Ch 14- Connections

Jonovan Orion was flying in a personal, miniature whirlwind as they returned to Hogwarts, landing atop the Astronomy Tower midday with the protection of a cloaking spell. His eyes were black and his hands curved into claws, as though he and not his pet were the one that had a tendency to shred aggressors.

"Orion." Kingsley Shacklebolt called out but the young man paid the Minister of Magic no mind, so he was forced to step in front of the stairs for his attention. "Orion."

Jonovan stopped- barely- looming over the man by his very presence. He was not an angry person by nature; wielding his temper in this manner, as though it were a weapon against any who dared cross his path, was nigh unheard of.

"You can't return to Hogwarts like this." Kingsley told him firmly, and for a few heartbeats Jon thought he was referring to his emotional mindset.

Then Jon remembered he'd altered his appearance for their outing and fixed it, changing his hair from a waxy black back to its normal brown-blond. He removed the sharp angles of his face and the facial hair he'd morphed his features into for their trip, all without taking his eyes from Kingsley's.

The metamorphmagi now looked less like a cartoon villain, but only a fool would be any less weary of his anger. "Nine years." He accused the Minister. "You people have had nine years, and that is the best you've come up with?" Jon scoffed, tempted to laugh at the ineptitude of the 'research' team but holding it back out of respect for the man in front of him. It was not the Minister's fault that wizards had so much trouble with deductive reasoning.

"Four." Shacklebolt corrected, "We've only known as long as you have, Orion. That's only four years."

"Oh is that all?" Jon said sarcastically, clenching his hands into a fist. "You know that means you people spent five years not even considering this a concern, right? Not even aware of it. It took two kids nearly dying for them to get off their arses and realize there was a problem."

Kingsley wasn't sure how to respond to that. He was saved his answer, though, as Zoey showed up- as always, somehow arriving exactly when she was most useful.

"They know now." The short girl said as she walked up to Jon, taking his hand. "And we're going to make sure they stay on track."

Jonovan looked down at her in mild surprise at her timing, then nodded and patted her on the head. Rasputin scampered down his arm to perch on the shoulder of the less-angry of his two masters. The literal storm around him calmed even as he watched her hair turn a crimson red under his touch.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow at the implication that these kids could do better than he, but as he looked at them together he decided not to be too upset.

Zoey turned her smile on the Minister, "Rex, do you mind giving us a moment?"

And now he was being dismissed. Kingsley folded his arms. "Do you mind using my real name?"

"No. But actually using a Latin word every now and then makes me feel like I didn't waste my school life." She had a perfectly innocent smile, but Kingsley knew her well enough to know she wouldn't ask for privacy unless she felt they needed it.

Jonovan knew that as well and sighed in a bit of a defeated way, fairly certain of what he'd done wrong this time. "Thanks for the update, Minister." Even if it had been horribly disappointing.

"You two are aware that as the Minister of Magic, it is my prerogative to decide when my presence is no longer needed?" Kingsley Shacklebolt said in a voice of authority that had cowed criminals and commanded Aurors… and both of them looked at him like they had no idea what he was talking about.

Kids. He sighed and turned to go to the Headmaster's office before returning to the Ministry. No respect for their elders.

When he was gone Zoey took her hand from Jon's and set it on her hip, glaring at him. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" He asked mildly, straightening his robes as though he actually cared about his appearance as he sauntered down the tower stairs.

"You know very well 'what'," Zoey called him out as she followed, but said it anyways as she was that angry. "You made McGonagall give me tutors!"

"Zoey," he said in a mildly chiding voice, "I have no authority whatsoever over her decisions. And a student really should call her 'Headmistress', don't you think?"

"You- gah!" She threw her hands in the air and turned away from him, then finished the circle to face him again.

"Words Zoey." He smiled, obviously enjoying her temper.

The Malam growled under her breath but complied. "I'm supposed to fit in! Be 'under the radar'! How is getting tutored before the first rounds of testing fitting in? What did Rex have to say about it, huh?"

"No worse than the way you are only taking two classes at your grade level." Jon pointed out ruthlessly, folding his own arms. "And if you'd come to school as a Third Year like he, and everyone else suggested, you wouldn't need tutoring."

