Ron was worried. Neville liked to say that Ron lived in a constant state of worry, and Ron could admit that Neville wasn't exactly wrong. But Ron felt that was less a fault of his and more the fault of the bat-shit insanity he regularly experienced. So when Harry's hysterical laughter reached him through the Malfoys' drawing room walls, Ron didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for palming his wand.

Neville closed his hand over Ron's before he could draw. He glanced pointedly to Narcissa. Right, Ron thought. Very rude, possibly terminal idea, drawing a wand in a Lady's domain. Lady Adamanta Goyle, Gregory Goyle's most breath-taking mother, had cursed Ron flat on his back the last time he drew in her presence. 'Act of aggression,' she'd said sweetly.

Ron didn't expect Narcissa was quite so particular, but better safe than Leg-Locked. "Nar- ah, Mrs., ah, Lady Black-Malfoy?"

Narcissa hummed from where she was serving out the warm mulled wine, coffee, and hot chocolate brought in by the house elves. The drinks were probably all laced with a calming draught. The ladies of Dark families were notorious for going to any length to keep their guests calm and content. Narcissa passed the last cup to Amelia Bones before straightening with a sigh.

"Not to worry, young Lord Prewett-Weasley," she drawled primly. "I will go see what my dear cousin has done now." Narcissa paused by the door. "But within the Manor I believe it would not be inappropriate to go by familiar names, Ron."

Ron blushed. Even after years of fighting by her side, both as an equal and as a commander, Narcissa still had the ability to make Ron feel like child. He was fairly sure she had that effect on everyone, though, so he didn't feel too badly. "Of course, Narcissa."

She nodded once and then glided out of the room. About five minutes went by, wherein no one said anything and Ron's father kept a stranglehold on Ron's hand, before Narcissa returned with Harry and Sirius in tow.

Ron's heart broke. Harry's face, already pale, was translucent and blotchy, his eyes watery behind his frames. Sirius had a hand on Harry's shoulder that didn't look keen to leave anytime soon, his face grim. Harry didn't even glance at Ron and Neville, who were ensconced by Weasleys on every side.

The pair settled on a different couch, in a space that had magically appeared between Remus and Severus. The Malfoys held the rest of the long couch. Draco sat between his parents, trying very hard to keep the raw pain off his face every time he looked at them. Remus, who resembled Teddy in sepia, Draco could not even glance at.

There were many looks going—and not going—around the room. Kingsley Shacklebolt cast furtive, anxious glances at Narcissa, who had eyes for no one but her son. Blaise stared into the distance, alone in a wingback at the end of the Malfoys' couch. Daphne held court on a second couch, the young returned gathered around her. Susan was the odd first year out, tucked against Amelia's side in a love seat. Rita Skeeter had claimed the other wingback. Ron's family traded looks on a third couch, short and sharp and communicative, while Sirius, Severus, and Remus held a silent conversation over Harry's head. Harry, at long last, met Ron's eye and gave a bland little smile.

Neville and Ron traded frowns, comforted exactly zero percent by Harry's expression. Ron's instinct was to stand up and go to Harry, but there was a deceptive peace in the room that Narcissa did not seem to want broken. As the Lady of the House it was for her that Malfoy Manor's drawing room had adjusted itself to seat twenty-eight. Probably the Manor would not enjoy someone working against her wishes. Old manors were bitchy like that, Ron had found. But, still...

"So," Fenrir barked, jarring Ron from his deliberations. "We were going to talk at some point, yeah?"

Narcissa took a measured sip of tea. "Why, yes, Alpha Greyback, thank you for the reminder. Would you care to lead the proceedings?"

Fenrir settled back against the loveseat he shared with Bill, his huge frame rippling under his leather trench coat. He was pointedly ignoring Bill's annoyed glare. "Wasn't my intention. I wouldn't know what's what, anyway. Apologies, Lady."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "What, pray tell, might you mean you mean by that? You died later than most, did you not?"

Fenrir snorted. Bill stiffened. Fenrir's arm curled possessively around Bill's shoulder. "Not quite. Being bonded to Bill's all that's filled me in."

A round of shuffling went through the room, people exchanging glances and whispers. Fenrir was the first non-returned anyone had included, not that Bill really had much of a choice due to the bond shared by werewolf mates.

Neville frowned. "I don't understand. You were a huge part of the Resistance. Why wouldn't you have been brought back?"

