As it turned out, Fleur recognised the fierce shrieking tongue of the merfolk, even if she couldn't immediately understand the words. Merfolk had long been racial enemies of veela and would not hesitate to do anything in their power to harm any and all veela entering their realm. Scowling, she opened the egg underwater, collected the clue, and threw the egg against the bathroom wall as hard as she could. It was obvious to her that the Second Task would occur underwater, where she'd be at even more of a disadvantage, and that the merfolk would somehow be involved.
She was in a right strop about it when they all met up at the Room of Requirement after classes Monday. "I can't believe this… this… merde!" she ranted before explaining to Cedric and Viktor, who hadn't yet solved the egg, what she'd figured out. Harry confirmed that his egg had held the same clue, and a small pool provided by the Room allowed the other two champions to determine that their eggs were the same.
No one was happy that Fleur was at such an unfair disadvantage. As a person attuned to air and fire, being immersed underwater for an extended period of time would sap her strength and magical capabilities by a substantial amount, and that was even before she'd have to deal with creatures that hereditarily hated those like her. The dragons in the First Task, at least, were simply mothers defending their clutches, nothing more. There was nothing personal about it. The merfolk, on the other hand, were fuelled by hatred, so she had little doubt that there would be a running battle from the time they first lay eyes upon her until the time she left the lake with the item she'd "sorely miss."
"Right," Cedric said, looking at the other three contenders. "I say the best way to deal with this is to work together. We use the same means, we come back together, and we watch each other's backs. Harry, this goes for you too if you want to join in."
Harry smiled at the Hufflepuff's sense of fair play. "We'll see," he said. "It all depends on what that item is. If it's not that important, I may just leave it there."
Viktor laughed. "Just like your egg," he said. "I think maybe the organisers of this tournament have underestimated you."
"They can't seem to understand that I have no desire for more fortune or glory. I've more than enough as is."
Fleur had calmed down by this point, especially after Cedric's suggestion. "I appreciate that, Cedric," she said. "At least we've an idea of what the Second Task entails and we have three months to plan. First, though, we have the Yule Ball!" Here she gave a fond look to Neville, who blushed through his smile. He'd asked her to the ball as soon as Professor McGonagall had told them, while Fleur was still perched upon his knee.
It was a given that the Potters would attend together, assuming that they received Dumbledore's oath. That left the two male champions.
"Any thoughts on you you'll ask?" Hermione asked them.
Cedric shrugged. "If you'd asked me a month ago, I would've said Cho Chang. But that was before I learned how much of a bitch she was to our Luna." He nodded in the blonde Ravenclaw's direction. "There are some nice single girls in the current fourth year though. Maybe Susan Bones."
"How about you, Viktor?"
"I don't know," he said after a moment. "Too many girls just see Viktor Krum, International Quidditch Star. They don't see the real me, nor do they care to. I would prefer a girl not like that."
Hermione thought for a moment. Most people at Hogwarts were more than a little quidditch-mad, boys and girls alike. Even the professors were known to get swept up into things. "What about Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin?" she said. "She's in our Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes, and while she is a little distant, she's also willing to help other students learn the material – even non-Slytherins."
"She even helped me out when I started those classes this year," Harry added. "I'm sure she would've caught all kinds of hell if Malfoy and his cronies had ever learned that she was helping a Gryffindor, let alone me. We didn't really do a lot of small talk, but she was helpful and polite."
Viktor nodded thoughtfully. "And she is not a fangirl?"
"Not that I've ever seen," Hermione said. "I can't really say that I've ever seen her overly excited about anything, come to think of it. Not that she's boring or anything, she just has a rather stoic personality."
"Not unlike you, my friend," Cedric laughed.
"Some call her the Ice Queen of Slytherin," Harry said, "but it's only by people that don't ever get to know her."
"Perhaps I will ask her, then," Viktor said.
***FTR***
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Cedric and Viktor respectively approached Susan Bones and Daphne Greengrass, initially just to get to know the girls better.
As it turned out, Susan wanted to join the DMLE when she was finished with Hogwarts and become an auror, a dream that was identical to Cedric's own. He was excited to attend the auror academy next year, and Susan couldn't help but to express some friendly jealousy. However, given that her aunt and legal guardian was Madam Amelia Bones, the Department Head, she already had a good bit of insider information of what to expect in training, auror procedures, and physical fitness exercises. She and Cedric spent several enjoyable hours together over the next weeks discussing the ins and outs of their mutually-desired career, legends in the field like Alastor Moody, and their mutual frustration with the criminal levels of corruption in the Ministry.