"But-" Zoey blushed and floundered for a moment, "But I'm turning fourteen in November! This is my grade! And Potions! I-"

"You tested at O.W.L. capability for that class, yes yes I know." Jon sighed, remembering how ecstatic she'd been about that only to find out that Headmistress McGonagall refused to let her take classes above her official grade level. "But that's not worth ruining the rest of your intellect!"

"Ruin-" She floundered again, her own magic rising in response to his insult- Rose's harsh comments and Malfoy's brief, but no less harsh, complaint echoing in her head. "Jonovan Malam Orion I am not an idiot!" As she screamed the last word her magic sent every loose piece of debris flying away from her in a silent explosion, dust and webs tearing free as Jon was forced to catch the banister so he wouldn't topple down the stairs.

The silence echoed for a moment, then he turned up at her and finally became serious about the conversation. "Zoethia Malam I am just looking out for you."

She inhaled sharply, another scream of frustration preparing to explode from her, but as she looked into Jon's face it caught in her throat. His jaw was clenched, his gaze was piercing, but his eyes were the same warm and welcoming brown that they always were, full of compassion. She released the captured breath with a sigh of defeat, looking away.

It wasn't like Zoey didn't actually need the tutoring; they both knew she did… and somewhat desperately. What bothered her was that he'd arranged it behind her back, and in such a way that she was forced to accept whether or not she'd actually agreed. But when Jon looked at her like that all she could think about was how he was only thinking of her when he went overboard like this, and to him it made perfect sense. End justified results and all that, a policy much easier to agree with when she wasn't the one he whose arm he twisted to get there.

She gestured for him to come closer, and after a moment's pause he came another step up the stairway. Zoey reached out and started brushing the stuff out of his hair, mumbling "Sorry."

"Don't worry." Jon shrugged. "It's my job to look after you, after all."

There was another stretch of silence as her hands worked, but this one was much warmer and it relaxed both of their frayed nerves. When she was done Zoey rested her chin on his head with a sigh, adding "Thanks" to her earlier statement. It wasn't just a 'responsibility' to look after her and they both knew it.

He chuckled and gave her a quick hug back. "About time."

She scowled and flicked his forehead before going down the stairs. "That's for forging my handwriting in your scheme."

"Hey, if McGonagall had gotten a note from me, she would think I was just being overbearing and meddling in someone else's business."

She couldn't reach his head anymore so she elbowed him instead, but it was out of frustration rather than anger. "You are overbearing and meddling in my business. And why aren't you calling her 'Headmistress'?"

"It's just such a weird title…" he complained with a light chuckle, "it feels so unnatural."

Zoey elbowed him again. "Make it natural- this is your job, Jon! Play nice with your colleagues."

"Again with the violence…" he mocked as they continued down the stairs.

There were a few moments of silence in the dusty tower, then with a creak the door to a broom closet slowly opened. Rose staggered out a few steps to the banister, looking down at the pair still arguing as they went on their way, unaware that they'd been spied upon. "James?" She asked uncertainly, wanting- no, needing confirmation that she'd really seen what she just had.

James Potter was slowly winding up the Extendable Ears they'd used to listen in on the conversation, considering. He tried not to smile too much; here it was, something really, truly exciting in the otherwise droll life of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A bit of his smile escaped at the thought as he wrapped the spool attached to his Speye, one of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes experimental products Roxanne had slipped past school security.

The creation was a companion to the Extendable Ears- an eyeball that walked about on six legs, fitted with an assortment of spells that let it crawl along any surface. Each Speye has a spool connected back to an Extendable Ear to send an image of what it saw to its user without distorting the sound. They were darkly colored so they could hide in corners and under tables, and when not in use wrapped its legs around itself to form a sphere the size of a snitch. Unfortunately, due to it's dark coloring, multiple appendages, and the web-like resemblance of the string, the final product of the 'Speye' project greatly resembled a spider. As such, and despite it being a perfectly functional item with surprisingly few side effects for one of their products, Uncle Ron flat out refused to shelve them in the Joke Shop.

"James?" Rose's voice wavered as she repeated the question, "James, what did we just see?" If she didn't know better- with their age difference and all, not to mention the improperness of the taboo relationship in society- Rose would say that the transfer student and new Teaching Assistant were secretly romantically involved.

"That, my dear cousin," James grinned and put the Speye in his pocket, joining Rose at the banister to watch the Orion and Zoey leave the Astronomy Staircase, "was proof."

