Seeker Potter did not enjoy his first international portkey.
Geographically, The Netherlands were not very far from Britain, only about two hundred miles or so. Even a wizard of moderate skill could create a portkey that would cover twice that distance, if they wished. Auror badges could function as a portkey in an emergency, and had to be able to reach London from anywhere in the British Isles.
The key difference with an international portkey was that it had to pass through two sets of international wards - those around Britain, and those around The Netherlands. Add to that the fact that ICW headquarters was in The Hague, and that security had been tightened due to the grand opening ceremonies, and the result was that Harry and Sirius both nearly deposited their lunches on the marble floor of the Dutch Ministry.
Seeker had taken a few portkeys with Sirius, mostly to and from Privet Drive. It was simpler than using the floo, which still annoyed the Dursleys despite their much more pleasant attitudes toward their nephew this summer. But even with that minimal practice, nothing prepared him for the trip to The Hague.
They had arrived the morning of the ceremony, leaving little time to see the sights before the grand opening began. They would attend the reception that evening, thanks to an invitation from Lord Hillyer, before making their way to a nearby hotel. The next few days would give them plenty of time for sightseeing and a short vacation, before returning to Britain after a week.
Sirius was not pleased to learn that it was Harry's first vacation. He promised that it wouldn't be the last.
The Dutch Ministry building was only a few blocks from the ICW, giving the pair an easy walk if they wanted. The schouwer, or auror, who completed their paperwork suggested hiring one of the many taxis in the area, which would give them a chance to see at least a few of the sights before they made their way to Park Sorghvliet.
Their driver, a squib who spoke fluent English, was happy to give them the three-sickle tour. They drove west through the city, seeing just enough to get a feel for the place. It was a younger city than old London town, but it had a distinguished feeling. Harry got the impression that it was an important city, a serious city. Sirius noticed that many of the buildings they drove past were embassies for various muggle governments, and joked that he hadn't seen so many different flags since he took James to a quidditch final in their sixth year.
The International Court of Justice was a magnificent building, and both wizards were surprised that the muggles could build something so grand and imposing. The driver told them that the ICW had set up their headquarters near the International Court because so many of the criminal cases they dealt with involved the Statute of Secrecy - which, inevitably, meant dealing with the muggle authorities.
Many of the muggle embassies that ringed the Court had small magical counterparts, hidden away behind notice-me-nots and muggle-repelling charms and the like. It was simpler than establishing a second group of embassies for the various ministries. It also meant that the ICW campus was reserved for the organization itself.
Driving between the Indian and Malaysian embassies, the taxi came to a stop in front of a stone wall. Beyond the barrier was a large park, known to the locals as Park Sorghvliet. The park was a secluded island of quiet among the noise and bustle of an international city. Harry and Sirius paid the driver and got out. Carefully crossing the street, they followed the driver's instructions and made their way to a certain spot along the wall.
Seeker noticed that the bricks here formed a ring, indicating where to stand. Sirius pointed out the notice-me-nots that hid their presence. With his wand, he tapped on seven bricks, and watched as the wall slid open. It was a larger - and smoother - version of the entrance to Diagon Alley.
At first, the path before them seemed like any other path through a heavily wooded park. It was remarkable how the sounds of the city seemed to fall away as soon as they stepped through the barrier, leaving only the din of owls. Seeker chuckled at that - with so many coming to the dedication, the international mail owls must be busy indeed.
After a few minutes of walking, the path turned gently to the west. When they came around the bend, they saw the gleaming white facade of the Headquarters of the International Confederation of Wizards. A small crowd was already milling about in front of the entrance, taking in the newly rebuilt structure. More witches and wizards were standing on the grand staircase that led up to the building, taking in the view of the city.
Two aurors - one French and one German - were checking in visitors. Harry and Sirius both allowed their wands to be tested, as that was the closest thing to an identification there could be in the magical world. Tests of blood or magic might work, but not in a public setting such as this.
The aurors took only moments to agree that yes, Lord Black and Heir Potter were who they appeared to be, before waving the pair forward. They walked into the open air, and saw that the headquarters building was actually much taller than the surrounding area. The marble steps seemed to climb forever, even though they could clearly see the top.
"You think they overdid it a little?" Sirius said.
Seeker shrugged. "Maybe they had to show how important they were."
