Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. However, if I did, I would have enough money to purchase the Keebler Elves as slaves … What?! I like their hats. And their shoes are just so darn cute!

AN WARNING Okay, I feel that I should warn you all. This is the chapter when all of the torture starts. I should also say that it is because of these chapters that my friends think me rather sadistic. If you don't like my writings in this chapter, that's fine. In retrospect, they are a little … um… out there, shall we say? If this just rubs you the wrong way, I might advise you to stop reading, since it goes on for a few chapters.

CHAPTER THREE

Lost Hope

Harry couldn't help but be defiant. "Hey, Tom," he said conversationally. Harry knew that Voldemort still hated the name that he had been given at his birth. He despised the name of his Muggle father, Tom Riddle, of which he had been the next recipient.

"Now Harry," Voldemort chided. "It is rude in my opinion to call someone by a name that is not preferred to them."

"First of all, you're one to talk. Secondly, I prefer this one," Harry confided. "It suits you just fine. It shows people that you're not all that powerful after all. That you're just a man. A man who's insanely power-hungry, to be sure, but a man nonetheless. No matter what you do to yourself, Tom Marvolo Riddle, you're still a man, and therefore can be hurt, triumphed over, and killed. Third, I don't think your opinion counts for much in anyone's eyes." Harry knew that he was making Voldemort angry but he didn't care. Let the world know that Harry James Potter went down challenging the mighty Lord Voldemort's mightiness. It fit, in Harry's mind.

"You can taunt me all you want, Potter. It won't work. I can be baited, insulted, annoyed, the whole shebang. It won't affect me. I'll just raise my wand. It'll be awhile before we reach the point of Avada Kedavra, but we can amuse ourselves with other curses in the meantime. We'll have fun together, you and I. Who knows, I might even give you the redeeming chance to join my Death Eaters. If you're good and tell me what I need to know." He stepped out of the doorway and at least ten other shadows appeared in his place.

He was picked up roughly under his armpits by a bulky man and carried out of the room. Harry couldn't have fought the man physically if he had tried to. The combined efforts of three powerful Crustacious Curses had taken the desired effect on his body. He couldn't move very much of his body by his own free will and that that he could hurt.

They entered a vast dome room that was relatively empty. The only adornments to the room were a table, some dim, flickering lamps, and a cart with foreboding looking instruments scattered across it.

"Now Harry, you have a great honor today," Voldemort said, with his hands clasped behind his back. "You are going to be interrogated and tortured by none other than myself. It is very rare that I take the time to come torment my victims personally. I am much too busy to take time for every meager witch or wizard who has the chance to enjoy my company. This should give you a hint as to how important you are." He motioned for the Death Eater holding Harry to place him upon the table, which the man did very roughly. The man then muttered, "Petrificus totalus," under his breath in a slurred speech.

"You know Harry," Voldemort said, "Muggles aren't all that useless after all. Your dear mudblood mother brought you into this wretched world and then sacrificed herself to give you another few years in this dreadful place. My father now, he was my sire and I would not be here if it were not for him and then he sacrificed himself to give me more time, unwilling though it was. It seems as if we've had this conversation before. Well, forgive me if I prattle on while I commence with your torture, but I feel I should explain this to you, so that you know exactly what I want and how far I am willing to go with your life to achieve that end."

As Voldemort said this, Harry muttered quietly, "Your mother should have drowned you when you were born."

Voldemort hissed slightly, in what Harry imagined was meant to be a chuckle. "Whoever said she didn't? Consider me Achilles, Harry. My mother dipped me into the River Styx and now I am invincible. Unlike the Greek hero however, I have no heel for you to aim for."

The cart was brought over. "Now, once again Harry, Muggles have come up with extremely effective ways of torture. See this here?" He held up a pair of pliers. "This can be used very efficiently in pulling teeth." As Harry shivered, he replaced the implement and grabbed a blowtorch. "This can also cause extreme pain when held close to the skin. Need I go on, Harry?" With a single look at the remaining tools, Harry shut his eyes tight and quivered in fear.

"Of course you are the one who decides what method I will use. In fact we need not use any at all. All you have to do is tell me what the prophecy contained. That is our first order of business." He turned around so that his back was to Harry. "Now tell me, what did Albus Dumbledore tell you the prophecy contained."

