An Unfortunate Discovery
Buffy sensed eyes watching her as she took a bite from her toast. Sure enough, further along the table, Tom was staring over at her. From Tom's innocent and slightly offended expression, Walburga had brought the glueing episode up to him. Buffy still couldn't get over Tom asking her to sit with him after what he'd done. Did he think she was stupid? She'd probably have found herself glued to the seat. The only reason she hadn't thrown a jug of pumpkin juice over his head was because Lovell would have been embarrassed. Instead, she'd resorted to withering sarcasm that had been lost on Tom.
Chewing the toast, Buffy watched Tom and his friends. Walburga had his attention now. She'd seemed adamant that glueing homework to desks was not Tom's style...
"What in Morgana's name has happened here?" Walburga asked when she'd found a traumatised Buffy standing over a burning table. Taking out her wand, she'd rushed over to help her.
Buffy had given an inward sigh of relief. There'd been no one around to ask for help. Professor Boar had disappeared into the Restricted section a while back with an armful of returned books to put back on the shelves. From the time he'd spent in there it must go back a long way and the fire was getting out of hand.
"Tom Riddle happened!" Buffy explained breathlessly. "I was working on my homework and he came over, glued it to the desk, and left. After I finished writing my essay, I tried peeling it off, but it wouldn't budge. I tried every Finite spell that I could think of and every one was a complete bust. Then I cast the Bluebell Flames charm. I thought I could make it hot enough to melt the glue but not be all flamey. I must have panicked and over-powered it. My wand turned into a flame thrower and all these crazy looking flames hit the ceiling! Everything went smoky and apocalyptical. I tried to put it out with the runes for water and they didn't work. I couldn't remember the right summoning ritual. I think he must have jinxed me with forgetfulness. He wants to get back at me."
Walburga smothered the flames with a swift wave of her wand. "If Tom wanted to get back at you, Buffy, he'd have done something worse." She raised her wand and used another charm to dispel the smoke and floating ash. Then another to clean the soot stains from the ceiling.
"Worse?" Buffy asked. Now the smoke had gone, she could see the burnt, twisted remains of the desk and her scorched essay. She pointed at it."What could be worse than that?"
"Lots of things," muttered Walburga. She frowned down at the broken desk. "Why are the legs splayed and twisted?"
"I used a Confounding Charm on it," Buffy admitted sheepishly.
Walburga gave her a side-long, incredulous look as she cast a repairing charm. The desk drunkenly righted itself.
"You used a Confundus Charm? On a desk? There needs to be a brain for that spell to work. Why would you even..." She shook her head. "I'm not sure if I want to know how a Lovegood brain works."
"I thought my essay would unstick if it thought it wasn't a desk anymore," Buffy explained. "Kinda like, when you transfigure a desk into thinking it's an animal."
"It doesn't think! It simply takes on the characteristics of that creature. "Walburga looked at the table, bewildered. "Any idea why its legs fell off?"
"I think it forgot how to use them."
The older girl stared at Buffy with a mixture of puzzlement and appreciation. "If you ever get into a duel, use that same charm against your adversary. Since it worked so well on a desk, it could be strangely effective on a person."
Buffy didn't answer. Her focus was back on the essay. She wanted to be optimistic about this, but even from here, she could see her homework was ruined. This was all Tom's fault. He'd been annoyed she'd left him at the orphanage and thought she'd replaced him with Caradoc. He'd seen a chance at getting his own back and took it. Anger burned inside her and the Slayer spirit rose up, looking for something to kill.
"I'll feed his still-beating heart to the Grindylows," Buffy snarled."I'll rip out each of his ribs, grind them to a powder, and -."
"What did you do to annoy Riddle?" Walburga asked, knowing straight away who Buffy was referring to and disregarding the gruesome threats as if she'd heard them a million times before. She pointed her wand at Buffy's homework, made a complicated wand movement, and said, "Finite Chartula."
The essay remained attached to the desk's surface.
Mad though she was, Buffy had no intention of telling Walburga about the horrors of Wool's orphanage or how Tom admitted to feeling abandoned. It felt like she'd be betraying a deep secret. Instead, she growled, "I exist, don't I? Isn't that enough reason for him?"
Walburga sneered. "Rubbish! It isn't as if you're a Mudblood."
