Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Merlin. If anyone does and is up to, I dunno, giving them to me, wink wink nudge nudge?

Chapter 3: Remembrance

"Harry Potter."

Harry stared forward, eyes dull and skin pale, unmoving.

"Harry Potter, please make your way to the antechamber."

He stood up with the scraping of the bench, a dull throb of power emanating from his fury shaken form. With a silent puff, the candles in the great halls were extinguished, the breaths of all present stilled.

"No," he said simply.

Dumbledore blinked. "Harry, my boy, your name has come out of the goblet. You must come forward."

"I said no," he hissed. "I did not enter. I refuse."

"Harry," the elderly professor chided. "Do not make a scene. Come, so that we may discuss the outcome of this situation."

Swallowing, Harry stepped forward, trembling as his clenched fists pinched at his robes, his wand held stiff in his right hand. All he had to do was walk forward. Keep walking forward, and he would get his answers.

A shimmer of light caught his eye. The goblet. A golden, jewel encrusted chalice, burning with pure magic. It was… familiar.

He blinked, and suddenly he was elsewhere, standing somewhere he had come to know quite well, in his dreams. Gaius's chambers.

"Merlin!"

"We need to get this to Arthur," Merlin said urgently, pushing a canteen of water into the elderly physician's hands.

Gaius stared. "What is it?"

"Water from the Cup of Life," he said desperately, remembering the golden chalice brimming with magic. "If Arthur drinks it, he will recover. Please hurry."

"What price did you pay to redeem his life?" Gaius barked. "Whose life did you bargain?"

"We don't have time!"

"Merlin!"

"Don't worry, Gaius, everything's going to be fine."

The next few hours passed by in a blur, before he was pulled into an alcove sharply.

He looked up, seeing the beautiful, yet fearful eyes of Morgana.

"Please, Merlin, you must beware," she pleaded. "This is only the beginning."

Again, the vision sped forward, and he was in his chambers.

His eyes slowly blinked open. Then they snapped wide. He was alive.

Bolting through the doors, he laughed with joy. "Gaius!" Merlin laughed. "I'm alive!"

He froze. For laying before him, was the sickly form of his mother.

The hours blurred by, desperate plans to save his mother merging into a jumbled heap of sorrow. At last, he was standing on a fog filled island, facing a beautiful sorceress.

"Stop!" he cried. But it was too late. The bolt of power stuck his mentor, and he fell to the ground.

Nimeuh gave a cold smile. "Back so soon, warlock?"

"What have you done?" he gasped, appalled.

"Your mother is safe. Is that not what you wanted?"

"Have you killed him?"

"It was his wish," she smirked.

"I bid my life for Arthur's, not my mother's," Merlin screamed. "Not Gaius's!"

"The Old Religion does not care who lives and who dies," she chided. "Only that the balance of the world is restored. To save a life, one must be taken. Gaius knew this."

"The Old Religion did not do this," he spat. "You did."

For a moment, his vision cleared, and his foot continued in its step, no time having passed since he had caught sight of the Cup. Then he blinked once more, a new barrage of images striking him.

He was in the halls of Camelot, charging forward, noble Lancelot by his side as the knight desperately cut through the hordes of undying soldiers, hacking them to pieces to slow their return.

"The Cup!" Merlin gasped. "I can sense its power. This way" He stabbed forward, a small smile forming as the demonic soldier collapsed into ashes.

Lancelot gaped at him. "What was that?"

"This? Oh, nothing," he smirked. "Just a blade forged in a dragon's breath."

"Oh," he blinked. "What do we do now?"

Merlin shrugged. "Onwards, I guess." And he burst forwards, getting inside the council chambers. There, before him adorned with gold and jewels and drenched in blood was the Cup of Life, and guarding it, Morgause.

"For the love of Camelot!" Lancelot cried, charging forward, only to be blasted away, unconscious.

Morgause gave him a thin smile. "I guess I won't be seeing you again."

"No, you won't!" Gaius cried from the shadows, previously presumed unconscious. "Oferswing!"

The weak spell sent Morgause flying backwards, but she rose to strike again.

"Acwele!" Merlin hissed, sending Morgause into the wall, rendering her unconscious.

"Merlin!" Gaius cried. "The Cup!"

