A/N: Before anyone else points it out – I'm well aware that the Harry Potter fics canonically happen in the 90s, and that none of the things I talked about had even existed then aside from a few. I'm updating the fic's era to the modern day (though I'm embarassed to say I forgot to mention it).

-HP-

Harry felt as though he had barely slept before he was being shaken awake.

"Time to go, Harry, dear," the matriarch Weasley whispered, moving away in an attempt not to wake Ron, who was currently snoring away.

Towards the end of the summer he had received an invitation to leave the Dursleys' early and go to the Quidditch World cup with the Weasleys, an opportunity that he normally would have jumped at with enthusiasm, but even as he had written a quick affirmative reply, Harry couldn't help but feel an inkling of disappointment.

This was genuinely the best summer he had had at the Dursleys. Thanks to Sirius he was left alone, for the most part, and Dudley's forced diet meant that his obese cousin was distracted, allowing him even more leeway. He could practically do whatever he wanted, with little pressure. It was stress-free, nobody was trying to kill him, and Harry could simply laze around all day and read comics.

But then yet another part of him missed the place that had been like a home to him, even though it seemed stupid, considering that returning to said home the past years meant that he had been nearly killed on a regular basis. Still, at least he was going to see his friends again – a definite plus – and briefly he wondered how many of them, such as Hermione, would take to his 'reading material'. Ew, that phrase sounds so dodgy. It's not like I'm a perverted nosebleed.

Harry got up, feeling around in the dark for his glasses before putting them on, rubbing his neck to loosen the tense muscles there as he began to put on his shoes.

Two dishevelled figures at the foot of his bed emerged from their tangle of blankets. "S'time already?" One of the twins asked tiredly.

"Yep," Harry swiftly got dressed, his early morning grogginess already disappearing as he headed downstairs into the kitchen, the other boys following a little later.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were wearing muggle clothing, and the former stood up eagerly. "Well, what do you think? Do I look like a muggle?"

"Yeah, pretty good," Harry answered with a grin.

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Percy?" George asked with a tired yawn.

"They're apparating, so they can have a bit of a lie-in," Mrs Weasley answered, heaving the large pot over to the table and ladling porridge into the bowls.

Apparating. Instant teleportation. Harry seriously needed to learn how to do that.

"They're still in bed? Why can't we apparate too?" Fred grumbled as he picked up his porridge.

"Because you're not of age and you haven't pass your test," Mrs Weasley snapped before looking up in confusion. "Now where are those girls?" She bustled out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"So, you have to pass a test to apparate?" Harry asked in concealed disappointment.

"Oh, of course," Mr Weasley answered, tucking the Quidditch tickets into his pockets. "It's not easy, apparition, and when it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications – like splinching yourself."

Everyone around the table except Harry winced.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Splinched?"

"Leaving a part of yourself behind," Mr. Weasley clarified. "Knew a couple of people who were fined the other day for doing it without a license, and left half of themselves behind. Of course, it's easily fixed by the right people, but it means a fair bit of paperwork, especially since muggles spotted the body parts they left behind... plenty of adult wizards don't bother with it. Prefer brooms – slower, but safer."

That sounds nasty, but the benefits are obvious – I mean seriously, instant teleportation – way too cool! Harry grinned which nobody at the table noticed, due to their drowsy states as they carried on with the conversation. I wonder what the likelihood of splinching yourself is? And, say if I learnt it myself, I would be able to fix whatever damage I did during practice? Though it does sound quite serious.

By the time the females arrived, it was about time for departure, and aside from an incident in which Mrs Weasley confiscated a batch of the twins' ton-tongued toffee, the atmosphere was relatively pleasant as they walked to the Portkey, which Arthur had already explained was a method of magical transportation.

Hermione trudged up beside the green-eyed wizard. "So Harry, I forgot to ask – how were the books I sent you?"

"Well, the one on the nature of magic was the most useful one, despite being the most dense," Harry answered. "The one on well-known witches and wizards was too broad and gave too much of an overview, and the rest were, in a word, useless."

Hermione scowled. "Harry, how can you say that? Even if they weren't specifically the ones you were looking for surely you can appreciate them by themselves!"

Harry shrugged. "Sorry Hermione, but I didn't really see any use for them at all."

"I'm not saying that you didn't, I'm just saying that even without looking for something you can find them interesting."

"Except I didn't."

Naturally, they continually argued the rest of the way, Hermione arguing from the classic view of an academic in which all knowledge was good knowledge, and Harry calmly rebutting her, taking his personal view that if it wasn't useful or at the very least interesting then it was, basically, dead weight.