The casual way she used the insult made Buffy cringe. Why was the Wizarding world so biased against those without magical parents? It didn't make sense. She opened her mouth to tell Walburga.
"Papyrus Finite!" Walburga triumphantly peeled most of the essay off the desk and waved it in the air at Buffy. "There, almost done. Once I've finished, this will be as good as new."
Buffy shut her mouth, deciding now was not a good time to lecture Walburga on Pureblood prejudices. She'd wait until her essay was safely back in her hand first.
Walburga continued, "What were we saying? Oh, yes. Tom doesn't hate you because of your lack of a magical pedigree. Your mother is a Pureblood, despite her obvious Squib disability."
"Squib disability?" Buffy bristled. Her wand tingled inside its holder as her magic flowed through her and into it.
Walburga didn't reply; she stayed bent over Buffy's DADA essay, oblivious to her growing danger. Buffy's fingers twitched as she fought back the urge to cast a Stinging Hex onto the girl's neck.
Walburga glanced around."As for your father, he could be anyone."
Buffy's nostrils flared, waiting for the next insult.
"He could be Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore?"Buffy's jaw dropped. That was ridiculous! All the anger and charged magic disappearing as she snorted back laughter. "Dumbledore?! Tell me that's a joke?"
Walburga raised a winged eyebrow, her grin knowing.
"Eww, because..." Buffy made a gagging noise in her throat,"...that's totally gross! Who'd want to have sex with old Dumble-bore? Mom has better taste in men!"
And then came the realisation that she didn't really know. Her memories of Hank Summers were vague and, as far as she knew, her mom hadn't dated anyone since he'd left them. Her mom's taste in men wasn't something they'd spoken about.
She had a horrible thought. What if Dumbledore and her Mom had eaten bespelled band candy and they'd turned into a pair of randy teenagers? They could have had lots of sex and she could...
No! Her brain stuttered to a halt and refused to go further. She wasn't Dumbledore's daughter. And what horrible memory had the enchanted candy idea been spawned from? Buffy shuddered and closed her eyes. Nope, she was not dwelling on it. Her dad was Hank Summers, the feckless and faceless Muggle.
"What made you choose Dumbledore?" Buffy asked. It was a crazy idea even for Walburga. "Has he given you a bad grade on an essay and you're seeking revenge by telling everyone that I'm his illegitimate daughter. You know, to discredit him?"
Walburga handed over the newly repaired essay, took a seat at the repaired desk, and gestured for Buffy to do the same."I'm impressed with your logic. You have a devious streak that screams of a true Slytherin."
She leaned back, pulled a book at random from the shelf behind them, and placed it open on the table in front of her.
"Professor Boar likes you to look busy," she explained, seeing Buffy's perplexed look. "He'll throw us out of here if we aren't working or appearing to be."
Sure enough, when Professor Boar marched from the Restricted area, his hand on the collar of a boy who'd been hiding in there, he flicked a glance at the two girls and a longer one at their books, before continuing onwards. Once he'd gone out of sight, Walburga continued.
"The rumour that Dumbledore is your father doesn't originate from me. But I can see the reasoning behind it. It's no secret you and he have the same Patronus - a Phoenix. It's also a known fact that when people cast similar Patronuses they often have a connection, – lovers, perhaps..."
Buffy stopped examining her DADA essay, her face filled with horror. She gagged. "Eww! This gets worse! Please don't say people are saying me and Dumbledore are an item! He's like a fossil!"
Amused at the reaction, Walburga chuckled, then went on,"... or familial. People see it as significant and are starting to wonder who your real father is."
"That's only because you went and told everyone that Hank Summers isn't my real dad when I asked you not to," Buffy pointed out. She couldn't get cross about it, not right now. Whilst Walburga was irritating and lacked any kind of social filter, she'd freed her essay, repaired the damage, and had probably stopped the library from burning down, and her expulsion from Hogwarts. Her mom would have been furious if she'd been expelled for arson. She'd have ended up applying to Durmstrang.
The older girl smirked."Buffy, the longer I know you, the more certain I am a Muggle isn't your father. So..." she said leaning closer, "tell me, what exactly happened between you and Tom?"
….
Buffy blinked, her thoughts returning to the present. Tom Riddle was looking at her, his normally pale cheeks stained with colour. Most people would assume it a sign of embarrassment, but Buffy's sharp eyes noticed a smugness about him that suggested Walburga hadn't chastised him enough. She scowled. Without thinking, she slammed the knife she held down into the table. No one bullied The Slayer. No one.