Harry glanced at the cart. The instruments looked menacing. He looked at the tall, skinny form of Voldemort. It looked equally evil. "Harry, you will tell me. Better to get it over with now and suffer no pain or hurt than to wait until the end." Harry felt fear rising up in him. I should tell, he thought. Would anyone blame me for it? Of course you idiot! Another voice screamed at him. Harry felt like the angel and devil on his shoulders were arguing. It's Voldemort! The one that the entire wizarding world is trying to bring down! Of course they'll blame you. Wouldn't you? Didn't Sirius say that it would be better to die instead of betraying friends? The angel won the war in Harry's mind and Harry glued his mouth shut.

"Harry," Voldemort said menacingly. Harry didn't reply. Voldemort sighed and nodded curtly to a place that Harry couldn't see.

A man then walked up to Harry and muttered, "Silencio." Harry could feel a hand of steel grip his throat and then squash his voice box. He tried to yell insults to the Death Eaters and Voldemort, but no sound left his lips. They laughed cruelly at his futile efforts to have his voice be heard.

"Crucio!" Voldemort yelled. Harry's screams went unheard.

"And now John with a story of disappearance in London. John?"

"Thank you Paul. Well, the story just came in. A customer who was dining in Eddie's Eatery called the police around half-past eleven yesterday. She said that she had heard horrible screams coming from alley in between the diner and Dorothy's Rentals. The police rushed to the scene. When they got there, all they found was a small pool of blood and an empty birdcage. Of course, they're looking into it but we are unable to uncover any further details. Back to you Paul."

The television was clicked off. Albus Dumbledore walked quietly up to the frightened looking Dursley household. "Is this story concerning Harry?" he asked quietly. They trembled when his gaze passed over each of them but no one answered. "If you do not wish to cooperate with me, I have the means to force you to do so." The three recognized the threat but still were too petrified with fear to answer. Albus sighed. "Very well, you leave me no choice. Mrs. Dursley, if you would come here please?" Too afraid of what this strange and frightening man would do if she disobeyed him, the woman rose and stumbled over. She collapsed into a chair that Albus had magicked over. From his robes he produced a vial of clear liquid and pulled the cork stopper out with a squelching pop. "Open your mouth please." The woman kept her mouth clamped shut, afraid that he would poison her. "I assure that no harm will come to you if you drink this. All this will do is make you tell me the truth." Her eyes flew open wide and she kept her mouth closed tighter than ever. Albus sighed again. "Very well," he repeated. He replaced the stopper and it vanished into his robes again to be replaced with a wand. If it were at all possible, Petunia Dursley's eyes grew even wider. "Veritas," he murmured with the wand pointed between her eyes. He knew that the spell he had just performed was illegal, but if he could find information on Harry, it was worth it. She suddenly went limp in her chair.

"What did you do to my wife," Vernon Dursley exploded at the same time that his rather large son yelled, "Mum!"

In response, Albus Dumbledore held up a hand and looked straight into Petunia Dursley's unfocused eyes.

"Enervate," he muttered and her eyes snapped back to look at his piercing blue ones. "Did that story concern Harry?" he asked again, much more quietly.

"I don't know," the woman replied automatically then was shocked that she had answered.

"Explain, please."

"On the boy's birthday we received a telephone call," she began and it looked like she was trying to stop herself from speaking and failing. "It was a stranger. They told us that they would pay us 50,000 pounds if we handed him over. I didn't really want to, but Vernon did so we agreed. He told us that on the day we took him to King's Cross to drop him off so he could go to that freak school we would park in the back of the lot.

"So we went and did what the man said. When we got there, five people in black coats and strange masks on came up beside the car. They yanked him out and took all his things, gave us our money and we drove away." She looked shocked that she had revealed so much.

"Did they say anything to you before you drove away?" Albus asked.

"Yes. They said something like we have their gratitude and, more importantly, that of the Dark Lord's." Tears were spilling down the woman's bony face now. "I don't know if he managed to get away but it could be him in that story as easily as not."

