Author's Notes: Hey all! Well, here comes an enormous, not broken up chapter by popular demand, despite the English seminar I have to do in a week. Meh, Harry Potter's kind of like King Lear, right? Whoa, maybe that can be my thesis…
As you may or may not have read in my author's bio update thingies, I made a huge historical error like an idiot a while back and had to go back and correct some things. Plus, I got rid of the gigantic, annoying spaces between paragraphs that were in some chapters. Hoorah!
By the way, judging by the way the next few chapters are working out, you guys are all going to want to kill me. I know it's horrible, but I'm getting cliff-hanger happy. There's cliffies galore coming up. Please don't hurt me. It just increases the suspense! ^_^
***
"What the hell do you mean we have a problem?" Ron demanded, following Harry through the winding halls of Hogwarts. "Slow down, dammit! Harry! Why are you here? Where the hell are we going?"
"Shut up for a second, Ron!" Harry snapped, whirling around to face him. He blinked, looking a bit surprised at himself. Sighing heavily, Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. "We're going to Dumbledore. He'll explain everything. Please…just trust me, Ron, all right?" He started briskly walking again.
"Dumbledore? What does Dumbledore have to do with anything? Oy, I'm asking you a question!" Ron yelled after him, jogging a bit to catch up. His patience was wearing thin; he'd been through quite a night, he was tired, and now his best friend and former partner had just shown up out of the blue for no apparent reason and told him that they had a problem. As if things couldn't get any worse. "Harry!"
Harry just shook his head at him as he muttered the password and began climbing the winding stairs to Dumbledore's office. Ron assaulted him with questions the entire way up, none of which the tired and distraught Harry answered.
" – and I thought you were busy today!" Ron continued as they entered Dumbledore's office.
The enormous, circular room seemed dark and still, as if mirroring the grimness of its inhabitants. Even Dumbledore's many noisy knick-knacks, littering tables and shelves around the office, had ceased their functions for the night. Harry and Ron both stopped and waited for the Headmaster, who was talking to someone with his back turned to them, to acknowledge them.
"Oh yeah, and thanks for the broom," Ron said to Harry, abruptly remembering.
"No problem. Headmaster?" Harry called, clearing his throat.
Dumbledore and the woman he'd been talking to turned around; it was, not surprisingly, Diana Drago. She crossed over to where the two men were standing. The three of them waited for Dumbledore to slowly sink into the chair behind his desk. The Headmaster's face was solemn.
"You are certain about this, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes flickering towards Ron.
"I always thought he should know," Harry said stubbornly. "It was stupid to keep it from him."
"Keep what from who?" Ron demanded.
"Show him the papers, first of all," Diana said, gesturing to a stack of newspaper on Dumbledore's desk. With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore sent the stack of papers flying into Ron's hands. Ron glanced down at the clearly Muggle newspaper and read:
Health officials redouble efforts to control mystery illness
Schools, malls across U.K. closed in order to stop spread of unidentified bug
"Son of a – " Ron swore, feeling his insides turn to ice as he flipped through the other papers and scanned the headlines. "Disease fuels quarantine alert," he read out loud. "Mystery illness threatens capital. Scientists stumped by contagious disease." He glanced up at Harry. "It's that bad now?"
"Muggles aren't allowed to visit hospitals any more," Harry replied, folding his arms. "People were warned not to go Christmas shopping in crowded malls. It's a mess."
"They think it's a mutated form of the influenza, highly contagious. No clue…" Diana said. Ron almost did a double take; he could have sworn he heard a hint of sympathy in her voice.
"But no one's died?" Ron asked anxiously.
"No one's died," Harry confirmed. He exchanged glances with Dumbledore. "No one will, as long as the other scrolls are safe."
"How long until this all wears off?" Ron asked, continuing to flip through the papers and feeling a mounting sense of dread.
"Weeks, months, who knows," Diana responded. She had walked to the opposite side of the room and was running her fingers along the dusty volumes in Dumbledore's enormous bookcase, which curved around the circular room.
"It's a guessing game, Ron," Dumbledore said quietly. "Which is why we can't let any of the other scrolls fall into the wrong hands."
Ron stopped flipping through papers at the Headmaster's tone. He looked to Harry. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Why're you here, Harry?"