Tom's eyes widened, Malfoy paled, Walburga sniggered, and, next to her, Travers almost fell off his seat.
"Morgana! You have a scary temper," Fiona called from across the table. "Travers almost wet himself."
Buffy dragged her death glare from Riddle to find Travers eyeing her warily. Guilt flooded through her. This was not good. She'd only just met these people – she didn't want to lose their friendship by acting like some kind of psycho-loony.
Putting her anger to the side, she gave them all an apologetic smile. "Sorry guys. I didn't think. I keep thinking about Tom sticking my homework to the desk. I think he did it on purpose, knowing I didn't have the correct counter-spell."
"It wouldn't surprise me," Travers replied, his eyes on the knife she'd rammed into the table. He shuffled along the bench, putting a few extra few inches between them. "It's the sort of thing they like to do."
Buffy pulled the knife out the table. The blade had bent, the handle twisted out of shape.
Travers swallowed, and then went on, "Back in my first year, the older Slytherins took delight in smashing the ink bottles I carried in my bag. This went on every day for months. All my homework and books were ruined and the teachers gave me bottom marks for months. I had to serve a lot of detentions before I became an expert on Repairing charms and a bought tamper-proof ink well."
Buffy held the twisted knife with one hand and her wand in the other. She then used a series of abbreviated movements representing the repair runes, her lips moving almost soundlessly as she whispered the correct incantation.
The knife smoothly reformed itself. The blade becoming shinier and sharper than before. It made Buffy wonder again at how some types of magic came more easily to her than others. Was the Slayer side of her blending with magic? What if she viewed everything as a potential weapon? Would all magic come easier?
"Have you always been this strong?" Travers asked, pulling her from her thoughts. "You're reflexes are lightning fast. No wonder you were able to rescue Rigel, fight off the Grindylows, and control the jinxed trolley at platform 9 3/4s."
Something in his voice put her on her guard. She turned, and faced him, taking in his sallow face, dark, unkempt hair, and intense eyes. Travers... In her old world, a Travers ran the Watchers Council. Did the Watchers Council exist here? Did they swoop on Potentials and train them in the hope the Slayer line might one day reappear? How had it ended? Was it a coincidence that a boy named Travers was asking her these questions?
Buffy didn't believe in coincidences or leprechauns. Well, okay, maybe she believed in leprechauns, but only because her Uncle Peregrine had pointed two out to her in Diagon Alley. The jury was out on coincidences. She needed to be more careful around Travers.
"Um, I took gymnastics in my old school." It wasn't a lie and she smiled brightly. "Also, I was a cheerleader. Both make you super strong, super fast, and give you great hand eye coordination."
"So you're agile." Travers leaned closer, closing the gap between them, his dark eyes boring into hers. "Have you ever used a weapon? What about your aim?" He licked his lips. "Are you able to sense Dark creatures when they're around?"
Oh crap! Buffy tugged her eyes from his. Those questions hit too close to home. She could almost hear his brain whirring as he added two and two together and came up with Slayer. If he had connections to the Council, did she want them to know she existed?
That morning, she'd found Dumbledore and spoken to the Sorting Hat again. Now she had the name of the Headmaster who'd said Hogwarts wouldn't stand between a Slayer and the Watchers Council. What happened if they came for her? Would they take her away as they had the unknown Witch-Slayer?
Showing none of her internal panic, Buffy laughed off Travers' questions. "Weapons and me are totally non-mixy." She shoved the repaired knife into one of the empty server dishes, hoping that he'd forget about it was out of sight. "People are always surprised by my strength. Maybe I'm part Troll?"
"More like part Veela," Uma said from across the table, looking at her thoughtfully. "Beautiful, entrancing to wizards, and also deadly."
"Oh, I've read about those," replied Buffy, glad to change the subject away from her non-witchy abilities. "Don't they drive men insane?"
Travers let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "You're definitely one of them," he sniped. "A strong aroma of insanity follows you wherever you go."
"Take that, Greasy-head!"