Codex, as an independently owned store by enthusiastic nerds, stocked a lot of interesting books that weren't in the mainstream collective, and it wasn't like Harry just read fiction the whole time he was there – he had made sure to branch out, if ever so slightly, reading one or two other books that weren't particularly difficult to comprehend, and he certainly made sure to visit other bookstores in Central Surrey on rare occasions. During that whole time there he was clever enough at least to work out what he wanted, as he knew that it was impossible to read everything and he certainly didn't want to read everything – he just wanted to read things that were cool, useful or interesting. If it didn't fall under one of those three categories he didn't bother with it.

Climbing Stoatshead Hill had been a massive difficulty, and the two broke off their argument as they stumbled around in hidden rabbit holes or slipped on thick tuffets of grass. By the time the group made it up, Harry was panting deeply, clutching a stitch in his sides as he realised just how horribly unfit sitting around an entire summer and reading made him.

"Whew!" Mr Weasley wiped off his glasses. "Well, we made it in good time! We've got ten minutes! Now just to find the Portkey..." He squinted as he replaced his glasses. "It won't be big... come on now..."

Just before the group spread out in search of it, a shout broke the still air. "Over here, Arthur! Over here son, I've found it!" Two tall figures were waving towards the group from the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" Mr Weasley said with a laugh once they had walked over, shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a brown beard holding a mouldy old boot in his hand. "Everybody, this is Amos Diggory – works for the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I think you all know his son, Cedric?"

A strong, handsome-looking boy around seventeen years old walked up. "Hey," he said with an easy-going grin – the group promptly greeted him back, with the except of George and Fred who were presumably still stinging about that loss in Quidditch to Hufflepuff.

"Long walk Arthur?" Amos asked.

"Not too bad, we just live on the other side of the village, what about you?"
"Had to get up at two – I tell you, it'll be fantastic when Ced gets his Apparition test. But the Quidditch World Cup, obviously I wouldn't miss it for the world. Are all these children yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads. This is Hermione and Harry, they're both friends of Ron's," Arthur stated, pointing them out.

Amos gaped in awe as his eyes widened. "Merlin's beard, it's Harry Potter!"

"Hn." Harry nodded, restraining his annoyance to the standard Uchiha answer.

Thankfully the man didn't seem to notice as he jabbered on enthusiastically. "Ced's talked all about you, of course, I said to him – 'Ced, it'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will'... you beat Harry Potter!"

"Harry fell off his broom dad," Cedric interrupted even as Fred and George scowled at the reminder of the game. "I told you, it was an accident."

The boy in question interjected quickly before this could get even more awkward. "Dementors, actually, but it doesn't matter, it's only a school Quidditch game after all, right?"

Amos narrowed his eyes, most likely in annoyance at him detracting away from his son's accomplishment. "Er – yes, of course..."

"Must be nearly time," Mr Weasley interrupted, taking out his watch. "Anyone else, Amos?"

"Not that I know of, the Lovegoods have been there for a week and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets. Don't think there are any more in the area, are there?"

Harry turned to the twins. "So there's only four wizard families living in the area?"
"That's right. There's a big muggle community as well as us, anyway – can't have too many wizards living in the same place or the muggles'll notice..."

That's really weird. Only four wizard families in such a large area. Well come to think of it, in comparison to all the muggles, the community of wizards is relatively small... are we in a declining phase?

"Alright, it's just a minute off, we'd better get ready," Mr Weasley said. "You just need to touch it, even a finger will do..."

The group crowded around the old boot with great difficulty due to their bulky backpacks, in a tight circle.

"Three..." Mr Weasley kept his gaze on his watch. "Two... one..."

Harry suddenly felt a hook on his navel as his feet left the ground, spinning around uncontrollably in a howl of wind and colour before suddenly his feet slammed back down again, the others all staggering over him as he fell over rather unceremoniously – looking up, he could see that Mr Weasley, Mr Diggory, and Amos were the only ones still standing.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," a cool female voice announced.

-HP-

Harry was amazed at the number of foreigners that had come in for the Quidditch World Cup, looking around in fascination as he saw many different teenagers – some older, some younger, and some his age – camping, sometimes proudly displaying their school signs along with the team they supported.

After setting up their tent and getting purchases from some of the shops, in which Harry had generously provided his friends with Omnioculars in gratitude for helping him during summer, a loud gong sounded, signalling the start of the Quidditch World Cup. Scores of people began pouring into the massive stadium specially erected, one that Mr Weasley told him could seat a hundred thousand, and the group hurried towards it quickly, eager to get in early before the rush.

"Prime seats!" The Ministry witch announced as she checked their tickets. "Top box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go!"

After getting into the lavish box, which so far was empty, Harry looked on curiously to see a tiny creature in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them, with long pointy ears and its face in its hands – in other words, a house elf.

"Dobby?" Harry wondered aloud, though it was most likely just a coincidence.

The tiny creature looked up at him. "Did sir just call me Dobby?"