"I would have appreciated more of a warning, Minister." Headmistress McGonagall admonished the British Minister of Magic even as she served him tea inside her office. "It is not so easy to 'throw in' an extra curriculum at a whim."

"Minerva, it is hardly an entire 'curriculum'." Kingsley Shacklebolt took a sip of his tea. "I am simply making an effort to prepare the future of the wizarding world. If even a handful of your students are set on the path to casting patroni after this lesson, I will consider it a Sunday well spent." He met her gaze sternly. "You remember how invaluable that spell was against Voldemort."

McGonagall remembered all too well. She glanced up at the conversing portraits of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape before looking over the younger gentleman. "Do not question my memory, Shacklebolt. I am not yet that old."

"That was not my intention, I assure you. I am in no position to call a kettle black." Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled, an expression that held quite a few more wrinkles than it had in days gone by. "I just want to ensure a greater degree of safety in the matter. I'm mandating the exact same special class at Durmstrangs and Beauxbatons, as well as attempting to make some manner of general course available to graduated wizards."

"Quite a difference," she murmured, "Your response to escaped dementors, I mean."

"As opposed to old Crouch?" The current Minister asked mildly. "Well we all saw how his method worked- 'ignore bad stuff long enough and it'll go away'. Dug us in a deeper hole than was strictly necessary, after all. Though I find he did have a point. Drawing attention to the dementor problem has certainly done damage to my popularity."

"You've plenty to spare," McGonagall chided his complaining, remembering an old problem of his. "Are there still malcontents about Nabakza?"

"Always." He confirmed with a weary sigh, "Always."

Kingsley looked down at his tea for a moment longer, then shook his head and brought himself back to the problem at hand. "So Minerva- how many of your students do you think have the capacity for spells on this level?"

"Professor Sybble and I set the cut-off at 4th year spellwork," the Headmistress sat behind her desk again. "That should give you the 'handful' that you are looking for, Minister."

"Indeed, indeed." He nodded with content, then paused with his teacup halfway to his lips. "'Spellwork'?" Kingsley quoted, "What about your transfer?"

"Zoethia Malam? She's taking Dark Arts at the First Year level, if you recall. That hardly lends way for advanced wizardly such as this."

"True, yes…" he tapped his fingers on the porcelain cup. "But, isn't that rather discriminatory? She being the only 4th year excluded from the lessons?"

"Not at all. She knew the conditions of transferring into Hogwarts."

"Still- for a child Minerva this is a rather big deal."

The Headmistress looked at him over the rim of her glasses, a habit she'd attained from watching her predecessor. "Is there a particular reason, Kingsley, that you are keen on having her in your special, last-minute class?"

"No." He said quickly, raising the teacup to finish that sip. "No, I merely find it a lost opportunity for her."

"...I see." She thought for a moment, then said "I shall invite Assistant Orion to observe the lesson as well. I'm sure he will find it just as much of an opportunity as she will."

"Will?" Shacklebolt repeated innocently.

"When he no doubt attempts to teach her everything he saw in private."

Shacklebolt took another sip in an attempt to maintain his air of composure; he could talk politicians in circles, but put him in Hogwarts in the Headmaster's Office and he was back to being a tongue-tied schoolboy. "Would he now?"

"Minister surely you do not expect their little visits to go unnoticed." She pulled a note from her desk. "Nor the way he goes out of his way to look out for her. Were you aware, Minister, of how flawlessly he can forge the young Malam's handwriting?"

He pulled the parchment closer to him, asking in a mild tone "How did you know the difference?" even as a part of him fretted over the request itself for Zoey to have personal tutors.

"As a student," McGonagall explained, "Zoethia Malam would use a quill, not a pen. And you are avoiding the issue here, Kingsley. I understand their relationship but Jonovan Orion is too involved. Staff need to maintain a professional distance from all their students." Merlin knew she'd had to remind Mister Longbottom of that often enough, with the number of students in her halls calling him 'Uncle'.

Kingsley was quiet for a moment, then he set the tea and saucer down. "Minerva, I am aware that you have rules and standards- but those two have been through quite a lot together, despite their age. For the moment, you should-" he paused, and to her shock instead of ordering her with his authority said instead "-I would ask that you give them some more leeway on that point than you normally would."