He swung the sword, knocking the cursed goblet from its stand, the blood of a thousand spilling across the floor. He glowered. Even an enchanted sword could not damage the treacherous instrument.

His vision cleared, and his step finished, his breath short and his fists shaking. He stopped, body racked with shivers of fury, ignoring the curious stares of the attentive audience. His more rational mind was thankful that he had seen those visions in as short a time frame as he had - he could only imagine the embarrassment of murmuring about Arthur in front of everyone - but at the time, his rational mind was taking the back seat. So what if they didn't cause a scene? He certainly would.

"You," Harry hissed, glowering at the accursed artefact. The conduit of Magic itself, in all its might and horror. "You just had to do it, didn't you?" He pulled out his wand, levelling it at the flaming atrocity, addressing the Power behind the veil. The Fates. The Moirai. The Cailleach. The Triple Goddess. Magic itself, warping existence itself, moulding him, torturing him, into its perfect tool. "Are you happy? I've lost, just like you wanted!"

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked, concerned. "I think you should put your wand away."

He did not. Instead, his wand flicked to the headmaster, the end glowing slightly. "Shut up, old man!"

"Mr Potter, stop making a scene," Snape drawled. "If you didn't want to compete, you shouldn't have entered.

Harry snarled, his expression unhinged, before turning his attention back towards the goblet. "Stop it. Stop it stop it STOP IT! You've meddled enough! Your mouthpieces have torn down my world, my dream - I don't have anything left to lose. All your schemes, all your plots." He grinned. "Well, I say no more. I wonder if you can feel pain. BOMBARDA!"

The spell raced towards the goblet, absorbed by an invisible shield, a dome forming around it. Harry let out a guttural scream, sending a reducto at the offending implement. Yet that too was absorbed.

He stood there, panting, staring with unbridled fury at the source of his hatred.

"Mister Potter! Whatever you are doing right now, stop it!"

Harry blinked. Sure enough, surrounding him and the gauntlet was a vortex of air, buffering all who attempted to interfere. He turned back to the goblet. "You want to play it like this?" he roared over the churning wind. "So be it. ASTRICE!"

The spell collided with the dome, the sheer power charging through, colliding with the goblet. The chalice spun through the air, flames launching wildly as it was battered by the unbridled fury of the wind. A bolt of power surged through the air, striking Harry in the chest.

He gasped, struggling to breath as the vortex fell, the Cup clattering to the ground, inert. He spluttered for a moment, clawing for breath. He was vaguely aware of the echoing footsteps approaching him, of students and teachers rushing with concern oozing from their demeanours.

Then he collapsed, unconscious before his head collided with the cobbled ground.

ROA

His dreams were fractured, showing shards of dreams stretching about a decade, dreams of friendship and heroics, of magic and chivalry, and of darkness and treachery. He saw fights with bandits and sorcerers, feasts with knights and nobles.

And he saw death. So much death.

He saw Lancelot, stepping through the veil. He saw Gaius, sacrificed and resurrected. He saw Will, slain by invading bandits. Leon, fallen to a stray arrow, lying beside Gwaine, his side hacked apart by Mordred's men. He saw Arthur, slowly fading as Mordred's cursed blade poisoned him from the inside.

And her. He saw her die, over and over, lying in his own, dying body, shaking and crying over her cold form.

"Beautiful, wasn't she?"

Harry spun around, finding himself in a vast, white room, empty save for himself, a figure and a roiling storm of magic, invisible to the naked eye.

The figure himself was fairly unremarkable. He was about six foot, with ruffled black hair and gleaming green eyes, with humorously large ears and familiar, yet poor quality clothing.

Harry frowned. "Do I know you?"

"In a way."

He blinked, as realisation struck him. "You're Merlin."

"What you say is true," Merlin grinned enigmatically. "From a certain point of view."

"So it was all real," Harry muttered. "All of that… Arthur… Gaius… Morgana… Merlin was a manservant?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes, you were."

"What? Speak plainly."

"You are me, and I am you. Two minds, identical, bound to the same soul. The only difference is your memories," he stated, before pausing. "Again, this is true from a certain point of view."

"We are not the same!" Harry cried. "You are Merlin, the greatest wizard who has ever lived. I'm Harry - just Harry."

"In truth, I am not truly Merlin," Merlin sighed. "I am Magic itself. I have had many names: Magic, Hecate, Isis, the list goes on."

