Author's note: So, firstly, my apologies for taking so long to get this up. I'd meant to post it on Friday, but my computer was being stupid and wouldn't open anything online. I would've done more to fix it, but I was on a tight schedule, as it was late and I had to be up early in the morning. I also had to swim this weekend, so I was away from the computer.

Secondly, my most sincerest thanks for all the favourites, follows, and reviews! I'm so glad there are people that seem to be enjoying this (I'll admit, I hadn't been expecting much of a reaction from anybody). I know this isn't the best fan fiction out there, but it means loads to me that anybody would take time out of their day to read it. So, thanks! And enjoy this chapter, too!

Chapter Two: Truthfully

Dear Dad, Uncle Moony, and Uncle Padfoot,

You were right, Uncle Moony: she's terrible. On top of already giving me weeks of detentions, she won't even let us do anything practical! How are we supposed to protect ourselves with reading textbooks only? It's ridiculous. Ron and Hermione think I should teach our classmates some actual defensive magic, but I'm not overly great at it. Besides, we would probably be breaking a few rules to do that. Then again, when haven't we broken a few rules?

Actually, the idea of breaking rules seems a bit exhausted. I've probably broken all of Hogwarts's rules already. Somehow, I feel like four years of consecutive rule-breaking ought to have really brought me up there. I'd also never think I'd see the day when Hermione asked me to break rules, and I'm actually considering her idea of me teaching some magic to my classmates because of that.

Speaking of Ron and Hermione, they mentioned something about you guys talking to them before we left for the station this summer about me. Did you? Because I'm quite capable of taking care of things myself, you know. I know you're worried, but I don't want to drag Ron and Hermione into anything. They seem to think that they'd be willing to sacrifice their safety for me, but I don't think I'm willing to let that happen. I don't overly enjoy the thought of that. So, don't make them worry about me, too; it'll only make them want to "protect" me even more.

Also, a lot of people having being reading too much of the Prophet. I suppose I can't do much about that, but it's still frustrating.

Love,

Harry.

James smiled as he showed Remus the letter from Harry. "He wants to teach them, Remus!"

"Yes, but he's got a bit of a temper, hasn't he?" Remus said carefully. "What if somebody were to say something that set him on edge?"

"Then he can hex them." James shrugged. "I think it's great, personally. He's grown up quite a lot, hasn't he?"

Remus looked at James a bit warily, but said nothing from the way his friend's chest so evidently swelled with pride. It was like, when they'd been in their fifth year, when James, Sirius, and Peter had managed to make themselves proper Animagi. James had been so proud of himself then, and now it was no different, except for, this time, he was proud of his son. Which, really, was all the more reason not to voice his worries.

"Do you think he's mad at us about Ron and Hermione?" asked Remus.

James shook his head. "He would've said something. He's got Lily's temper, you know? She always did say what was on her mind."

"He's never had much of a temper before, James!" Remus said, flustered. "He's absolutely wrecked, and you're not doing a thing to help him!"

James blinked and turned to face Remus. "I've done everything I could," he said quietly. "But how do you help someone get through something you're still not through, and more? I can't help him, because I don't understand what he's going through, and it's not as if he's overly vocal. And how am I supposed to get him to talk?"

Remus suddenly felt himself fill with a cold emotion he couldn't exactly put a name to. Shame, maybe? Guilt? "I'm sorry," he said. "I know you're doing your best. It's hard for Sirius and me, too."

"Where is Sirius?"

"I'm not sure," Remus said. "Downstairs, I'd assume."

James nodded, and turned back to Hedwig. "Wait here for a while, Hedwig. I'll give you a letter to get back to Harry."

He and Remus made their way to the lower level of Grimmauld Place, and found Sirius in the entrance, letting somebody inside.

". . . in here," Sirius was saying. "I can get you something to eat, it's nearly lunchtime."

James peered over his friend's shoulder, and noticed that the person that Sirius was speaking to was Dumbledore.

The Headmaster shook his head, and said, "Quite all right, Sirius. I won't be too long."

He smiled a bit when he saw James, and made his way past Sirius, who was looking only slightly irritated at being brushed aside so casually. "James, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like a word."

At James's furrowed eyebrows, he clarified, "It's about Harry. There are things that we must discuss regarding this year at Hogwarts, and the issue of Voldemort."

