Like Father, Like Son
The day of Sameth and Severus's required meeting had come. The younger of the two had spent most of his time looking through books for names for his new raven.
He had finally found one that he had liked. Adai. It had been the name of an old sorcerer whom had discovered many potions and was generally regarded as the "Father of Modern Potions and Brews", as his book claimed.
The bird seemed to like it, too, responding whenever Sam had called him by it. The two were pretty well-acquainted and the bird had proven himself a worthy companion, smart and brave.
Severus had been brooding in the dungeons a lot thinking about what he was going to tell the Dark Lord. At the next meeting, he would surely be asked about his son's reactions to the news. Then, the meeting after that, the new Death Eaters would be brought and given a trainer. The trainer would give the apprentice challenges, and measure how well he did on these.
Then, they would report at Christmas to Voldemort, who would review each student's abilities and initiate him, ranking them in order. Severus was currently the fourth in standing, after Lucius Malfoy, and the Lestrange's.
The top eight Death Eaters were the most vital to Voldemort's cause, and he was rather fond of testing them for loyalty and endurance.
Severus was mainly important for his use with potions, but also with Dumbledore. He always gave enough information to make himself useful, but not enough ever to really dramatically hurt the other side.
Severus remembered his own training. He had been under the care of Barty Crouch, whom had been Voldemort's second in command until his death. His training had been horrific. The challenges were still painful to remember, the whole first half of his sixth year a mass of pain and blood and death, ending only in his Dark Mark. How proud he had been to wear it. When he was younger, he hated to cover it up.
It had been necessary, though, when he was still at school. If someone who was not loyal to the cause had seen it, it would been his life.
But today was the father and son's meeting. Both met in the Room of Requirement early and with potions ingredients in hand.
After a short greeting, they decided to get started.
"So, Severus, what are we making?" The name, although still foreign, rolled off Harry's tongue more easily now.
"A few different varieties of Healing Potions. If you follow through with your plan they will become quite necessary for you to know."
He laid out the ingredients, asking Sameth if he knew what each was and what they would do if mixed with other ingredients. The Potions Master was greatly impressed by the knowledge, and let the boy start working, as he watched.
Sameth, though nervous, began. He didn't want to fail his father. He actually wanted to make him proud. A rich new feeling buzzed around in his stomach. 'Parental approval.' So that's what it felt like.
Instead of feeling this towards James, he had felt more of a need to prove himself. Not to James, in fact, just the opposite. He had needed to show everyone he could live up to his father's reputation.
He mixed, stirred, chopped, and minced. As always, Sam's measurements were precise, and it was with an experienced hand that he added the plants and animal parts.
Nearly half an hour later, he was finished, the perfect potion simmering correctly on an open flame. He had a short break until he would need to add the next component, essence of Lamb's Ear, a soft, furry plant that would help the volatile reactions usually experienced.
He finished.
Severus looked over his work, generally approving. It was excellent work for Sameth.
He nodded.
Sam didn't even know he was waiting for any sign of approval until he almost felt himself smile.
"It's good." Severus voiced it. "Good enough to sell, actually." Seeing Sam's quizzical looks, he responded. "Healers and Nurses like Pomfrey buy their stores from brewers all the time. This one you've created could be sold for a profit."
Sam sat, thinking.
"Then, if you brew all these complicated potions, why don't you sell them? Surely you'd be able to."
"I make potions for only three people. They keep me busy with my work, and with teaching, the time and energy would be too much."
"Who do you make your potions for then? I mean, obviously yourself and Dumbledore, but…"
His questioning was cut short by Severus grabbing his arm, and pulling up the sleeve.
"Oh, Voldemort."
He thought that Severus was only showing him the mark, and was rather surprised that he'd do that instead of just tell him, but was even more confused when Severus started running out the door, robes billowing after him, pain etched on his face as he grabbed his arm.
"Oh!" He got it.
Severus didn't stop to correct the boy. He didn't think he could, actually. He kept running, and stopped only after he had apparated.
He was in a field, somewhere. There was dying brown grass beneath his feet, and nothing except land and sky to be seen in any direct.
It was different, more open and airy than normal. Not very like the Dark Lord, actually. He usually preferred the dark and claustrophobic, midnight deals to the sunshine and no protection.
But he stood there and waited. Severus was sure that this is where Lord Voldemort would join him.