Albus's face sagged and his eyes temporarily lost their twinkle behind the half-moon spectacles. "Ah. So it was indeed Voldemort after all. I suppose that I was clinging to a lost hope, to think that Harry was just kidnapped by someone less dangerous." The twinkle regained its place in his eye, but it was a deadly sparkling of malice and something very close to hatred and loathing. It was more like a spark igniting a furnace of long-buried and white-hot abhorrence. He shot a death glare at Petunia Dursley, directing his dangerous twinkle toward the frightened woman. "Why did you do that to Harry?" His voice held such contemptuous coldness that it could have frozen fire. "You sealed the charm of protection on Harry fifteen long years ago and you choose now, the worst time yet, to let its wards fall? By breaking the charm now, you have put not only Harry in grave danger, but also the world at large. If any blame should be placed on the carnage that is yet to come it shall fall on you! If that doesn't break through your barriers of self-love, then you should know that you shall suffer as well! I certainly hope that this aspect of the recent happenings appeals to your closed-minded stupidity, seeing as how you hold no value of the human life. You regard only yourselves as important enough to save from the oncoming storm. When Harry is rescued – NO!" Up until this point Albus had spoken in a deadly quiet whisper, making it even more horrible to watch as the room seemed to grow dark with a heavy shadow of foreboding and menace that was radiating from him in waves. Now the tension broke with a roar that one would have thought impossible from a man of his years. "Don't even dare to speak to me, woman!" he bellowed when Petunia Dursley dared to open her mouth for a quiet yet defiant protest. Her mouth quickly snapped shut and then sagged as she came very close to fainting from fright. "Harry will either be rescued by the members of the Order of the Phoenix or the aurors in the Ministry of Magic or he will come back on his own! Do not dare to speak one word of how your nephew will not be coming back, because he will." By now Albus had regained some of his composure but his eyes still glittered with a dead glint fed only by his hatred and disgust for this pathetic household. "Do you really think that giving Voldemort his enemy will buy you safety from his coming onslaught of bloodshed, war, rivalry, and purity? It's like Hitler all over again. The Dark Lord will only retake your newly acquired amount of money and it will be recovered from the ashes of your burnt bodies. Or perhaps it will be from you broken bodies; or maybe the pieces of your bodies. There is no limit to Voldemort's cruelty. You have gained merely a temporary indulgence. Secondly, as you have no doubt discovered if you have any sense, you are in danger of me. You will all be extremely lucky if I leave here and every one of you hasn't been cursed for life. And lastly, you are in danger of Harry when he comes back. I have absolutely no doubt that my anger with you now will be only a mere shade compared to his. I would be surprised, and frankly, very disappointed, if your house was still standing when he is through with you. You would have been much better off and much safer cooperating with the side of Light." Albus left the next few moments in silence, letting these realities sink in. He took also took this time to regain the rest of his lost composure. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Well now, if there's nothing else that you can tell me of where Harry is, I'll proceed with your curses."

A livid Voldemort stormed into the giant dome room just in time to postpone Harry's first session with the whip. He walked straight up to Harry and grabbed him by the throat, giving him a violent shake. Harry's feet slipped and skidded along the ground, barely touching.

"Your disappearance has caused quite a ruckus, Potter," he hissed menacingly. "That much was to be expected. If the whereabouts of the Boy Who Lived goes unknown for even a moment's time the world goes into a panic. Oh but no, Harry Potter couldn't leave without a little hint as to what happened to him." The grip on Harry's throat tightened, making him gag. "Little Harry had to send his owl off to Dumbledore and had to cry a pool of bloodied tears. Now both worlds are after you! The Muggles are searching for the missing Harry James Potter, whose relatives persist that he ran away. And the wizarding world is searching for the captured Harry James Potter, the boy who merely got lucky against the Dark Lord five times. You are doubly a nuisance, Potter!" Just as Harry thought he would pass out from lack of oxygen, Voldemort threw him down in disgust, punctuating his exclamation. "Just had to make things a bit more difficult for me, didn't you boy? Couldn't help being defiant then, was it? Aghh, no matter I suppose. We'll take care of it easily enough." He directed his evil red gaze to the Death Eater with the whip coiled in his hand. "Give him extra for good measure. I want to be able to hear his screams clearly in my quarters. And when you're done with that, pull out his right back molar on the top and bring it to me along with his glasses." He walked away, smiling viciously as Harry's ear-splitting shrieks followed him out.

"Professor?" Ron knocked lightly on the door to Professor Dumbledore's office.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. Please, come in," Dumbledore said, discarding a sheet of parchment with a sigh. "What can I do for you?" he asked when Ron was seated.