Sirius blinked, then, a bit angrily, said, "Whatever you have to say about Harry can be said in front of Remus and me, too."

Dumbledore looked to James, who gave a nod to show that, yes, Remus and Sirius deserved to be put into this conversation. James knew what it was about, when Dumbledore said "the issue of Voldemort"; Sirius and Remus did not, but it would be a fairly easy thing to explain. And, of course, it was only right that they should know, too; James should not have hidden the information from them in the first place, but Dumbledore had advised him not to tell Harry, and there was always the chance that Harry might overhear. Otherwise, he just hadn't known how to bring it up. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said. "Lead the way."

The four men sat around the table in the dining room, and Dumbledore clasped his hands together before speaking. "As you know, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has come from the Ministry, who have all decided that Voldemort has not risen. This, already, has been a bit of issue for Harry, and she has complaints about his behaviour in her class."

Remus and James exchanged looks, and James tucked Harry's letter, still clasped in his hand, into his pocket.

"His behaviour in class?" Sirius asked, looking flummoxed. "I think it's only fair that he have his moments with her, don't you think? He saw a boy die last year at Voldemort's follower's hand!"

James swallowed, looking down. He still sometimes couldn't quite fathom the fact that Peter, the boy they had considered a friend, had so easily betrayed them—and hurt Harry, too. He also noticed, with a slight pang, the way Sirius avoided recognizing that it was Peter. Perhaps Sirius and Remus were still just as troubled by it as James was (though, somehow, he doubted that Remus was, considering his willingness to kill Peter merely two years prior).

"I'm quite aware of what happened last year," Dumbledore said in a slightly sold voice. "However, I worry that he may find himself in a bad position in regards to Dolores. As far as I know, they've already started out rather poorly. Not," he added, "that I expect them to have a positive relationship of any sorts. I simply hope that, for his own sake, Harry holds his temper with her."

"Headmaster," Remus said politely, "I know you surely have Harry's best interests in mind, but I'm not certain that holding his temper would be best. If he gets detentions, then that's but a minor consequence, isn't it? If he wishes for the truth to be told, then surely it's all right for him to tell it."

Dumbledore grimaced, and shook his head again. "Remus, I fear that but a few detentions may not be his only punishment. If things continue the way I believe they will, then I can only assume that she will be beyond that of an average teacher. The Ministry wishes for an insider, and she cannot be that person from such a distance."

James shivered slightly. "I'll talk to him," he promised.

"Thank you." Dumbledore paused for a moment, seeming hesitant to bring up his next topic. "Now, as with Voldemort's rise, I feel it's time Harry knew about the truth . . ."

Remus and Sirius cast curious gazes towards Dumbledore, whereas James just looked down. "I'm not sure I can," he allowed. "It's been a long time without saying anything, and I don't know what, exactly, it said."

"What—?" Sirius began, but faltered as Dumbledore turned to face him.

"There was a prophecy," Dumbledore explained. "The reason why James and Lily went into hiding all those years ago. It spoke of Voldemort's downfall, and of Harry."

Sirius blinked. "James, you knew about this?"

James nodded. "I knew about its existence, considering it would hardly be fair to force us into hiding without reason, but I don't know what it says. I never told Harry, because, for one, Dumbledore said I shouldn't, and, for two, I didn't know how to explain with my lack of knowledge. Obviously, I'd thought about saying something, but hadn't known how. And Harry's got Lily's temper, so I figured he might've gotten angry and done something . . . I don't know, bad, I guess."

Sirius looked a bit wounded. "And you never told us?"

"I didn't want you to slip up and tell Harry. And . . . how am I supposed to explain that sort of thing? That my own son was destined to overthrow the Darkest wizard of all time?" James looked away and gave a shrug. "Besides, I don't know the exact details."

Sirius went so say something else, but Remus cut him off. "I think James has his reasons. Let's just listen to what they've got to say, all right?"

Though a bit reluctantly it was, Sirius nodded and sat back, looking expectantly to Dumbledore.

"I would like to tell him, but, as you mentioned, he does have a temper." James felt himself bristle at the Headmaster's comment. He couldn't talk about Harry that way! He hardly even knew Harry, and nobody but Harry's guardians could talk about him that way!