Meanwhile, Viktor learned that Daphne actually was a quidditch fan, but refused to let herself get overwhelmed with anyone else's fame or social status. Such behaviour was unseemly, in her opinion. Nor did she allow anyone else to dictate her thoughts and opinions. She was interested in spell crafting and enchanting, and as such was one of the top in her class in both Arithmancy and Runes. Viktor's respect for the younger witch grew each time they spoke, and before long they could often be found in the library talking quietly between classes.
When the ball was formally announced, Cedric and Viktor approached their new friends and asked them to the ball. Both girls agreed, Susan with a cute blush and Daphne with a slight enigmatic but genuine smile. After that, they too began helping with tournament preparations.
After dinner on the day of the announcement, McGonagall pulled Dumbledore to the side and informed him of Harry's demand. The headmaster, as expected, immediately threw a wobbly.
"Just who the hell does he think he is?" he bellowed in the privacy of his office. "The boy cannot dictate these things to me!"
"Stop your whinging, you old goat," McGonagall snapped. "You have not won a single altercation with Lord Potter this year. What makes you think this will be any different?"
Dumbledore was shaking his head. "It doesn't matter, Minerva. It is imperative for the good of our world that he follow my guidance! I refuse to allow him to disrupt literally decades of planning like this!"
"Why, Albus? Why is Lord Potter so important?"
"I cannot say, Minerva. That information cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. I'm sure you understand."
What she understood was that he hoarded information that other people ought to know, but she decided she didn't feel like calling him out on it. Instead, she said, "I assume you've told Lord Potter, at least? He should certainly know why you're trying so hard to dictate his life, if no one else."
"Certainly not!" the headmaster rejoined. "Regardless of his title, he is still a child. He does not have the strength, training, experience, or wisdom to properly use this information for the Greater Good, as he should. Too much is at stake for him to know before I deem him mature enough, and with this new belligerent attitude of his I fear that he is further from being ready than he's ever been. No, he must trust that I know best. As must you," he added with a sense of finality.
McGonagall shook her head in disgust. "Albus, you'd best pull your head out of your arse and stop being such a Merlin-damned fool. He's not budging on this, and I can tell you that neither he nor Lady Potter seem to give a damn one way or the other. You'd best hear me and hear me well: the only way they will attend the ball is with your oath, verbal and written, no later than tomorrow evening, exactly as they have demanded. No more, no less. Otherwise they will leave for the holidays, and there is nothing. you. can do. about it." She punctuated each period with a sharp jab in his chest with her extended index finger. Without another word, she turned and swept out of his office, leaving him scowling after her as he rubbed the sore spot on his chest. It was sure to bruise, damn it.
***FTR***
It wasn't until dinner the following evening that a disgruntled Dumbledore approached the end of the Gryffindor table, accompanied by McGonagall. Noticing the constipated expression on Dumbledore's face (lately it seemed that this was the old man's most frequent expression when dealing with the Potters), Harry plastered a false look of concern on his own that didn't fool anyone – not that he was really trying to anyway. "Good evening, headmaster," he said. "You look a bit peaky tonight, if you don't mind me saying. I'm sure that adding some extra fibre to your diet will certainly help with your indigestion, especially for one of your years. Might I recommend beans and broccoli, and less dairy? The former two have remarkably high levels of fibre, while cutting back on dairy will help keep you from getting, shall we say… clogged up."
This last was added in a "discreet" stage whisper that Dumbledore was sure could be heard halfway across the Great Hall. A brief flash of anger swept across his face before he smoothed his features. "Mr…" (the headmaster winced as McGonagall's elbow dug into his ribs) "…excuse me, Lord Potter. Might I have a moment of your time, please?"
Harry traded a look with his wife, and as one they rose to their feet. Dumbledore looked as if he were about to say something, but a single glance at Harry's expression suggested that he hold his peace – which he wisely proceeded to do. The young lord gestured curtly towards the doors of the Great Hall, inviting the two professors to precede him and his wife. With another "encouraging" nudge from McGonagall's elbow, the headmaster reluctantly turned and led the way out into the Entrance Hall.