The fried egg flew through the air, hitting him on the forehead, just above the eye. It splattered across his face, blobs of egg white and yolk landing in his eyes and sticking in his hair. Travers sat in shocked disbelief before his face darkened and contorted with rage. He glared over at Uma, a line of egg yolk running down his face and dropping onto his sweater.
"You filthy witch!"
Both Uma and Fiona let out shrieks of laughter.
"Brilliant shot, Uma," said Fiona. "He deserved it for insulting us."
"I didn't ask any of you to sit here!" Travers spluttered. He fumbled for his wand, his shaking fingers dropping it into his breakfast. Reddening with mortification, he fished it out of his baked beans and wiped it on a napkin.
Feeling sorry for him, Buffy twirled her wand and whispered, "Scourgify." Egg particles lifted into the air and vanished.
Instead of thanking her, Travers turned a fierce glare on her. "Don't bother pretending, Summers. You're all as bad as one another." He reached down, grabbed his bag from underneath the table, and he strode off without a backward glance.
"What's his problem?" Buffy asked, watching him. Travers marched along, his black robe billowing around him like a demented vampire's. "I've only ever tried being nice to him."
"Most likely, he's upset. This is the first time his hair has been clean in months," Fiona replied without remorse. She returned to her breakfast. "It's no wonder the boys bully him, who'd want to share a dorm with that greaser. I bet he never has a wash."
"It's because he's sweet on Buffy."
They all stopped what they were doing to stare at Uma. Crabbe was replacing the egg she'd wasted with two more from the serving dish.
"What?" she asked when she saw their sceptical looks. "Come on, isn't it obvious?"
They shook their heads.
"He's lovelorn," Uma continued. "Haven't you noticed?"
Buffy spluttered. "No way!"
"Way, yes!" insisted the larger girl happily. "He watches you when he thinks no one's looking. Why else would he do that, unless he fancies you?"
"I don't agree," said Fiona as she poured another glass of pumpkin juice. "if he likes her he wouldn't insult her. You need to watch out, Buffy. He might be planning something nasty."
Uma slowly cut her eggs up. "You're wrong. The only nasty thing he's planning is dragging her off for a snog. He insults her because he's confused at the new feelings he has and doesn't know how to handle them. It's because he is still a boy and not a man," she added airily to her gobsmacked audience. "I read about it in Which Witch! magazine's problem page a few years ago.
A girl said a boy kept pulling her hair and hexing her. Goody Winkle said it that boys don't know how to approach the object of their desire and resort to petty insults, hair pulling, and jinxes as a way of gaining attention."
Fiona and Uma both regarded Buffy thoughtfully.
"He's not my type," Buffy said quickly. She didn't want that rumour flying around school. She had enough with Walburga saying she was illegitimate. What bothered her more, was that Travers had been spying on her.
"Well, what is your type?" asked Fiona.
"No one dark and mysterious or anyone sarcastic," she said, hoping it was true.
Uma shrugged. "I didn't think you'd reciprocate his feelings. Tall, dark, and greasy isn't a good catch." Her face softened. "Not when you have two gorgeous wizards duelling over you in the library."
Fiona grinned, having heard this morning's gossip already. "Are you sure you aren't part Veela, Buffy? You've got the ethereal look going on and seem to drive wizards wild without even trying."
Buffy pushed her food away from her. "Uh-no!"
She wished all these rumours would just stop. All she wanted was good grades in her OWLs to please her Mom, a little slaying on the side to please her inner Slayer, and to work out who she was as a person to please herself. It wasn't that much to ask, was it?
There was one rumour she could stop. "Caradoc and Tom didn't fight a duel over me or anything else. It was a misunderstanding that got out of hand. Who's spreading this garbage?"
"Everyone," replied Fiona cheerfully. "Two handsome boys coming to blows over a witch they've just met. Don't you think that's romantic?"
"That would be another nope." Buffy felt uncomfortable. Had Tom and Caradoc heard this rumour? What if they thought she'd had a hand in spreading it? That would be embarrassing.
She risked a glance up the table, only to see Tom's back to her as he was speaking to Victor Avery. If he'd heard it, he didn't seem worried. She even caught a glimpse of a smile as he turned his head to listen to Nott. He'd probably forgotten all about her and the trouble he'd caused the previous night.
Had Walburga mentioned Caradoc to him? Buffy looked across the Hall to where the Gryffindor table was. There were too many people blocking her view. She couldn't see Caradoc without getting up and making it obvious that she was looking.