Dumbledore, clearly unfazed by James's reaction, continued, "Also, the Ministry might get a hold of this information, which could be dangerous. They tend to think things through in a rather odd manner, and might wind up doing something that could be potentially dangerous to Harry.

"Harry, however, seems to have some kind of connection to Voldemort. Through his scar, I would assume, but you already know this. This could also prove to be bad for him, as, if he were to hear the prophecy, Voldemort may have access to it."

"I thought that Voldemort already knew the prophecy?" James said, ending it off as a bit of a question.

"Only a portion of it," Dumbledore acknowledged. "He overheard but a part of it, which was the part that made him believe Harry might be a danger to him."

James nodded. "So, you came here to explain that you don't think Harry should know about something that he hasn't had a chance to hear about yet, anyway?" His voice was slightly cold, but James didn't particularly like the way Dumbledore sometimes acted as though he knew what was better for Harry than James did, despite the fact that James knew Harry better than probably anybody else. They had a lovely relationship, and James sometimes wondered if it pleased Lily. After all, she'd always insisted that James would be a fantastic father, and now he and his son were quite close.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I came here to ask that you continue to hold your tongue on the matter. I wasn't sure whether or not you planned on telling him, but you always did seem to rather enjoy breaking the rules I've set."

Sirius stood up so quickly that his chair almost toppled over. "You want us to not tell Harry what the future has in store for him? To keep him in the dark? You can't just give excuses for not telling him about this! If I'd known about it, I would've told him myself by now!"

James shot Sirius a sharp look. "That would be even worse than not telling him! We don't actually know what the prophecy entails, exactly, and it would be wrong to tell him it exists but not tell him what it says!"

Remus nodded slightly, then turned back to Dumbledore. "But I do agree with Sirius. Perhaps you should stop here over winter break and explain—"

"Remus," Dumbledore interrupted, "I am afraid that simply won't do. As I mentioned, Harry's temper has been rather out of hand and thus I think it unwise—"

"Yours would be, too, if you had to live with to people's deaths!" James blurted, standing along with Sirius. "And the fact that the entire world seems to think you're a liar. And, to top it all off, people who won't bother to tell you the truth! I know you think you have his best interests in mind, but I think I know my son pretty well, and I know that this isn't what he needs. He needs the truth, and he needs it soon."

"James," Remus said quietly, setting on hand on his friend's arm, "it won't do you any good to yell."

"No? Are you sure? Because I'll be damned if there's another way to get through on this subject." James pointed an accusing finger at Dumbledore. "Harry doesn't need to be skirted around. He can take more than somebody with years more experience than him. He's dealt with terrible things, and if you don't think he can take hearing the truth, then you clearly don't know what's good for him."

"James," Dumbledore said, his voice calm, "I don't think that that Harry should be skirted around. I've known for years, many years, that he must know about this prophecy. But it had never seemed like the right time. It may have been years from the time that Harry began at Hogwarts that Voldemort rose again! As the years went on, I found that I just couldn't face it. And now it seems it is inevitable, of course, but I still don't think now is the right time."

"You should have told him when he was eleven," James said.

"It was the simple fact that he was eleven that I didn't!" Dumbledore insisted. "He was much too young to have to deal with that, and, even two years later, it still seemed as though he was. And I wouldn't have dreamed of telling him that after the events of last year!"

James, beginning to feel as though Dumbledore would not listen to any reason, said in a voice as polite as he could, "I think it would be best if you left now, Headmaster."

Sirius, seeming to understand that James would likely not budge on this, nodded. "I'll show you out," he offered.

Dumbledore stood, his robes swishing around his feet, but said no more. He was staring at James in wonder, as if he wasn't sure why James was so against not telling Harry anything all of a sudden. And maybe this was exactly the case, James thought; Dumbledore did not understand the way for which a parent cares for their child. Perhaps he did care for Harry, but he obviously didn't care in the same way that James or Sirius or Remus did. His intentions seemed rather unclear, however, and James didn't particularly want to deal with that. Dumbledore had always been quite, unfairly, bossy when it came to the way Harry was parented. This had been rather amplified in the past while, what with Cedric Diggory's death and Voldemort's "rebirth."

Remus turned to James as Dumbledore left the room, worry flashing in his eyes. "Do you think he'll tell Harry?"

James shook his head. "Why should he?" he answered bitterly. "Harry's not his responsibility."

"And you won't say anything to Harry?"