"Erm… well, Professor Dumbledore, I was wondering – er, I guess that it was Hermione and I that were wondering if, er, well, the Christmas holidays are coming up, sir, and –" Ron stopped, flustered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Professor, we'd like to come with you over the holidays, to search for Harry. Before you can say no, I already owled my parents and they said it was fine because they were planning on going too. Hermione's parents said it was okay if she was with my folks. Please, Professor, we want to help. We really, really want to find Harry."

"I can understand your desire to find Harry, Ron, but this is work for adults who are experienced in capturing people like those who did this to Harry and defending themselves against the Dark Arts."

"But Professor," Ron protested, "Harry was the best in the school at Defense Against the Dark Arts and he taught everyone in the school, except the Slytherins. He spent the most time with us. Hermione's the second best in the entire school. Hermione helped me out a lot and ever since Harry disappeared. We've been cursing each other in the library and everything. And we've been with Harry each time that Voldemort's come after him at school. We really want to come."

Dumbledore thought about it and then sighed resignedly. "Very well. I have a soft heart. But you each must stay with Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shaklebolt, another auror that is part of the Order of the Phoenix, your parents, or myself at all times. Inform yours and Miss Granger's parents that you will be accompanying us on our endeavor to search for Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore was rewarded with a large smile on Ron's face that split his face in two from ear to ear. He ran out of the study to inform his friend and both of their families of their success.

Ron stumbled along beside Tonks, tripping over the jagged rocks. The terrain they were traveling was rough. But Ron kept up with his escort, determined to not show any signs of tiredness. They had gotten a lead on Harry late the night before.

"Look!" Tonks cried. Everyone looked over to where she indicated, a hand over her mouth. There was a clump of black clothing tucked precariously under a rock that was partially hidden by some sagebrush and tumbleweed.

Ron and Hermione both shot as one towards the clothing, both not paying any mind to the calls of their superiors behind them. They both ran on, unheeding even to the crags in the rocks that caught their feet making them stumble forward. Ron's long legs delivered him to the clothes first. He kneeled and reached under the rock. Grasping the heated black cloth in his hand, he pulled it out from under the rock. His hands froze and his eyes grew wide and his face pale.

"Ronald Weasley!" his mother screeched at him. "I am absolutely appalled! How dare you run away from us after specific and strict instructions from everyone here not to do so…" Her voice lost its intensity and faded as she saw the look of horror on both her son's face and Hermione's after the girl had joined him. She shrieked and backed away as she saw the reason.

"Molly?" Dumbledore asked, surprised by her sudden outburst. He walked up and everyone joined in the terrible gawking when color drained from Dumbledore's face. In front of Ron was a broken skeleton, charred black from extreme fires. It was in black robes with a tattered Hogwarts sign on the front left breast. Below that was the lion of the Gryffindor House. Still clinging to the black skull was a couple strands of jet-black hair. There were several broken teeth still smiling up at him. In the back, on the top right, a molar was the only whole tooth.

Molly Weasley and Tonks came up to guide the two stunned children away from the broken remains of Harry Potter's likely body.

One year later

"Harry, I have a bit of a surprise for you today," Voldemort whispered venomously in Harry's ear. Harry's scar burned from Voldemort's close proximity to his person, but it was more from the sheer delight that the Dark Lord was experiencing. It was an awful feeling. Mingling with the feeling he was already experiencing all over his body, it was almost enough to cause him sickness. Having a blowtorch held to tender body areas, like feet, ears and palms was worlds more than unpleasant.

"It is official, Harry. All of your past comrades have given up on you ever coming back. Even that fool Dumbledore and your loyal schoolmate friends, Weasley and Granger. For a while, they refused to believe that the skeleton we planted was actually yours. Did you know, Harry, that when a body is burned so severely as that traitor's was, it can only be identified by the pulp in the teeth? And we made certain that the only wholly intact tooth was the one we extracted from you, a year back. Smart children, they are, Harry. They knew, for some time at least, that you were not dead. They didn't believe that Voldemort could kill their friend after he had defied him so many times. Well, I haven't killed you yet, Harry. But be sure, child, that it's coming.

