A/N: Here's a bit of a longer chapter. I actually think this is one of my better chapters in a while and I'm happy to have got the ball moving again in terms of time with this story! Please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and leave a review if you've enjoyed the chapter. It helps a ton!

Chapter XXI: The Upper Limit

(Neville P.O.V)

The snow had melted, and the months had passed. The end of term approached nearer by the day. He'd heard word from Michael that Hermione had recovered, and while still a bit weak, looked to make a full recovery. He'd heard from Amelia Bones that his parents, one of the few evacuated from St. Mungos the night of the horrific attack, and were currently adapting well to their temporary placement. Neville heard other things as well. Things that brought a chill down his spine. War, the inevitable war, loomed closer than ever.

He'd read of the battles in the Prophet. Both of victories and defeats. The Order's guerrilla tactics had worked for a while, and Voldemort had yet to make any major moves. Harry had written to him from time to time. He needed an opinion from the outside. Neville had told him that there was little reason for Voldemort to move. Territory didn't matter much any longer. Even with the victories that trickled through the heinous warlike like through a dark sky, the nation's morale was low.

Hogwarts was proof of the bleakness. Neville couldn't count the number of times a muggle-born would be found beaten and bloodied in the halls. Or the times he'd seen half-bloods marked with inscriptions of how they'd chosen the wrong side. McGonagall had done what she could. The painting network reported to her with alacrity, and the statues of the knights patrolled the school to keep the peace. Many were in tatters by the morning.

Those who were caught were expelled, but new numbers always rose to take their place. They were losing Muggleborns just as quickly. Those who hadn't joined in with the S.P.I.R.E found themselves on the Hogwarts Express due to fear, and even those within Neville's ranks questioned how long they should stay.

"Neville!" Susan Bones raced into the Room of Requirement like a car with no breaks. "The Prophet just arrived! They won! The Order took back Grimsby! Got a few fledgling Death Eaters and Vamps in the process!"

A thunderous cheer broke through the room by the members around him, and their mugs soon filled with a mix of firewhiskey and butterbeer. Neville's eyes locked with that of the Minister's Niece, she nodded and followed as a room formed in the back wall of the meeting hall. Carefully, Neville poured the redhead a drink and pushed it across the table. The girl downed it in an instant.

"How many?" Neville asked.

"Twenty, this time." The Hufflepuff sighed, "A few more expected to be put down out of mercy. Fenrir laid his claws on a few and it doesn't look like they'll survive the turn." Neville nodded and sipped his drink. "A victory is a victory," Susan pressed. "You should be out their, with the S.P.I.R.E, celebrating. We've not much to celebrate these days."

"I'll celebrate once this is over," Neville returned with a smile. "Tell those of them drinking we need them sober by nightfall. Victory or not, we need to run our own patrols to keep the students safe."

She nodded and exited the room. Neville slouched in his chair, his forehead pressed against his cupped hands. "Father, I wish I knew what to do." From his pocket, he unfolded the photo from his birth. His father's hands wrapped around his mother, who held him tight. "I suppose I play my role. I play my role and wait."

From the window, he watched the sunset. The room had provided him decent enough lodging and a view. He rarely visited the Hufflepuff Common Room. Too much attention to be had, and he couldn't trust every Puff not to stab him in the back while he slept. The castle had turned to as much a battlefield as anywhere else in the U.K. In a war, Harry had once said, you can only trust your soldiers. Neville couldn't help but agree.

At nightfall, he pulled himself from his sheets and dressed. He'd broadened a bit and gained some height over the past months. He shook his head at his won reflection. How badly had he wanted to see himself looking back at him in his younger years? Now all he wanted to see was that innocent boy looking back at him. From his bedside, he rolled his wand between his fingers and pulled down on his vest. "Right, another night then."

The door into the room creaked. The S.P.I.R.E glanced up from their hammocks or seats in silence. "Alright then, everyone knows the procedure by now. We've gathered a good idea of who is supposed to be where and when, and we know when someone is somewhere they don't belong. McGonagall's hands are tied up in what she can and can't do. Our aren't. We don't look for violence, but we can't be afraid to dish it out when a conversation won't work. Hogwarts is a home for wizards and witches of every variety, it's our job to keep it that way. We know our platoons. Fan out, and meet back here at O-Five-Hundred. Move!"