"How can we help you, headmaster?" Harry asked as soon as the four of them were alone.
Dumbledore took a deep, steadying breath. "It has come to my attention," he said, "that you have certain requirements that must be met before you will consider attending the ball."
Harry nodded. "You have heard correctly," he said, his expression altering not one jot. Hermione stood beside him, her features an exact match. Indeed, their faces could have been carved from granite for all the warmth they exuded.
Dumbledore sighed before holding out a rolled-up parchment. "Here is…"
"Just a moment," Harry interrupted. He verbally cast the levitation spell, causing the roll to gently rise from the headmaster's palm, and brought it to a hovering stop between him and Dumbledore. "Love?"
Hermione responded by casting a series of detection charms on the parchment. "It's clean," she said after a couple of minutes of thorough scanning.
"Lord Potter," the headmaster proceeded in a hurt tone of voice. "Surely you don't think I would…"
"Yes I do," the young man snapped. "If you thought there was the slightest chance you could get away with it, I have no doubt that there'd be enough compulsion charms on this parchment to overwhelm a particularly ornery hippogryph." He grabbed the parchment and unrolled it, holding it so his wife could read along with him.
When done, the couple looked at each other. Harry quirked an inquiring eyebrow and Hermione gave him a single nod in return. "This appears to be acceptable as stated," Harry said. "Do I have your oath, on your magic and your life, that the only text on this parchment is what is plainly visible, that there is no other text, whether microscopic, invisible, or otherwise obscured and/or hidden?"
A flabbergasted Headmaster goggled at the young man. This was paranoia that his good friend Alastor would be proud of! Suddenly glad that he'd played it straight after all, he blinked and hastened to reassure the couple. "I so swear," he said.
"You're still alive. Huh." Harry sounded surprised and honestly a little disappointed. "I was almost certain you'd try to slip something in that wasn't immediately noticeable." He suddenly smirked at the old man. "I don't suppose you'd give oath that the thought of doing something like that never entered your mind, would you?"
"I won't even dignify that with a reply," the headmaster haughtily replied.
If anything, Harry's smirk grew wider. "And that's answer enough," he said. "You know you'd die at me feet if you did so swear. Fortunately I don't care about what you think, only about what you do. And speaking of, do I have your oath that you will abide by these terms, that you will not bother us for this time, and that you will not try to force us to participate any further than any other regular student?"
"I so swear," Dumbledore growled through clenched teeth.
"Very well, the Lady Potter and I will plan to attend the ball." The teens began to turn away before Harry stopped. "Headmaster," he said, "I also expect you to run interference with any and all of the gang of idiots from the Ministry. I'm sure it would be in everyone's best interest if the ball runs smoothly with no disruptions, wouldn't you agree? I give you my word here and now that I have no intention of starting any trouble whatsoever – but in return I expect to be left alone."
"That should be more than sufficient, Lord Potter," McGonagall broke in smoothly. "We thank you for your time and wish you both a good evening." With that she grasped Dumbledore's arm above the elbow and gently but firmly ushered him away.
The Potters watched the other two leave before turning around and rejoining their friends in the Great Hall.
***FTR***
The excitement grew throughout the castle as the ball drew near. This time around, no secrets were made regarding the Champions and their dates. Neville and Fleur had been an item since before the First Task, so it was no surprise that they were attending together. It was less of a surprise that Viktor and Daphne were attending together than it was that Daphne had actually agreed to a date with anyone – the Slytherin Ice Queen's reputation was not at all undeserved, but those few allowed to get close to her understood that that reputation was deliberately and carefully maintained. When Susan appeared in the Great Hall on Cedric's arm, Cho Chang was inconsolable. No one, including her, really wanted to get the entire House of Hufflepuff angry at them – the Badger was the perfect emblem for the House.
Nor was it a secret (or surprise) that the Potters were attending together.
Luna had bid them a cheerful farewell at breakfast on the morning the Express took the few students not remaining over the holidays (mostly third years and younger) before returning to her room and collecting her luggage. The Potters made it a point to wait for her at the foot of the Grand Staircase to see her off. Hugs and kisses were exchanged before the couple escorted their younger friend to the thestral-drawn carriages. Harry of course carried her luggage down and loaded it onto the carriage for her.