Ron pursed his lips. "He's not the only one, though, is he? Umbridge doesn't seem to be back. Neither is Stan Shunpike, Andromeda Black, any of our magical creature contacts, or any of our international allies."

"Lee's out, too," the twins added in droopy synchronization.

"Terry," Susan murmured.

Lavender sighed. "Dennis."

"So is Warrington, Millicent, and our other society contacts, for that matter," Draco said.

"So, what, you had to be Light to return?" Amelia Bones asked.

Sirius barked a laugh. "Wouldn't say so, Minister," he replied, gesturing vaguely to the people of his couch. Severus glowered. Narcissa smiled charmingly, her dark eyes glinting. Lucius looked on benignly. Several of the first years smirked or chuckled. The twins winked.

Amelia pursed her lips. "Well, that's out, then."

Sirius settled back smugly. "I'd say so. Probably not the most important thing to be worried about, anyway. A better question is, what the fuck do we do now?"

"Language, Black," Amelia hissed. Her eyes skittered to the first years, among them the nine-year-old Astoria and ten-year-old Luna. "Not everyone is as crude as you."

Dean Thomas grinned. "You'd be surprised."

Sirius, in a great show of maturity, stuck his tongue out at her. "Whatever you say, your most honourable Ministerial-ness." Amelia glared, which Sirius balked at. The whole meeting might have fallen apart there, Ron would later reflect, if Kingsley hadn't taken the opportunity to raise the next point of contention.

"Should our next action not be to vanquish Voldemort?" Kingsley said, his voice layered with the sure authority of a future Minster. "After all, we have all the pieces together rather ahead of schedule."

Amelia smiled. "Thank you, Kingsley. As you say, we are much more prepared to deal with Voldemort. We end him now, there will be no need for the death and trauma so many experienced."

The other adults made agreeing sounds. However, Ron didn't miss the look shared between Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus. Mostly because he, Harry, and Neville had shared one earlier. Like Kingsley said, they had all the pieces to bring down Voldemort some six-and-change years in advance of the original timeline. They could deal with him, theoretically, whenever they liked. Yet, in order for Harry to properly off the bugger, wouldn't they need to recreate that final dual? Old Tommy needed a body for that. Maybe taking out the Horcruxes early would even be detrimental to killing him. There was, however, a whole other Big Bad that they had no plan for dealing with.

"Who cares about Voldemort?" Parvati growled from the first years' couch. "Old news, him."

"I have to agree," Daphne concurred, cold and poised. In her lap, Astoria glared like a terribly pretty, decidedly very cursed doll. "There are other dangers to contend with."

"The ladies are right," Seamus nodded. "Granger's gone, but the others—"

"Padma," Parvati sneered.

"Zacharias Smith," Luna sighed. The man had turned her and Theo in.

"Molly No-Name," Neville emphasized, cruelly pleased.

"Guinevere No-Name," Ron smirked back.

Harry closed his eyes. "Dumbledore."

"The whole damn gutless Ministry," Rita snarled from her wingback. She cast a glance at Amelia, who appeared taken aback by the venom in her voice. Rita dredged up a weak smile. "Present company excluded, of course."

Amelia nodded slowly. "Yes, well. It would seem that I am obviously missing a few pieces," she glanced around the room, taking in Arthur Weasley's wide eyes and the uneasy expressions of the other adults. "Would someone care to fill us early deaths in?" She slipped an arm around Susan. "I, for one, would like to have the full picture of the peace years once Voldemort died. I have been assuming that the radicals that cause my death and many others were put down? I would also like to know more about this 'Resistance' Alpha Greyback was apparently such a large part of. And what was that about Miss Granger?"

The young returned exchanged glances. Of course some adults would still think their deaths were caused by nameless evil. Susan had thought the same until Daphne had explained it to her on the train. They wouldn't know the urgency they really should feel. They wouldn't understand why the young returned had already orchestrated what they had.

"Afterwards," Amelia carried on, "We can decide where our rage should focus."

"We haven't had much time to speak about those years ourselves," Susan put in carefully. She arched a brow at Draco and Ron, who both looked to Harry. They found him nodding to himself.

"Right," Harry said, as though affirming something. "Lucius, you have a pensieve, don't you?"

"Harry," Neville jumped in, arm over Ron's lap to keep him from getting up.

"Mate," Ron tried instead, but Harry cut them both off.

