Lost: One Godson, Answers to Harry
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"I don't really care whether Dumbledore's looking for Harry or not," Ron snapped. "Because even if he is, he obviously hasn't done a very good job, has he?"
"Oh, Ron," Hermione said in exasperation. "I'm not saying we should sit around and do nothing. I'm just saying that if we're going to bother someone about, it shouldn't be Professor Lupin. He's obviously very upset about the whole thing…"
"…Which was a good seven months ago!" Ron interjected. "The man's not made of glass, Hermione! What's he gonna do…faint at the sound of Harry's name?"
Hermione glared at Ron as she hitched her bag higher onto her shoulder. " I just don't know, Ron. You remember what he was like after the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts and Harry disappeared. Even when he came back from sick leave, he looked so…strained. I think Harry must have been very close to him. Do we really want to bring all that up again?"
"Honestly, Hermione, I never thought I'd see the day when you were afraid to ask a teacher something," Ron said.
Hermione wrinkled her nose disdainfully. She paused for a moment as curiosity and tactfulness fought a fierce inner battle: but curiosity obviously won out, because after a moment she said reluctantly. "Well…alright. But not in front of the whole class. We'll just hang back at the end of the lesson and ask him if he's heard anything about Harry yet."
"Got it," Ron replied as they reached the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He pushed the door open and froze on the threshold. The rest of the class had already arrived and her putting their bags down, glancing at each other inquisitively.
The person standing at the front of the classroom was not Professor Lupin: it was a young witch with thick black hair and rosy cheeks.
"Hey, now what's going on?" Ron asked as he and Hermione took their seats. Professor Lupin was well known for his frequent sick leaves, but he'd taken a day off only the week before, and usually they were limited to about one a month.
The rest of the class clearly had the same question: a few people were whispering to each other. It was not so much that Lupin was missing – he did that often enough – but usually Professor Snape would relieve classes for him. What was this woman doing here?
The witch took a breath before she spoke: she looked as if she was having great difficulty covering up her nervousness. But her voice was bright and commanding when she opened her mouth and said, "Good afternoon!" She waited a moment for the class to grow quiet, then continued, "My name is Professor Jones. I'm – er – I'm going to be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the rest of the year."
"The rest of the year?" Dean Thomas cried in an outraged voice. Disgruntled muttering broke out across the classroom. Ron looked at Hermione, his mouth open in shock, as if hoping she was provide an explanation, but Hermione was looking just as surprised.
"What's happened to Professor Lupin?" Ron called before she could speak again, and he sounded more than a little hostile.
"I don't know," said Professor Jones, turning her gaze on Ron. "I really don't, I'm afraid. Dumbledore…I mean, the Headmaster sent me a letter on Saturday asking if I wanted the job, and I said, sure."
"Just like that?" Pavarti asked curiously.
"Didn't he say where Lupin's gone?" Dean added.
"But are you qualified?" Hermione asked in a panicky voice.
Professor Jones's chest swelled indignantly. "I should think so, Miss…er…"
"Hermione Granger," Hermione said.
"Miss Granger. I was an Auror for nearly ten years. I think that makes me qualified to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts!"
Hermione nodded and leaned towards Ron, whispering out of the corner of her mouth. "I thought I recognised her. She was in the hospital wing with us – remember? At the start of the year?"
"Oh, yeah," Ron nodded, recognition dawning on her face.
They spent the rest of the period listening intently to Professor Jones's story about an adventure she had had working in Romania. Lavender brown gave a faint scream when it got to the bit about the dragon-poachers, and everyone laughed uproariously as she described Edgar Bones Apparating on top of the muggle coffin being carried down the street. It was only when Hermione cleared her throat loudly at the end of the lesson that Professor Jones jumped to attention, looking at the clock.
"Good grief, is that the time? You better get going, or you'll all be expelled for tardiness. See you tomorrow! Or do I not have you tomorrow?" She began shuffling through the papers spread across her desk, looking for her timetable, while the class got to its feet and began to file out of the classroom, talking animatedly.
Hermione, however, grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him in the opposite direction, towards Professor Jones. Ron frowned, "Hey wha…?" but she squeezed his arm to tell him to be quiet.
"Professor Jones, there's something we wanted to ask you," Hermione said sweetly as the black-haired witch looked up to find them still standing there. "We were going to ask Professor Lupin, but since he's not here, we were hoping you could tell us."
