Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Merlin.

Chapter 1: Summer Time

He stumbled across the stone floors, eyes straining through the darkness. All around him, fires raged and people screen, as his clumsy form charged its way towards its destination.

There was an almighty crash, and the wall he ran upon exploded with a furious bellow, sending him sprawling forward. He looked up to see a horde of knights cloaked in scarlet rush forward, fighting some unseen foe behind him, led by a blond haired man, his piercing blue eyes standing out in the darkness. Ignoring him, the knights leapt over the damaged stone, once more striking at their foe.

There was an almighty crash of wind battering the ramparts, and he spun around, faced with an enormous, scaly face, its inhuman, yellow eyes poised just above the man.

He reached out, desperation filling his voice. "ARTHUR!"

ROA

Harry awoke in cold sweat, his duvet long since discarded. Sighing, he pulled on a battered pair of spectacles, and started getting ready for the day to come. These dreams, nightmares, really, had been haunting him for weeks, ever since the incident with Sirius and the Dementors. Why, he had no idea, but he'd rarely had a peaceful night since, always dreaming of knights and dragons and such. If only he could remember what he dreamed of. Sure, he remembered the general gist, but never the specifics, nor the names. It was infuriating.

He flicked the hob on, and started warming up the beans, and put a set of bacon on the grill. His stomach growled. It wouldn't hurt…

As soon as it was finished, he shoved the salty meat into his mouth, groaning with pleasure as the taste filled his mouth.

"What do you think you are doing, freak?" the shrill voice of Petunia Dursley shrieked.

Harry turned to her, irritation rising within him. "Ea'in," he mumbled, his mouth full, before swallowing. "Or is your head so empty that you forgot what that is?" Oh, right. The sarcasm. Admittedly, he had been sarcastic before the dreams, but now? Almost every sentence was layered with the lowest form of wit.

"That," she screeched. "Is our food, not yours! We will not spend such money on you, freak! Vernon! Vernon! The boy is stealing our food!"

"Boy!" the walrus shaped man bellowed, his voice full of false bravado. "You dare take the food from our mouths?"

Harry shrugged. "Didn't think you wanted another hole poked in your belt. What are you going to do, throw me in the stocks?" The stocks? Where did that come from?

Vernon's nose twitched, before he picked up a large wooden spoon. "That's it, boy. That's it! I have had enough, enough I say! You need to be taught a lesson!"

"Smack 'im, dad!" Dudley snorted, the pig awakening for the violence.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Harry warned.

Vernon laughed, smacking the spoon in the palm of his hand. "And why not? I can knock you down with a single blow, runt."

Harry grinned. "I could take you apart with less than that."

Vernon stopped, and all three Dursleys wore identical expressions of confusion. "What?"

Harry frowned. What did that mean? "Well, uh," he stammered, before an idea came to his head. "Sirius!"

Petunia paled. "Black?"

Dudley still looked confused. "The murderer?"

Harry grinned. "My godfather, who happens to owe me thirteen years of birthday presents, which could take the form of, oh, I don't know, three dead relatives?"

Vernon's eye twitched. "Go to your room!"

"Yes, yes," Harry nodded solemnly. "I will sit quietly and pretend I don't exist."

"NOW!"

"Temper temper."

ROA

He stood in a small market, surrounded by bustling merchants and peasants rushing to purchase their wares. It smelt, but he didn't care. He was in a castle, and he wasn't arrested. Well, not anymore, that is.

"How's your knee-walking going?"

He grimaced. The prat. He kept walking.

"Aw, don't run away."

That's it. He stopped. "From you?" he scoffed.

The prat sighed. "Finally. I thought you were deaf as well as dumb."

He turned to face him. "Look, I've already told you you're an arse. I just didn't realise that you were a royal one." The prat frowned, and stepped forward. "Oh, what are you going to do? Get your daddy's men to protect you?"

The prat laughed. "I could take you apart with one blow."

He grinned. "I could take you apart with less than that."

The prat scoffed. "Are you sure?" He shrugged, but nodded. "Come on, then, let's fight!" One of the knights tossed them a pair of maces. He dropped it, but quickly picked it up. The prat stared at him incredulously, swinging the weapon with practised ease. "Come on, then. I must warn you, I've been trained to kill since birth."