The walk to the top was over much quicker than either wizard expected, to the point that Seeker almost fell over when he arrived at the landing. Turning around, he saw that the steps were actually quite reasonable, and not nearly as high up as they had appeared from below.
"I may need to fix that," a voice said behind him. Seeker turned, and saw Joseph Hillyer approaching, a short blonde woman on his arm.
"It's a fine prank," replied Sirius with a smile. "I'll bet some of the higher-ups didn't like it, though."
Now it was Hillyer's turn to shrug. "They saw the stairs on the plan before they approved it, what was I to do?" He gestured at the magnificent view of the acres of parkland, and the city beyond. "Half the city is below sea level, Sirius. I had to build tall."
Seeker looked over the edge of the landing, and saw how high up they actually were. "Wow," he said.
"That was my reaction as well, the first time I saw it," said the woman. She was a head shorter than Hillyer, and spoke with an odd accent that seemed to blend Welsh and American English.
"Harry, Sirius, this is my wife, Leila. My dear, you've met Sirius, and this is his godson Harry Potter, the Heir Potter, the Heir Black."
"A pleasure, Lady Hillyer," said Seeker, bowing over her hand as he had been taught.
Sirius did likewise, but had a puzzled expression. "Greetings, My Lady. Though your husband may be in error, for I am certain I would remember meeting his lovely wife."
Leila gave her husband a knowing look, before smiling back at Sirius. "It was a very long time ago, Lord Black, before the late unpleasantness."
"Ah," replied Sirius, nodding. His smile faded just a bit at the mention of the lost decade of his life. Then he brightened. "Then in that case, it is a pleasure to renew our acquaintance."
Leila couldn't help but chuckle at that. "The pleasure is ours, Sirius." She gestured to the white marble facade of the ICW headquarters. "What do you think of Joseph's work?"
"It's the biggest building I've ever seen," replied Seeker, honestly.
"The ICW has their hands in many pies, Harry," said Hillyer. "You could put four of the British Ministry in this building and still have room for a few Quidditch teams, I think." He leaned over and stage whispered. "It's bigger on the inside."
"We'll have to give you a tour this afternoon, after the ceremony," said Leila. "Until then, I fear that my husband will be busy acting modest in front of the VIPs." She laughed openly as Lord Hillyer rolled his eyes. Then she gave him a nudge, which caused him to turn and see the delegate from the Kenyan Ministry waiting to speak with him. Seeker was barely able to hear the soft sigh that escaped the architect's lips.
Straightening his robe, Lord Hillyer nodded his apologies to Harry and Sirius, before kissing his wife on the cheek and walking over to the delegate. "Lord Odinga, it's good to see you again so soon," he said as he approached, before the two walked away to talk.
"He's always hated being recognized," Leila confided. Off Seeker's questioning glance, she gestured at the building. "That's part of why he builds such magnificent magical structures. He wants to be known for what he's done, not who his parents might have been, or what seat he sits in for meetings."
Seeker nodded at that, understanding the impulse.
"He even built our home, has he ever told you that?" Leila asked.
"No, ma'am, he didn't." Seeker replied.
"I didn't think he would have," she said. "Well, we'll just have to invite you both over sometime, won't we?"
"I'd be happy to bring him for a visit," Sirius agreed. "If your home is half as impressive as his other work, it must be a magical home indeed."
"Oh, Sirius," Leila said with a chuckle. "You have no idea."
oOoOoOoOo
Gairsay Island was easily the most remote place Rose Potter had ever visited.
The wizarding tent was dark, since Astoria and her mother had already gone to bed, leaving the small campfire as the only source of light in the clearing. That made it easy to look up and see a vast number of stars - far more than could be seen even at hogwarts. Daphne and her father were surprised at Rose's reaction to the sight, having spent most of their lives in isolated wizarding settlements, or at Greengrass Manor.
"The muggles have so many lights in their cities that it actually washes out some of the sky." Rose explained, her eyes still fixed on the heavens. "They call it light pollution."
Daphne shook her head in disgust at the idea. "Even at night?"
A shrug. "Especially at night. They light the roadways so that their cars can travel safely. Their houses have floodlights so that thieves can't approach unseen. Their businesses leave their lights on, even when closed, so that people know where to go to spend their money in the daytime."
"It sounds so foolish, when you put it that way," Daniel Greengrass remarked.