Although he'd been careful to keep his distance from the Potters, Ron Weasley had been in a foul temper since the beginning of September, and his mood showed no signs of improving in the foreseeable future. One of the consequences of his months-long snit was that there was not a single girl remaining in the castle that wanted to endure his company for any length of time, let alone for an entire evening. As the ball loomed closer and his rejections continued to pile up, his temper got shorter and shorter while he lamented not returning to the Burrow for the holidays when he had the chance.
His sister Ginny also wondered why she hadn't returned. It was true that she had a brand-new dress Molly Weasley had bought the previous summer (even though the Weasleys really couldn't afford it), but none of the older boys had asked her to go. It had not yet registered that, as in her brother's case, it was her attitude that drove off potential dates. Her meltdown and subsequent mopey attitude regarding Harry was considered almost universally unattractive. Any boy that considered taking her knew that she would be spending the entire evening sighing and pining after the "Boy-Who-Lived" instead of enjoying the ball – not anyone's definition of a good time.
***FTR***
The evening of the ball finally rolled around, and nearly went off without a single issue. Elegant gowns and dashing formal robes, many of which resembled the tuxedos worn to such events in the nonmagical world, filled the Entrance Hall as eager students waited to enter the Great Hall. The doors to the Great Hall were finally opened to let the students come in and get settled before the Champions made their entrance, and Harry and Hermione entered along with their peers.
The setup was the same as they remembered from before. The four long house tables had been replaced, with much smaller round tables, each seating eight. The Potters found an empty table at the edge of the dance floor across from the head table, now expanded to accommodate the visiting ministry officials, the Champions, and their dates. The Potters were soon approached by Fred and George Weasley, their dates Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, and Lee Jordan who was accompanied by Alicia Spinnet. They were invited to join the Potters for dinner, to which all eight were looking forward.
When the school heads walked in a few minutes later, Harry deliberately made eye contact with Dumbledore and gave him a single nod, just enough for the headmaster to know he was there, and to know that Harry knew that he knew. The headmaster returned the nod, however reluctantly, and continued to his seat at the head table.
The Ministry officials were next, and just as before the Potters noticed that Crouch Senior was absent. An overly-officious Percy Weasley was still there, likely representing the Department of International Cooperation again, and Ludo Bagman was there as well, strutting and preening as if he was still in his prime. The effect was substantially reduced by his paunch and thinning hair.
Harry kept a close eye on the Ministry representatives and their retinue, especially Percy the Prat, the one he judged most likely to cause trouble. Sure enough, as Percy began to take a seat, he espied Harry sitting at the table across the dance floor. Eyes narrowing in anger and the tips of his ears reddening in true Prewett fashion, he began to get to his feet again.
Harry shot his eyes again to Dumbledore, and scowling, jerked his head in Percy's direction. When the Headmaster saw what was going on he lunged to his feet and hurried to intercept the Weasley lad. As well he should, Harry said to himself, with his magic on the line. Fortunately for the old man, he was quick enough to take Percy's arm before reaching the dance floor. Heated words were exchanged, thankfully behind a silencing charm, before Percy shot a final glare at the Potters and returned to his seat. Keeping his face neutral, he gave Dumbledore another nod when the Headmaster looked his way. Percy, though, kept a permanent scowl on his face for the rest of the evening, though his offended expression more closely resembled a petulant pout than it did a Snape-worth glower.
After everyone was settled, the lights were dimmed and the Champions were introduced along with their dates before being guided to their places at the head table. The Potters waited for Dumbledore to demonstrate the menu-ordering process before requesting their meals. The house elves in the kitchens, as usual, outdid themselves with their food preparation, and Harry was glad he was able to enjoy the meal this time around instead of nervously focusing on the impending opening dance he would share with Parvati Patil, their pretty Indian housemate.
The Potters joined the rest of the students on the dance floor after the opening waltz and proceeded to enjoy the rest of the evening. They did take the opportunity to swap partners with each of the Champions for one song each to show their mutual support for each other, but other than that they (as well as the Champions and their own dates) stayed with each other exclusively.