He snorted. "And how long have you been training to be a prat?"

The prat frowned. "You can't address me like that."

"Sorry, Arthur," he said, giving a deep, mocking bow. "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord."

ROA

"Who's Arthur, freak," Dudley called, disturbing Harry's peace. He was sitting on the swings in the nearby park, avoiding his relatives. Up until that moment, Dudley had seen fit to ignore him, instead favouring a little kid as his target. After relieving him of his money, however, Dudley was at a loss for victims. As such, he turned to the tried and trusted runt: Harry.

Harry blinked. "Who?"

Dudley snorted. "Arthur, the guy you keep whining about at night. It's really annoying, runt. Keeps me awake."

Harry rubbed the back of the head. The name seemed familiar, but all he could think of was Mr Weasley, who he most definitely did not think of as Arthur. "No, sorry. No clue who you're talking about."

Dudley didn't back off, though. "Who is he, Potter? Is he your boyfriend?"

Harry snorted. "Even ignoring the fact that I am a straight male, are you suggesting that I could get a date before you?"

"Wh-what?" Dudley stammered, his face going red with anger. "No, it doesn't count if you're a poof!"

"Well," Harry said, ignoring him. "It's your lucky day, since I don't know anyone called Arthur, other than a mate's dad." He paused, stroking his chin as if he were deep in thought. "You know, you hang out with Perkins a lot. Are you gay?"

"What?" Dudley cried out, both his anger and confusion rising. His mates sniggered at his expense, even Peers. So much for honour among thieves.

"It would explain a lot," he continued. "This confrontation? Perhaps it's you channelling your insecurities onto me. Hang on, don't you know someone called Arthur? Arthur Tompkins? Yeah, this makes a lot more sense."

"You- you- freak!" he bellowed. "I'll pound you for that!"

"Ah ah ah," Harry chided. "If you do that, I'll send my godfather a letter."

Dudley froze, seemingly torn over the decision. At last, his self-preservation won out, what little he had, and he stormed off with his little gang.

ROA

He was in a cave, lying weak and exhausted, his strength ripped from his body as he bled from numerous stab wounds.

He dragged himself forward, his aches growing stronger. He cursed her. He cursed her with all his might. She had no right! It was a part of him, he was it as much as it was him! Yet she, the one he had never been able to hate more than he loved, had stolen it. Cripple him. No more, he decided. This act pushed him over the edge. He loved her, and he always would. But he hated her enough to kill her.

He pulled himself up the wall, staring intently into the crystal that was embedded within it. Before his eyes, it shimmered, before a flurry of images. He saw a battlefield, full of knights. He saw the boy, facing Arthur. He saw her standing over the carnage, a dragon by her side. He saw cold steel enter his lord.

"No…" he groaned. "Arthur… got to help Arthur!"

But the images did not finish there. He saw a strange world, full of metal and stone, with strange metal carriages racing across strange stone roads. He saw strange, stone buildings, and a strange man enter one.

"He's here, Lily!" a man yelled. "Take Harry and run. I'll hold him off!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"Take me, not Harry!" a woman pleaded.

"Stand aside, woman."

"Leave him, take me!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" A pause. "So you are the source of all this trouble. How… disappointing. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

He lunged back from the crystal. "Why are you showing me this!"

He received no answer.

ROA

The next day came with a letter. Tearing the parchment envelope to ribbons, Harry eagerly scanned over the contents of the letter.

Dear Mister H. Potter,

Due to an as of yet undisclosed event, we are offering five lucky students from each House the chance to visit various locations of cultural significance, including the World Wizarding Museum in London, the National Quidditch Headquarters in Manchester, the Ministry of Magic and many more, in order to further your studies and enhance your cultural knowledge.

If you would like the chance to be on this trip, please send an owl with a signed permission slip. Also enclosed in this letter are the permission slip and supply list for the upcoming year.

Good luck, and we look forward to your return.

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor, Transfiguration Professor.

His grin widened. A school trip! Hogwarts never offered those. And he bet he would make it - Dumbledore seemed to favour him, as if to apologise for his upbringing. And he knew how to get his Uncle to sign it.

"Uncle! Uncle VER-non!" he called, the double toned name echoing slightly.