"Now, that was only the first part of your big surprise today," Voldemort continued on cheerfully. "Bring them in, Dolohov," he commanded a near Death Eater. "I trust that you are familiar with dementors, Harry? Were they not placed as a bleak guard over Hogwarts in your third year, when you discovered you had a godfather." His long, nimble fingers ran threw Harry's untidy black hair in a rough caress. "My, my boy. It's almost time for a cut, isn't it? You," he addressed another Death Eater. "Go fetch me the sharpest knife that you can find in this accursed place. Now Harry, back to your past friends. They've come for a little visit. My, how they've missed you so. I took the liberty of requesting them stay with us. Ah. Here's the knife. Let's test the sharpness shall we?" He deftly sliced open both of Harry's wrists and made a long, shallow gash in Harry's throat. While Harry gasped and moaned, Voldemort cocked his head, as if he heard something. "They're here Harry," he whispered so quietly that Harry himself could barely hear him. "No wand to help you now, Potter," he hissed into Harry's ear as Harry began to slip into the murky fog, listening to the faint screaming that was becoming louder and louder to his ears alone. "Do say hello to your mother for me. She was ever so pretty." Before Harry could lash out at his enemy, he became lost in the abyss, accompanied only by his repressed memory of his mother's frantic dieing wish.

Three years later

Voldemort deposited the bloody molar inside a glass jar. "Come, come, now Harry. There's no reason for any more of this. All you have to do is tell me what the prophecy said. Save yourself any more pain. I can reattach this tooth and make all of this pain go away. Why worry about those stupid, uncaring Muggles and your friends who have abandoned you? Only you matter now. What did it say?"

Harry moaned, working his tongue. Voldemort nodded to the Death Eater who held Harry's mouth open. Harry's head fell forward in exhaustion and a trail of blood leaked out of his mouth.

"I'll tell you," Harry moaned between painful sobs. "Write this down. It said: R… E… S… I… W… E… H… T… Y… D… O… B… O… N… H… T… I… W… D…L… R…O… W… R… E… D… N… U… E… H… T… O… T… T… I… G… N… I… K… A… T… L… L… I… T… S… M… E… H… P… O… R… T… S… O… P… A… I… A… M… M… O… C… E… M…O… T… O… D… U… O… Y… T… A… H… W… R… E… T… T… A… M… O… N… D… O… I… R… E… P… E… M… H… T… I… W… E… V… A… R… G… E… H… T… O… T… G… N… I… O… G… S… E… H… P… O… R… T… S… O… P… A… T… I… D… O… I… R… E… P… S… T… N… E… T… N… O… C… S… T… I… O… U… Y… L… L… E… T… R… E… V… E… I… F… I…D… E… N… M… E… D… N… O… C… E… B… I… Y… A… M… D… N… A… T… I… F… O… E… S… U… A… C… E… B… D… E… I… D… S… U… I… R… I… S… D… O… I… R… E… P… T… I… E… V… O… H… S… D… N… A… Y… C… E… H… P… O… R… P… S… U… O… I… C… E… R… P… R… U… O… Y… E… K… A… T… D… O… I… R… E… P… E… M… E… T… I… B…"

"Very good Harry. I do not blame you for speaking it in riddles as a last defiance. We will have no trouble decoding it. But just to show you that I am not usually tolerant of beatings around the bush… Crucio."

Harry hardly felt the curse or even heard his screams. His satisfaction was too great. He'd have a break for a while and Voldemort was once again thwarted. Bite me. Take your precious prophecy and shove it. Sirius died because of it and may I be condemned if I ever tell you its contents. It's going to the grave with me. No matter what you do to me, I'm still taking it to the underworld with nobody the wiser. Harry had had a lot of free time over the past (how long has it been now? Two or three years? Or maybe longer?) past while and had memorized the spelling of his quip inside and out, forwards and backwards. Harry knew that when Voldemort finally puzzled his way threw it he would probably be crucioed another countless amount of times, beaten, whipped, have more teeth pulled, be burned more with the blow torch, have his wrists slit, and a whole bunch of other things. While Harry couldn't exactly ignore it, he'd grown accustomed to these daily rituals. Or at least as accustomed as one could become to torture. But he'd still get a kick out of Voldemort's fiery reaction.

"Whadaya mean he's back?"

"I mean that he's back, sir."

"Thought he was dead!"

"He is dead!"