Again, James shook his head. "I don't know enough. I'd assume Dumbledore won't tell me because he thinks I'll tell Harry. And he's right, of course. I wouldn't hesitate to tell Harry if I knew everything, now that it's coming to a point where he needs to know."

Remus looked thoughtful as Sirius walked back into the room.

"Oh, by the way," James said to Sirius, suddenly remembering, "Harry's sent a letter." He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to Sirius, who read it over, a small smile making its way onto his face.

"Harry, a teacher! Imagine it!" Sirius chuckled.

"I think he'd be a wonderful teacher," Remus said. "He learnt to cast a corporeal Patronus when he was thirteen, didn't he? He obviously has some kind of talent in Defence."

James scoffed. "No mention of the fact that he's top of that class?"

"I just don't want it to get to your head." Remus shrugged, grinning.

"Hey!" James slapped his friend's arm. "Get to my head? I'm the most humble, modest person you've ever had the good grace to meet, Moony!"

"No, no, I'm afraid that that award goes to me," Sirius stepped in. "Besides, Moony likes me better."

"If I do say so myself," Remus said, "I would rather think you're both arrogant arses, and that I am obviously the most humble of the three of us. I, at least, know when to take things seriously."

James and Sirius frowned, then James said, "I think I'm a bit offended by that. I take quite a lot of things seriously."

Remus's gaze intensified. "Yes, but you aren't considering the dangers of letting Harry go through with something like this! He could get expelled!"

"Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen," Sirius insisted flatly. "If he really wants Harry to be the one to take down Voldemort, as it seems he does, then he won't expel Harry."

Remus grimaced. "Except that Fudge has a little spy in on the whole thing. She'll be Headmistress, if he can manage to get Dumbledore out of the position!"

James frowned. While they both had valid points, James was beginning to think that maybe Remus was right. While they knew well enough how to defend themselves against the Dark Arts, they surely couldn't teach Harry everything he would need to survive. And then there would be the pandemonium that would ensue when Harry wouldn't come back to school. Or the fact that he might be less safe here than at Hogwarts, although, given Harry's record, James figured that wasn't really much of an issue.

"And he needs to be more cautious about the things he puts in his letters," Remus added after a moment. "His mail could easily be intercepted at any time."

"Well, let's write him back, then, and tell him that."

Sirius handed the letter back to James. "You know," he said, "I'm starting to think that we should find a better way to communicate, you know? There's the Floo, but he told me off for using that last year, because of the chance that somebody might overhear. For someone who breaks so many rules," Sirius added in a grumble, "he sure is paranoid."

James took the letter, and stuffed it back into his pocket. "I suppose. Maybe we ought to do something else. But what is there? We could always talk in Hogsmeade, but it's not as if they do loads of trips a year . . ."

"Or maybe," Remus said, "we could just send letters, like we do every year, and be as discreet as possible when mentioning something beyond simple conversational topics. Otherwise, we can talk to him about other things over his breaks. We'll make sure he understands this as best he can through this letter, and hope he doesn't send anything that could potentially get him into trouble with Dolores Umbridge." He spat her name in obvious disgust, but neither Sirius nor James wanted to get into that conversation again.

"You always did have a one-track mind, didn't you, Moony?" Sirius grinned. "But I suppose you're right, as you always are."

"Ah, not always," Remus said dismissively. "Just most of the time."

"Yes, so modest you are," James drawled. "So humble and modest that we arrogant arses can't even begin to understand the meaning."

"Now you seem to be getting on the same page as me!" Remus exclaimed, beaming. He laughed a bit, then said, "Now, don't we have a letter to write?"

Dear Harry,

I told you so! I'm always right, you know, Harry. I'd have thought you would have known by now. Maybe it's your father and godfather messing around with your views on me. But, of course, they won't admit to it, so I guess—

I think that's quite enough out of him, wouldn't you say? He's always been so arrogant, don't listen to him. Anyway, your dad and I think that Ron and Hermione are right. It would be helpful to you and your classmates, for sure, and you've always been one for your bloody heroics, haven't you? Take after your dad, he's always been a bit heroic, too. But, obviously, you're better at it than him. He didn't have the nerve to do this kind of thing!