She looked back to her own table, to where Walburga was sat unfurling a copy of the Daily Prophet. That girl was a mine of information when it came to rumours, she could ask her who'd started it. Saying goodbye to Fiona and Uma, she headed over to Walburga.
As Buffy grew closer she saw the front page headline read, 'More Deaths! Inter-Aurors lose intense battle against Grindelwald and his followers! When will this end?'
From out the corner of her eye, she saw Tom slanting her a sidelong glance as he spoke to his friends. Since he didn't call out to her, Buffy set her mouth in a firm line and ignored him. Going to stand behind Walburga, Buffy looked over her shoulder and said, "Walburga, have you..?" the words died on her lips as an article on the page caught her eye.
There, over the column of advertisements for Doxie spray and a cure for warts ran the following heading...
'Noted Vampire Opera Singer Presumed Slain!' There was a small moving portrait of a middle-aged man with swept-back hair, gaunt features, protruding fangs, and wearing an opera cape. Buffy tore the paper out of Walburga's hands.
"Get off! I'm reading that!" Walburga shrieked, attempting to grab the paper back. "Go buy your own!"
Buffy held the paper out of reach. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get your g-string in a twist. I'll bring it back when I've finished with it. in a minute." She took off down the table, rounded the bottom section, and darted over to where Lovell sat.
"Excuse me," she gave the thin boy with spectacles sat next to him a mega-watt smile. "I need to steal my cousin."
"I haven't finished my-," began Lovell. Buffy pulled him and he dropped his fork onto the table with a clatter. "At least let me grab my bag!" He snatched up his school bag before being hauled off to one of the benches in the entrance hall.
"What's bothering you?" he asked. "Have you seen a Crumple Horned Snorkack or something?"
"A snorty-kack would be good." Buffy shoved the paper into his arms. "Look at this!"
"More deaths... Inter-Aurors losing important ground..." he read. "I don't understand."
"Not that!" Buffy grabbed the paper from him and turned it to the correct page. "Here," she folded it and pointed to the article. "I feel sick."
"The advert for Warty's Wart Remover? Warts are nothing to be ashamed... Oh." Lovell dipped his head, blonde curls falling into his eyes as he began to read.
"Renown opera singer, Baldassare Zan, now presumed dead. 300-year-old Señor Zan went out to feed a month ago and has not been seen since. Señora Zan, distraught wife of Baldassare, told our reporter, "This is not like my husband. We have not argued. He does not have other woman. He left only to find blood and never returned. I fear the vampire hating vigilantes have taken him from me."
Both Senor Zan and his wife are registered with the Ministry and as such are protected under paragraph twelve of the 'Treatment of Non-Wizard Part Humans Act'.
Prior to becoming a vampire in the early 1700s, Señor Baldassare was a notable Wizard who studied at Durmstrang. He leaves behind a wife and a number of descendants.
Aurors are now searching for vampire ashes in the bomb-damaged buildings where Baldassare was last seen. They believe him to be the victim of an illegal slaying. Auror Jennings, when asked if any new leads have been made, stated, 'We're close to finding Mr Zan's ashes. Once we do, it will only be a matter of time before we identify his killer.'
An unnamed Ministry official stated that if Muggles were responsible their names would be passed on to the vampire community. A wizard found guilty of illegally slaying a vampire, unless in self-defence, carries a sentence of life imprisonment in Azkaban..."
Lovell's troubled blue eyes met hers. He gave her a weak smile and a gentle pat on the arm. "They haven't found his ashes and even if they did you didn't use magic to kill him. They'll think the Muggles did it."
"I stabbed him with his wand."
Lovell blanched. "But no magic was used. There is no trace."
Buffy took the paper back off him. "What if they tell the vampires that the Muggles killed him? The vampires could go on a rampage, slaughtering the innocent." She unfolded the paper and gave Lovell a hard look. "You told me the Ministry only allows vampires to suck the necessary amount of blood from Muggles to keep them alive and not a drop more. They don't care if they kill them, do they?"
"They don't want to cause a war with Part Humans by stopping them from feeding," Lovell replied. "And I really don't think there are that many vampires about. That's why they offer them protection. Vampires here aren't all demonic, soulless creatures. Some of them had families before being turned. For their assurance they won't feed from members of the magical community, the Ministry-."