"He was dead! But he's back."

"Was he ever guilty?"

"No."

"According to whom?"

"Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore! Ha! The man's losing his touch! Wouldn't be able to tell if You-Know-Who walked right into his office yelling the killing curse every-which-way!"

"I'm telling you, he's back. He's at Hogwarts right now. Got the owl only a scant ten minutes ago."

"Ha! I'll believe it when I see it!"

"Believe it Cornelius," Albus Dumbledore walked into the Ministry of Magic to witness Cornelius Fudge heatedly arguing with two of his staff. "He's back."

"He's in here, Cornelius," Albus said indicating the door to the hospital wing. He knew very well that the Minister of Magic had been in the hospital wing many, many times just for Harry Potter alone. Recalling Harry, Albus sighed. The boy was always a sad, painful memory.

Cornelius barged in through the door. "BLACK!"

"What's the matter, Fudge? Disappointed to see me alive?" Sirius Black answered Cornelius's outraged call huskily. "Although I suppose I shouldn't throw stones when I wish the same to you."

Cornelius spluttered. "What are you doing here? You died four years ago! I granted you clemency. The world doesn't care if a dead man is pardoned. You can't come back! It's almost time for the campaign! You coming back will ruin everything and obliterate my ratings! Your –" He didn't get any farther.

"GOOD!" roared Sirius. "The entire community of witches and wizards had been falling apart ever since you became the Minister! You can't really seem to handle the slightest problem, so the world's been in shambles ever since Voldemort came back!" Albus noticed that Cornelius went white from the accusations and then shuddered when Sirius spoke Tom Marvolo Riddle's chosen name.

"I'll answer all your questions later Fudge," Sirius said curtly. "Right now, I want to see Harry."

The room went a deathly quiet as both Headmaster and Minister shifted uneasily in front of the man.

"Sirius," Albus began, "there is no easy way to tell you this. Harry's –" He stopped to swallow. "Harry's – well – dead." Both men could only feel compassion for the godfather when they saw a look like all hope had faded from the man's world.

AN So, as far as the torture, if you're this far, I'll assume that you didn't think it too abominable. I'll fill you in on my secrets. Most of my torture ideas came from the TV show Alias, with Jennifer Garner. I even got the stuff about the body from it. So if I'm wrong, I suppose that I could sue them for false advertising. HA! Yeah, and they use stuff like pulling teeth, blow torches, you know, stuff like that too. My friend "Twitchet" likes to tease me about how all of you would react to the torture scenes. Either you would think that I was a horribly sick person with problems beyond imagining, or you would love it and worship my story. Well, you decide.

Um … so one of my friends pointed out to me that the names of the TV people were all important people in the Bible. Uh yeah, not intentional. I just typed the first simple names that came to mind. Hehe.

So, if you read my bio, I gave you a little preview to this chapter in my allusion to Dumbledore's "dangerous twinkle." When I wrote it, I really tried to make it sound good. I really, really did. But, looking back on it, it sounds stupid to the point of being hilarious! I mean come on! DANGEROUS twinkle! The first thing that pops into my head is "DANGER, DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!" Who's with me?

Please tell me if the part about finding the planted body adds up. Sometimes, I just get so caught up in the dramatic irony that I get kinda inconsistent. By the way, I love irony so much! If I get a little carried away with it, I'm sorry, but I just can't help it. I just laugh my head off when I read stories with it, even if it's something horrible like those two guys breaking the feud between their two families just before they get eaten by wolves in that story by Saki. So awesome!

Yeah, anyways … Harry's little quip. So stupid. No further comment. That's all I'm gonna say. And really, I must have made Voldemort stubborn, and not to mention stupid, beyond all reason. I mean, seriously! He goes how long, still asking Harry the same question? And you know what the worst thing is? I don't realize it, and he's still asking about the prophecy when Harry escapes. snort Rrrrrriiiiiiiiight.

Soooooo, … do you like my little cliffie? I'll give you fair warning now, I absolutely adore writing them. I like having you guys suffer. scratches chin and ponders You know, maybe I am sadistic. And I feel I should let you know, I wasn't planning on doing this until tomorrow, so you should all feel 'warm and fuzzy inside.'

And just for you, "Rezallia": "'Mr. Potty wasn't on the train?'" CEREBELLUM!