Well! Harry, don't listen to him. I'm the most heroic person you'll ever meet. Anyway, we just want you to be careful, okay? Don't get involved with things that may cause you grief, and try to keep your words on certain things to a minimum. Also, good luck with detention. If you're lucky, you won't get too many more. Your homework this year will be brutal, what with your OWLs. You don't want to waste time with detentions when you could be doing your homework (though, of course, I would advise against both; neither are overly enjoyable).

Love,

Uncle Moony, Uncle Padfoot, and Dad.

Harry rolled his eyes. How typical of James to say that about his schoolwork. Surely Remus had had a fit when he'd seen what James had written. The fact that it hadn't been scratched out came as rather a surprise to Harry. Remus had always harped on him the most about school, and surely James's words had not resounded well with him at all.

And the detentions thus far had not gone well at all. Two weeks' worth of them had gotten him nowhere, apparently, and so Umbridge had seemed to rather have given up. There was no further her message could "sink in," was there? His hand was already beyond irritated and had been for what felt like ages. In the past few days, he'd found that it seemed to bleed with only the slightest amount of provocation towards it. Which, of course, was infuriating. Harry didn't need people asking what was up with his hand—Ron and Hermione had only found out because they'd forced themselves on Harry, rather ganged up on him, if he said so himself. They'd badgered him for a while, told him to tell Dumbledore or his dad or Sirius or Remus, but he had told them, forcefully, that he wouldn't. He would deal with Umbridge on his own. He wasn't overly fond of the idea of having his battles fought for him. It was something he couldn't face, having people stand between him and his problems. Not anymore; not since Cedric had died as Harry had watched, helpless.

Harry was always so angry, and he didn't know why. His scar hurt all the time, he wasn't sleeping the way he should've been, and, when he did sleep, he either saw his mum, Cedric, or the strange hallway he'd been dreaming of for a while, now.

So, it was with this, that McGonagall approached him that day.

"Potter," she said sternly as he was beginning to walk out of Tranfiguration, next to Hermione. "Stay back for a moment. I'd like a word."

Hermione glanced at him worriedly, but he shrugged and she didn't seem eager to press the matter further. Hermione seemed to know well enough when to give Harry his space, something for which he was grateful beyond words for—and something Ron could do well to learn.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry inquired as he made his way back to her. Though, somehow, he felt he knew where this was going, and he didn't like it at all.

She gave him a quick onceover and shook her head. "Potter, you need to do something with yourself. From what I've heard, of the small amount of time you've been able to make it to Quidditch practices"—this, Harry thought, was her trying to guilt him for his tendency to put himself into detentions—"you don't fly well. You are hardly managing to pass this class, along with others, I am sure, let alone keep yourself awake throughout the day."

Harry looked to his feet, hardly knowing what to say. Was she going to threaten him? What could she do, anyway? His guardians already knew about the fact that he couldn't sleep very well, and it wasn't as if Dumbledore was ever in much of a mood to speak to Harry lately.

"Potter, all I ask is that you do something to get yourself back up. Whatever it is you need will likely be available to you."

"Professor—," Harry attempted, but was cut off.

"It was mentioned, of course, that you're not coping well with certain things," McGonagall said, and Harry was quite amazed to find that the words did not offend him in the slightest. "And I don't blame you for it. I would, however, like to see the Quidditch Cup away from Professor Snape and I would really like to see you return to this class next year. As it is now, you're nowhere near either, and you need to do something about it."

"I-I know, Professor," Harry said, still not picking up his gaze. "I'm sorry," he added.

She shook her head, and, as Harry looked up incredulously as she spoke, he noticed the slightest of smiles on her face. "Sometimes, I truly see a lot of your mother in you."

At this, she turned around, and Harry took this as his dismissal. But even as he made his way to the common room to drop his stuff off before dinner, he could not get rid of the sudden lightness that had filled him at McGonagall's words. People had only ever told him that he had his mum's eyes. Hearing something else he had in common with her quite lifted his spirits, and he found that he was happier than he had been in a long time. He felt as though he hadn't genuinely smiled in ages, and while it did hurt his cheeks slightly, he'd never been so glad to have such a feeling return to him.