He watched some birds in the sky for a bit, feeling very self-conscious standing there in his Potions robes in the middle of total isolation.
He thus turned his eyes to the openness around him. He stared at the horizon for a while, growing impatient. He regretted for leaving Sameth there, but he really couldn't stop and explain to him.
It was a little while later when his presence was graced by that of his Master's, as well as Nagini's and Wormtail's. Snape immediately bent down, kissed the Dark Lord's robes, and, knees cracking, stood up.
"Master, what can I do for you?"
The regenerated evil cackled with some unnatural energy. "Ah, Snape. I've called you a little early to see what your son's inclination to our side is. If he has agreed," he stopped, and through the hood the Dark Lord was wearing, Severus could almost see the smirk on his pale, gruesome face. If the face was there, anyways. "Then you both will be rewarded."
Severus regretted what he was going to say next, and hoped that when his son found out the truth that he would be able to forgive him for allowing him to join such a grouped of the damned.
"My son, Sameth has agreed to join our organization. He wants to become a Death Eater, to purge the world of Muggle's and Mudblood filth."
"Excellent." The Dark Lord sounded almost disappointed. "He did not need any- persuasion?"
"No. Once he found out the truth, he was eager to join."
"Very well. I will add him to the list of recruits. Bring him with you when you are called upon next time. To make this easier on you both, it will be on September the 25th."
Severus thought. That was more than a month and a week away. Plenty of time to begin giving Sameth his other types of training. Training that he would need from Dumbledore and Severus both.
They had decided not to report him to the Ministry as an official spy. That would mean exposing him as Snape's son altogether too early, and they couldn't risk anything.
However, this meant that if he was caught, there would be nothing anyone could do to stop him from a life sentence in Azkaban. Which, wasn't that bad now that the dementers had been removed, but could still mean the loss of a good spy.
Sameth would also be starting school in that time, so he could make friends with the Slytherins. Severus hoped to God that he wasn't resorted back into Gryffindor. That would be suicide, because, while it wasn't unheard of to have a Gryffindor Death Eater, it would make for strained relationships between Malfoy, Zabini, and the other well-known supporters sons.
Severus, realizing that he had been wasting precious time with his thoughts, nodded. "We will both be looking forward to it, my Lord."
He turned to leave, when a white-hot hand burned through his sleeve on his arm.
"I have one more matter of business to clear up with you, Severus."
Severus turned around once more.
"Yes? Anything my Lord."
"I was wondering if you would agree" this was said with forced questioning. Of course if the Dark Lord asked something of a servant, it would be done. "to train a new Death Eater. I am aware that you haven't done this before, and, as they would be a student, I find that this would be an easy way for you to spread some influence."
"Yes, my Lord. I will."
"Good. Do not forget your loyalty, and warn your son to do the same."
There was a burst of pain. The Cruciatus. Unexpected, it was almost too much too bear. The curse was designed for one thing, and one thing only. Push past all barriers until you reach the final breaking point of pain, lingering on death and insanity, then release it. It was like a drug to administer- those who cast it often became addicted to its power, longed for the feeling of causing so much distress to another person.
Once you were under it, you were different, too. You could never really emerge from such an excruciating experience unscathed. Severus, who had probably been under the curse more than most other Death Eaters, due to the Dark Lord's rather suspicious nature. He thought, correctly as it turns out, that once a traitor, always a traitor, and he had been hesitant to let Severus back into the fold very easily. But he needed such an expert Potion maker, to brew nasty little things for him. In fact, Severus had been the one who really brought back Voldemort. He had given him, years ago, the long lost formula to the restoration brew Wormtail had concocted not that long ago.
Then, as quickly and harshly as it began, the pain stopped. Severus gathered his thoughts, and rather hurriedly, if desperately, pulled himself together. He nodded once at his inflictor, and turned to leave.
This time, Lord Voldemort allowed him to go, handing him a list of the new recruits that he made magically appear. There was quite a few of them. Severus didn't even look at it, merely tucked it into his pocket, turned and limped away. He, of course, wasn't going to train all of the listed. Later, probably on September the 25th, he'd be given his protégé.
After the pain Severus had just born, his ability to walk was amazing. This display of strength would be a good lesson to his apprentices. He would be the trainer of a new, better generation of Death Eaters. Or so the Dark Lord thought.