"It's all too convoluted to try and explain. Better just to show," Harry said. "Theo, you could cast that charm you came up with for recon meetings?"

Theo, who had not left Luna's side since first seeing her in the Malfoy's foyer, nodded.

"Good," Harry said, and drew his wand.

"The rest of us should contribute memories, too," Daphne added. "We all experienced different aspects."

"Right," Lavender agreed. "I can think of some choice ones."

The room broke out in a quiet rumble as the young returned rose to their feet, discussing who would contribute what. Draco, silent as a ghost, stood and began transfiguring flowers from the tasteful floral arrangements around the room into vials to store the memories in. The rest of the room broke into conversation.

"Draco," Lucius started, striding after his son, Narcissa half a step behind him. "Is this really all necessary?"

Draco nodded, not able to meet his parents' eyes. "Yes. Yes, it is."

Narcissa put a hand on Draco's shoulder, firmly, and turned Draco so he faced them. Draco was rigid under her fingers, his face stoic, but his eyes were wet.

Lucius felt gutted. He'd put his family through many messes in his life. Yet, even those actions and the resulting wars had not left Draco looking as broken as he did now.

"Oh, darling..." Narcissa whispered, gently cupping their son's hardened face.

Draco took a breath and looked away. "I survived both of you," Draco said at length. "Remus and Teddy, too. I lived for just short of three years more. But nothing ever became better than the day I discovered you were gone. Not even my wedding. Every time I looked away from my husband all I could see were the faces that weren't there." Draco looked up at his parents determinedly. "We can't put into words why the modern threat is worse than Voldemort. But we can show you."

Lucius swallowed. In his last life he had so, so desperately wanted to believe that their problems had died with Voldemort and the travesty he'd made of Marvolo Gaunt. Obviously, that had been wrong of him. Lucius wasn't in the habit of making the same mistake twice. Not anymore.

"Of course," Lucius said. "I shall retrieve the pensieve."

Draco gave him a relived smile. "Thank you, Father."

Lucius left, a pool of dread welling in his stomach.

The first memories were actually given by Rita. This was because while Harry was sobbing for his dead godfather and Daphne was fending off suitors and Luna and Theo were abroad, Rita had been growing suspicious. Suspicious of the burnings, of which she provided smoke-choked memories of aurors holding back Mr. Borgin while his entire inventory was set aflame, Mr. Burke stunned beside him. Suspicious of the seized pureblood manors, viewed through beetle eyes as the wealthy homes were ransacked for anything valuable. Suspicious of the riots whipped up in the streets of Diagon Alley, protesters toting homemade signs protesting the 'lax' treatment of Death Eaters. The current riot memory had taken place after Elissandra Selwyn was found innocent. She had been just thirteen years old.

"This was just some of the early stuff," Rita explained solemnly. "May 1998 stuff. It got worse later." The other returned stood around her, Theo's amplification spell allowing them all to view the memories through the one pensieve. Grim, pale expressions set each face.

"I remember," Kingsley said tiredly. Events like these had stained his entire short-lived career as Minister.

"I don't," Sirius scoffed, eyes wide. "Fuck."

Severus grimaced. "Indeed."

"They started after you died," Harry offered somberly. "The first one was just after your funeral, Severus."

"If I remember correctly," Luna offered dreamily, her ten-year-old voice even higher and more ethereal than it had been in first year, "Elissandra died not too long after this march."

"Dark rebels, upset with her for turning Light," Amelia replied sadly. "One of my own apprentices investigated."

Draco snorted. "The Selwyns have always been Dark. Elissandra was, too. Wouldn't surprise me if one of these protesters took things too far, though."

Amelia glared. "I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, that wasn't the case. I would have known."

Draco sneered. "They said Dark rebels killed Parvati, too. What do you say about that?"

"You weren't?" Kingsley asked Parvati, taken aback.

"Of course not," Parvati replied, surprised. "Dammit, man, they fucking hung you. Why would you think anything the Ministry said was legitimate?" Kingsley's face went stony.

"If I may," Narcissa cut in, just as the air began to tense. "Many of us here died very quickly, with what seemed like little warning. Unless we identified our attacker—"

Sirius snarled.

"—it is reasonable that we drew our assumptions from prior conditions," she finished levelly. "I personally only feared the Light after Remus died. By then it was too late."

