?"
"I do Professor." Harry responded with a level of resolve in his voice. He was nervous around the Professor, not least due to the incident in the first class.
"Then to be here, you must know that some of these books, that call these shelves their home, contain some of the most powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts." The Professor asked with that same tone.
"I do Professor" Harry took a gulp before saying, with a continued sense of fear.
"Magick Moste Evile is an interesting start for a boy of your age, to say the least. I'd recommend starting with something more rudimentary. Although I do not believe the library has a copy, Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed." The Professor lifted a book out of his bag and placed it on top of Harry's pile. It read '1000 Potions and Ingredients'. "You should always have a dust cover of another book to cover the headings of these sorts of books, especially Magick Moste Evile. That would be highly questionable, even if you were studying very advanced Defence Against the Dart Arts."
Harry's eyes shot in the air as he was speaking, his fear washed away. Instead taking a more curious approach. "Yes Professor."
"If you find yourself, just say, needing a backdated restricted section note, where one got caught in one's thirst for knowledge, one will find that I will always appreciate a student's inquisitive mind over a silly rule. We both know that this is just for your academic fulfilment."
"Thank you, Professor. Of course, academic purposes." Harry could only find himself saying, before he was led out of the restricted section, past the librarian, and before walking with a hurry down to the dungeons. He stormed through the entrance to the Slytherin corridor, with eyes buried onto him as always when he entered, and slipped into the first-year boy's dormitories.
He immediately placed Magick Moste Evile into his bedside table, and took a deep sigh of relief. The book was out of his hands, but it wasn't out of sight. He knew that no one would access his bedside table, but he would nevertheless need to find a cover for it soon.
Harry scattered the rest of the books on his bed, before sitting down in one of the soft armchairs in the room – to read the final draft for his insert into the Daily Prophet.
Suppression of Magic
Students at Hogwarts of this age will not learn a suitably strong variety of spells which is fit and proper for a wizard of the modern age. The lessons we should be learning from our most recent and terrible past is that ignorance of Dark Magic, and the subsequent taboo of the sort, is what is driving extremism in this wonderful world. The shunning and blanket ban placed on much Dark Magic has created an environment of fear and resentment, and ultimately led to the growing popularity of the most recent Dark Lord. It brought about prolific cults that rightly gave people an environment to pursue their curiosity, but that created a problem where people slowly fell down the slippery slope into joining an evil entourage – initially a movement that fought for past grievances but that went too far.
For we must make it clear, fellow wizards, that Dark Magic is not evil. Not at all. It is too often a blanket term for magic unknown or undeveloped. We do not grow by hiding from the dark, rather embracing the unknown and developing our talents further. Finding the unexpected, and taking a leap into the unfamiliar. Progress isn't made by sticking with what we know, and our continued failure to realise this has led to us repeating the same mistakes to insanity. For the longest period in history, we have been stuck in this age where our abilities are restricted and our learning narrow and incomplete – all too while institutions like Durmstrang soar in ability.
Pureblood families should have their rights extended to teach and encourage this fantastic family practice among their children, otherwise we fear that they explore their curiosity in an unhealthy environment. That involves restricting the power of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, particularly the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office and Investigation Department, to conduct raids on family homes in search of family heirlooms and treasure that some ignorant few consider dark. Heirlooms should be exempt from such things.
This unjustified persecution also comes with an economic cost. With less money being used to strain and stifle talent and knowledge, we can free up funds in our economy to unleash investment back into the country – in the forms of cuts to taxes on businesses. Cutting bureaucracy, we can unleash the private sector and the potential of our economy.
Signed _
The first instalment of a series of reports from Harry Potter, exclusively for the Daily Prophet.
Harry sat the piece of parchment back onto his bed, in deep contemplation. He found himself not necessarily disagreeing with anything written down, but he found himself in a situation where he didn't know enough about the situation to really form a rounded opinion on it. Tom always taught him that he should never put his name to something without knowing the substance and the implications of this, but for once Tom was encouraging this. Harry couldn't help but wonder why this was the case.
It is good, powerful stuff. I am impressed with Malfoy. Tom mused in his head in agreement.
"How is anyone going to believe I wrote this?" Harry murmured to himself.