Severus had nearly identical thoughts in his head. He was sure that the Dark Lord had been impressed by his ability to take the suffering. The pain, as well as the request that had been before it, made him remember his own training, and the walk back to the castle from the edge of the grounds was a particularly painful one. After all, Barty was only a year older than him, and the Dark Lord hadn't anyone else to be a master.
As they were both Slytherins, it was particularly easy for the seventh year to enter Severus's dorm. The silencing spells, on the bed, to stop anyone from hearing Snape's cry's of pain and pleas for help, and also to stop the hearing of Crouch's pleasure. Night after night, the repressed memories were coming back to Severus.
No one could be told. The Slytherin would silence him, and if he went to the Headmaster, he would have to admit to his training, and would be killed for being a snitch. So Severus endured.
He was almost fainting by the time he reached his rooms in the dungeon. He felt as though blows from unseen fists were raining upon him and he did not have an umbrella. Severus still needed to go speak to Dumbledore about these new developments, but right now he needed some potion. Anything to stop this headache, or healing potion to protect both his mind and body from these invisible assailants.
He was alone when he reached his room. Not that he had actually expected Harry to stay, but Severus was suddenly struck by how empty the room seemed when there was only one person in it. He looked to the cauldron where only an hour previous he and Harry had been working… together.
There was nothing there now. The cauldron had been cleaned and was currently back on its shelf, as were the potions ingredients that had been used. There was, however, a piece of parchment and two flasks where the workspace had been. Snape reached for the parchment first.
Severus (it read, in a rather organized script, much different from the untidy scrawl that usually accompanied Harry Potter's schoolwork. )
I finished up the potion and bottled it. Thought you might need it when you came back. Here Snape smirked. The boy had insight. It really was what he needed at this time.
Thanks for helping me today.
Then the signature, looking very odd.
-Sameth
No telling how hard it had been for the boy to write that. But at least he was getting used to and adjusting to the new pressures put on him. They would multiply tenfold before September was over.
The Potions master took the potion, first testing it's quality. He trusted Sameth, but there was an automatic tendency to be paranoid in him. It had, actually, saved him several times before, many of which he was unaware of.
He relaxed for a few minutes in his living room, taking in the cold atmosphere. He placed a hand over his heart, almost as if trying to still its rapid beating. Severus's hand brushed over a piece of paper in the breast pocket of his robe. He brought it out.
It was the list of names that had been given to him by the Dark Lord. It was spelled, so that once someone committed themselves to Voldemort, their name was attached to the list. Snape reviewed it. Written there, the last name on the list was Sameth's. The very first name was Draco Malfoy. Severus expected that he'd been signed up since before his own birth.
Draco Malfoy. There was much to say about the son of Lucius. Severus was the boy's godfather, although neither made it publicly known. Lucius and Severus had been pretty good friends, once Severus had joined the Death Eaters.
Lucius and Narcissa both had been in their seventh year when Severus started Hogwarts. Then, they had graduated and been married, and the Snape had lost track of Lucius. Once joining Voldemort, however, Severus began to see a lot more of the Malfoy. They had become friends, and, at one time, they were nearly brothers. Then, Draco had been born.
All this was before a certain night when a memory spell had been placed on Severus. It had always been the Dark Lord first, friends later with the two. If Lucius thought that Severus had sabotaged his Lord's plan, then he of course would try to get revenge.
Even so, Severus had always looked out for Draco. He thought of the boy as completely different from his father, which was probably a good thing. Lucius might be an excellent servant for the Dark Lord, but Draco had been raised with imaginations of greatness in his mind, and those always came before any other.
Being a good Death Eater was just a step stone in Draco's life, Severus was sure. Once he got as high as he could, he would always aspire to more.
Snape was brought back to his living room by the feeling of pain leaving his leg. He looked over the rest of the list, then decided to go talk to the Headmaster, while the information of Lord Voldemort's was still in his mind. He wandered upstairs, now able to walk without dragging his leg. The potion worked exceptionally well.
"Ah, Severus. Your son was in here a few minutes ago, telling me to expect your return soon."
"How did he know I was coming back?" Sure, Sameth would know that he left for Voldemort, but often it was hours, if not days before he returned in the summer.
"His scar. You were under the Cruciatus Curse, were you not?" The question was gently administered, but still the pain was brought back, even if it was only in a portion of its strength.