Besides the almost-altercation with Percy, no one else bothered them of tried to cause any trouble. Draco Malfoy and his date, Pansy Parkinson, kept to themselves at the other end of the dance floor, while Ron was nowhere to be seen. According to Neville, Ron had been livid that he was unable to find a date. To add insult to injury, the dress robes his mother had acquired for him looked at least three hundred years out of date – and perhaps twice as old. The threadbare garments were trimmed with an exorbitant amount of lace, much more than any self-respecting wizard would be caught dead in. (And based on what some wizards wore in public, that was actually saying quite a lot.) Either Dean Thomas or Seamus Finnegan – Neville hadn't really been paying attention – said something about draperies not being the best formal wear, which caused Ron to snap. He'd chucked the robes across the room, declared that he didn't want to go to the stupid ball anyway, climbed into his bed, and yanked the curtains shut.
Hermione shrugged. "Can't say that I miss the continual glares and the atrocious table manners," she allowed.
Their conversation turned to other topics as the sulking Weasley was forgotten, and the friends spent a wonderful rest of the evening together.
***FTR***
The day before Valentine's Day found Harry requesting entry to the Headmaster's office. His beloved Firebolt racing broom was in his hand as he knocked on the door behind the gargoyle that guarded the entrance. As his knuckles rapped upon the wooden door, the winged stone creature stood, flexed its wings, and moved aside. "Come in," the disembodied voice of the Headmaster spoke.
As Harry went up the spiral staircase, he mentally went over his plan. He had shared his "suspicion" several weeks ago that what they would "sorely miss" would be none other than their Yule Ball dates. Though none of the Champions (or their dates, for that matter) were pleased with the news, they all agreed that the organisers could not allow the hostages to die should the hour expire before they could be rescued.
That did not mean, however, that they wouldn't be taking precautions. Susan, Daphne, and Neville would each wear a bracelet engraved with a runic tracking array, and Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur would wear the corresponding bracelets to their Yule Ball dates.
After discussing various options of breathing underwater, it was mutually agreed upon to use gillyweed, as it would allow them to focus on the Task without running the risk of a charm like the bubblehead ending or being disrupted at an inopportune time. They would also carry a bag each with extra gillyweed, sufficient for themselves and their hostages in the event of an emergency. On top of all that, they would wear thick wetsuits, Champions and hostages alike. That way, Hermione explained after making the suggestion, they wouldn't have to worry about warming charms.
"What about you and Hermione?" Fleur had asked.
Harry smiled. "Hermione won't be down there," he said. "As before, I still have no intention of participating beyond the minimum to keep my magic. I just have to make Dumbledore an offer he can't refuse."
Which was why he was now approaching the Headmaster's office. Stepping inside, he spoke before Dumbledore could so much as offer a greeting and a sherbet lemon. "I know what the Second Task is," he said without preamble.
The old man straightened his back. "Lord Potter, I am not at liberty to discuss the details…"
"No, I don't care about that," Harry said. "I came to tell you that under no circumstances whatsoever will my wife, the Lady Hermione Potter, be involved with this task as anything more than a spectator."
Dumbledore nervously cleared his throat. "I am quite afraid that we cannot commit to that request." Inwardly, he was seething. He might as well share all the details of the Task at this rate.
Harry, meanwhile, was shaking his head. "You misunderstand. This is not a request, this is a statement of fact and intent. Should I find my declaration ignored – if I find that she has been placed at the bottom of Black Lake against our will, then rest assured that once she has been recovered I will immediately declare blood feud on all persons and beings remotely involved in her abduction. On my magic, so I swear." There was a flash of light from somewhere as the oath took hold, but the shocked Headmaster's gaze was riveted on Harry's emerald stare. "You know exactly what blood feud means."
Stammering inarticulately, it took a few minutes for the Headmaster to regain his powers of speech. "Har… Harry, my boy, would you really do something so dark as murdering entire families?"
The young man shook his head in disgust. Really, Dumbledore's tendency to veer off on irrelevant tangents was infuriating at best. "Albus, my codger, it's a moot point. The oath is sworn. If I don't I lose my magic and get banished back to the nonmagical world. If neither of those options sounds good to you, then the answer is quite obvious: Lady Potter is not to be involved, end of story." He held up his broom. "Look, I'll make it easy for you. My Firebolt meets all the criteria of the clue in the egg. Use this instead of my wife and we won't have a problem." He dropped the broom on Dumbledore's desk and left the office without another word.