Harry these are good ideas. Pureblood families will continue to practice this magic anyway. Removing the stigma and the divide can only be good, not to mention the potential economic upside.
"It reminds me a lot about that book I read in Lucius' house, about how the lack of understanding of purebloods and the stigma around Dark Magic caused the Dark Lord to develop in such a prevalent way. The muggleborns and, to a lesser extent, the half-bloods, were fearful of the traditions of purebloods. Rather than seek to understand, they outlawed it. Purebloods rightfully resisted." Harry mused in his head.
Of course. Good. It makes sense when you think about it. Tom fortified in his head. Dark Magic is pure magic, and, because it is harder and more confusing, people try to stamp it out – but you can't stamp out an idea or the truth forever. People always rediscover.
Harry picked up his quill from the top of his desk, dip it into the dark messy ink, and scribbled his name onto the page where he signed it. He signed it thinking that he would be able to sleep on it that evening, and send it off to Draco's Father in the morning. The letter shut itself with a snap, and it whisked and bounced itself out of the crack in the half window. Harry tried to reach out to stop it, but to no avail.
"Shit." Harry simply said.
If Tom could smile in, he would, but Harry could feel a cool relief in his head instead. It did make him feel a little settled. He knew that it would be too late to change anything realistically, but that it nevertheless was likely to have been a good decision – perhaps a decision taken away from him. This would be only the first instalment, yet it set the tone.
Harry picked up the Dark Arts book Abraxas Malfoy bought him for his birthday, and began to read for hours. He copied the little flicks of his wand as outlined in the books, and practised often against the book. Memorising the wand movement was as critical as saying the incantation, and having the energy and willpower to cast a spell. For magic depleted a wizard's energy when they used spells, but Dark Magic had the extra component of requiring will and emotion. That raw power amplified the force of spells. Few wizards were willing, never mind able, to harness this effectively.
The book Abraxas gave him focused a lot more on the theory side of Dark Magic, how useful it was, and why purebloods practiced it. He had an inkling that the book Tom sought out, Magick Moste Evile, was a little bit more practical and advanced.
Draco walked into the dormitories alone half an hour before dinner, having finished his games with Crabbe and Goyle.
"Have you got the letter there Harry?" He asked as he was surprised to see Harry in the room.
"I sent it off," Harry said. "I wanted to send it with you, but when I signed it automatically flew away."
"I forgot to say, contracts and things with your signature often leave immediately – to protect the sanctity of the contract." Draco admitted. "One will be kept with the Daily Prophet, and a copy will appear on Father's desk."
"So, that's it?" Harry asked. "We just wait until it is published on Sunday morning and await the response?"
"Exactly." Draco smiled trying to cheer up his friend, "people will take it in positively. When we take over the world, we will laugh back on this thinking we were silly being so worried."
Harry felt better about the situation, and they laughed together. He just didn't understand how something that he would publish, a child, would be able to influence policy decisions or public opinion. However, he was far from upset about this arrangement. "I hope so. I do not want to have to go down the other route of achieving power." Harry laughed half-jokingly.
"The first step on the path to over the world is joking about taking over the world," Draco countered. "You made quite the scene in the Great Hall today."
"I do not like people talking about me behind my back like that." Harry responded honestly, "I did what I had to do."
"I know you did," Draco tried to reassure him, but also slowly sway him. "People rumouring about you isn't a bad thing remember. Take pride in being talked about. It means you're getting noticed."
"I do not think I want to be known as someone who would attack a person, for no reason." Harry struggled.
"Why not?" Draco asked bluntly
Harry was short on words. "It doesn't feel right, in my gut."
"But she comes from muggles, Harry." Draco enticed him. "We hate muggles."
"That is not a reason to attack her Draco."
"You didn't attack her. The teacher asked you to perform a spell to demonstrate to the class. They are lying, they are twisting the narrative – we must not rise to it. We are better than that. Think about how nasty the muggles are… she is one of them. She is going to try and destroy our way of life, and they are traitors for following her."
"But she is a child, Draco, just like you or I." Reasoned before shouting in frustration, almost in tears. "I have this pure hatred inside of me, and I just want to get it out! I want it OUT!"