"Rodger!" They cried out, their trios gathering in the hall before walking out.

Cho and Susan stood in wait as the room cleared out. The three of them alone in what had become the S.P.I.R.E's dormitory. "You've gotten better at this leading thing," Cho said with a smile that had yet to lose its warmth. "For a moment, I almost believed it was Harry himself up there."

Neville grinned, "Thanks, Cho. I think it's safe to say we've all changed a bit over this year." The door to the Room of Requirement sealed behind them as they exited. "I can only hope it's been for the best."

The halls of the castle had never been so unwelcoming. Neville fought his memories of the days he, Harry, and Michael would wander the corridors, the two pranksters looking for trouble. Neville had just been happy to be included in anyone's group. But they never used him or teased him about being 'boring'. They never forced him into any of their pranks. They were his friends, and all Neville wanted was to go back to those simpler days.

The moonlight stretched through the grand windows of the castle. It was brighter than usual. Neville was grateful for the extra light but cursed it all the same. If he could manage it, staying concealed in the shadows was far more effective than head-on confrontation. He poked his head around the corner. Nothing but the empty hall stared back at him to his relief. He waved his hand and summoned the two girls forward.

Carefully, they descended the moving staircase. Each of the team's eyes strained from the constant scanning. Slowly, ever so slowly, they cleared floor after floor. It was quiet tonight. Neville's stomach tightened; quiet nights rarely ever meant good. Cho had been first to speak on the silence. "Yeah," Susan said, "But why is it quiet? What are they planning?"

"We could go to the dungeons?" Cho said, in a mix of a suggestion and question. "Perhaps we can figure something out down there?"

"No," Neville said. "It's too narrow down there. If they're waiting for us, we'd be sitting ducks. Furthermore, we can't even be certain where the attack is coming from. I mean, for fucksake we have Hufflepuffs turning on muggle-borns looking for protection in this war. Everybody outside of the S.P.I.R.E, is a threat."

"So what do we do?"

Neville shook his head at the redhead's question. "I'm not sure. Our main goal is just making sure that nobody on the upper level gets-" Neville fell silent as a pulse of malice magic radiated in the distance. "Come on!" He ordered, "Follow me!"

Neville sprinted down the stone corridors towards the magical presence. Even in the distance, it felt foul, like the scent of rotting fish. He spun back to check on the girls now a few lengths behind him but didn't slow. He couldn't. Something was going on, and he had a feeling it wasn't good.

Muffled screams trickled from beyond the corridor's wall. Neville glared at it and pressed his hands against the cold stone. A secret room? He wondered, the muffled noises from beyond now louder than ever. Hastily, Neville pressed his palm to each stone, yet nothing moved. Then, a voice broke from beyond the wall. "Come on now," The voice spat, "We don't have all fucking day."

The panic muffling grew louder, each carrying the hint of a mercy-seeking plea. "Fucking curse the bitch already!" Another voice bellowed from beyond the wall. "Do you want to prove your loyalty to the Dark Lord or not?"

"T-There has to be another way," A distantly familiar voice stuttered. "I mean, she's got the point. She said she'll leave Hogwarts tomorrow, already."

"It's not about leaving Hogwarts," the first voice said. "It's about sending a message that her kind isn't allowed here. Understand? Now grow a fucking pair and curse this stupid bitch. What are you scared of? She's just a worthless mudblood."

Neville's jaw clenched. His fists trembled at the vitriol. "Are you going to do it, because I can't just sit here and hear this filth," Susan growled.

Neville nodded and pointed his wand further left of where the voices had resonated before he snarled. As if struck by a bomb, the wall erupted, and through the smoke, Neville charged in.

Three figures stood stunned in shock, and Neville tackled one, his wand at the figure's neck just as two red bolts soared overhead, hitting the other two in the chest, stunning them with a thud. "Chang! Bones!" Neville called out, "Go check to see if the girl is okay and bring her to Madam Pomfrey. I'm going to take care of... holy shit."

Susan's wand dropped at the sight of the man beneath Neville, "Terry?" She whimpered, "Why? Why would you..."

"Don't," Terry said, his eyes unable to meet hers. "Don't you dare ask why like you don't know. It's because Voldemort's going to win this fucking war! Can't you see that!"