Harry's eyes locked with Dumbledore's. "First of all, you have to understand, Ron, why we weren't allowed to tell you. They wanted as few people as possible to know the location of the other four scrolls. They didn't want to take any chances."
A thrill ran through Ron; they were going to tell him where the scrolls were hidden. He'd be able to make sure they were safe. Perhaps he could even find a way to destroy them…
"One of the reasons Moody and Crump let you go so easily last year was because you were staying here," Harry explained. "We had Professor Dumbledore here, of course, and the fact that a former Auror was at Hogwarts as well made everyone feel a little better, you know, since you could be contacted and informed in case things got worse."
It was late, and he was exhausted, or else Ron would have caught on sooner. But when it finally did click, he tightened his grip on the papers in his hands and gave Harry a look of dread. "Oh no…"
"And things just got worse," Diana echoed, gesturing to the newspapers in Ron's hands.
"The scrolls are hidden here at Hogwarts, Ron," Dumbledore said solemnly, folding his wrinkled hands on his desk.
Ron just looked at the three of them, stunned, for a moment. He could not believe that Harry hadn't told him before. Harry, his partner; Harry, his friend. The scrolls were at Hogwarts, right under his very nose.
At Hogwarts.
Ron was having a hard time forming the words he wanted to say; his mouth felt dry and his tongue heavy. When he finally did speak, it was very slowly.
"…Are…you…people…mad?" Ron exploded. "Hogwarts?" he cried in disbelief. "You bloody hid them here? At Hogwarts?!"
"Why don't you just yell a little bit louder," Diana suggested sarcastically. "I'll open a window if you want, then you can scream it to the world."
"You, shut up!" Ron snapped in frustration. He turned to Harry, who, surprisingly, looked as if he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Hogwarts, Harry? Come on."
Harry held back a smile. The situation was so serious, and yet they were all so tired and frustrated that it just seemed like such a relief to laugh. "It was the safest place we had," he explained apologetically.
"Oh yeah, real safe," Ron replied sarcastically. "A guy with Voldemort on the back of his head, a giant snake, an alleged murderer, and a number of random Death Eaters have only managed to get in and/or be seen wandering around in here."
"The scrolls are quite protected, Ron, I assure you," Dumbledore spoke up.
"Oh, what, like the Sorcerer's Stone was?" Ron asked wryly. Harry totally lost it; the seasoned Auror and respected member of the Order of the Phoenix snorted.
Dumbledore gave them both a severe look; but there was the slight suggestion of a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Let us attempt to be serious for a moment, shall we?" he reprimanded them. "Ron, we took it upon ourselves to tell you this so that you will be aware. I know I can count on you to report any suspicious activity in the castle," he gave him a look over top of his spectacles. "From anyone," he stressed.
"I thought you said no one knows they're here?" Ron asked Harry, having sobered a bit.
"No one does, as far as we know," Harry responded. "Save the Order, and a few others in the Ministry. But you know how the scrolls are, Ron, it's like they want to be found."
"Well, if you people would just arrest Stark and be done with it…" Ron began angrily.
"See?" Harry said triumphantly, turning to Diana. "Ron thinks it's Stark, too."
Diana rolled her eyes. "He would."
"Children," Dumbledore interrupted. "May we get back to business?"
"Sorry, Headmaster," Harry said sheepishly. He cleared his throat and straightened, trying to look professional once more. "Ron, you have to understand that you can't tell anyone about this. No one. Not even Hermione. We can't chance it…if the Dark Hand finds out they're at the castle, we're done for. You are right…people have gotten into Hogwarts before," Harry finished grimly.
Ron vividly remembered the feeling of horror he'd felt when he had realized that Voldemort - a Voldemort fully returned to strength and power - had somehow gotten into Dumbledore's impenetrable castle in seventh year, Harry's safe house.
Correction, Ron reminded himself, feeling bile rise to his throat. He didn't get in somehow. Malfoy let him in.
They had all known that Malfoy was capable of it. He was, after all, the perfect inside source for his father, the rest of the Death Eaters, and Voldemort. How had they not seen it coming? All Malfoy had had to do was open a gate, and he could stroll right in…
But Hermione, Arden, and Rowan were hardly Malfoy. And, as of right now, they did not know that the scrolls were hidden in the castle. And Ron didn't plan to tell them.