"What do you want, freak?"

"Well, I am leaving tomorrow, as you know, but I need a signature for a school trip, right? And I could do with you signing it."

Vernon stared at him, before barking out a laugh. "And why, boy, would I ever do that?"

Harry grinned a shark-like grin. "If you don't, I'll get my godfather, first name Sirius, last name Black."

Vernon gulped. That evening, Harry went to sleep with a signed slip on route to Hogwarts.

ROA

"Don't make me do this."

He stood in a small clearing, alone save for a single figure, a woman clad in tattered black robes. He wore much the same as he always did, but seemed like someone completely different. He didn't have to hide anymore.

The woman stumbled forward, leaning on a branch. She looked him in the face, her eyes filled with hate. "This is all your fault! You and your meddlesome hope," she sneered.

"Milady…" he sighed, brandishing a sword, the blade stained with blood. "Twas my hope that offended you so? Well, be offended no more. My hope died with my King."

The woman looked taken aback for a second. "So he is indeed dead?"

He nodded solemnly. "You won, milady."

"No," She sneered. "You just lost." She lifted a hand, her palm outstretched. "Astrice!"

"Scildan," he said calmly, his hand sweeping up to meet it. The bolt of energy was absorbed into his palm, melding with his own. "Maybe so, milady. For I have most definitely lost."

"Forbearne!" she snarled, a wave of fire forming between them. "Then we are united in our losses. I have lost. You have lost. Your friends are dead, as are mine. And neither of our visions was fulfilled!" She collapsed to the floor, what little energy she had left leaving her.

His eyes burned with power as he stepped through the flames, their biting heat passing him unharmed. He raised the blade over her fallen body. "I'm sorry, milady."

She looked up at him, the hate dulling slightly. "Do what you must."

He buried the mighty sword in her gut, a breathless gasp leaving her. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." A tear trickled from his eyes. "I loved you, and I always will."

"As did I," she whispered, before he felt a sharp pain in his gut. He looked down, emotions numb as he saw her trembling hands gripping a dagger, embedded in his stomach. A fatal blow. "But I cannot forget what you did."

With a shaking breath, he collapsed beside her dying form, cradling her choking form, life fading from the pair.

And so he wept his way towards oblivion.

ROA

Harry burst up once again, clutching his stomach. Dry. Unharmed. A dream, once more, yet clearer, somehow, the details remaining in his mind. Who was he, in this story, and who was his foe, his love? And where had he seen that sword before? He shook his head. As Dumbledore had once said, it would not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. He had tomorrow to look forward to, with the Burrow and the lead up to the World Cup. He lay back down to sleep.

He did not notice the tears that continued to flow.

ROA

"Harrikins!"

"Good to see you, laddie!"

"Fred, George," he greeted, before grinning. "Or is it George, Fred?"

"Alas, if only we knew," one said.

"But if even our own mother can't tell, so why would we?"

"Hello, Harry," Mr Weasley greeted. "I trust you have been well this summer."

"Yes, thank you sir," he said sincerely. "Though I must say I am looking forward to the World Cup."

"Well, that is why we are here."

As he stepped towards the fireplace, ready to floo, he absently noted Dudley picking a toffee out of one of the twin's pockets, who pretended they didn't notice. Serves the pig right, he thought vindictively.

"Oh!" Mr. Weasley cried out, spotting what he had. "Boy! I wouldn't… oh dear."

Before he could be stopped, Dudley had swallowed the toffee, and immediately his tongue had begun to swell up, wider than his thigh, and longer than his arm. Harry absently wondered how he could still breath. Shaking his head, he stepped through the emerald flames. It couldn't be blamed on him, after all.

ROA

"Sirius!" Harry yelled, surprised at seeing the gaunt man standing on the other side of the fireplace. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking up on you pup," he grinned. "Can't stay long, since I'm still a fugitive, but I have thirteen years of obsessive care to make up for. So, I'm stickin' around for today, and disappearing when you head off to Diagon, tonight."

Harry shook his head. "It's good to see you."

He grimaced. "If only I could have persuaded ol' Dumbles to let me come to the World Cup tomorrow. I mean, come on! It's a once in a lifetime opportunity." Harry chuckled. Sirius never changed.