"He's not!" Susan yelled. "Harry will! Harry, and Neville, and Michael will-"

"Don't ever mention that fucking blue-haired git's name in front of me!" Terry shouted. "And really! You think they can win? Harry hasn't been seen in action for weeks! Your precious Michael can't take back any majority defended territories, only little worthless ones. Meanwhile, London is still under siege and you're fighting an enemy that can't fucking die! Tell me! How the fuck are you going to win this war!" His voice weakened as tears trickled down his cheeks. "Please. Please Su, tell me how?"

"I don't know," Susan said faintly. "Merlin, Terry, I don't know. But I know this. My aunt didn't raise me to be a coward. I'd sooner die on my feet fighting against Voldemort and his forces before hurting innocent witches and wizards in the hopes that I'll get to live the rest of my life on my knees." Her quivering hand tightened, "You talked so much about how you're a better man than Michael that year we were together. You fucking talked and talked, but right now, Michael is leading troops into battle for the fate of the wizarding world, and you were about to torture an innocent muggle-born. What a great man you are."

The redhead turned her back on the boy and moved closer to Cho to help support the young girl, curled on the floor in tears. "Come on," Neville whispered to Terry before floating the other unconscious Slytherins with a wave of his wand. "Let's go see McGonagall, and you're going to tell her everything that happened here? Understand?"

Slowly, Terry shuffled to his feet. "Fine, it doesn't matter anyway. We're all dead, one way or another."

(Astoria P.O.V)

Astoria shot up from her bed with a hiss. Fire coursed through her blood like a forest. She clenched her hand over her lips to keep the scream at bay. The heat from her tears dripped from her eyes, down her cheek. She bit down on her palm, desperate to get the blood out of her body. Sweat raced down her like rainfall before just as quickly as it came; it vanished.

"Fuck!" Astoria muffled. Hastily she wiped the tears from her eyes. Her hand rested over her racing chest. From across the room, her weakened figure looked back at her.

She'd lost weight, and her eyes didn't have that same color, no matter what color they took on. Her hair was dryer, and unkempt, looking more like she'd just walked in from a wind storm. Acid jumped to her throat, forcing her over the bed as vomit gushed from her lips. "Fuck."

Slowly, she shuffled for her wand. "Scourgify," she muttered, the vomit vanishing from the floor replaced with a searing pain in her arm. With a groan, she rolled from her bed. The floorboard moaned beneath her feet with every step, and the cry of the door's ungreased hinges made her cringe in the darkroom. She checked her pocket once more for her wand and stepped into the dark hallway.

She'd made it no more than two steps from her room before an accented voice whispered through the dark. "Heading to the basement, I imagine?" Astoria jumped. From the shadows, the curls of the blonde-haired Bulgarian appeared. "I came here to stop you from doing that."

"How long have you known?" Astoria hissed. Quickly she grabbed the boy's wrist and pulled him into her room, closing the door slowly behind him.

"For a few weeks now," Damyan said. "I um- I pay close attention to you. Closer than you think. I know you've been sneaking into the basement and practicing your magic against Harry's explicit orders. Technically, I should have told him the first time I saw you do it, but I figure you'd eventually realize that you're killing yourself and would stop. But it looks like I was wrong about that."

"Shut up," Astoria whispered. "You don't get it. You're sick but you're still able to use your magic. You're still able to help in your own way. Me, I just have to sit here and watch as people I love are thrown into mission after mission while I just sit here like I'm a bloody muggle."

"Why is it so important to you that you go out on these missions?" Damyan asked. "Why are you so eager to go out there and risk taking a killing curse or worse to the chest? Why are you in such a rush to die?"

"Because if they die out there because they didn't see something I could, then it's my fault!" Astoria cried. "Everyone else is fighting with everything they have and I'm here either sleeping or being heavily medicated to keep me alive in the vain hope that my sister, who I haven't seen in months, is going to come up with some magical way to cure me!"

"You're talking like you don't want her to succeed?" Damyan said, his voice soft and calming.

"Maybe I-," Astoria sighed. "Maybe I don't. If I die on the battlefield next to all of you, I can make my peace with that. But if I live, and my sister does find a way to take out my infected magical core, and even one of you dies then-"

"Then what?" Damyan asked.

"Then I think I'd rather be dead."

Tears swelled once more in her eyes. "I mean, just look at Harry. He looks worse by the day to the point he hasn't even noticed I've been sneaking out and he's way more observant than you." She swallowed, "No offense."