"Yes. He can… he can see that?" God only knew how many horrible things that Sameth had been made to watch. The things that his son put up with!
"Sameth has a connection to the curse. He can feel the Dark Lord's malice, and it is extremely potent while he is causing harm to another. Sam had a vision, and reported it to me."
"I see."
"He told me also that you were asked to become a master trainer for a newly recruited Death Eater."
"Yes."
"Do you know why Voldemort asked you this time? He never has before." Dumbledore looked puzzled. In fact, this was an odd move for the Dark Lord to make.
"Perhaps he is beginning to trust me again. Usually, I am exempt from teaching as I make time-consuming potions for him, but this time, it is rather different. There is nothing that he has expressed any desire for me to make, and this would be a way to be useful to the group."
"Maybe." Dumbledore agreed, but did not lose the questioning look in his eyes.
"Was that all you spoke with him on?"
"No. He asked about Har- Sameth's decision. I told the Dark Lord that Sameth would follow him."
"Hmm. How did he take it?"
"Lord Voldemort seemed pleased. It may be because he has an exceptional number of new followers this year. I have heard stories from my sources that almost the entire Slytherin sixth year students have joined, and the ones who have not will probably soon, afraid of being persecuted by their housemates."
Severus was worried about this. This was almost an unheard of show of support. The dark was gaining more followers. If the Ministry and Dumbledore didn't start some recruitments and training of their own, then they would be hard pressed to leave it to the Aurors to manage. After all, each slave of Voldemort was trained so thoroughly, so precisely, that by the end of their half-year training, each could murder any breathing object in the dark from almost one hundred feet away.
And each specialized in one of several fields. Severus himself was the only potions maker in the group, and was highly indispensable. However, one with particular bloodlust could be a mass murderer. They were in charge of the killing of Muggles and mudbloods during attacks. They were taught curses that could mutilate and keep alive any victim. It took a certain amount of disdain for human feelings and emotions for this job, even for a Death Eater.
However, if you couldn't quite stomach that, there were always the Slayers. The Dark Lord always had at least two of these in the top eight servants. They were sent to destroy high-profile opponents, one on one. Currently in this position were, respectively, the senior Malfoy and Crabbe. While his appearance had been passed on to his son, the elder Crabbe was pointedly much more intelligent, which proved only that pureblood doesn't mean superior.
There were also numerous other professions, including spies (no one, not even Severus was quite sure who they were, which was why he was so protective of being seen with the Headmaster), thieves, inventors ( who used the money granted to them to come up with spells and potions to be used against opponents) tormentors, plain soldiers (who would eventually be used in a final battle), and then those who did not get personally involved, but monetarily backed the Dark Lord.
These were always appreciated, but not entirely trusted. Even so, Lord Voldemort collected quite a large amount of money, which he put to use, giving the majority to the inventors. Severus himself received a large portion of this money, and as long as he supplied his master with what was needed and requested, he kept receiving it.
"Are there any from other houses?" Dumbledore had a resignation etched on his face. He could not shelter his students any more than he could defeat the Dark Lord's army single-handily, as so many of the wizarding world stupidly thought he could.
"Several Ravenclaw's. Pity, really. Thought they'd be smarter than that." There was only a little trace of condescending sarcasm in the Professor's voice. "And a few Hufflepuffs. I thought they'd be too scared, but they will make loyal servants."
At Dumbledore's disproving look, Snape sighed, and was quiet.
"No Gryffindors?"
"All of them." The response was said in the same, unemotional voice that Severus always used.
"What?!" The voice was horrified, disbelieving, and yet worried all at the same time.
"Of course there aren't any! There hasn't been a Gryffindor Death Eater since the old rat himself."
Dumbledore seemed to regain some of his lost enthusiasm. There was always hope, Severus supposed, while his brave lions remained loyal to him. And people claimed he showed favoritism?
"Well… Hmm." For once, the usually talkative (even if most of it was nonsense) Headmaster was quiet and reflective. He looked down at his hands, which were absentmindedly flexing the fingers. Finally, he looked up from this fascinating display, and right into Severus's eyes.
"Do you know who you will be training?" The question seemed to be one to make up for the otherwise lack of conversation.
"No. Probably someone good with potions, but many of the ones whom have that talent would make better Slayers, or even Tormentors." The first name on the list kept coming back to him.