"Well, I'll try," said Professor Jones, folding up her timetable and putting it into her pocket. "Did he set you an assignment or something? I'm afraid I didn't see him before he left, but perhaps he left me a note on his desk…maybe I've missed it somewhere…" she began gathering up the papers on her desk, searching for the elusive note.
"No, it's about Harry Potter," Hermione answered.
The papers fell out of Professor Jones's hands and skimmed across the floor. Ron and Hermione knelt quickly to pick them up for her. As she bent to help, Professor Jones narrowed her eyes at them, roughly pushing the scattered papers together.
"I think I remember you two," she said. "In the hospital, at the start of the year. After…well, anyway. Didn't I chase you out at one point?"
"Yes, because we wanted to talk to Harry's godfather," Hermione reminded her. "And you wouldn't let us…"
"…You two! Bothering him – after what he'd just been through!" Professor Jones straightened up and snatched the papers out of Ron's hand. She was fuming. "You shouldn't be poking your noses into other people's business!"
"Now that's just unfair!" Hermione said furiously, dumping the last of the papers on the desk. "It's as much our business as it is yours – more, by the sound of it. How do you think we feel – he was our friend, if only for two weeks, and if there's any chance he could be alive somewhere, we want to know about it!"
Professor Jones glared at her for a second, her cheeks pinker than ever, and Hermione stared back. Than the black-haired witch turned away, her expression softening a little. "Of course he's alive," she said quietly. "At least, that's what Dumbledore believes, and Sirius, and I'd trust their judgement."
"Then you do know something about it all?" Hermione persisted.
Professor Jones spun around again, folding her arms. "No, nothing! Nothing at all! Now both of you get off to your next class before I start jinxing you!"
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There was no house that could be seen between number eleven Grimmauld Place and number thirteen. And yet, there was a house there.
It was not a house that could be entered easily; and once entered, it was a house that intruders would find difficult to leave. It was a not a pleasant house; though for a time now it had been home to pleasant people, still it was full of chilly corners and grasping shadows and a lingering sense of unwelcomeness.
Perhaps it was the spirit of the last House Elf who had served in the house – but Kreacher had died many months before, and if he had choked on a rat one night or simply expired from age, no one could say, for his body was dry and rotten by the time he was found, and if his ghost haunted the halls of the Black mansion, it was not answering any questions.
This house was the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, and so it had many temporary occupants, but none permanent, for even the last Black preferred his flat in the city to the gloomy corridors of number twelve Grimmauld Place. Almost the entire house was open to the members of the Order whenever they needed it, but there was one room that was always locked. This was the bedroom that had once belonged to Harry Potter, and it had not been opened since he had left it, but remained, filled with his childhood possessions, gathering dust in the darkness.
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"Remus!"
Lupin looked up from his bag. Kingsley Shacklebolt, coming down the stairs to the Grimmauld Place kitchen with a pair of ripped brown pantyhose in his hands, glanced around in confusion. His dark brows furrowed as he asked, "Who was that?"
"That sounded like Sirius," Lupin replied, turning his gaze on the roaring oven, which had just begun to blaze green with an oncoming floo delivery.
The voice came again, "Remus!" and a moment later in a burst of green sparks Sirius Black climbed out of the oven, and to Lupin's utter surprise, he was grinning.
"Moony – there you are!" Sirius bounced across the kitchen and seized Lupin's hand. "You won't believe the good news I've got!"
"Oh, really?" Lupin said cautiously. He was wondering if Sirius hadn't been hit by some kind of hysteria curse. His face was glowing, and the excitement in his voice was a tone that sounded familiar from their school days.
"Stop looking at me like that, I'm not bewitched," Sirius said, interpreting Lupin's wary expression. "No, listen, you know where Hestia Jones and I have been…"
"Shopping?" Lupin asked, and Kingsley Shacklebolt sniggered from across the room.
"Hello, Kingsley!" Sirius waved jovially. "No, we've been out at every apothecary in the country…"
"Why?" Kingsley asked.
"We're tracking down any regular sales of aconite," Sirius said impatiently, as if this was something everyone was expected to know.