"Some taken, but we'll put that on the back burner for now," Damyan said. "And yeah, Harry looks a mess, all of us do. But do you think you're doing him any favors by racing towards your death. How many sisters do you want him to bury?"

"When Michael vouched for me to join, I was scared, but I joined. I did so because the Dark Lord is a monster that needs to be stopped, and more importantly, because he has you on his kill list, and I won't allow that to happen sitting down." Damyan hugged her tightly, "But I would also fail if I let you run out there to kill yourself. And if you die, it's over. If you die, Harry will collapse, and with it, the entire rebellion. I can't offer you some sort of absolution. I don't know how you're going to make peace with never being able to use magic again if that's what it comes to. But you being alive without magic and here with us is a million times better than us coming to your grave because you insisted on swinging a wand around."

Astoria hugged him back tighter than ever. "Damn it, Damyan. I just- I just want to help. I don't have any other skills besides my magic."

"That's not true," Damyan said, his hand cupped around her chin. "You are so much more than just your magic, Astoria. So much more." He pressed his lips to hers, and a soft purr escaped her lips. "Don't focus so much on what you can't do. Focus on what you can."

She nodded, her forehead pressed against his. "Now, let's get some sleep tonight. Okay? I'll see you for breakfast-"

"Stay," Astoria whispered gently. "Please. I- I don't want to be alone right now."

"Yeah," Damyan said, a hot blush racing through his pale complexion. "Whatever you want."

The morning light came quickly after Astoria finally drifted. It was the movement of the boy next to her that woke her. From her window, she watched the sunrise as the man wiggled himself free from the bed. "Why are you up so early?" She moaned into her pillow.

"Of all the girls in the house to sleep next to," Damyan said with a grin, "You are the most dangerous." He knelt to kiss her forehead, "Found in the bed with Potter's baby sister. I wonder if I'd even get a chance to explain before he hexed my bits off."

"He's not like that," Astoria chuckled, "Also, it's not like we did anything."

"With as high strung as your brother is now, I'd rather not take the risk," He said with another kiss, this time to her lips. "I'll see you at breakfast, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," She said with a tired wave, "I'll see you at breakfast."

Astoria had grown fond of the breakfast feasts prepared by Emmeline with the help of Narcissa. The presence of Molly Weasley at the table, however, sent chills down her spine. The Weasley Matriarch never stopped by for social calls; if she were there, it meant business there was business to discuss.

Damyan joined her moments after she arrived in the sitting room. To her left was Hermione. The witch had only recently ditched her crutches, a sign of improvement from her prolonged double vision and balance issues. The witch moved hesitantly, still around the table, but she moved. Astoria glanced to see the plump woman across from her, a buttered toast in hand. It hadn't taken long to understand why Daphne held the Mediwitch in such high respect. She certainly was a wizard.

The table ate in silence, mostly—some held sidebar conversations about news in the prophet. Other non-permanent residents caught up on things, primarily if any family members had died since their last meeting. All conversation ceased the moment Harry entered the room. The Boy-Who-Lived had shown steady signs of regressions, but she'd never seen Harry so weak. At least, not since her first year with the dementors.

Harry's hair had been cut recently, and his grooming, in general, was clean, but it was his face that forced the silence. No light illuminated from his emerald green eyes, and his cheeks had shallowed and grown gaunt. He heavily favored his left side, though he forced himself to stand straight. Those distant from Harry turned to each other in shock but resisted the urge to speak.

Harry cleared his throat. It was raspier than she'd expected, but finally, he spoke. "I hope everybody has enjoyed their breakfast thus far. As you all know, it is rare that we have complete Order meetings within one location. We do this because when all clustered together, we make an easy target. However, we've gathered nonetheless to give a status report for our cause."

"Harry, dear," Molly said, "Do you need a cup of tea? You look unwell."

"No tea, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said with a softness to his voice. "I will admit I am currently feeling a bit under the weather, but we will pay it no mind moving forward. Now, firstly, we start with some good news. Charlie has managed to train the dragon that he, Claire, and Fleur had retrieved a few months back. The dragon goes by the name of Nym, and will be our main advantage in the air. To our knowledge, none of the fuckers on the other side has a bloody dragon, so that is looking good."