"But you said-"

"That I was Merlin. As I said, true from a certain point of view," the being's nose twitched. "I am not a god, Harry, just as Merlin was no mere 'wizard'. He wasn't even a sorcerer, really: sorcerers wield magic, Merlin was magic. I am more of a representation - magic made manifest. I am as susceptible to the whims of the Creator as any other; by his power, I have had three manifestations; Magic itself, as an incorporeal being nurturing the newly formed universe, Merlin, as the saviour of a dying art, and now as you, Merlin reborn, in the quest to restore the land of Albion. We are Emrys, the immortal soul strung throughout time and space."

"If you are both Magic and Merlin," Harry said slowly. "Then why have you sought to destroy us with torturous destiny."

"Oh, Merlin," Magic sighed. "I have long since departed this form. When I was Merlin I was only Merlin - how could I interfere with my own life."

The

"But all those times magic tore down my life - the Cup, the Dorocha-"

"Those were not my will," Magic sighed, shaking his head. "Those were the Moirai, lesser gods if you will, though the definition is not entirely correct. They too wish to fulfil the Creator's plans, yet they have a very different vision. They see Emrys as the one to bring about Albion, but through sacrificial death." He shook his head. "They brought us much pain, even in our first form."

Harry frowned. "Hang on, you said that when you were Merlin, this form ceased to exist. How then do we commune?"

Magic laughed. "You are not yet Emrys, so a shade remains."

"But you said we were Emrys."

"The concept is a complex one," Magic said slowly. "In essence, there have been many vessels with the potential to become Emrys. It is like a spark, imprisoned by the facade of another soul, ready to be released. Yet never has the prison been unlocked, save for you."

"The Dementors," Harry realised. "They freed it."

Magic nodded. "With your soul removed, the Emrys soul seeks to integrate with your mind. And so, it steadily prepares you, making you relive the life of your first incarnation, that of Merlin."

"My soul's gone!"

"Please," Magic rolled his eyes. "It wasn't even your proper soul, just a placeholder. Your mind is still your own, and soon, so shall your soul." He paused. "And you need to stop thinking of Merlin as another being. He is you as much as you are him."

Harry blinked. "Why does this always happen to me?"

"The Moirai," Magic hissed. "Meddlesome witches, torture those with the spark, in the hopes that the prison may be broken. This time, they succeeded."

"You said that the soul is not yet mine…" he drawled. "What would happen if it fails?"

"Oh, you'll burn to ashes."

"WHAT!"

"Relax! That'll only happen if you fail to accept that you are Merlin. Which is why I am here," he said, before pausing. "Besides, that's the worst case scenario. It could be that you just end up with two contradicting minds in one body."

Harry shook his head. "You know what? I can believe it. With my luck, and what I've seen of Merl- my life, this was more likely to happen than not."

"That's the spirit!" Magic cheered, looking slightly less solid. "Right, I don't have much time until, well, I become part of you, so I'll just go over the basics. You know the Prophecy of the Once and Future King?"

"No?"

"Me neither. Probably should have actually found a copy," he said, scratching his chin. "Anyway, from what Kilgharrah told me-"

"The dragon."

"Yes, the dragon. Anyway, he said that the Once and Future King, Arthur, would be reborn, like us. Well, that's what I figure he meant, now that I know what I knew before I was Merlin, anyway. From what he said in his enigmatic statements, and the centuries of time to think in the back of random people's minds, I've figured that we will be the first to be reborn, and that our nature as more than just a sorcerer, but magic itself will cause ripples, as others slowly are pulled into modern forms."

"But you said it was Arthur who would return. Who are these others?" Harry asked, confused. Despite having a good decade or so of extra memories slowly trickling in from his first life, he wasn't suddenly a genius. Merlin had been a very smart man, but he wasn't educated.

"Yes," Magic nodded. "Arthur is the most important to return, but I think there will be others. Something Kilgharrah once said to me: 'Bonds formed in tragedy surely prevail over death.' At the time, I thought he was referring to the Knights and the undead army, but now…"

"You think that we bound them to our destiny," Harry realised.

Magic nodded. "Looking back on it, I can see many lines where connections may have been made. The Knights are the obvious ones, but I think Gaius is possible, as is Uther. Her relations in the birth of Arthur could bring Nimeuh through, and there is a high possibility that Morgause may return, as will… Morgana."