"Turns a blind eye to killing Muggles," finished Buffy.
"No, they aren't supposed to kill them."
"But they do," Buffy argued. "And we know they don't only prey on Muggles. Those vampires we met in the graveyard grabbed Walburga and it wasn't just her wand they wanted from her."
"Rogues," replied Lovell. "You always get a few. It's the same with werewolves. Most are nice people, but one or two-."
"That bald-assy guy tried to kill me!" Buffy huffed. "I had to dust him."
"Shh!" Lovell hushed her anxiously. "Not so loud." He nodded to the door leading to the Great Hall, several Gryffindor students were exiting. Buffy saw Caradoc and quickly looked away to avoid meeting his eye. She was too hyped up to speak to him right now.
Lovell went on in a low voice. "The vampires aren't the Ministry's priority right now, not with Grindelwald waging war. They won't find his ashes. They'll make all the right noises to keep the peace and nothing will happen. You'll see."
Buffy looked unconvinced, and Lovell picked up the paper again. He flicked silently through the pages and then pointed to another article. " Look. This one is about a missing cat and has the same level of coverage. And what about this? Unruly redcaps attack drunken witch on her way home from the pub. No one cares about redcaps, missing cats or vampires. Don't do it again and don't fret over it."
"You think?" she asked hopefully. Lovell knew a lot more about Wizarding policing than she did.
He nodded. "Just...just keep your head down and don't kill any more vampires. Especially famous opera singing ones."
…..
Back in the Great Hall, Tom Riddle had watched Buffy grab Walburga's paper and tow her cousin from the Hall.
"Can I borrow your Daily Prophet for a moment?" he asked Malfoy who'd gone straight to the Quidditch section at the back as soon as he'd unrolled it.
Across the table, Walburga gave him a dark look. "People should start buying their own newspapers." She glared over at the doorway, evidently wondering how long Buffy was going to be with her copy. "I wanted to read the latest news on Grindelwald. Papa thinks now is a good time to show our support."
Malfoy grinned at Walburga as he handed over the newspaper to Tom. "Grindelwald? Don't you mean you want to read who's dead or dating? Alphard tells us you only read the gossip and obituary column. He says the rest is too complicated for you."
Walburga's head snapped around. "Alphard!? What have you been telling people about me?"
Tom ignored the uproar Malfoy's statement had made. Instead, he flicked through the pages. Not the first nor the second, nor the third one... It must be... Yes, here it was, the page Walburga had been looking at. He ignored the gossip column, an article on the benefits of buying up land in the Outer Hebrides, and searched the smaller articles on the left-hand page. Tom dismissed several advertisements before his gaze landed on the article Buffy must have seen. He scanned it, then went back to reread it more slowly. This time taking in each and every word. Then he closed the paper and sat back, thinking over what he'd read.
"Is everything alright?" Malfoy asked. His gaze on Tom was sharp and speculative. "Have you seen something that troubles you?"
Tom gave him a wry smile and shook his head. "Nothing. Thanks for deflecting Walburga, although I doubt Alphard will thank you."
Malfoy shrugged. "No problem, it was the least I could do."
Tom went on, "The way the girls were carrying on, I thought I'd find something more interesting than wedding announcements." He handed back the paper to Malfoy.
Malfoy took the paper from him. As Tom expected, Abraxas opened it straight to the pages he'd just looked at and studied the announcement section. "Oh, look, it says here Peter Prevell is finally marrying Claudia Lestrange. I wonder if Marcus knows? She's his second cousin twice-removed."
Whilst Malfoy called to Marcus Lestrange, Tom drank the last of his pumpkin juice, thinking over what he'd learned. Lestrange's second cousin marrying didn't interest him. Vampires vanishing at the same time Buffy had been roaming the streets did. She'd seen the article and panicked. What did she know about the missing vampire? Had she met him that night? What was she scared of? Whatever it was, he'd find out - one way or another.
…...
Thanks to all who left a review last chapter and especially to those who contacted me to see if I was okay.
I have had a lot going on in my personal life, a family member ill etc.
Please know that reading your reviews cheered me up and keep them coming.
Sorry for not replying to each of you personally this time. I thought you'd want to see this chapter, (a bigger one than usual) sooner rather than later.
Thanks to my beta Deiticlast who was super quick with checking this.