Rose nodded. "It's funny, I grew up as muggle as you can get, but now that I see that world from the outside, I can't imagine going back." Again, she gestured to the sky. "Especially if it meant walking away from a view like this."
The three were quiet for a while after that, just enjoying the cool summer evening. Being this far north, even in July, meant that the temperature was just cool enough to be comfortable without being chilly.
After a while, Daphne broke the silence.
"What do you think you'll find tomorrow?" she asked.
Rose had discussed her reason for wanting to visit the island with the Greengrasses, both because she wanted to be honest with them and because she truly had no idea what they would find. Daniel had been impressed when Rose managed to convey the idea of the secret without breaking the fidelius that held it. "I can't tell you what we'll find, but it's on Gairsay Island, it relates to Salazar Slytherin, and it may involve a family home." That had been all it took to convince Lord Greengrass to take them on this adventure.
He had not worried about what they might find, if anything. "At worst, it's beautiful country up there," He had said. And he was right.
Daphne's question earned a shrug from Rose. "I honestly don't know. It might be just an old manor house, long abandoned. But if it was important enough to hide with a fidelius, then I get the feeling there's something there to find."
"I doubt very much that a house as old and venerable as Slytherin would grant a Lordship to anyone wandering in the front door," said Daniel. "But it might be something like family magic or secret knowledge."
"Maybe," Rose agreed. "On the other hand, to even find the place you need to be able to enter the Chamber and read parselscript. That sounds like a Slytherin sort of test, don't you think?"
Daniel Greengrass nodded. "It does indeed."
"So," continued Rose, putting her feet up on a log, and looking back to the stars. "Tomorrow, we will see where our cunning takes us." She smiled to herself at the groans that came from the Greengrasses.
None of them noticed the green eyes that watched them from the shadows of the forest.
oOoOoOoOo
Marigold Potter did not regret staying in Britain. She had wanted to go with Sirius to The Hague, just as Seeker and Chaser had done, but she also needed to keep her focus on her work.
She did not disagree when Sirius commented on how single-minded that focus had become. Marigold's response was a shrug, and that she wanted to hit the ground running when the new term began.
Her meeting with Madam Pomfrey had set her on the path that would define her remaining years at Hogwarts, and later, with some luck, the rest of her life. Hogwarts did not offer apprenticeships in disciplines like Healing, but individual masters could take on apprentices of their own. Madam Pomfrey, despite being a medi-witch and not a full healer, held Masteries in Charms and Healing, and had not had an apprentice in quite some time.
There was something about Marigold's determination that struck a chord in the school's matron. Poppy Pomfrey had agreed - provisionally - to allow Marigold to help in the infirmary during the coming year. If all went well, she would formally become an apprentice in her fourth year. By the time NEWTs came around, Marigold would be well on her way to her Mastery, which would in turn put her in a position for a residency at Saint Mungo's or one of the wizarding hospitals on the continent.
The life of a healer was not for everyone, Madam Pomfrey had said. Fewer than one in five who seek out the profession succeed. But there was something in Marigold's eye that had convinced the matron to give her a chance.
Marigold, for her part, was doing everything she could to take advantage of that chance. It helped, of course, that she had other motives.
Hedwig was already a familiar sight at Flourish and Blotts, that yellow owl order form clutched in her talons. Marigold had purchased every text on healing that the shop carried, and some that they didn't, forcing them to send out special orders of their own.
To this, Marigold added muggle texts like the worn copy of Gray's Anatomy she had received from the Grangers. She knew that there would be nothing in muggle medical texts about blood curses, but that did little to deter her interest.
The Greengrass blood curse had not been cured for centuries, and threatened every female of the line. If magical healers could not solve the problem, perhaps a muggle perspective would help?
She had started out looking into blood diseases such as hemophilia and anemia. Nothing that she saw even hinted at the symptoms that Spellforged had described. But neither did any magical diseases. So she kept looking.
Petunia had mentioned a great uncle who had been diagnosed with cancer many years ago, before treatments like chemotherapy and radiation were prevalent. That got Marigold thinking - how exactly would a wizard or a witch treat cancer? For that matter, how would they diagnose it? How would magic interact with tumors, if it allowed them to grow at all?
Her focus narrowed, and for the next week Marigold was a fixture at Surrey's local library, reading everything she could about cancer. It was approaching closing time that Friday when she started reading about Leukemia.