"I won't say a word," Ron promised. It was true, of course. He wouldn't tell Hermione, Arden, or Rowan where the scrolls were hidden. He'd just told them everything else, that was all.
"So…where are they?" Ron asked, trying to sound casual. "The scrolls, that is."
"Ron, do not touch them," Harry said quickly, sounding alarmed. "If you go looking for them, I will – "
"Fine, fine, I won't," Ron promised sourly, holding up his hands.
"They can't be destroyed, Ron," Harry said quietly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You know we've already tried. Messing around with them is not going to help Hermione or any of the other Muggles and Muggle-borns."
"All right," Ron muttered. He clenched his fists, because deep down inside, he knew that what Harry had said was true.
Harry looked at him appraisingly, and, satisfied that Ron would keep his promise, took a deep breath. "There's a ton of chambers and entrances in Hogwarts that only appear at certain times, or on certain days," Harry explained. "We hid them in one of these chambers. It's guarded by every spell and curse and shield you can think of, and the entrance to the room only appears once a month – on the full moon."
"We wanted to find a room that was less cheesy, but no such luck," Diana said with a smirk. Harry tried not to grin, but then once again put on his serious face.
"You're not to go near this chamber, or take any serious action without talking to any of us first," Harry said adamantly, "unless it's absolutely necessary. Just…be on alert. You know what to do."
"I will," Ron promised. "And I won't breathe a word about where they are, Harry. I swear."
"Well then," Dumbledore said briskly. "I believe that is all. I will speak with you further in the morning, Professor Weasley. Right now, I'm quite anxious to return to a particularly interesting dream about flying pancakes. Good night," he nodded to them all, and then rose from his desk.
Diana, still by the bookcase, held up a thin book with a worn, navy blue cover. "Can I borrow this, Albus?" she asked.
"But of course. Take care of yourself, Agent Drago," Dumbledore said with a fatherly sort of smile. Diana returned the smile and then followed Harry and Ron out of the room.
"Is that it, then?" Ron asked as the three of them walked down the spiralling staircase. "You're leaving?"
"Apparating back to London," Harry said, nodding. "There's work to do." He grinned weakly. "But first we're getting something to eat. I'm starved. Is it still the pear?"
Ron smiled. "Still the pear." They came to the bottom of the staircase and watched as the stone gargoyle concealed the entrance to Dumbledore's office yet again. The three of them stood there in silence for a moment.
"Er…it's going to be all right, Ron," Harry said awkwardly. "We didn't mean to panic you or anything…it's just getting more serious, you understand? Just…keep an eye on the old place, and they'll be safe."
Ron nodded. He had been slightly angry and even hurt that Harry hadn't told him that the scrolls were at Hogwarts earlier, but he now understood that Harry had had his reasons. At least now Ron finally had a purpose, something to do. He didn't feel as useless, or even as uninformed. Ron would protect the castle and those scrolls with his life.
Still…it wasn't enough for him.
"I'd like to do some research," he said slowly, "about the First Great War. And the Dark Hand. And…Dameon Stark. Do you think you could get me some information?"
"Ron, all of that Dark Hand stuff has been gone through already – " Harry began.
"I know," Ron said. "Just…I'd like to, anyway."
Harry smiled in understanding. "I'll see what I can do."
"And you guys are working on a cure, right?" Ron added. "I mean, like the Vaccinus. We're not just going to sit here and wait for it to wear off, are we?"
"There's people working on that," Harry promised.
"But they're idiots," Diana added. "So we're working on it too," she said, exchanging a look with Harry. Ron glanced down at the book in her hand; it was entitled Healing Properties of Spider Blood and Organs.
"Good to know," Ron said, trying not to make a face thinking of the book's contents.
"You're coming to the banquet, aren't you?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Wouldn't miss it."
"Good," Harry nodded. "Just, uh…don't mention any of this to Moody or Foran, will you? They sort of don't know we told you."
"It was an executive decision," Diana said with a wry smile.
Ron grinned. "My lips are sealed. And…er, thanks. Both of you."
"Well," Harry said presently, before it could become a touching moment or anything like that. "I'm starved. Shall we sneak down to the kitchens?"