"You are thinking of Mr. Malfoy?" The Headmaster knew of Severus's attachment, and need to watch out for the young Slytherin.
"Yes. He is by far, with the exception of Sameth, perhaps, the best Potions student I have ever had. He may cause trouble in the class, but his work is always precise." Severus was proud of his godson. He had proved, time and again that he would rise to the top.
"But you do not think that he will become an apprentice in your art?" Dumbledore knew that it was highly improbable, but he needed to know why.
"The young Malfoy would surely be a good Potions maker, yet Sameth would be a better choice. Draco is intelligent and cold. He would make an excellent Slayer, or even a spy. However, given his background, I do not think that he will be very convincing as a Ministry suck-up."
Dumbledore nodded, his half-moon spectacles falling over the bridge of his nose.
"And your son? Do you think that you might train him?"
"I do not know if Voldemort will allow that. He is careful, and if he suspects me, he may want to separate us to prevent any potential damage to Sameth. But for the same reason, he may not want Lucius to train Draco. Other than this, I do not know anything about the potential trainers."
Severus was thoughtful while and after saying this. It was true that if he was to train another Potions brewer, it would likely be either his son or his godson. The Dark Lord kept excellent tabs on the abilities of his servants, and each was placed where he was needed and fit in.
The two were finished talking. Severus was directed to share his news with Sameth (what news? He thought), yet didn't argue with the Headmaster. He was directed to the boy's rooms, and he took his time to get there.
He wandered the corridors for a while, going nowhere in particular. He was confused himself. Why his sudden unwillingness to go talk to the boy? Eventually he found himself in front of the suit of armor.
"Umm?" How did one knock on a door if there was none? Severus leaned forward, perhaps to tap on the visor of the hollow knight, after all he just seemed rather silly, standing there.
He knocked once… twice… three times. There was no answer. He was about to leave when the suit of armor suddenly stepped aside, and a heavy wooden door opened behind him.
"Severus?" The black-haired boy's head came out from behind the door.
"Sameth. May I speak to you for a minute?"
"Of course, sir- I mean, Severus." Sameth opened the door wider, allowing room between the suit of armor and the wall for his father to get through.
Entering the room, Severus sat down on the couch, Sameth sitting opposite from him in a wide chair.
Sameth brought up right away the topic of conversation he most wanted to talk about, with a bluntness that startled Severus and reminded him of Lily.
"I'm going to be a Death Eater."
"Yes. If you survive your training."
"Who will train me?"
"I don't know. I might, although I doubt the Dark Lord will allow it."
Sameth twitched. "What will my training consist of?"
Severus sighed, and began heading into the explanation. "It depends, really, on what your Lord and Master wants you to do." Seeing the blank expression on the boys face, he offered some advice. "You should begin to call him that in your mind, and in conversation with me, anyway. It will be hard enough to do at first, but imagine how much more difficult it will be when you are in his presence."
Sameth nodded, allowing his father to continue. "If he chooses you to brew Potions, like me, then you will be my apprentice. If you can easily kill many people, you will be a mass murderer. If you are good at curses and dueling, you will be a Slayer, and will be sent on missions to exterminate the Dark Lord's enemies. A thief steals things, people, and money for the cause.
Or, if you are particularly sadistic, then you will be a Tormentor. You will learn the many delightful ways to harm other human beings. It all depends, see."
This had an immense effect on the boy. He needed the reality. Sameth needed to know what to expect, and this was that.
Sameth's head was going crazy. How could he, the kind and heroic Harry Potter expect to be able to kill, torture, even hurt other people? It went against everything he ever knew.
But he wasn't Harry Potter. Not anymore. It wouldn't be Harry doing this. It would be Sameth Snape. It was okay for him to. It wasn't him, it was Sameth.
Sameth would kill others, and enjoy it. Sameth would come out, take over for Harry when it was needed. But, when he had his fun, he'd go back, and Harry would report to Dumbledore.
It was Sameth, not him.
"When will this be decided? When will I find out what path will be mine?" How long until Sameth fed himself with blood?
"September 25th. School, of course, will start in two weeks. You need to use all of that time to begin learning to become an Auror."
"How can I become an Auror, if I'm not Ministry approved?"
"Remus will teach you what you need, and I shall teach you some elementary and intermediate dark magic, enough so you will not be behind what others your age already know. Depending on what house you are resorted into, you will find varying skills in the Dark Arts in your peers."