"Morgana," Harry blinked. "Oh."

"Oh indeed," Magic sighed. "As I'm sure you agree, it was difficult enough slaying her the first time. To do so again…"

Harry looked up sharply. "I think I know who it is."

Magic nodded. "As do I. Someone who looks superficially like her, with the same temperament, seen shortly before memories of Morgana began to form?"

"Daphne Greengrass," he breathed, shaking his head.

Magic nodded. "I would advise you to keep your distance. At the moment, you can separate the two in your mind. If you were to become close again…"

"I will do what I must," he muttered. "But what if she can be redeemed? What if I can approach her, before she remembers?"

"Do as you think is wise," Magic sighed. "It will be my decision also. We are one, remember?"

Harry nodded, looking at the now flickering form of his former self. "You don't have long."

"No," he agreed. "When I am gone, all your major memories will be restored. There may be a few small things that creep up over time, and the dreams may persist, but you will be, for all intents and purposes, Merlin once more."

"Wait!" Harry said, looking at the man, his legs now invisible. "What about the Tournament?"

Magic shrugged. "Someone is out to kill you, that's for sure. Keep an eye out, and don't die. Other than that?" he said, before he grinned. "Show them who's boss."

ROA

Harry gasped for breaths as he sat up, staring at a dull white sheet. Had he not woken up? No, he couldn't feel the primal magic, just dull, manipulated magic, almost clinical. He felt… different. Yes, that was right. He was still Harry, he knew, but he was also Merlin. He felt more like Harry than Merlin, but there was no denying the Merlin within him, the memories and spells swirling in his mind. And his magic. He could feel it. Racing through his veins, burning with power and life. He grinned. Just like it should be.

"About time you work up," Madam Pomfrey chided. He was in the infirmary, he realised. He snorted silently. He was in the infirmary in this life as often as he was in Gaius's table, suffering from some ailment or another. How he could have doubted it was him in those dreams, he had no idea.

"How-" he croaked, choking on his dry throat. He nodded in silent thanks as she passed him a glass of water, which he drank greedily. "How long was I out?"

The Healer sighed. "Three days, Mister Potter. That stunt of yours was very foolish. What if the countermeasures were more extreme, hmm? You could be dead! Yes sir, you could be as fried as a phoenix!"

"Ah, Poppy," a familiar voice said softly. Dumbledore. "I see he is awake. If you could…"

"Just this once," Pomfrey snapped. "This is my infirmary, you know!"

The pair sat in silence for a moment, the Headmaster only speaking when Pomfrey had left. "I have failed you, Mr Potter. I did not realise quite how much until the feast."

"My apologies, sir," Harry sighed. "It is not you that I despise so much - at least, not with calm tempers - but rather Fate as a whole. The Goblet was simply a way to relieve myself of that stress."

"About that…" Dumbledore frowned. "The Goblet of Fire was an ancient artefact when Merlin came to Hogwarts-"

When I went where? Harry thought. Hogwarts wasn't around when I was. The founders came from Europe.

"-and contains many enchantments that we have no hope of reproducing." He paused, a grave look on his face. "It no doubt had many unknown uses."

And for good reason.

"I don't know what spell you used, obscured as you were by the vortex, but it did something to the Goblet."

Harry paled. "What?"

"We have had goblins in, and they have all verified the same thing," he uttered gravely. "The Goblet has been unenchanted. It is now no more than an ornate drinking utensil."

Harry sighed in relief. Good riddance. "So what does this mean for the tournament?"

"Those same goblins confirmed that the contract is still active. I am sorry, Harry, but you must compete, else lose your magic."

And for me, I am my magic. He sighed. "Anything I need to know?"

Dumbledore nodded. "There will be seven tasks, spread throughout the year, that you must compete in. For the first, which will take place in three weeks' time, you receive no information with which to prepare."

"So, like usual then," he quipped.

Dumbledore paused. "Quite. There will also be several ceremonial events, including but not limited to the Weighing of the Wands in a week's time, the Yule Ball, for which you will need a date, and a Valentine's Dance."

Harry grimaced at the second two, but nodded. "I assume this means I am no longer in the running for the extra-curricular activities?"