"It's the main ingredient in the Wolfsbane potion," Lupin told Kingsley before he could ask. His voice was rising in excitement now. Sirius had already told him about his latest pursuit. They had reasoned that wherever Harry was, it was more than likely he was receiving Wolfsbane every month, and Lupin knew from his own Wolfsbane experiences that the ingredients would not be easy to procure in secret. "Sirius, you haven't…you didn't…"
"Not quite," Sirius motioned for Lupin to have a seat, as the young man was looking suddenly pale. "Hestia and I were just looking for anything out of the ordinary, but all the herb-dealers we met were pretty closed up, they wouldn't tell us anything…but then we met Mundungus Fletcher in a little tavern up north and he got us in touch with some smugglers. They didn't have any loyalty to customers, you understand, so we handed over a few galleons and they were happy to talk. They'd be transporting herbs that were being sold to Lucius Malfoy!"
He had obviously expected Lupin to jump up and down in joy at this news, but Lupin simply frowned. "Lucius Malfoy?"
"Yes, he bought a huge shipment of Aconite about three months ago – and about twenty pounds of something called Moly, but that's probably not relevant," Sirius was nodding eagerly. "And he ordered it all in separate packages, like he was trying to keep secret how much it was altogether. Lupin, we know Lucius Malfoy is a suspected Death Eater, this has to be it! If he makes another order we can try and track the shipment, and it'll lead us…"
"Straight to Malfoy Manor," Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Which I believe we could find without the help of Mundungus Fletcher."
"Don't be a fool. Malfoy isn't going to be brewing Wolfsbane in his own kitchen, and besides that, he's just ordering the herbs on behalf of You-Know-Who," Sirius dismissed Lupin's scepticism with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, Hestia and I didn't learn any more because just then she got an owl from Dumbledore and took off for Hogwarts, but when she told me you were at Grimmauld Place I came here to tell you. We can start looking for any other shipments…" the excitement on Sirius' face faded for a moment. "What are you doing at Grimmauld Place? Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts, teaching?"
Kingsley, who had been listening to Sirius' eager account in silence, now came forward and held out the ripped pantyhose. "Here is your portkey, Remus. You know how to activate it."
"Portkey?" Sirius looked from Kingsley to Lupin. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, this is just for emergencies," Lupin explained, rolling up the pantyhose and tucking them carefully into the battered travelling case sitting open on the table. Sirius seemed to focus on this case for the first time, and confusion flickered across his face.
"You're leaving? Right when we've finally made a breakthrough?"
"Dumbledore's orders," said Lupin, and there was the faintest trace of bitterness in his voice. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but the Headmaster has been organising this for weeks now. I can't refuse him."
"Well, when are you coming back?"
A pained expression crossed Lupin's face before he managed to compose himself. "I…don't know. I might be gone for months."
"Months? Where are you going?"
Lupin sighed. "Underground. Almost literally. Dumbledore has received news that Greyback has been mustering great numbers of werewolves in the wilderness. Dumbledore…wanted a spy."
Sirius looked aghast. His voice was rather higher than usual as he said. "But – surely – I mean, you could be killed!"
"I can take care of myself," Lupin replied firmly. "Now I really have to be going, Sirius, I'm supposed to catch a bus to Salisbury in twenty minutes."
Sirius and Kingsley accompanied him to the door, but Sirius seemed too shocked to say anything and Lupin was determinedly avoiding his eye. In the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place, Lupin turned back and pulled Sirius into a tight hug.
"Follow up that lead on Malfoy," he said breathlessly. "I know you'll do everything you can. You won't be able to contact me, but…but tell Dumbledore if you hear anything, Sirius. Anything at all. I want to be there when you find Harry."
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Most of the school was incensed by Lupin's disappearance, and rumours were rife about where he had gone. Many people were adamant he had been caught doing some illegal magic and had taken off, and was now on the run from the Ministry. Others believed he had eloped with a beautiful muggle movie star – where this rumour had come from was a mystery, as nobody really thought Lupin was the eloping type, but Hermione distinctly heard two muggle-born girls in the library talking about a "Mrs Angelina Lupin-Jolie".
It was no use getting information out of the other teachers. Professor Snape smirked at his second-year potions class that, "Professor Lupin has gone to live with some cousins of his for a while," but this was countered by Professor Sprout, who said while they were packing in the roots of their Puffapods in herbology that, "Poor Professor Lupin is just having a well-deserved rest in Brighton," and according to Fred and George, Professor Trelawny had intoned anxiously to her fifth-year class that, "Dear Professor Lupin…he has passed beyond my divine sight…I believe they will find his body this coming Wednesday…" Though nobody who knew Professor Trelawny was in the least bit concerned about this prediction.