"Merlin," Arthur breathed heavily. Having died before the Final Battle Arthur felt that he had the least idea of what had happened. It was a terrible feeling. "You mean the Ministry was somehow behind all this?"

"Yes," Daphne confirmed. " I put it together after Cormac, my fiancé, died." Uncorking the vial in her hand, she released the memory. It swirled like smoke until, gradually, the Diagon Alley riot shifted into Daphne's room at Greengrass Manor.

The lens of the memory was focused on one wall, framed by furniture that had been haphazardly flung out of the way. Photographs and clippings from magazines and newspapers plastered the surface, coloured string connecting the papers. It took a moment to recognize but, with the help of the notes Daphne had carefully penned on the wall, a pattern emerged.

Arthur stumbled toward the wall, his mouth open in dismay. "My word... Some of these trails go back to the first War."

"And some are even older," Daphne said. "I tracked one odd line of happenstances all the way back to 1944. If that one lord hadn't died just then, childless, it's doubtful Dumbledore ever would have had a seat on the Wizengamot in the first place."

"How could we have missed all this?" Amelia asked, more to herself than anyone else.

Ron shrugged. "The old man seemed harmless, always toting that for the 'Greater Good' nonsense. He was also the Savior for a while there, too, wasn't he? Nobody wanted to think any bad of him."

"At least, none of the Light did," Severus drawled. "When Marvolo Gaunt began to make political noises, the Dark's disenchantment became very clear."

Amelia frowned. She was vaguely aware of the name, remembering him as a formidable politician who'd mysteriously disappeared around the beginning of the Dark Lord Voldemort's ascension. He was possibly one of madman's first victims. "What's his relevance here?"

Lucius and Severus exchanged glances. "Marvolo Gaunt is the name the Dark Lord used privately and in the public sphere before assuming his later title," Lucius revealed.

Amelia's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."

Lucius regarded her flatly. "Most assuredly not."

Ron shared a confused look with Harry. "But I thought Voldemort was Tom Riddle?"

Lucius sighed. "Until 1946, he was. But then he secured the Gaunt lordship, which he had claim to by maternal right. Its lord, his uncle Morfin Gaunt, was in Azkaban at the time and therefore unable to perform his duties as lord. It was an easy negotiation with the Goblins."

Sirius grimaced, pleased more than ever that no inconvenient bastard relations had ever come out of the woodwork to swipe his title while he was locked up. "What did he even want with it?" Sirius asked. "The Gaunts are broke."

Lucius nodded. "It was mostly defunct, being without fortune, business, or worthwhile property. But the title does carry a Wizengamot seat."

"The surname also further distanced him from his distasteful Muggle upbringing," Severus continued. "Few wizarding folk remember that Tom Riddle and Marvolo Gaunt were the same man. It served his purposes in pureblood circles."

"Wait," Harry said, frowning. "Why did his Muggle upbringing even matter if Tom went to Slytherin?" He looked at the Slytherin adults. "Wouldn't he have been considered a newblood?"

"A what?" Amelia asked, utterly unfamiliar with the term.

"A Muggleborn or raised child fostered by a wizarding family once they reach Hogwarts," Rita explained. She smiled kindly at Amelia. "Like me, dear."

Amelia blinked. "I had no idea you were Muggleborn."

Rita laughed. "That's entirely the point."

Lucius replied bitterly. "The practice had fallen off by the 1940s, even in Slytherin. Children whose Head of House should have made sure found a position with a wizarding family fell through the cracks. Some children, like Rita, were fortunate enough to make friendships that secured them a place. Other children could not convince their parents to put their blood purity rhetoric aside long enough to see the benefit of fostering a partly Muggle child."

Severus and Lucius shared a grimace. A story existed there that obviously neither wanted to tell.

"I made certain to restore the tradition when I was granted Slytherin House," Severus rumbled, moving the conversation along.

"And with the Magical Children's Act, the odds of any child falling through the cracks are greatly diminished," Lucius said, his satisfaction evident.

"…Right," Harry said. He was divided on how he felt about the act. On one hand he could understand why some Muggleborns and half-bloods thought it was stupid and oppressive, but on the other hand those people had probably never been beaten and starved just for the sin of having magic. Any measure that stopped that from happening had to be worth a couple of interviews and some paperwork.