"Ho ho!" Dumbledore laughed. "Quite the opposite. The Champions are given many perks, including the opportunity to skip classes to prepare, exemption from the end of year exams and guarantees for you and a friend to join on these trips. The first is in two weeks."

"OK," Harry nodded. "I'll take Ron with me on these trips. Should be a laugh."

"Ah," Dumbledore. "Take your time choosing. Just make sure they're ready when it's time to leave."

Harry frowned, but nodded. "If you don't mind… where is the first trip?"

"Not at all!" Dumbledore smiled jovially. "You'll love this one - the National Quidditch Headquarters!"

Harry grinned. "Looking forward to it already, sir."

"Good good," Dumbledore laughed, shaking his head. "Now, I believe you have some visitors, so I'll leave you be."

Harry sat in silence for a moment as the Headmaster left, before the silence was replaced by the boisterousness of the Weasley Twins.

"Harrikins!"

"Adventurer extraordinaire!"

"Dark Lord destroyer!"

"Champion of Champions!"

They paused, before speaking together. "How'd you do it?"

Harry's smile fell. "What?"

"Don't be shy!"

"We don't care!"

"Just tell us how you got your name in!"

"I didn't," he snapped. "Didn't you see the scene I made?"

"Well, nerves are to be expected, little man."

"Just tell us how you did it! Better ageing potions? An older student? Muggle mechanisms?"

"Shut up!" he growled, glaring at the pair. "If you don't believe me, piss off."

They looked at each other, before shrugging. "Fine with us."

Once more, Harry was left in silence, before another form entered, one he never expected to visit him. "M- Daphne?"

The Slytherin raised an eyebrow, sitting regally on a stool at the foot of his bed. Her posture remained as immaculate as it had been under Uther. "Ever the tone of surprise, Potter. What, I'm not supposed to see if my sort-of saviour needs my aid?"

"Sort-of-" he spluttered. "Daphne, what happened, happened. You're not in my debt."

"Noble, Potter," she said, her porcelain expression unchanging. She was colder than Morgana had been - at least, the Morgana he liked to remember. "Am I not allowed to be concerned?"

"Uh…" he stammered, before shaking his head, pushing thoughts of Morgana from his mind. "You're a Slytherin!"

"And you're a Gryffindor," she drawled. "Your powers of observation are unbelievable."

"Oi! I'm meant to be the snarky one," he complained. "What I meant was, aren't you supposed to hate me?"

"Honestly, Potter, we aren't all like Malfoy," she chided. "That's like saying you Gryffindors are all like Weasley."

"Which one?"

Daphne paused. "Any, other than that Percy creep."

Harry laughed. "Fair enough. So you're here to… what?"

"See how you are, fill you in on what you missed, keep you company…" she shrugged. "Up to you."

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, like I'd miss out on much in three days."

Her eyebrow raised once again. Harry idly thought it was going to do that a lot around him. Thinking back on it, Morgana tended to raise her eyebrow at him as well. When she wasn't mocking, or flirting with, him. "Oh? So, the Twins were their usual selves, nice and friendly and oh-so-trusting of you?" And there was the mocking.

Harry grimaced. "Right. Student politics. Fine, what's the deal with the school?"

"Durmstrang and Beauxbatons believe you entered and put on a show to mask the truth," she began. "And Ravenclaw doesn't really care either way. Half of them didn't even realise your name came out. But that's not what you wanted to know, was it?"

"No," he muttered. It would be Gryffindor and Slytherin that would affect him, possibly Hufflepuff'' - he hadn't forgotten second year, after all.

"Hufflepuff think you entered to take away the limelight," she snorted. "Honestly, it's their insecurity clouding their judgement." The sarcastic tone matched the original perfectly. Then his mind realised what she just said.

Harry blinked. "Wait, you believe me?"

She stared at him, eyebrow once more raised. "Would I be here if I thought that performance was a fit of cowardice? That brings us nicely to Slytherin, actually. Almost no-one thinks you actually entered - with the exception of me, they either don't care, or they are going to pretend they think you entered as an excuse to pick a fight. So, you've got that to look forward to."

"Great," he muttered. "What about you?"

She paused, a thin smile on her lips. "I have not yet decided my intentions."

Harry shook his head, grinning. "So what about Gryffindor?" His smile fell at her grimace. "That bad, huh?"

"They're divided, Potter," Daphne sighed. "And none of them are on your side."