"But surely they won't be open about their beliefs, when they could be taken to the Ministry for them, even risk Azkaban?"
"No, they will check your loyalty first. But, to be safe, make sure you befriend the people on this paper."
Severus showed Sameth the paper with the list of names. The first thing that Sameth did was scour the name, literally sorting the student's houses, seeing if any were in Gryffindor. He did not find any, however, much to his relief.
He went back a second time, and made several exclamations. "Terry Boot? The Ravenclaw?"
Severus nodded. "The numbers this year are dramatically increased. Look, almost the entire Slytherin year is joining."
Sameth looked. "Crabbe and Goyle? I thought that the Dark Lord, my Lord, that is wanted intelligent people on his side. Surely they will not be… well, allowed to do anything?"
Sameth looked positively sick. He had just referred to Voldemort, to Tom Riddle, as his master?
Not him. Sameth Snape.
The elder Snape snorted, not noticing the boy's change in demeanor. "Of course not. They will be in charge of easily managed things, merely to keep their fathers happy. While neither one is very bright, they've both got money coming out of their arse. Old families, you know."
They both looked over the list for a bit longer. Then, Sameth made a resolution inside himself. He had to know something, anything about his mother. He needed to know about Lily Evens. He looked up, and met his father's eyes. The endless pools of black were matched on his fake colored eyes. For a minute, he wished they were their true emerald brightness.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Yes. I may not answer it, though, you do realize."
"I know."
"Then proceed."
"Well, actually, it's about my mother. What was she like?" The pasty white complexion of Sameth actually showed signs of colour, as his cheeks turned what would be a bright red on anyone else, but only tinged pink on him.
Severus, whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. He leaned back, running everything he could remember through his head.
"She was… stunning, really. I met your mother, truly met her, in my fifth year. We became good friends. She looked past my past and fascination with the Dark Arts, and I ignored the fact that she was Muggle-born. It wasn't easy for either of us, but we managed to remain close.
She was such a good person, a friend to everyone. So brave, and beautiful. I couldn't believe, still can't, that she loved me.
She hated hiding our relationship. James was such a good friend, to pretend for us, but she got frustrated. I was never home. I did horrible things, things that would keep any sane person from being within a thousand feet of me, but she stayed. She became my confidante.
I remember being there, when you were born. I was under Polyjuice, of course, to look like James, but it was still wonderful. She looked at you, in the first hour that you lived without any charms, and couldn't believe that such a precious thing, something so wonderful, couldn't believe that you were hers."
Severus's voice filled with emotion, became heavy with the pain that he had kept to himself for so long.
"I was there when Voldemort, my Lord" his voice was taunting himself, he was killing himself with daggers to the heart, "killed her. I saw her eyes, before she died. She was brave, strong, and true 'til her last gasp was taken. She died defending her home, her family."
It was quiet for a long, eternal moment. Then
"I love you, Lily."
Severus, normally so aware of himself and his presence, was oblivious to the facts that tears were streaming down his face. He was in the past, imagining a moment stopped in time forever for him.
Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but some wisps were coming free. She was wearing dark blue robes, her eyes gems in the night. The fear in them. Lily, standing between the Dark Lord and her child, dieing for her son. She was looking at him when she was hit. Those big, beautiful eyes, still open, still watching him as she hit the floor.
He had tried to stop her death, really he had. But, in the end, he couldn't. It would always be there. He couldn't save his only light. He couldn't even save his son.
Barely collecting himself, he stood up quickly.
"I'm sorry, my son." Then he turned and left the room, not noticing anything, unaware of his surroundings until he woke up in his bed the next morning.
He allowed the grief that he had never known out.
Sameth just watched him go. He sat in the room like that for such a long time, imagining the woman in his pictures to be so alive, so full of passions as his father had just told him he was.
His father. His mother. He had a family, God damn it!
Severus had called him son.
Yes, well. Sorry it took so long. Had the whole brain loss thing and couldn't think of a bloody thing to write. I'm terribly sorry if this chapter sucks, too, or is too emotional. Next chapter will be Sameth's training, and perhaps the beginning of school. I'll try to make it long, to make up for some of my debt.
Great thanks to the following-
Rhiain
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As always, you can always reach me at Leuca_2007@hotmail.com
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~Leuca