"Sure, but I'm waiting outside," Diana replied, folding her arms. "The house elves still think that I tried to poison Albus last year."
"Well…Happy Christmas, Ron," Harry said. Ron started; he'd nearly forgotten it was still Christmas. Had he really only had dinner with his family a few hours ago?
"Yeah, Happy Christmas," Ron answered, smiling. "And Harry…kick arse broom. Thanks, mate."
"Hermione did most of the work," Harry said humbly. "But you're welcome. Thanks for the maroon sweater."
Ron laughed. "That was just a joke. I'll get you something good later."
"Sure. When this is all over," Harry agreed with a small sigh. "Well, good night, Ron. We'll be in touch."
"Good. See you."
In a surprisingly polite gesture, Diana Drago also bid Ron good night. The two Aurors turned around, their black robes fluttering behind them as they did so, and started down the dark hall. They eventually rounded a corner, the few torches dimly lighting the corridors causing their enormous shadows to follow and eventually flicker and die as Harry and Diana disappeared from sight.
Ron wearily turned and headed back towards the staff common room. When he finally did make it back to his room, he immediately flopped onto the bed and fell asleep, still in his cloak. His sleep was peaceful and dreamless.
He'd had a long night, after all.
***
"Well, Ron," began Arden Roberts awkwardly, from behind a towering pile of books and files. "When you asked me to help you do some Auror-related work, I have to confess, I didn't think it was going to be this," he spread his arms wide to indicate the table before him.
Documents and files of every shape and size littered the large table, along with a few very heavy, dog-eared books. A lone candle flickered in the midst of the table, casting shadows onto the tired faces of those gathered around it. Rowan was slowly going through a file, her eyes focused and concentrated, if not a bit sleepy. Arden himself was half-hidden by a pile of books, and Ron was violently circling names and dates on various papers. Hermione was rapidly running her finger back and forth over a battered piece of parchment on her right, and then sporadically switching to a similar document on her left. Her hair was pulled back haphazardly, and her eyes were alight. Hermione lived for this kind of thing.
"Sorry to burst your bubble," Ron replied to Arden apologetically, "but this is what Aurors end up doing three quarters of the time. Research."
"All right," Arden agreed wearily, stifling a yawn. "But did we have to do it at one o'clock in the morning?"
"Somehow, I don't think McGonagall would appreciate us going through confidential Ministry documents in the staff common room," Ron responded wryly. "At least this way, everyone's asleep and no one will bother us."
"I'm surprised no one's heard us talking yet and come down to investigate," Rowan remarked.
"I put a sound proof spell around the room," Hermione explained, not looking up from her reading, "and an Alarum Charm. If anyone wakes up and heads down here, we'll be warned, and can get rid of all of this."
"Well, there you go," Ron said with a proud grin.
Harry had kept his word, and less than a week after his visit to Hogwarts, an assortment of Ministry documents had arrived for Ron, all books and files containing information about the First Great War and the Dark Hand. A bit daunted by the task of all that reading, Ron had, of course, asked Hermione for help. Soon Arden and Rowan had also begun to assist, rifling through documents and files well into the small hours of the night. Ron had still not told any of them that the very scrolls they were researching were hidden somewhere in the castle, right under their noses. And he had certainly not told any of them that Harry was unaware of their part in the researching process.
"I'm not complaining," Arden said apologetically, "I'm just saying, hasn't this stuff already been gone through by the blokes at the Ministry?"
Ron suddenly had a mental image of Joel Landers 'researching'. "The blokes at the Ministry aren't always very thorough," Ron replied dryly.
"Harry really is amazing," Hermione said fondly, still not looking up from her work, "to get all of this for us. I don't even want to know what he had to do to steal a bunch of confidential Ministry documents." Finally she did look up, and fixed Ron with a quizzical gaze, as if she had not thought of this before. "You're sure Harry's all right with us reading these?""
Ron coughed nonchalantly and cleared his throat, making himself look very occupied with dipping his quill into the ink. "Well…see…that's a funny story…"
Hermione put down her quill and made the face she made when she was not impressed. "Funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar?" she demanded.
"Funny as in Harry doesn't exactly know that I've told you all about this," Ron said all in a rush.
There was a long silence at the table.
"Ron!" Hermione finally shouted indignantly.