Draco tried to settle him, but was smiling on the inside. "That is them Harry, the muggles have done this to you. She is their spawn. But we must be smarter than them, more cunning. We are Slytherin. We will use every means to take them down. You have realised the truth Harry, there is no going back. Even the best memory charm in the world would leave a void inside of you, that gut feeling."
Harry nodded slowly, still shaking from his outburst.
"Think about how good it was to be with my family in the Summer. We are the closest thing to family." Draco cracked a smile. "Now get up you twit; we are going for dinner – and you're not pretending to be sick on me."
Harry laughed with him, managed to jump out of bed, and joined up to go to the Great Hall. While they were walking out of the door, Harry snuck the copy of Magick Moste Evile into the bottom of his book bag.
"Don't you just hate that oaf." Harry rolled his eyes upon seeing Hagrid, as he entered the Great Hall and headed over to the Slytherin table. Remembering how he killed a student, a person of magic.
"Yeah. He is a savage – lives in a hut in the school ground and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to the bed." Draco laughed
Harry laughed immediately with him, uncontrollably, as they walked to their seat. "Your whit never ceases to cheer me up Draco."
"What are you two laughing at?" Pansy chirped up as Harry sat down between her and Imogen.
"Laughing about the oaf." Harry smiled as gave a quick friendly hug to Pansy and Imogen. "He is so poor he hasn't got a pot to piss in."
"Are we talking about Weasley now, or still about Hagrid?" Malfoy continued laughing as he squeezed between Crabbe and Goyle.
Imogen was laughing to herself but chimed with, "not too loud chaps, the Hufflepuffs might hear you again."
"Anyone that defends a half breed might as well be one themselves." Theodore Nott said sitting on the opposite side of the table.
Looking up to Draco he felt the pressure on him to nod along in unison with the rest of the group. After a quick pause, Harry nodded his head with the rest of the group and mumbled an agreement. He looked down on the table for a moment in thought, before smiling and looking straight again. He was feeling a lot better from his outburst, he had good friends. The friends that made him feel welcome and warm, the friends he could trust. His house were people he could rely on. He turned to Imogen and began chatting again until he heard Professor McGonagall use her cutlery to hit her glass goblet and there was silence.
"Good evening all." Dumbledore greeted. "After class tomorrow morning, the weekend begins. Your first week in Hogwarts over. I do hope you have been all welcomed with warm arms by your fellow students. Always remember that Hogwarts is a place of learning and developing. We find out who we truly are in these walls – as I myself did all those many years ago."
When the feast was over, Harry followed the rest of them to the staircase leading to the Dungeons – before slipping out of the group and further down the hall and entered an empty classroom which was closely connected to the route down to the Dungeons.
When he stepped in, he lit one of the candles and checked all around to ensure no one was watching. He sat a couple of candles around him on the floor, with his back against the wall so he could see the entire room.
The classroom was entirely empty, void of desks. Little to distinguish the room from any other except on the outside it stated itself as one. There was an old dusty chalkboard at the far corner in the room, and big bare space in the middle where Harry sat. Not a desk in sight. He sat facing the windows, could see the coldness of the outside. The moon was rising in the corner of one of the windows. He could see black crows on the roof, they almost looked like they were peering in.
He reached out into his book bag, and pulled out his copy of Magick Moste Evile as Tom had instructed for him to do.
Before you open it, remember that you should not feel the urge to close it at any stage. If we feel the urge to slam it shut, the book will scream, and we might get caught.
Harry made a mental nod in his head, before sitting the book on the ground and opening the cover. He felt an enormous energy fill his body entirely, like he was breathing the essence of the book in. He closed his eyes slightly to feel this energy. He then turned to the introduction.
The introduction gave a broad detail to the contents of the book, a reference book for the Dark Arts. The book was written to include the details of spells the caster used with the help of his wand, made of Elder. The pages of this book were not meant to be taken lightly, for it contained some of the most vile and dark rituals imaginable. Some of which are so vile the author could not bare to share on the pages of this book. It mentioned an object so dark and against nature that the author was unprepared to talk about it.
So, he began with the page that included the most basic ritual.