He even held his head bowed for a moment. "Is it that important?" She asked softly, trying to imagine what could make the Minister himself protect the pair on a personal level such as this.

"Yes." He said with conviction.

She tapped her fingers for a moment, then put the note away. "Bring in your tutors on Saturday, Kingsley. To let them settle in.

"I was actually hoping to keep their visit as brief as possible, Minerva. To keep the crowds calm and the matter more organized."

McGonagall smiled at that. "We are speaking of Harry Potter and Hermione Weasley, Minister. Even when they were mere students in these halls, things were never 'calm'."

Now that was an unusual occurrence, Scorpius Malfoy thought with a small frown. "Hey Nott," he gestured to the table all the way across from them in the Great Hall. "Any idea where Thorn's shadow disappeared off to?"

"Whose what?" He looked over his shoulder, trying to peer through the dinner crowd to see who Malfoy was pointing to. Nott had been sitting with his back to the rest of the Hall, and a few of the Ravenclaws looked over at his actions curiously. He paid them no mind for the moment.

"Albus." Scorpius clarified, referring to the immature Potter boy who always followed Rose around like a little lost puppy. "I think this is the first time he hasn't sat right by Thorn for dinner."

"Oh is it?" Zambini chimed in, trying to see clear across the hall to the Gryffindor table. "And how would you know that?"

"The same way I know that you have Bulstrode, Conners, and Sanderson on your left- missing the fourth member of their group, Michael Strauss, and that Eliza Winters is missing from her group a few tables to the right as well. The two of them have been concurrently absent from group gatherings for about a week." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice to maintain his nonchalance at their shock; Malfoys did not act gleeful over such petty matters. "I predict they are either in detention together, or, just, plain together."

Zambini chuckled and shook his head after confirming the absence of two of their classmates, having vaguely noticed Straus's absence once earlier in the week. "That's bloody creepy when you do that, mate."

Scorpius did allow himself to smile a touch at the compliment, then pointed back to the Gryffindor table with his chin to get them to refocus on the matter at hand. "Albus Potter. You see him?"

"...No, mate. Can't say I do. Then again," Nott stopped searching, as it would only attract more attention for him to stay twisted in his seat for too long, "he is the only Legacy brat without the carrot-head. Makes him harder to spot."

"But he's not at Gryffindor table," Zambini confirmed, taking another bite of his food.

Scorpius tilted his head in contemplation. He had noticed Albus Potter acting strangely this year, particularly around his siblings, but he hadn't thought much of it till now. People were creatures of habit, after all, and for someone to deviate from a set routine this much must mean that something was wrong in the perfect little world of the Legacies. Must be something fairly big. Rose had been looking around the Hall for a while, biting her lip every time she too was unable to find her cousin.

Scorpius looked down at his food when her gaze came their way, commenting mildly "He does seem to have a habit of disappearing a lot. You'd think a Legacy would have more trouble blending into a crowd."

Zambini nodded and agreed around a mouthful of food "'secially one dat 'ooks 'ike Hary 'Otter hinsef."

"Manners, Zambini." Scorpius Malfoy shoved a napkin in his face with an expression of mild disgust.

He coughed and repeated himself "Especially odd for someone that looks like Harry Potter himself."

"Like father like son," Nott quoted and shook his head.

Scorpius gave a minute nod of agreement that wouldn't be noticed by anyone who wasn't watching carefully, as Nott and Zambini often were. He didn't have anything else to say on the subject, he had merely wanted to share an observation.

After a moment Nott offered another topic for perusal. "What did you think of Sybble's announcement?"

"Annoying." Zambini said immediately, stabbing at the peas still left on his plate. He always practically attacked his vegetables before eating them, as though in vengeance for their taste."Do we really need to sacrifice an entire Sunday to an extra Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson?"

"Professor Sybble didn't seem too keen on it either." Scorpius pointed out. "Most likely it was McGonagall's idea, whatever it is."

"Well then, McGonagall should have put it on a weekday." Zambini complained, shaking his head. "We should petition her to change it."

"Oh wonderful plan, Zambini." Nott drawled, grabbing the edge of the table. "Let's see how well that'd work-"

Before the others could stop him, he leaned back suddenly to stop the Slytherin group that had just started walking by, finished with their dinner.

"Oi, Sanderson, wha'd'you think of the special DA lesson this Sunday?"