Her eyes grew wide as she read. Leukemia attacked the tissues that made blood itself. The blood, in turn, grew weaker and less able to carry out its life-sustaining functions.
But take the thought further. There is no organ, no tissue that contains a witch's magic. If any part of a person's body could be said to hold their magic, it would be the blood. That is why rituals using blood were so powerful - and so closely regulated - with sacrificial rituals all but banned in most ICW nations.
A muggle disease that attacks magical blood. What would result?
One week later, Marigold had discussed her theory with Hermione's mum, who had done more research than her husband when pursuing her degree. She did not understand much about the magical side of things, but easily followed Marigold's logic. After a late night spent at the dining room table at the Granger home, surrounded by magical and muggle texts, Doctor Granger agreed that Marigold's theory was sound enough to seek confirmation.
That led her to a meeting at Gringotts with Foecleaver and a younger-seeming goblin whose name translated as Throatripper - the Greengrass account manager. Both goblins entered the room at the stroke of 10 am.
The Potter account manager was content to exchange pleasantries, but Throatripper seemed annoyed. He had, apparently, been pulled from another obligation to attend this meeting, and he was unhappy enough to take it out on anyone he could. When Marigold explained her reasons for seeking a meeting with Lord Greengrass, Throatripper was livid.
"How dare you meddle in the health of my clients!" he had snarled.
Marigold fought to keep her cool, and felt the beginnings of a panic attack welling up in her gut. She forced the feeling down, keeping her gaze steady as she regarded the goblin. "The Greengrasses are friends of my parents, sir," she said evenly. "Even if I am not close with their daughters, I would be remiss if I did not offer aid to them in this matter."
Spellforged's coaching carried the day, and after a few minutes of argument, Throatripper settled down. He was still unhappy, but agreed to arrange the meeting.
"That's all I ask, Accounts Manager Throatripper," Marigold replied, politely.
"We may want one of our healers to review your notes, Heiress Potter," said Foecleaver.
She nodded at that - having experienced healers reviewing her work would harm nothing, especially when they were sworn to protect the secrecy of their clients. "Of course."
I just hope that Lord Greengrass is receptive, she thought.
oOoOoOoOo
Following the events of the previous day, and the marathon of ceremony that had marked the opening of the ICW Headquarters, Joseph Hillyer decided to seek out his favorite room in the new building. James and Sirius, with Chaser in tow, would be meeting him after lunch for their grand tour of the facility, and he did not want to disappoint.
The space he chose for his little escape was already popular among the delegates, as he had intended it to be. All who had visited had found that the room was highly intuitive, providing for needs they had not even known they had.
For instance, when Hillyer found a quiet spot, a bamboo mat had appeared before him, sitting on a flat spot atop a grassy knoll. Cool breeze seemed to direct his steps to the spot, and when he sat down, he found that he could see the entire room without trouble.
Ariana Dumbledore found him there after some time. Hillyer was sitting calmly on the mat, his legs folded beneath him and his eyes closed as if in meditation. Smiling, she approached her fellow Brit.
To her surprise, she did not need to conjure a seat of her own - for one appeared a short distance away from her destination. It was a comfortable wing-backed chair, almost exactly like the ones in her office at the Ministry.
Hillyer heard her sigh of relief as she sat down, and opened his eyes. There, dressed in solid blue robes, was the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Chief Witch of the Wizengamot.
He nodded to her, a polite smile on his face. "Madam Supreme Mugwump, greetings."
Ariana smiled back at him - and Joseph saw that it was one of her genuine smiles, the sort that seemed to say that she was smiling at some private joke. Perhaps it was that she had been called that title all during the previous day's events, but rarely outside the ICW's halls. That she was not referred to as 'Headmistress' must be jarring.
"This room is a triumph, Joseph, you have much to be proud of," she said, gesturing at the space around them.
Hillyer followed her gesture, taking in the space around him - which, to all appearances, was a grassy field. The sky was blue and almost cloudless, just as it was outside. In the distance, he could see several other delegations enjoying the quiet of the space, some surrounded by trees or other accommodations, and others enjoying a simple open area like the one he had found.
"I can't take all the credit, Ariana," Hillyer replied. "After all, I stole part of the design from Hogwarts."
She raised an eyebrow at that, though her expression remained pleasant. "Did you, now?"
"Quite," he answered. "There's a room on the seventh floor that adapts to the needs of the user. I took that idea and built intent-based wards into the auxiliary caucus chamber." He waved his hand at the room. "This is the result."