Professor Jones, though rather lenient and certainly good fun, was not really a replacement for Lupin. Only the oldest seventh-years could remember the days of the last Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lockhart, and so only they breathed a sigh of relief that the new one was no worse than she was.
But nobody could really tell whether they were learning much in Defence Against the Dark Arts these days: the lessons mostly consisted of the scribbling of rather hodge-podge notes punctuated by the sort of advice they would probably never use, such as, "Remember if you're ever setting an ambush in a muggle street, don't go near the cars, some of them have the noisiest bloody alarms that go off with the slightest touch."
No one could deny that Professor Lupin's benevolent influence was sorely missed, even by most of the teachers. Professor McGonagall was heard berating Jones in the staffroom about giving some of the first-years nightmares as the result of a particularly gruesome tale about a Necromancer and a human sacrifice. Hermione, who tended to follow McGonagall's opinions as a rule, expressed her concern about Jones as well. "Alright, she could be worse, but she's not exactly professional, is she?" she complained while they walked quickly from their Defence Against the Dark Arts class to Charms.
"Oh, you just don't like her because she wouldn't tell us about Harry," Ron replied. Professor Jones's esteem had shot up several notches in his view due to the fact she had given Draco Malfoy two weeks' worth of detentions the day before, supposedly because she'd heard him say that Lupin was, "a shabby old mongrel who should have been fired years ago." For this she was given another scolding in the staff room, although this time it was from Professor Snape, who seemed furious that anyone should have the cheek to give a member of his house punishment for voicing an opinion which he had been expressing for years now.
"But I suppose he'd like an excuse to get her fired, he wants the Dark Arts job so bad," Ron pointed out when they heard this story for the third time, this time from Alicia Spinnet over breakfast.
"It's more than that," Hermione said, lathering margarine onto her toast. "He hates Professor Jones almost as much as he hated Professor Lupin. I think its because she's friends with that Sirius Black. You know," she lowered her voice, "Harry's godfather."
"Why d'you say that?" Ron asked, surprised.
"Haven't you noticed Ron?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "All those stories about her old Auror days? Well, she said she changed the names of some the people in them for protection reasons, but the name Padfoot comes up a heck of a lot, doesn't it? And I'm almost positive Harry called his Godfather 'Padfoot' once, when he was talking about his parents. If you ask me, Professor Jones was very close to Black before he disappeared for all those years – and she probably still is. I'll bet you anything she's helping him with the search for Harry."
"Hermione, how do you remember all these things?" Ron groaned, leaning away from her as if mildly frightened of her enormous intellect.
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However, not even Hermione managed to get much useful information out of their new Professor about Harry or Lupin. In fact, Professor Jones seemed to be actually avoiding Hermione and her probing questions wherever possible. She even went so far as to ask Neville Longbottom to stay behind in almost every class in order to avoid being left alone with Hermione or Ron.
However, the disappearance of Professor Lupin had been the trigger for Hermione's insatiable curiosity and she and Ron were now determined to find out what had become of Harry Potter by their own means.
Both of them felt they were entering very late in the game. For over seven months now, they had tried to forget about the strange boy who had so briefly been their friend and yet seemed to have affected them so deeply. They had been content to wait, expecting that sooner or later the adults would bring them news of Harry's safe return, and that things would work themselves out.
Now it was obvious this was not happening fast enough, and with Lupin gone and his replacement unwilling to share so much as a clue with the children, both Ron and Hermione had decided that if they wanted to find something out, they really were going to have to find it themselves.
And because Hermione had been the one to take immediate charge of the operation, this meant an awful lot of lunchtimes in the library.
Ron did not think there was much use in poring through spell books, looking for charms and divining rituals that might give them some clue about Harry. He would rather have sneaked into a fireplace during their next Hogsmeade weekend and flooed all over the country searching for information. At the very least, he suggested that they might write to Nymphadora Tonks, who had, after all, been such good friends with Ron's brother Charlie. Even if she didn't know anything about Harry, Tonks was bound to tell them something about where Lupin had run off to.