Rowan glanced over her shoulder and exchanged looks with Arden. "That sound proof spell had better hold," she said apprehensively.
"Look, if Harry finds out that any of you know about the scrolls, or the current situation – " Ron began.
"You should have told him!" Hermione interrupted furiously.
"He would not be happy, Hermione!" Ron warned.
"Well, tough luck!"
"The information I told all of you is strictly confidential, and the fact that I managed to blab to three people – "
"Actually, just one," Arden said helpfully. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Rowan Saw what was going on."
"Sorry," Rowan apologized to Ron bashfully.
"Ron," Hermione began in her reasoning voice, folding her hands together. "Harry obviously went out of his way to provide you with this information, so that we could look into a situation that we are all very concerned about. As both your link to the Ministry, not to mention our best friend, Harry has a right to know that you have shared with others the information that he trusted you with. I'm sure he will respect your decision."
"Or he'll kill me," Ron muttered.
"You're going to tell him about our involvement at the banquet next weekend," Hermione said in a business-like tone, shuffling her papers together. The banquet was on the first of February; it was hard to believe January had gone by so fast. But with waiting for these documents to arrive from Harry, and then spending their nights researching them, time seemed to fly by.
Ron didn't say anything in response to Hermione; best to let her think that his silence meant submission, and drop the subject.
Arden yawned and stretched, slumping over the papers in front of him. "Have any of you even found anything startling?" he asked. "Because I haven't."
"Well," said Hermione. "Let's all recap, shall we? What information have we gathered thus far?
Ron inwardly sighed; he was infinitely appreciative of the organization and help Hermione had given him these past few weeks - she understood his need to do something, to find something out that would somehow help the Aurors - but Hermione had a bad habit of automatically reverting to teacher mode. Ron smiled as Rowan almost raised her hand to speak. She had, after all, been in Hermione's class just last year. Arden also caught on and nudged Row, grinning. Rowan immediately flushed a brilliant shade of red and dropped her hand.
"Well," Hermione said when no one else spoke, "we've determined that three men, belonging to an organization they called the Dark Hand, were arrested and tried in 1926 for using the Scrolls of Scuro, therefore ultimately causing thousands of Muggle deaths during World War I. We know that others had to have been involved, but only three men were caught, arrested, and tried," Hermione paused to take a breath, and then held up her fingers, counting off the three names one by one, "Draven Cartesian, a wealthy Pureblood entrepreneur. No wife or family. He's on the record as still being in Azkaban prison."
"Pity the Dementors are gone," Ron growled.
"Cartesian was assumed to be the ringleader, because of his high social standing, and the fact that he was the most forward of the three during their trial," Hermione explained. "He didn't even make an attempt to deny what they had done. In fact, it says here that he seemed incredibly proud."
"Then there was that one fellow with the funny name," Rowan spoke up, sifting through some files.
"Ademon," Hermione said immediately. "Caius Ademon. Cartesian's business partner. Also Pureblood, also very wealthy."
"That name bothers me," Rowan suddenly said, frowning. "Something about the name…"
"Maybe it's the fact that if you put a space in there, his last name would be 'A demon'?" Arden suggested wryly.
"Well, yes, but…" Row furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, "that's not it…"
"Caius Ademon died in Azkaban, in 1934," Hermione continued, reading off her notes. "He left behind a son, Galen, and his wife, Marisa."
"What happened to the wife and son?" Rowan asked in interest, still in deep thought.
"Well, his wife also died shortly after Caius was sent to Azkaban," Hermione said, her expression thoughtful, "and curiously enough, when Galen got older he was arrested and sent to Azkaban."
"Like father, like son," Ron muttered.
"Galen Ademon also died in Azkaban, in 1956. But the peculiar thing is that these files don't list the charges he was tried for. There's very limited information about the case."
"I assume Galen was trying to pick up where Daddy left off," Ron said darkly.
"Did Galen have a family?" Rowan asked in a vague sort of voice. Her eyes were very focused, yet distant.
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I haven't found any information that suggests that."
"Hmm," said Rowan. She fell silent after that.
"And then there's this guy," Ron said, glancing down at the file he had been poring over. "Eamon DeWitt."
"Did you find anything more about him, Ron?" Hermione asked.