Dumbledore looked around, her eyes wide. "Which occupant does the room cater to, then? There must be fifty of us here."
Hillyer chuckled at that. "It was Leila's idea, actually. I mean, it is a caucus chamber, after all. A room intended for different groups to come to a consensus, yes?" Off Dumbledore's nod, he continued. "The room takes the measure of each witch and wizard as they enter, and averages their needs."
He pointed toward a small grove of Cherry trees, its blossoms making for a striking contrast to the green that dominated the rest of the room. "The Japanese delegation is there, holding a small ceremony to bless the space and invoke their spirits to guide deliberations. So, since there are so many from that part of the world, the room created a small piece of home for their use."
"I see," said the Headmistress. "What a magnificent space this is." She continued to look at the various groups taking advantage of the room. Hillyer saw the understanding grow on her face - for now that she knew the trick, she could see how each group's part of the room had subtle differences in design, from the trees to the landscape, and everything in between.
Hillyer had to keep himself from laughing when the Headmistress rose to leave. Before she walked off, she absently asked the question that had been on her mind since his explanation.
"Seventh floor, you say?" she asked, as innocently as she could.
"Look for a troll teaching ballet. The rest of the secret is yours to discover." Hillyer said, amused.
"As it should be," Dumbledore replied. Then she looked down at the still seated architect. "How did you learn of it, if you don't mind me asking."
Hillyer grinned back at her. "Interestingly enough, it was mentioned in my parents' journals. Just enough to point the way, of course - seems that is something of a tradition."
"So it would seem," Ariana agreed. With that, they exchanged pleasantries, and the Headmistress made her way down the hill, toward the Japanese delegation.
"You seem much more relaxed than I expected," came a voice from behind Hillyer.
He grinned, recognizing the voice of his wife. "Why do you think I insisted on this particular room in the final design?" He looked up and saw her standing at the edge of the mat. "I knew I'd need it." He patted the bamboo mat next to him. "Join me?"
Leila smiled at her husband. "Of course." She seated herself on his left, arranging her formal robes around her. Before he could object, she had taken his left hand in hers.
"Honey," he began, but she silenced him with a squeeze of her hand. The runes etched into his wrist pulsed slightly, sending the sensation to the nerves in his arm. No matter how many times she did this, Hillyer never got over how close it felt to the real thing.
He had had a hard time explaining why he wanted steel for his prosthetic, rather than the composite materials he was offered. But runes would not work when placed onto plastics and synthetics. Once Leila had lovingly etched a tiny runic array into the steel of his new hand, it had felt just like the old one.
Of course, his missing hand - and the constant reminder of its replacement - had not been far from his mind this week. Leila knew this better than anyone, and knew the bend of his thoughts at that moment. Her soft voice drew him out of his musings.
"I'll never cease being amazed at how strong you have to be to come to these events," she said quietly. "Your first project, your first grand opening, and death eaters attack. You lose your hand, and almost lose your life. Anyone would have understood if you chose not to attend a grand opening like this after that." She looked him in the eyes, and smiled that smile. "And yet here you are."
He gave her hand a squeeze in return. "Here I am, and here I remain." With that quiet pronouncement, he leaned over and gave her a kiss.
After that, the Hillyers were able to enjoy their peaceful corner of the room, completely undisturbed. That the room had placed them under notice-me-nots was, unsurprisingly, not noticed at all.
oOoOoOoOo
When he first became aware of the link, Harry Spellforged learned that events in each of the five worlds seemed to be coterminous.
He had then had to explain to his newfound siblings just what the hell coterminous meant.
In broad terms, each of the five were living their lives at the same speed, and doing so at the same time. When it was midnight in Marigold's world, it was also midnight in Seeker's, and so on. July 31st for Spellforged was also July 31st for Chaser, and for both of them the date fell on a Saturday this year. Try as he might, Spellforged had found no meaningful differences in how time passed between the five worlds.
As with most things, it was the differences in events that highlighted the similarities.
In Seeker's world, for example, as Joseph and Leila Hillyer were enjoying a quiet moment in the Netherlands, two goblins named Throatripper and Knifeclaw were performing one of their tasks as senior account managers at Gringotts - artifact destruction. Once dark artifacts were studied and catalogued, the item was either cleansed of its dark magic or destroyed.