"I'm telling you, Ron," said Hermione, thumping her books down on the nearest desk of the library, "we can't send a letter to Tonks. Even if she does know where Professor Lupin's gone, it's too dangerous if the letter is intercepted. You must have noticed how Dumbledore is trying to keep his absence quiet?"
"He's not doing a very good job of it though, is he?" Ron grumbled, opening Lost and Found: Places No One Thinks to Look and skimming through the index. "You should have heard the stories people are coming up with. All the Slytherins reckon Lupin's in the mental wing of St Mungo's with his brains addled, and Ernie MacMillan swore he heard from McGonagall's own mouth that Lupin was poisoned by Snape."
"That's ridiculous," Hermione snapped. "And I think Professor Dumbledore is hoping people will come up with all sorts of stupid theories. That way, if someone found out the truth, no one would believe them."
Ron shrugged, "I just hope he isn't in St Mungo's. I wouldn't put it past Snape to poison Lupin. They hate each other, don't they?"
"So you say," Hermione muttered, "anyway, keep an eye out for Neville, will you?"
"Why?"
"He asked me to help him with his Transfiguration homework, and I said he could come to the library with us," Hermione looked down at her book, Relatives You Never Knew You'd Lost, and going a little pink.
"What?" Ron groaned. "Hermione, I thought we were trying to keep it a secret, the fact that we're looking for Harry."
"Neville was awfully persistent," Hermione replied, "besides, it looks as if he must have forgotten, because he should be here by now. So stop worrying."
Ron rolled his eyes at her, "Sometimes I just don't know about you," he said as he flicked onto the next page. "Here we go, a spell to locate lost objects. Take your wand, recite, location three times, then spell the object out on your palm," Ron took his wand. "Do you think I can fit 'Harry Potter' on my hand?"
"If you write small," Hermione said without raising her head. "But that's a spell for lost handkerchiefs and things, Ron, I don't think it's going to help us with a whole person.
Ron opened another book. "Here's one for helping Owls search for people."
Hermione made a face. "It might work, but the real problem is that if…they…" by this, she meant the Death Eaters, "are the ones holding Harry, they'll have made him unplottable and all sorts of other powerful charms. I'll start researching the spells that make something unplottable…there must be ways to break them…"
Ron sighed, "I really don't see how we're going to find a spell that Dumbledore hasn't thought of, Hermione. Surely he'll have already tried everything?"
Hermione had no answer for this. There was a moment of dejected silence, then a nervous voice said. "You're talking about Harry Potter, aren't you?"
Hermione swung around in her chair and Ron jumped and raised his wand. Neville Longbottom was standing just behind them, having just come out from behind the nearest bookshelf. Though it was a mild spring day, he wore woollen blue gloves and a grey scarf was wrapped around his neck so many times it came right up to his chin, as if he was hoping to hide under it.
"What're you doing, listening in?" said Ron, putting down his wand.
"I'm sorry," Neville said timidly, coming forward to stand beside Hermione's chair, "I didn't mean to. I came here early because Hermione said she'd help me with my homework, and I was just looking through the Herbology section when I heard you talking."
Ron gave a disbelieving snort, "no excuse, you lump. We were having a private conversation."
"Leave him alone, Ron," Hermione said sharply.
Neville did not flinch at the insult. "You were talking about Harry Potter," he said thoughtfully.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "Did you know him, Neville?"
Neville shook his head, "I…I think I met him once, I don't know for sure. He was invisible."
"I see," said Hermione. "Well, we'd appreciate if you didn't tell any of the Professors we're looking for him, alright?" she continued in a patient voice.
"But I want to help," Neville said eagerly. "I've seen him."
Hermione and Ron both looked up at him with identical expressions of shock. "What? Where?" they chorused.
Neville looked away, hunching a little so that his mouth disappeared under his scarf like a turtle retreating into its shell. "I've been having dreams about him," he said quietly.
This took a moment to sink in. Then Ron laughed so loudly Madame Pince, the librarian, stuck her head out of the office and glared at him. Hermione kicked Ron to shut him up and waved reassuringly at Madame Pince, who withdrew, looking vindictively sullen.
Neville glowered at Ron furiously. "It isn't funny," he said. "It's true. I've seen him in my dreams."
"Have you told Madame Pomphrey about these dreams?" Hermione asked kindly.