The first Hogsmeade trip of the year brought them to the Hog's Head, where Hermione had decided they would meet potential members of the Defence Against the Dark Arts club—or whatever it was, Harry supposed it wasn't much of a "club." Harry had disagreed with her, told her that they would be less likely to be overheard in a crowded space, but she's insisted that she'd already said where they were meeting, and, besides, nobody actually went into the Hog's Head, anyway, so they wouldn't be overheard there, either. Harry knew from experience that arguing with Hermione meant only trouble, and he wasn't in a mood to argue, anyway; at least, that's what he said. He was actually just exhausted, having not slept well the night before what with the mounds of homework he had had (which, somehow, he'd managed to finish) and his complete stubbornness to not fall asleep and dream. Eventually, he figured he'd probably just pass out, and then maybe McGonagall, at least, would be pleased to see him not awake and moving around in a desperate attempt to stay awake.

How many people were there? Harry counted, and found that there were somewhere just above twenty. He'd never been very good, socially, and this kind of crowd unnerved him. And then, of course, amongst them was Cho Chang, Cedric's old girlfriend, for whom he felt an unmistakable amount of guilt when he looked her way. For one, he'd lusted after her boyfriend, hadn't he? And then he'd gone and let Cedric get himself get killed and not bothered to stop it in any way, and had the audacity to cry over his dead body. That was rather pitiful; he had hardly even known Cedric. Especially since, when the Hufflepuff boy had spoken, Harry had really paid more attention to his lips than to the words they'd spoken.

The people before him were silent as Hermione, the brave, brave girl she was, began to speak.

She spoke with such trepidation in the beginning, as everybody stared at her in uncertainty, but slowly found her voice growing more and more confident as the crowd began to nod along and smile with her words. Harry, however, was not reassured by the acts of the people before him. Did he even know all of them? Some of them were above his year, how was he expected to teach them anything they didn't already know?

Hermione finished speaking, and someone asked, timid, "And . . . and Harry would be teaching us?"

The voice belonged to Cho, Harry realized with a start. As her eyes met his, he felt himself go cold. Poor Cho. Harry had allowed Cedric to be taken from her like nothing, and now she was actually sitting here, wanting to be taught by Harry?

"Well, yes," Hermione said. "That was the idea."

"But why him?" somebody else asked. "He can't prove he actually did all those things since he started at Hogwarts, can he?"

Harry, not realizing fully that he was, stood and glowered at the boy who had spoken. "I can give you proof, if you wanted," he said as calmly as he could, despite the anger he felt radiating off of him. "But I'm not particularly fond of that idea, personally." He turned to Hermione and shook his head. "It's not as if anybody wants to be taught by me, Hermione; they all want to know about the things I've done."

"And they'll want to be taught by you once they understand what you've done!" Hermione said savagely.

"We already had this conversation!" Harry snapped. "I didn't do everything on my own! I always had help!"

The people around them seemed to shift, uncomfortable with the sudden arguing.

"What about the Triwizard Tournament?" Cho said quietly. "You got through all those tasks on your own."

"I didn't—"

"And you can cast a corporeal Patronus, can't you?" someone called out. "In the summer, you fought off Dementors with it, didn't you?"

Chatter bounced between the people as they suggested things that Harry had done, and Hermione—the terrible woman—had a gleam in her eyes that resembled the look she sometimes got when she got full marks on an assignment (which was quite often, and thus was a look Harry was all too familiar with).

"See, Harry?" She beamed at him. "They all know the things you've done! And you didn't always have help."

"Then I was lucky," Harry said hollowly. But, with Hermione's praise, he was suddenly reminded of McGonagall's words to him, and all the things he knew about Lily Potter. She'd been independent, brave, absolutely brilliant, so kind . . . He wasn't like that, was he? He'd never thought he could be, but sometimes people said things to him that made him question whether or not he was like his mother. And, deep down, he really hoped he was—but, also deep down, he knew he was somebody else, that he couldn't be like the beautiful, bright Lily Potter.

"So," Hermione said loudly, as to quell the voices beneath her, "who wants to join up?"

Author's not two: my apologies for lack of names of DA members' I don't exactly recall them all and I was stupid not to mark the pages in the book and really didn't fancy flipping through it again to find them. Also, this is an advance apology for any more inaccuracies. I tend to be lazy and not want to read through the book to find some things (I've started rereading them, to refresh my memory, but I'm starting from the back, and I'm only halfway through seven, so). Anyway, I'd appreciate reviews, favourites, and followers! Thanks for reading, and expect, hopefully, a new chapter soon.