A brown haired rocket flew across the room, knocking him to the ground with a violent squeal of "HARRY!"

"Oof!" he grunted, looking up at his attacker. "'ullo, Hermione."

"Hello Harry! How was your holiday? Were your relatives alright? Have you got your homework done? Looking forward to the World Cup? I am, all those cultures! Have you applied for the trips? I have-" Harry sighed. Like Sirius, Hermione hadn't changed a bit.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled. "Take a breather!"

"Hiya Ron," Harry greeted, shaking his head. "Good summer?"

Ron nodded. "But not as good as the World Cup will be!" Harry smiled. And neither did Ron.

ROA

"Hey mate!" a voice called out, drawing his attention to the centre of the tavern they were hiding in. "Mind giving me a hand?"

Turning to face the prat, he grinned. "Come on, he's a friend."

The prat raised an eyebrow. "He's a fool, and I regret having knighted him."

He shrugged. "At least he's not a dollop head."

"Oh, shut up."

"Is anyone gonna help me? It's not my fault I ran out of money… or shagged the barman's wife."

"WHAT?" the barman screeched.

The rogue grinned. "Didn't you know? I thought that was why you were mad at me!"

He shook his head. He never changed.

ROA

Harry did not like waking up at the crack of dawn, even if it was for something as amazing as the Quidditch World Cup. Thankfully, since the nightmares had begun, he had grown somewhat used to the twilight hours. Unlike Ron or Hermione, who passed out in the tents as soon as they were set up. Harry sighed. Might as well go and explore.

Hermione was right about one thing: it sure was a bustling event with hundreds of cultures. They were mostly Western powers, with a large handful of Russians, but he did spot the occasional wizard outside of those regions, such as the robed man who seemed to be from somewhere around China, or the man in loose cloth who reminded Harry of the sort of people he had seen in the martial art films Dudley liked to watch.

Despite the differences in culture, however, everything was green and red, supporting the two nations of Ireland and Bulgaria. He saw models of scantily clad cheerleaders and squat leprechauns (he bought one of the latter for Ron), posters of various members of both teams, and jerseys with scarfs sporting team colours. He even saw themed food, with lots of potato based dishes and beer to support Ireland, with vodka and fried meats for Bulgaria.

He was so lost in the sights that he managed to trip over a loose tent peg, slamming into a small body before him.

"OOF!" he slammed into the person, landing flat on top of them. 'They' were a beautiful woman, about his age, with porcelain skin and deep, black hair, with stunning green eyes that were reminiscent of his own. She wore bottle green robes of fine silk, silver running in veins through the fabric, accentuating her beauty.

"Watch where you're walking, Potter," she spat, the vitriol in her voice seemingly out of place in comparison to the blank disinterest in her eyes.

He blinked, before he scrambled up to his feet. "Sorry," he muttered, offering her a hand. She sniffed, ignoring the action as she stood up, proceeding to turn, ready to leave.

"Hang on, do I know you?" he frowned, staring at her. She seemed familiar, very familiar, but he couldn't place how. Again, however, he was ignored as he watched her walk away in silence.

He turned to leave, and was faced with the twins, sniggering silently at his predicament. "Oh, very funny guys. Who was that, anyway?"

Fred snorted. "Her? That's Daphne Greengrass, a snake. One of the so-called 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'."

"The what?"

"The 'purest of the pure'," George replied, putting air quotes around the phrase. "Though, it doesn't mean much - the Weasleys are on it, right along with Black and Malfoy."

"Huh," he grunted, staring at the direction she had left in. A slytherin. He shook his head. Must have seen her at school, is all.

ROA

"-but for the crime of sorcery, there is only one sentence I can pass."

As he stepped through the crowd, horrified at the sight before him, a shimmer caught his eye. Looking up, he saw a woman staring at the sight in disgust, leaning against the edge of the window as she trembled with anger. She was beautiful, with creamy skin and inky hair, draping down her scarlet dress that hugged her form.

For a second, she looked his way, her emerald eyes locking with his own, which he knew to be a very similar colour. Then she looked away, her gaze once more pitying as she stared at the doomed man.

The axe fell, and she disappeared from sight.

ROA

He awoke to screaming.