"Only that he was working for the Ministry of Magic during the First Great War," Ron said in disgust. "He was probably reading the scrolls right under their noses. And he got off scott free, the lucky prat. DeWitt claimed that the other two had threatened his family and had forced him to co-operate with the Dark Hand's plans, and due to lack of evidence that suggested otherwise, the Council of Magical Law believed him and were forced to let him go. There's nothing else on record about him after that, so he must have stayed out of the spotlight." Ron tapped his quill against the table, looking pensive. "You know, speaking of names, 'DeWitt' bothers me."
"I know," Hermione answered, chewing her bottom lip. "There's something familiar about it, isn't there?"
"Yeah…" Ron drifted off into a yawn, and then shook his head vigorously, trying to stay awake. He glanced around at his companions; Hermione's eyes were red-rimmed, Arden had all but fallen asleep at the table, and Rowan still had that contemplative, distant look in her eyes.
"Well, I say we call it a night," Ron said with a heavy sigh.
Arden sleepily rose from the table, and accidentally knocked off a few files as he did so. Hermione made an impatient, disapproving noise. Rowan finally snapped out of it and leapt out of her chair, crouching down to pick up the files. Arden smiled gratefully and extended his hand to help her up.
"Thanks," the Muggle Studies professor said, pulling Rowan to her feet. A dreamy sort of look came over Rowan's face for a second. Arden smiled quizzically, waiting for Rowan to release his hand.
Rowan blinked and abruptly let go of Arden's hand, her cheeks flushed. She shoved the folders into Arden's arms, looking extremely embarrassed.
"Well…um…goodnight!" she said hastily, and then hurried up the stairs. Arden watched her run up the stairs and turn left on the landing. He looked back to Ron and Hermione as Rowan disappeared out of sight, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Is something wrong with her?" he asked in concern, gesturing up the stairs.
"I don't know," Ron said innocently. "Maybe you should go up there and ask." He and Hermione exchanged knowing smiles.
Arden looked at the two of them, puzzled. "I really like both of you guys," he said slowly, "but sometimes, you're sort of strange. In a good way. See you in the morning." He grinned, and then also started up the stairs.
Hermione turned to Ron, smiling. But he already had his back turned to her, and was cleaning up the cluttered table with swift movements of his wand.
"I thought I'd feel better if we looked over this stuff," Ron said abruptly, "that you know, we'd make a connection or find something new, something to help. But it's pointless," he said in defeat. "We haven't found anything that the Ministry doesn't already know about."
"Well, we've only been looking through it for a little while," Hermione pointed out, "and we really haven't gone through that much of it, if you think about it." She hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to be comforting or practical and honest. Practicality seemed to win out. "But Ron, really, Harry did warn you that we probably wouldn't find anything," she said gently.
Ron's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, you're right. Still…I thought that maybe…"
"Well, we'll continue going through it, and see what we find," Hermione said optimistically. "You never know."
"Yeah," Ron agreed half-heartedly.
"And you're going to tell Harry that we're helping you," Hermione added adamantly.
"Sure," Ron lied, collecting files and books into a neat pile and Banishing them into his room. The pile rapidly floated up the stairs and out of sight. Ron and Hermione slowly followed the floating documents. Names and dates swirled around in Ron's tired mind, something nagging at him as he climbed.
"Wait!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, flinging out his arm to stop Hermione's ascent up the stairs. She started and immediately stopped, looking at him curiously.
"DeWitt," Ron said, his eyes blazing. "I know where I've heard that name." He sounded excited and furious at the same time.
"Really? Where?" Hermione asked in interest.
"DeWitt," Ron explained angrily, gritting his teeth, "was Narcissa Malfoy's maiden name."
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Oooh! Didn't see that one coming, didja? Oh. You did? Well…um…in Gr. 12 Calculus, you not only have to learn how to take the derivative of a function, you also have to learn how to take the derivative of the derivative! Oooh! Didn't see that one coming, now did you?!
And now, a little poem about reviewing:
Reviewing makes me happy,
It's as fun as can be!
Reviewing is a wonderful thing to give
From you to me!
Reviewing's really swell,
It makes me a cheerful lass.
And if you will not do it,
You can kiss my little –
Oh, look at the time, I have to go! Review, please! ^_^