Throatripper, the Greengrass account manager, performed his duties without comment. Knifeclaw, the Malfoy account manager, followed suit, but only grudgingly.
At 10 am that morning, the artifact scheduled for destruction was an old muggle diary. The cover was embossed with "T M Riddle", but the artifact was otherwise unremarkable. At the direction of Ragnok, several curse breakers had studied the diary, though their findings were privileged.
Throatripper didn't care. He confirmed the disposition of the artifact - destruction - and handed it off to Knifeclaw, who placed it in a chamber carved into the stone wall. Closing a heavy steel door, Knifeclaw triggered a runic array, and a gout of goblin fire descended on the diary. The muggle book was quickly consumed by flame.
Between stone and steel, no one ever heard the scream from within the blast chamber as the horcrux was annihilated.
In Chaser's world, the destruction proceeded in much the same way, down to the grumbling of Knifeclaw and the utter lack of interest in his colleague's discontent on the part of Throatripper. Again, the diary was incinerated, and again no one noticed the destruction of the horcrux.
Likewise, in Rose's world. Thanks to her efforts, the diary had already been neutralized, but Ragnok felt it best to proceed as if some risk remained. Here, too, the diary was incinerated.
In Spellforged's world, Knifeclaw was more insufferable than even Throatripper could tolerate. Thanks to his nephew's failed attack on Harry Spellforged, Knifeclaw's entire clan was on probation. Ragnok could not be seen to be anything other than impartial, especially where his son was involved, and so Knifeclaw had gotten off with only a token punishment.
Throatripper had thought the penalty too light, and decided to spend the first hour of their shared duties laying into his colleague. By the time Throatripper had begun to catalogue the failings of his clan, Knifeclaw had had enough.
/If you're so disgusted with my presence, Throatripper, then why don't you go off and do whatever it is you do in your off hours, and leave me alone!/ he snarled at the older goblin.
Throatripper stared right back, shocked at the display. Then he straightened up and shrugged. /Fine. But if I find that one item didn't get handled properly, it will be your purse that lightens./
Knifeclaw rolled his eyes and replied with a wave of his hand.
Throatripper took it for the dismissal it was, and left Knifeclaw on his own. In this, he was probably wise, for had he remained he probably would've ended up stabbing Knifeclaw in the throat, and he knew it.
The next item for destruction was was an old muggle diary. The cover was embossed with "T M Riddle", but the artifact was otherwise unremarkable. At the direction of Ragnok, several curse breakers had studied the diary, though their findings were privileged.
Knifeclaw picked it up, considering the innocuous looking object. What possible fuss could Ragnok have made over such a simple item? The fool couldn't tell a goblin from a wand waver, as his adoption of an enemy of the Nation showed. How could he think that a muggle book was any danger whatsoever?
Idly, Knifeclaw thumbed through the book, finding it empty. His brow furrowed at that - for what possible threat could an empty book pose to the Nation? He did not notice the quill in his hand until it was already scratching across the first page of the diary.
/What are you?/
The angular goblin shorthand disappeared, only to be replaced with English.
I'm sorry, I don't understand that. My name is Tom. What is your name?
A/N: Many apologies for the long hiatus. Life just got busy for a while there, and remains so. It did not help that this chapter fought me a bit, before I decided to trim it down and focus on the parallels inherent in the parallel structure we've built to this point. In other words, this story is much easier to write when I lean into the format, rather than treating it as five stories. And that's the reality - this story is one tale with five leads, as opposed to five stories that interweave here and there. We know some of where they are headed - a certain meeting at a certain manor - but they are still in the early days. We have a long way to go, but quite a few fun moments along the way.
As much as I enjoy writing Who Dares Wins, my other current longfic, the truth is that this story is my passion project. It's what dragged me kicking and screaming into the HP fandom, and it's big enough that there's room for damn near any idea that comes along. Someone recently commented on Reddit that this story was designed to answer almost any prompt request you might come up with. While I can't say that was a goal when I first broke out the story, it is a fun aspect of its design - one I'm proud of.
We're inching toward the end of summer, and the start of a very different year three - both as compared to canon, and as compared between each of our worlds. Stay tuned.
To all who have supported this story, enjoyed it, read it over and over, and written reviews and comments analyzing it - thank you, truly. You all keep me writing. Best wishes for 2020 and beyond.
Feedback, as always, is welcome.