"None?" he whimpered. "What about Ron… or Hermione?"

An eyebrow once more was elevated. "You thought they would stay out of this?"

"I had hoped my friendship meant something to them," he grumbled.

She shook her head. "Ronald is using you, Potter. You think it was chance that he found you on the Express? There were dozens of empty carriages, and he just happened to find you?"

"What?" he stared. "But Ron said everywhere else was full!"

"He would, wouldn't he," she said, shaking her head. "He's not a bad guy, he's just misguided. He was honestly your friend, but he sought out your friendship to one-up his brothers. As for Hermione? She's bossy, and she's insecure - a bad mixture. She latched onto you as the first friend who would do as she said, exactly as she said." She shook her head. "Again, not malevolent, but misguided."

Harry slumped back into his bed. "Brilliant. Just how bad is it?"

"Well, I don't know the specifics as I'm not a Gryffindor," Daphne began, rolling her eyes. "But there seem to be two main factions. One who supports you in the Tournament, and one who thinks you are, in Ronald's words, 'a glory seeking git'."

Harry snorted. "Takes one to know one. And the first one doesn't believe I didn't enter?" She shook her head. "Right. And I suppose Hermione's in that one?"

"No, actually," Daphne replied, amused. "She's against you - thinks you entered to spite her precious rulebook."

"You know, I can picture that," he mused, shaking his head. "Ah, hell, I gotta live with these nutters. Anyone on my side, from any house?"

Daphne nodded. "That was only the vague outline. No-one in Hufflepuff support you, but there's this one nutter in Ravenclaw-"

"So, they have to be nuts to support me," Harry drawled. "Thanks."

"No," Daphne huffed, slapping his arm. "She really is nuts. Lovegood, walks around barefoot. Anyway, there's me and Astoria, obviously-"

"Yeah, because the support of a snake is guaranteed," he snarked.

She fixed him with a cold glance. Yup, straight off the face of Morgana, in her later years. "You're welcome. My friend Tracey Davis agrees with me also."

"What about Gryffindor?" Harry asked, wincing slightly.

"There are a couple," Daphne stated. "Longbottom has been stalwart in his defence of you, and Bell has had a very public argument with Johnson over the latter's vitriol. I think Thomas might, but he is much quieter on his opinions. Trying not to fall out with his friends, I should think."

"Fuck," he breathed, burying his face in his hands. "So my only friend is one who would cause even more hatred within my house? Just my luck."

"Friends, Potter?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I think you are being a bit… presumptuous. We are more like… allies, I think." She stood up, going to leave.

"Oh," Harry said, sighing. Right. Of course. Too good to be true.

"Though…" she whispered, leaning into his ear as she passed. "We could be more, in time."

She stood up, softly biting her lip, before sauntering off, hips swaying as his eyes were fixed on her retreating form. Yes sir, here was the flirting. Morgana saw flirting as a sport, a game to enjoy with the nobles and knights. He had wondered why he was the target for so long, until that fateful day by the lake… he shook his head. This was not Morgana. Not yet, anyway. She was Daphne. And she was her own person. He made his decision.

"Daphne!"

She paused, turning to face him. "Yes, Potter?"

"I, well, uh…" he stammered, cheeks flushing. "Well, I've come to realise I don't really have any friends I can invite on the trip, how about an ally?"

"You mean the extra-curricular, cultural enrichment opportunities in which four members from each house, the Champions and their friends get to go to key cultural landmarks?" she asked sarcastically, before shrugging. "Sure, why not? I'll see you soon, Potter."

"Call me Harry," he called back.

"Sure thing, Potter."

A/N: I know I said this would take an age. I lied.

I don't know why, but I'm on a roll with this fic! Expect this to get far more updates than Lessons of the Pit (sorry LOTP fans).

So, yeah. Merlin's here, arc 1 is over, and Daphne is still Daphne! Whoop whoop! Also, I've tried to create a very anti-Harry school without bashing - how do you think I've done?

One reviewer, SAIYAN3925 has made a prediction. Drum roll people... what I can reveal is that some were right, and some where wrong! Not saying whose who though :P

In other news, this is my second most successful fic of all time, and my most successful fic in the timespan of its release. High five!

So yeah, please favourite, follow and review! PM if you wanna!

See you all next time.

This is JaguarAJG, signing off.