Sanderson and his two friends were visibly taken aback at the interaction, even stepping away a bit. They all glanced briefly at the Ravenclaw table at different times, seemingly unaware of what they were doing so, before glancing at eachother. Scorpius resisted the temptation to roll his eyes at their mannerisms- expected, but it was no less unamusing to see people act as though familial ties were some sort of deadly plague that could be caught from a sneeze. "It's, er, gonna be interesting, I hope," Sanderson tried stepping around Nott, but couldn't comfortably do so without running into the Ravenclaw table.

Nott pretended not to notice the action. "Doesn't it suck that Sybble is doing it over the weekend?"

"I'm sure Professor Sybble has her reasons," he put a strain on the official title, as though he didn't drop that word often enough and dislike the class himself. He again tried to walk around Nott. "Look, I have to go. See you later, yeah?"

Sanderson made it around Nott and walked away with a brisk pace before his rhetorical question could be answered. Unfortunately one of his friends wasn't quite so nimble and accidentally bumped into the back of one of the Ravenclaw girls, making her spill some of the juice in her goblet.

"Oi!" The girl cried and turned around, glaring at Nott while the real offender rushed away with his friends. When she recognized who Nott was though she scoffed in a manner that Scorpius easily translated as a derogatory 'of course' and turned back around to her friends, sneering rather loudly "Honestly, I don't know why we have to eat so close to them."

There was a chorus of agreements before one of them pulled out her wand to clean the stain, but not before one of them said "What else could you expect from young Death Eaters?"

Scorpius saw Zambini's fists go white around his silverware and felt an urge to clench his jaw, but he was careful not to show his anger in any visible way. A Malfoy should not let such a such an ill-conceived, uninformed comment fuel into equal brashness in his own mannerisms.

He did, however, pull out his wand and give it a quick, inconspicuous flick beneath the table. Scorpius took another sip of his pumpkin juice, meeting Nott's eyes over the rim just as the girls started complaining about the stain not coming out, and how it was her favorite outfit that was now ruined.

It took Nott a moment to realize the small vengeance that had been enacted on his behalf, but when he did he gave a wordless nod and relaxed his angry posture as well, letting out a hissing breath that was far from a sigh. "Well," he said in a tense voice as he attempted to recollect his wits, "Still think we should get people to sign a petition for us, mate?"

Zambini just stabbed some more peas.

"Aaand correct!" Marianngela Zambini smiled and checked off another point on their study sheet. "Nice work Marcel."

Her friend smiled and adjusted the textbook away from him so he could focus on his artwork, currently drawing the fountain in the courtyard below them. "Anything else we need to know?"

"Always," Zoey declared and moved on to the next worksheet that was spread atop the window seat the three occupied to study in, "There's always something more to know."

"Spoken like a true Ravenclaw." Marianngela accused, flipping through her sheets.

"Well I am a Ravenclaw," Zoey Malam pointed out, but frowned in a way that let them know she was about to ask her usual menagerie of rapid-fire questions. "What makes someone a 'true' Ravenclaw? Can there be a 'false' Ravenclaw? Is there some sort of standard? Is it really as hereditary as rumors say, how suited you are for a House that is, or is there some sort of test to see how 'suited' we are?"

It took a moment for them to realize she was seriously asking the question, and Marcel caught on first. "If there were, Malam, you would certainly fail."

"Why?"

"Well-" he scoffed, "-Rowena Ravenclaw certainly wouldn't be in a class with First Years, would she?"

"I should think not," Zoey frowned. "She is dead."

He opened his mouth, then closed it with an expression of mild confusion on how to retort.

"Oh-hoho, she got you on that one, Marcel." Marianngela giggled, putting a hand over her smile.

"Thank you, thank you, I do try." Zoey mock bowed to the younger pair. "But- back to seriousness. To answer your earlier, intended query, Marcel, that should be enough studying for now. Don't you think Mari?"

"Yup." The other girl grinned and put away the list, then looked at her friend curiously. "You know, to be honest, I thought you would have reported my masterlist to the Professor."

"Well it's not very 'master', is it?" Zoey tapped the feather of her quill on her lips, looking over her own sheet. "At best it's a collection of your brother's assignments, after all. And though it covers the same content Sybble changes the actual questions. How is that different from any quiz in a textbook study guide?"