"Neville has also reported that the Centaurs have gathered under the tribe of Bane and have been found armed and ready waiting for Michael to tell them the war has begun. Bane outdid himself by gathering a few other tribes and provided us some numbers. For that, we will see to it he is rewarded by war's end." Harry continued, "Next, we have been slowly conquering outer-territories and consolidating Voldemort and Carmilla's forces away from civilians in the outskirts of England. With the help of Minister Bones, we have aurors there who we believe will be capable of holding these areas for the time being."

"That being said," Harry cleared his throat and took a seat, "We have some less encouraging news as well." From his pocket, he pulled a letter and sighed, "A week ago, I received another bit of correspondence from Neville. Before you ask Hermione, I did return with a letter that sent him your love. That, however, is the only bit of encouraging business within it. He's written about morale dropping badly at Hogwarts. The S.P.I.R.E has done what it can to keep muggle-borns and half-bloods who don't subscribe to Pureblood ideologies safe with the approved consent of McGonagall. Yet, it is still a school, and there are limits on McGonagall's power to terminate students. More concerning still is what Neville reported to have witnessed during Terry Boot and McGonagall's conversation. I'll put this simply. From what it sounds like, students with Death Eater ties have been giving less than vague hints that Voldemort looks to use Hogwarts as a battleground soon. I believe this report to be true. Voldemort is wildly powerful and will look to take down a symbol of inter-blood status relationships when he is ready. That day looks to be coming closer."

"You believe he'll attack the school," Molly gasped, "But what of the innocents."

"The bastard blew up a hospital," Michael sighed. "Not to mention the raids they've been doing on muggle cities and towns. Don't think he's the type of give a fuck about innocents."

"Right, now, with that information, I want to offer an idea," Harry said. "Anyone with children still at Hogwarts under the age of seventeen, I want them pulled out of the school immediately. I have written to Neville and McGonagall to begin preparing to make Hogwarts as difficult to penetrate as possible, but there is no keeping the Dark Lord out if he wants in."

"What if our children are over the age of seventeen?" Doge asked.

Harry turned to his right, where Madam Bones sat, "Though Mr. Potter fought me fiercely on this issue, I have written to McGonagall to alert students of age that should they so choose, they may remain at the castle to fight."

"That's fucking insane!" Doge bellowed. "They're boys and girls, not trained aurors! You're sending them to their deaths!"

"I agree with your sentiments, Mr. Doge, truly, I do," Harry said, his voice even and calm, "But look around you. Take a good look at who sits at this table." Doge sat back in his chair and scanned, "We have children at this very council meeting. Children who have already fought and killed death eaters. I myself am yet to becoming of age, but have fought countless battles. I don't love it, but that was by the order of the Minister for Magic."

"I will take full responsibility for every student life that is lost." Amelia whispered, "That is my burden to bear. Had we the manpower, I would haven't suggested the idea, but our allies haven't agreed to help. We're on our own, no more soldiers are coming."

"Fuck," Diggory whispered beneath his breath.

"With the giants, the vampire, and the werewolf clans, I would say that even with what we've gathered between of-age volunteers and recruited help, we're still outnumbered three to one." Harry clasped his hands tightly, "I am prepared to die on the night of the battle should it come to that, but I do not demand that of anyone here at this table. Some of you, I already anticipate your answer, but if you'd like to go no further in this operation, Mrs. Black will show you the door and we will speak not a word of it."

"Michael, Sirius, Remus, Astoria," Harry whispered, "I want this choice to be entirely your own. Don't stay just because of sentiment you may harbor towards me. I-"

"Just shut the hell up mate," Michael laughed. "We're with you until the end of however the fuck this plays out." Astoria scanned the table, unsure of who would rise. To her surprise, not a single person rose from the table. "It looks like that goes for everyone here," Michael tacked on.

Harry nodded, "Thank you, everyone. Now, let's proceeded with the rest of our report. Madam Bones, I believe you requested to take over from here?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, thank you," She said. "As you know, London is currently surrounded by the Dark Lord's posse. This is troublesome for both the people of England and the Prime Minister, who has, in no uncertain terms, threatened to take drastic actions if this issue is not solved soon. Sending muggles into a battlefield like this would do little but provide Carmilla more soldiers, so it's best we do something about this surrounding armies quickly. The good news is, one of the Ministry's spies on the inside has discovered there is some growing discontent between the various clans. While the giants are too dumb to notice an insult, it looks as if Fenrir's brood and Carmilla's people are less than friendly with one another. It is only Voldemort's fears that keep them in check."