Emovere Began
The Emovere is the one ritual, whether Dark Lord or apprentice, we find ourselves in constant need to perform. For it is the source of our identity, the place where we find, nurture, and grow our power. As a Dark Arts user knows, constant meditation of our abilities provides an edge in the long term.
Emovere is typically the first ritual one should perform; over time it will grant a user the ability to use true emotion and anger in their duelling and spellcasting. That extra utility and force we can exploit against our opponent. For it also the key that unlocks the darker elements of our gift.
The incantation is simple, requiring no wand. Anger and pain are the true driver of this spell, a key component that will allow the user to feel the true meanings of the words they speak. The only requirement is that the place is quiet, free from distraction, the user will prefer to be alone for this one – although not required.
Emovere Motus Animi
"Emovere Motus Animi" Harry spoke in the quiet room, thankful that there wasn't an echo. He felt nothing in the words.
Close enough. Tom spoke with darkness in his tone. How do the Dursley's make you feel Harry?
Harry's head boiled up slightly, and he closed his eyes "Emovere Motus Animi".
How about Dudley, stupid muggle Dudley?
"Emovere Motus Animi," there was frustration and anger his Harry's last words.
How do we feel about Vernon, Harry. Do you remember that time he tried to hurt us? How did you make him feel?
"Emovere Motus Animi," Harry spoke with even more conviction in his voice. He could feel something rising in his pit, and something more than the energy of book surrounding him.
What did we do to Vernon? What do we do to people that stand in our way?
"Emovere Motus Animi," Harry's breaths were starting to become infrequent. He could feel his heavy breathing, the panting, coldness brush against him.
What do we do to people that hurt us Harry? Tom spoke before he shot a wave of pain down into Harry's scar thumbing straight into his forehead.
Harry had barely enough breath and energy in his mind left to say the words "Emovere Motus Animi".
Harry's eyes blinked rapidly, as he crawled up onto the floor holding in the pain and not letting anything escape his lips but the incantation. Sweat running down the side of his forehead, his heart racing. The coldness overcoming him, and the darkness almost surrounding him. Not only could he see the dark night against him, but he could feel it too. His eyes were turning a dark red. After one last expression of the incantation, he swallowed the pain and collapsed to the floor. The candles were out; the darkness was a blanket.
The book shut.
"I say, that boy is cunning," Snape drawled to the Headmaster. "He is not like his father at all. Not arrogant, rather quietly confident; I can see the cunning in him. He took the time to read his books before coming to class, and he seemed to take the information in. I asked obscure questions, but he answered them in a roundabout way. He is making friends with the enemies of his Father."
"But you fail to see that Voldemort with fewer followers is but a good thing, Severus."
"I think we would be naïve to assume that. You underestimate Voldemort, but we also do not know what Harry is capable of." Severus warned, before begrudgingly saying "I better visit the Dursleys. I must find out what happened, what his care was like with them. What did you say the address was?"
"4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. But Severus, surely there is nothing to worry about. McGonagall saw them when she brought Harry to collect his school equipment and to deliver the letter. It was everything we expected. Vernon was angry, but she shut him up."
"I see." Severus mused in his head. "As much as I do not want to see that horrible hag Petunia again, I better visit."
"If you must," Dumbledore sighed before remembering something. "Although, there is one thing. It is a very small detail. I sent a lack at the Ministry, Harold, to visit Harry disguised as his primary school teacher. He would take Polyjuice potions at random intervals throughout the year. One April, he died. Fell down the stairs in fact. I read the police report, and nothing seemed amiss, however. They never found his wand, but that's muggles for you – probably mistook it for a pencil!"
Severus looked a little concerned. "I have my worries, Headmaster, but he is a boy. Not a killer"
"Indeed."
"I'll visit them tomorrow, after classes in the afternoon."
"Fine, but you mustn't worry Severus. Everything is normal. He is… a little bit different than we expected, mind you. There is a strange presence that surrounds him, and I can't put my finger on it. But the prophecy was very clear, and they're never wrong-"
"-except when they are." Severus reminded coldly. For the first time, in a long time, the Headmaster detected fear in his voice.
AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm attempting to introduce more of the darkness and more of the struggle to where I want to end up in this story. Always feel free to PM me with some ideas of your own 3
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