"Lord Marvolo Gaunt quickly became a prominent figure in the Dark," Narcissa said, drawing the conversation back to its original topic. "His work in the Wizengamot was respected. He had a place at every table." Narcissa paused, her eyes going to Lucius. "He was a pallbearer at Abraxas's funeral."

Lucius nodded slowly. "They were old friends. After my mother died, Marvolo was a great help to my father and myself." Lucius pursed his lips. "It's hard to pin down when he changed."

"It was small things, increasingly monstrous as they came," Severus agreed softly. He moved closer to Daphne's wall, peering at a particular set of articles. The topic of Marvolo Gaunt, it seemed, was closed.

The young returned exchanged glances. Here was a line of inquiry they would need to follow up on before June rolled around. What exactly had driven the beloved Lord Marvolo Gaunt to become the insane Lord Voldemort? Dark magic was the traditional answer, but now that seemed biased.

Now that they had the luxury of time, it seemed irresponsible not to find out the truth.

In the memory, as though sensing that the scene now had the attention of the viewers, the bedroom door opened with a snap. Several people jumped, spinning around to see a young woman step through.

"Ooh, good!" Sirius grinned, happy to put their disturbing conversation behind him. "Someone we know!"

Severus shushed him with an elbow to the ribs.

"Hurry," memory-Daphne snapped—apparently to the empty room. She was perhaps nineteen, beautiful, and obviously exhausted. She wore a nightgown. Smudges of uncared for eye makeup made her look ghostly. The door clicked closed. "You can let down the charms now."

Without comment Neville and Ron both appeared, their Notice-Me-Nots cancelled. Harry's head popped out, too, uncovered by his invisibility cloak. He took off the rest of the garment and flipped it over his arm as a curtesy. He was draped in Sirius' leather jacket. The boys were as old as Daphne and looked as tired. They were clad like they had just stepped off Diagon Alley but were in the condition of fighters fresh from the front: near-miss offensive spells had left burns on their clothes and skin, and Neville was splattered with blood. He clutched Gryffindor's sword in one hand, the blade gleaming red wetly.

"What happened?" Sirius growled.

"The Ministry," Harry replied. He took his godfather's hand.

"Thank you for letting us in," memory-Harry said. There was a blood fleck on his glasses that he distractedly rubbed away.

"I don't know why I did," Daphne replied. She transfigured some random furniture into four chairs and sat herself in one. The boys followed her example. "Why did you even come here?"

The boys exchanged a glance. "Luna sent us," Harry said. "She said you could explain what was going on." His eyes flickered to the clipping wall behind her.

Daphne nervously straightened her nightgown. "Well, I suppose she was right about that. I bet she thought this was a better place to hide you, too. No one would ever think you would come here." She wore a bitter, knowing smile.

Harry didn't reply to that. "The Ministry took us captive," he explained. "We port-keyed here from the tropics, but instead of Longbottom Hall we landed in a holding cell. The aurors wouldn't say anything except for some rot about illegal magic."

"We thought they were Imperio'd for a bit, or Dark rebels in disguise, but then they took Ron for questioning," Neville added.

Ron, who on closer inspection bore obvious signs of some quick, half-assed healing, grinned at Daphne. His teeth were pink with blood. "Suffice to say, they weren't using any techniques I was familiar with. We fought our way out the minute the room stopped spinning on me."

Neville and Harry each took a hand of his at that, their wedding rings glinting in the low light.

Daphne nodded. She waved her wand again and four glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey appeared. She poured generously to a round of thanks. "Standard procedure," she explained after a long drink. "Chances are they may not have even planned on letting you out. No one has seen Pansy Parkinson since she went to inquire about her husband." Daphne poured herself another and downed it. "They're probably both dead."

"What the fuck is this?" Ron hissed. "The Ministry's gone fucking mental. How is Kingsley letting this happen?"

Daphne shook her head. "Shacklebolt's on charges himself, locked up on house arrest for a whole slew of nonsense." Daphne was on her third glass before she spoke again. "I'm afraid you lot have stumbled into a very different world from what you left." She laughed lightly. "A whole different war, even."

"We have to do something," Harry said. "We have to fix this. Daphne, you have all this evidence—"

"I have FUCK ALL, Potter," Daphne snarled suddenly, getting to her feet. "I have been reliably informed that all I have here is a one-way trip to St. Mungo's." She gave Harry a nasty, crazy smile. "I've been unhinged since my fiancé died, according to the Prophet. No one would blame me for losing my mind."