"So you're planning to turn them against each other, is it?" Michael said with a smirk, "Not bad, Minister. What's your plan?"

"Indeed, Mr. Corner, that is my intention," Amelia admitted. "As for a plan, I figure that these situations require less tact and more action. Fenrir's pack, holds a sacred ground in Epping Forest. My insiders have slowly been building up their collection of Vampires' hairs and brewing polyjuice."

"So the plan is simple then," Michael said, "We disguise ourselves, burn the place down, and make sure we get caught doing it by one of the werewolves. They'll act rashly before Voldemort even has a chance to bring them to order." The Minister nodded. "Right then, how many hair samples do you have?"

"Six," She replied curtly.

"Six? Why just six," Damyan asked.

"Vampires aren't easy to kill, boy. Our men inside could only kill six and hide their bodies. We'll need them to dump in the burnt remains of the forest once our job's done to make it convincing. Now before I order my men to proceed with the mission, I suppose I should ask, do we have any volunteers."

"I'll burn the forest down," Michael said with a grin. "After all, fire's become my specialty."

"Anyone else?" Amelia said. Fleur and Claire both raised their hands before another hand soared from the corner of Astoria's eye.

"Yeah, I'll go."

"Very well then, if there are any more volunteers, you know how to reach me. We plan to be ready in a week's time," Amelia said. "Now, Mr. Potter, a word in private please."

"Yes, of course," Harry said with a grunt from the strain of his movement. "This concludes the meeting. You're all dismissed."

(Daphne P.O.V)

Morgana hovered like a black cloud in the sky. It may have sent Daphne into a panic at one time, but now, it was almost comforting. Her wand trembled in her hand, unmoving like she had become a statue. Blood trickled from her nose down her face. Her body, no, Daphne wagered no human's body was designed to handle magic like this.

"Please!" A disheveled man cried, "Please I'm trying but it's not working! Don't kill me! Oh god, Lady Morgana don't kill me."

"Shut up you oaf, and keep trying your spells," she hissed. "Another word from you that isn't an incantation, and I'll have my dove her castrate you, understand?"

"You'll have me what?" Daphne asked.

"Quiet now, dove," Morgana said, "Focus." Daphne swallowed hard. Her whole body pulsed as if an electric shock had been run through her. "Good, now unlock the core," Morgana whispered.

Daphne turned her wrist like a key in a lock. For a moment, nothing happened, then, suddenly, fire erupted from the man's wand. "Again, dove," Morgana order. Steadily, Daphne flicked her wrist once more, and the fire from the man's wand vanished. "And unlock," Morgana said evenly before once more fire erupted.

"Very good Dove," Morgana said, "Very good." A gasp pulled itself from Daphne's throat, and her knees fell to the stone-clad ground. She huffed desperately for air. Her whole body burned, but the smile never faded from her lips. "It appears that your upper limit is only two minutes of continuous control. I know you intended to try and give this some battle ability, but I fear, given the necessary prerequisites to activate this ability, it looks to be unlikely."

"It was worth a shot," Daphne wheezed. Morgana nodded. "It's fine, though. I think, with this, I'll be able to save my sister." Tears streamed down Daphne's cheeks, "I'll finally be able to save my sister."

"Indeed," Morgana said, "And I suspect many more with what I've taught you. Do be sure to use your skills responsibly. You'll find your magic drains far faster beyond the walls of Avalon when I am no longer supplementing your natural reserves. Push yourself too far and you will die."

"I understand," Daphne nodded. "Hopefully I'll have no need for it."

"Yes, hopefully," Morgana agreed. "Anyway, I suspect now that you have what you need, you plan to leave here and rejoin the war efforts?"

"No, not yet," Daphne struggled to her feet. "There's one more thing I was hoping you could help me learn. If it ever comes to it, there's one spell I want to make sure I have at my disposal. One of the most powerful spells in medical magic."

"Very well, dove, what is it?"

"Teach me how the perfect the life-exchange ritual."

A/N: Well, as Dr. Strange once said, "We're in the Endgame now" Ever so slowly, we're nearing the end of this series, and honestly, thank you all so much for the support. If you've enjoyed, please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review! Until Next Time, Peace!