He bolted to his feet, stepping towards the exit of his room. He needed to find out what was happening. Why there was the stench of death in the air.

The tent was buzzing with energy, all having been awoken by the anguish howls of pain. Harry shuddered. They were the screams of burning.

"It's probably the Irish," Ron drawled, seemingly unconcerned. Harry shook his head. It wasn't. He recognised this sort of scream - he had heard it among the dragon's fury.

He paused. Dragon? The only dragon he had ever seen was Norbert, and he had heard no pain filled howls then. He shook his head. He must be hallucinating.

He slowly unzipped the tent door, and something fell in. It was a body, blackened and blistered, the flesh melted and peeling off. He stifled a scream.

Mr. Weasley burst in through the other door. "Everyone! Pack up and run. It's Death Eaters. Death Eaters are- dear Merlin!" He stared at the dead body, his face turning puce.

Ignoring the panicking adults, Harry burst through the tent's opening, scrambling for safety. A quick glance behind him assured him that Ron, Hermione and Ginny were following. Good. He had to get to safety, and if his level head could help the others, so much the better.

"Harry!" Ron cried out. "Wait up!"

"Shh," he hissed. "Do you want us to be caught? Keep quiet, all of you, and we may just survive the night."

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked quietly.

"The evacuation points." At the looks of confusion, he elaborated. "When we entered, there was a board listing emergency evacuation points, with mass portkeys to the ministry. Knowing my luck, I memorised them."

"Well done, Harry," Hermione smiled. "A few years ago, you would never have thought of that." She frowned. "I didn't think of that."

A few moments later, they reached a small hill. "There!" he hissed. "Just down that hill. See where the portkeys are!" They nodded.

Just before they could run down, he heard a bone chilling scream. "HELP!"

He paused. "Run, guys. I'll join you in a minute."

"What?" Hermione snapped. "No, Harry. Let someone trained help them!"

"Look around, Hermione, no-one's going to help them," he shook his head. "Get down there, and I'll be back in a moment, with that girl with me. I'll get the attacker from behind!"

"But-"

"GO!"

Harry supposed he should be grateful, as in their state of shock, they made no resistance to his order, and soon vanished upon touching one of the many portkeys. He turned and ran, seeking out the screams.

"HELP US!"

"PLEASE!"

He cursed. There were two of them, two helpless civilians he would have to protect. Children, too, from the sound of it. This was getting harder and harder.

He crouched down in a bush, and viewed the sight. It was a single wizard, thankfully, dressed in dark black robes with a bone white mask. Before him were two witches, being tossed around with gusts of air. One had even passed out. All around, the clearing raged with flames, and several mounds appeared to have been hit with blasting curses. Harry had to suppress a growl when he saw the state of the girls' clothes - torn and ragged. How far the wizard had gone was unclear, but it was definitely too far.

He reached into his pocket and froze. His wand was missing.

The rational decision was to have retreated. While he was intelligent, no-one had ever accused him of being rational.

He picked up a small, smooth stone, and crept along the clearing, now behind the wizard.

"Now I'm bored!" the Death Eater screamed, dropping the two witches. "Let's have some… fun."

"HELP!"

"SHUT UP!"

Harry continued moving towards the wizard. Just before he reached him, he leapt up, gripping the wizard's shoulders. The terrorist gave a sharp yelp, stumbling back, as Harry slammed the stone into the brutes mask three times.

"Gerroff!" he grunted, throwing Harry to the ground alongside the two witches. With wide eyes, he realised the older of the pair was the girl he had seen in the morning, Daphne. He assumed the other must have been her sister.

The wizard pulled off his cracked mask, his bruised face glowering at Harry. He idly noted the similarities to Crabbe. "Oh, looky here! It's a wee little Potty! And it'll be House Crabbe that defeats him!"

"Ah, so you are a Crabbe," he said, nodding. He ignored the bemused looks upon the victims faces.

He grinned. "Yes I am! Glad you could recognise my pureblood superiority."

"You're pureblood?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance. "I always thought you had troll blood in you. It would explain the stupidity."

"WHAT?"

"What are you doing, Potter?" Daphne hissed. Harry ignored him.

"You know, that's how I recognised you. The Crabbe stupidity is particularly unique."

"I'll kill you!"