Neville leant forward, his expression soft. "I'm so sorry, Daphne."

Daphne settled again, apparently mollified. "Yes, well. I couldn't risk it, anyway. I can't have them targeting Astoria."

Neville frowned. "Would they?"

Daphne smiled grimly. "Rumour has it the reason they were so brutal on the Malfoys is because they thought it would get them Draco. And anyone with a brain knows they only bothered Lovegood's father to get to Theo Nott. They want the influential families gone or shut up, one way or the other."

Harry's face was pale as death. "What do you mean about the Malfoys? Daphne, please, we haven't heard anything since we left England, what—"

There was an ear-splitting noise from deeper within the house, a sound like ripping metal amplified by a stadium-sized sonorous. Alarms began to blare, the room flashing red. Daphne leapt to her feet with an expression of raw fear on her face.

"Someone's forced down the wards," she said, blasting the door open with her wand, not pausing to unlock it. The boys were hot on her heels. "It's them, the Ministry, they must have been tracking you. Astoria!"

The seventeen-year-old was a brunette version of Daphne, gripping her wand and walking dazedly out of her room. She had obviously been asleep. "Daph? What's going on?"

Daphne reached for her. "We have to go, come quickly."

Another shrieking boom and a squadron of black-clad attackers apparated into the hallway, separating the sisters. "By order of the Ministry of Magic, we hereby—"

"—Need to shut the fuck up," Daphne hissed. The attacker raised their wand but Daphne blasted them first. A battle immediately broke out.

"What's the plan?" Neville called, deflecting a spell with his sword. The blade glowed briefly, gaining power from the spell. Neville swung on.

"Get my sister, get out of here," Daphne snarled. She sent another attacker spinning with a Gut-Wrencher Hex. The person fell to the floor, spitting up their own entrails.

Astoria's high scream broke through the chaos, Daphne twisting just in time to watch her sister fall to the floor. "Fuck it," Daphne snarled. "Avada Kedavra!" The caster dropped dead, but Astoria didn't get up.

Ron loped ahead of Daphne, easily plucking up Astoria while Daphne provided cover. He clasped Daphne's wrist. "I'll side-long you. They'll know the Greengrass safe houses—"

"Your favourite pizza shop!" Neville shouted. Harry nodded. In a second, all five of them were gone.

The memory dispersed in a wash of vanishing smoke.

"Our parents died that night," Daphne explained as the Malfoys' drawing room settled back around them. "They may have been killed by the hit-wizards, or maybe they were taken for questioning. Their obituaries were in the Prophet the next day."

"Harry, Ron, and I were blamed for the attack," Neville said. "The Prophet claimed we were trying to convert the Greengrasses to our Dark cause. The girls we apparently Imperio'd."

"That was the first time they started calling me a Dark Lord," Harry said.

"Astoria nearly died," Daphne murmured, still somewhere in the memory. Parvati inched towards her, standing close in solidarity. Astoria buried her head in her sister's shoulder.

The adults stood shocked and horrified. Objectively, the level of violence was familiar from the wars against Voldemort. Yet knowing the Ministry was behind the terror made the memory feel much worse.

"I believe I understand where you are coming from," Amelia said, her eyes distant. She shook herself and appeared more settled. "I would, however, like to still see any other memories anyone is willing to share." The other adults nodded, though their faces were pinched with pain.

Ron blew a breath between his teeth. "It's good for everyone to have a full picture, yeah. Greengrass raid was really just the start."

Harry swallowed and nodded. "I was one of the last to die, so I'll go last with that memory. Does anyone else have something they feel would be helpful to show before that?"

The room was quiet until, at last, someone raised their hand.

Hey there, everyone! Wow, is that an update? Strange, rare creatures, those. Anyway, thank you so much for your support! Your reviews are the reason I keep writing! Also, today's chapter is edited by the wonderful Ren01r!

Now, on the the important stuff. As you can see, I've left a bit of a cliff hanger there for you. I'd like to show a few more memories in the next chapter, but I want to know what YOU guys would like to see. So, please in your review (which I really hope you leave!), I'd like you to tell me which character you'd like to see a memory from! For the sake of brevity, try and keep it to the young returned, but feel free to pick any of them.

Anyway, thank you for your support! I hope to here from you soon! As always, I do my absolute best to reply to every review I receive!

Edited 8/20/2022

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666