Marianngela grinned. "Nicely phrased. I'll have to remember that."

Zoey laughed lightly and shook her head, her currently red hair swaying in its ponytail. "Me too. Honestly I never remember what comes out of my mouth, though it's generally very clever. Very lucky coincidence for me." She was grinning wryly.

"Not that clever." Marcel look up at her with a small frown. "You are in our class, after all."

Zoey raised a brown eyebrow. "Are you saying that anyone in our class is stupid?"

Marianngela frowned hard at him, and he quickly retracted his statement. "No, of course not. I just meant that maybe all that hair dye has seeped into your brain. A fourth year, being older than us, should at least be more mature even if you're not actually smarter than us."

She laughed, a light sound that made everyone who heard it want to smile instinctively. "Touche, Marcy. Touche."

"Don't call me that." Marcel frowned, thrown off by her response. A Slytherin or even a Gryffindor would have taken offense to his statements by now, started an argument or thrown a biting insult back in defensive response. Ravenclaws were odd. He was glad they only had one class with this one.

She laughed again. "Just Marcel, then?"

"I'd rather 'Avery'."

"Hmmm…" She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "Nope, I like 'Marcel' more. I think 'Marcy' is even better."

"Doesn't matter what you think, Malam." Marcel protested stubbornly, snapping his artbook closed.

"Does it ever?"

"Would you two stop fighting?" Marianngela sighed, shaking her head. "Honestly, you two bicker like siblings."

"What?"

"Thanks!"

Marcel glared at her smiling face, then gathered his stuff. "Com'on Marianngela, let's get to the Hall. It should be late enough now."

"Late enough for what?" Zoey asked, checking her watch and tilting her head at the time it told. It was almost time for the Great Hall to close.

"Dinner." Marianngela said simply, and in a dismissing tone that closed the topic. "We'll see you later, Zoey."

There was a calculating light in her eye, but Zoey nodded and smiled goodbye as they went off. Her smile dropped when they left and she looked out the window for a moment, retreating into her thoughts.

She heard a light scratching of claws coming down the corridor and checked down the hall out of the corner of eye without tensing a muscle, then she grinned broadly and turned in the window seat. "Rasputin!"

The horklump was waddling across the floor toward her, grinning a toothy rat smile. His dark purple spikes were puffed out as far as they could go and something was draggin with a soft scrape against the stone tiles as he went.

Zoey put her toes over the edge of her seat so Rasputin could climb up her leg, uncaring over the sharp pricks from his long claws. When he was in her lap she smiled and stroked his dangerous spikes adoringly, her other hand scratching behind his ear. "Did you break out of your cage again, Raz? Or you out on sanctioned business this time?"

As though the creature could understand her Rasputin adjusted the bracelet he'd kept secured in his spikes, smoothing his quills to let it slide off his body. He nosed it toward her a few times before climbing around her pockets, looking for a reward.

Official, then. She gave the creature the treat before he shredded her robes looking for it- an occurrence that, unfortunately, was not an exaggeration. While he chewed on the fish-smelling bite Zoey fished from an inner pocket the girl smiled at her repaired bracelet, inspecting each of the charms. She was surprised to find the dagger hanging innocently from its loop, though she'd thought it lost after she'd fought the kelpie.

"Wonder how he did that," she muttered to herself as she slipped it onto her wrist and felt a sensation of relief, like the comfort of a favorite jacket or an old, well-loved lullaby. She also wondered why Jon went out of his way to send Rasputin over with it now. They had plans to meet after dinner anyways.

She looked down at the prickly creature relaxing in her lap, poking his side fearlessly. Razputin pushed her hand away and rolled over in the sunlight, preparing to sleep.

"You know," Zoey poked him again, speaking slowly like she was revealing a huge secret. "Your master is a hopeless worrywart."

Rasputin sneezed, the closest possible animal approximation of Of course. Even I know that.

"He probably thought I'd feel better the instant I had this back," Zoey fingered the single locket charm on her bracelet, then sighed in frustrated admiration and leaned the back of her head on the wall with a muted thump. "Is he always right?"

Rasputin sneezed again.

If you enjoyed the read, please leave a review! I want to know what everybody thinks as I go along.

If you didn't like the read- tell me anyways! I want to know what I can fix along the way to make it as fun for readers as it is for me to write!

-E