"Are you trying to make him mad?"

"Sorry," he said completely unconvincingly. "Habit."

"Stop ignoring me!"

He turned to the Death Eater, raising a single finger. "Shush. The intellectuals are talking."

"Incendio!"

Harry threw himself, and his companions, to the ground, his hair singed by the heat. He gripped another stone, throwing it at his attacker. It caught him on the cheek, forming a large gash.

"Potter!" Daphne hissed. "Stop messing about! Get your wand out."

"Can't," he shrugged. "Lost it."

She stared at him. "We're dead."

"CRUCIO!"

Harry rolled out of the way of the crimson spell, watching in horror as it stuck the younger girl. Her eyes snapped open as her form thrashed with agony before Crabbe ended the spell.

"Damn it, boy!" he snapped. "Made me crucio a pureblood."

He picked up another stone, hitting the man on the wrist.

"That's it!" he bellowed. "BOMBARDA!"

Harry watched in resigned horror as the oversized projectile rushed towards him, too fast to dodge. In a last ditch attempt at survival, he outstretched his hand, and yelled a single word that he remembered from his dreams: "SCILDAN!"

The spell slammed into his palm, but did not explode as intended. They watched, shocked, as it was absorbed into the shield, not even a shockwave formed as a result. Harry grinned as he felt his magic strengthen with a rush, a feeling that made him feel giddy. "Well, would you look at that? It worked! I wonder…" He raised another hand, his voice much calmer than his desperate screams. "Forbearne!"

Another rush through his body, yet with the opposite result of feeling heavily drained, and an immense fireball hurtled towards Crabbe. A split second before it hit him, he spun on his heel, and vanished with a crack.

Silence rained, interrupted only by the crackling of flames.

He was knocked over by the smaller girl, who clung to him tightly, sobbing her thanks into his chest. He awkwardly patted her back. "Uh… you're welcome?"

Daphne scowled at him. "Do not think that this makes things even, Potter."

I stared at her. "I just saved you from rape!"

"You also knocked me over yesterday, and allowed my sister to be tortured."

I blinked. "Get your priorities in order, woman!"

She glared, and outstretched an arm. "Astoria!" she barked. "We're leaving."

As they were about to leave, however, a man burst into the clearing, his wand pointed towards the sky. "MORSMORDRE!" he screamed, before disappearing in the same manner as Crabbe. The wand clattered to the ground behind him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, picking up the wand. "That's my wand!"

"Dear Merlin," Daphne whispered, staring at the sky.

Suspended over them was a ghostly mirage, a shimmering skull with a snake diving in and out of its sockets and mouth. Harry's mouth dropped open.

"The Dark Mark," Astoria whimpered.

"HANDS UP!" a voice bellowed, which Harry recognised as one of the Aurors who had been patrolling the area. "YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR HIGH TREASON!"

A/N: Hello my fellow fanfiction readers/writers. Yes, I am back, and no, it is not Lessons of the Pit (if you like Percy Jackson, please check it out. Yes, it is still being updated).

This is something that's been floating about my head for a while, and I decided to get to writing it. It is, of course, a Harry Potter/BBC Merlin crossover, with a Harry/Daphne and a Merlin/Morgana pairing. Yes, yes, I know that Daphne is literally mentioned once in the books, but I needed a Slytherin girl, and Pansy is... Pansy. Either way, she is more of a different character anyway...

So, I've seen a few Harry-is-Merlin fics, but decided to do my own. For one, a lot tend to only have Harry and Draco as Merlin and Arthur. What? So, yeah, this one has other Merlinites. Yes, I made that word up.

And before you complain, no, Daphne is not blonde-hair-blue-eyes in this fic. It is not her canon appearance! She does not even have a canon appearance. That appearance is based of one random background Slytherin in the movies, that people assumed was Daphne. The character is not listed in the credits! Literally, this is the only sentence in the book she appears in: "Hermione's name was called. Trembling, she left the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle, and Daphne Greengrass".

So, yeah. Different appearance. But I will use the ice-queen-persona common in fanon. It fits well with the other character.

Anyway, rant over! Please favourite, follow and review! If you have any questions, feel free to PM.

See you all next chapter!

This is JaguarAJG, signing off.