***FTR***
The old man was literally growling as the disrespectful brat left his office. As soon as the door shut behind the boy he flung the broom off his desk, actually knocking over the perch where Fawkes, his phoenix familiar, usually roosted. Fortunately the magnificent bird was not there at the moment. With a start, Dumbledore realised that he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd seen Fawkes. That was odd; the bird had never gone off on his own for this long.
He shrugged off that concern; he could figure it out later. Getting Harry back under control and properly shaped to face his destiny with Voldemort in the appropriate manner was much more important. He rose to his feet, feeling every one of his many years of life.
His personal chambers abutted his office, and it was through the small doorway behind his desk leading to them that he shuffled after securing the office door. There was little in the bedchamber beyond his bed, a wardrobe, a bookcase containing about two dozen tomes even more rare and obscure than the ones in his office, and a couple of tapestries. A door led to his bathing chamber, but it was to the bookshelf that he made his way.
Sliding his hand under the top shelf, his fingers found the familiar runes engraved underneath. Tapping them in the correct sequence produced the sound of stone grinding on stone, and a moment later the bookcase and a section of the wall itself swung in on a hidden pivot, revealing yet another chamber.
Dumbledore had converted the secret room into his personal laboratory and workshop. The room was filled with alchemical apparatus; shelves of components in glass and clay jars; and books, scrolls, and parchments scattered across many of the unoccupied surfaces. A massive inverted armillary sphere filled the inside of the high, domed ceiling, indicating the exact positions of the sun and the moon, as well as the planets Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Magic insured its constant accuracy. An athanor furnace rested against the curved wall, filling the laboratory with a gentle, steady heat. Next to it stood an empty sand bath and a calcinator, neither of which had a fire inside.
The headmaster slipped on a pair of dragonhide gloves, grabbed a pair of tongs, and opened the athanor's door. Using the tongs, he carefully removed a ceramic aludel that had been steadily cooking there for the last two months. After placing the ceramic container on a stone cooling pad resting on a large table beside the three heaters, he took one of the smaller hourglass timers down from a shelf and flipped it over. When the sand ran out a few minutes later, he removed the top piece of the aludel and used a curved silver knife to carefully scrape the collected sublimate into a mortar.
Stepping over to the various components, he retrieved a jar of strange, rust-coloured flakes and another of a mustard-coloured powder. He measured precise amounts of each with a balance scale, dumping them into the mortar along with the sooty crystals of the sublimate.
A large glass retort sat atop a burner, the flame heating the dark green liquid inside the sphere to a simmer. Tiny bubbles rose to the surface and burst, releasing the gas that condensed at the top and slid down the long, slender neck of the apparatus as a clear liquid, dripping down into a glass collection jar. Using a glass pipette, he took a measure of the clear liquid from the collection jar and released it into the mortar with the rest of the materials.
He then selected a thick pestle and proceeded to grind up the ingredients in the slate-grey bowl, rendering a runny paste. Taking the mortar over to a large freestanding alembic, he carefully poured the slurry into the glass cucurbit. He used a clean pipette, much larger than the one he'd used earlier, to take a measure of a black liquid from one of the myriad jars on the shelves. He released the liquid into the cucurbit and put the cap over the open top of the container. A downward sloping tube led to a receiver container with an airtight seal.
Dumbledore ignited the burner underneath the cucurbit and turned the flame to the next-to-the-lowest setting. The mixture would slowly distil in the alembic over the course of the next week, drawing him one step closer to getting the insolent child back under his control where he belonged. It really couldn't happen soon enough, as far as the old man was concerned.
***Author's Note***
My apologies if I inadvertently alarmed anyone with my previous author's note! I am 46 years old and in decent health, and Lord willing I'll be writing for at least 5-6 more decades! I was chiefly expressing my frustration with otherwise excellent stories that haven't been updated for years. One of my favorite Buffy the Vampire Slayer stories, "Life's Ending, Life's Beginning," by becuzitswrong, wasn't updated for several years. Finally it was updated, but before the next update could be posted the author unfortunately passed away. My statement last time was a pledge that once I start posting, 1) the story is in fact complete, and 2) I will do everything in my power to make sure it is posted in a very timely manner.
Thank you all once more for the reviews and kind words!