"No…I…"
"Well, I think maybe it's just a sort of imagining, Neville," she suggested, still in her most motherly, patient voice. She closed Relatives You Never Knew You'd Lost. "Why don't you pull up a chair and I'll help you that with Transfiguration homework…"
"Hermione," said Ron in a dazed sort of voice. "Hang on for just a second. Neville's not imagining – he really does have dreams," Ron gulped, "about…true stuff."
Hermione gave Ron a look that plainly said that's-just-ridiculous-and-not-funny-at-all.
"No, he does," Ron looked at Neville. "That night you had a fit and we went to see Dumbledore. Was it like that?"
Neville, who had been retreating further and further into his scarf, now emerged and nodded solemnly. He was clutching the back of an empty chair with his gloved hands as if he thought he would float away in the breeze. "Professor Dumbledore told me not to tell anyone about the dreams," he said quietly. "Some of the teachers, like McGonagall, know about them but otherwise it's just between him and me."
Hermione bit her lip and said cautiously, "But you don't mind telling us?"
Neville looked down at his gloved hands. "Professor Dumbledore has been trying to teach me Occlumency," Ron opened his mouth to ask what this was and Hermione shot him a glare to stop him interrupting, "so that the dreams will stop. He thinks they're dangerous for me, even though I've helped him lots of times. So I didn't tell him that I was dreaming about Harry…I'm getting better at Occlumency, and I kept it secret from him…because I want to find Harry. I want to do something that will be of some use, but if Professor Dumbledore knew I was dreaming about Harry he'd make the dreams stop."
Ron gaped. "Then you…all this time, you could have…"
"Tell us about Harry," Hermione persisted, "what do you see?"
Neville paused. He looked more frightened than Hermione had ever seen him, even more frightened than when he had to tell Professor Snape he had melted another cauldron. But she could also see he was fighting to be brave.
After a few moments Neville said, "It's always in this house. I don't know where. I've only seen if from the inside. And I'm – I'm talking to him. To Harry. And I think I'm…I'm You-Know-Who," he whispered, "like I'm looking out of his eyes, speaking with his voice, my hands are these big skinny white hands," Ron and Hermione were staring, transfixed, their mouths hanging open. Neville plunged onwards. "Harry is always surprised to see me. He always gets angry, then calm after a while. The same thing, each time – but it's a different dream, a different day. I talk…I mean, You-Know-Who talks to Harry, asks him questions…things like, how he's feeling, is there anything he wants, has he been sick or hurt."
"He asks him how he's feeling?" Ron cried in disbelief.
"Shut up!" Hermione slapped his hand. "Go on, Neville," she said. Her face was very white.
Neville took a breath and then continued, "Harry answers the questions after a while. He's looking at me – at You-Know-Who – with so much hatred on his face. And I say…I mean, You-Know-Who says… a lot of things to him that aren't very nice, like he's a fool to keep resisting, and I wish I'd killed him instead of his mother. And eventually, I say goodbye, and then I take out my wand, and point it at Harry – "
A moment of silence followed. Ron leaned forward, "and?" he said breathlessly, "and what do you – I mean what does He – do?"
"I don't know," said Neville. "That's when I always wake up."
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TBC
A/N: Ahem. Well. You're welcome to ask me questions, as always, but if the question is "What the heck is Neville talking about? Harry's never met with Voldemort!" I'm afraid I can't answer it. Everything will be explained before long. The other question you will probably have is, "What do you mean by getting rid of Lupin for several months?" To which I assure you, Lupin is NOT disappearing from this story. He will probably be in most of the chapters coming up. If not all of them.
So, to distract you from your confusion, I'd like to thank you all:
Tashc, Phyre's child13, illachi, CrimsonReality, sephiroth's sword, Cruciatus88, Dunvi, atropa haven, maria, EsScaper, hermione1208, LittleCrazy1, SBR, Elle's Bell's 88, IritIlan, Erinne, marthamobley.
My last note before I go is that this will probably be the last update for a few days because I'm heading down south to wet, rainy Dunedin so that I can see all the relatives for Christmas. I might get to check my email but I definitely won't have access to a keyboard the long periods of time required to write. But fear not, I'm coming home on Boxing Day and I'll get started on the next chapter then, although it possibly won't be up until after New Years.
So – merry Christmas everybody! I hope you all have a good one! Eat lots, have fun, enjoy your holidays and I'll see you next year!
Cheers,
Tawa