"Sorry," the boy apologised.

"But I knows Dobby too sir!" the elf squeaked – and curiously, she was still shielding her face even though it was dimly light in the top box. "My name is Winky, and you, sir, is surely Harry Potter!" Her eyes widened as she looked at the boy's scar.

"Yeah, I am. How is Dobby?"

"Ah, sir..." Winky was shaking her head apologetically. "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favour, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why's that?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir - can't get another position, sir."

Harry was curious. "Why?"

"He is wanting pay for his work, sir."

"Payment? Why shouldn't he want payment?"

Harry suddenly realised that was a bad thing to say as Winky looked at him in horror. "House elf is not paid, sir, no, no, no, I says to Dobby, you find yourself a nice family, but he is doing things unbecoming of a house elf... house elves do what they is told..."

Harry bit his lip thoughtfully. "I see..." He didn't completely understand it, of course, but he kept in mind that house elves were a completely different type of species, and as a different type of species, they had a completely different culture and thus a different set of social rules. Still, that certainly didn't meant wizards could just beat them like the Malfoys did to Dobby...

Over the next half hour, the boxes gradually filled and Harry was forced to shake the hands with Fudge, who introduced himself as a sort of father figure, as well as other influential persons. Such a dirty politician.. trying to get in the favour of the boy-who-lived. He mentally scowled, now knowing why Fudge had been so lenient on him the year before when he blew up his aunt. If there was one thing he had learnt from virtually every form of entertainment medium – politicians were never to be trusted. Two-faced bastards.

After a particularly unpleasant encounter with the Malfoys, the matches finally begun, as Bulgaria brought out their team mascots.

"I wonder what they've brought," Mr Weasley stated curiously as he leaned over the rails. "Ah!" He suddenly whipped his glasses off and polished them quickly. "Veela!"

A hundred of the most unnaturally beautiful women that Harry had ever seen glided out onto the field. They couldn't be human – the way their hair gleamed in the moonlight, their skin glowing ethereally as the music started and they begun to dance hypnotically...

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he quickly entered the Void, his mind growing cool and detached as he stuffed all of his emotions and thoughts into the Flame. He forced himself to turn away, for fear of their hypnotic effect, instead turning towards Hermione who was looking on in serious disapproval. "Hermione, what are Veela?"

The girl looked at him in surprise. "Harry – you're not affected?"

Harry looked around in confusion to see that many of the males in the stadium had jumped to their seat, a blank, blissful look in their eyes, and some even needed to be held back as they looked like they wanted to jump over the rails. "I guess not."

"Veela are semi-human creatures with a magically seductive appearance," Hermione explained.

"Sort of like sirens," Harry concluded as he leaned back in his seat.

Afterwards, the Irish brought out their mascot – leprechauns, who began showering the stadium with showers of gold – many of the audience were scrambling to pick it up.

When the leprechauns disappeared, and the teams flew onto the field, Harry leaned back, his omnioculars at the ready to watch the game.

-HP-

After an amazingly tense and legendary game, the Irish eventually came out on top, and as they got back to their camp site Harry was nearly deafened by the number of people celebrating and singing, as the group drank their cups of hot cocoa around the fireplace and began discussing the match with rapid enthusiasm.

Soon, after a lengthy debate, Mr Weasley called an end to it when Ginny started to fall asleep and they changed into their pyjamas, getting into their allotted bunk beds.

Harry, as he drifted off to sleep, was not replaying the match in his mind with him replacing Krum as the star seeker, as many of the other Weasleys were most likely doing. Oh, he was always enthusiastic about Quidditch and about flying, but even despite the amazing rush of being at the World Cup and the highs of the day, couldn't help but wonder what was happening in the next volume of Bleach, which he had neglected to get a copy of before he had to go. As Harry began to get more and more sleepy, closing his eyes and letting his body relax, his pondering suddenly yet not unpleasantly shifted into either a daydream or a full, but very eclectic dream of him standing there looking like a cross between all his favourite heroes hefting around a massive sword, pulsing with energy and yelling "Bankai Rasengan HA!"...

"Get up! Ron – Harry – get up, now, this is urgent!"

Harry sat up so quickly the top of his head hit the canvas. "S'matter?" He asked groggily, before realising immediately that something was wrong. The background noise had changed and the singing had stopped, replaced by screams. Suddenly realising the severity of the situation, Harry shook himself awake and forced his sleepy limbs out of the bunk as he swiftly got dressed, Ron following at his heels.

As soon as Harry got outside he saw a flash of green light as a crowd of tightly packed wizards wearing grotesque masks marched forwards, levitating several figures in the air – to his disgust he realised that it was a muggle family.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr Weasley shouted, followed hotly by Bill, Charlie and Percy. "You lot get into the woods as fast as you can, we'll meet you there!"

"Lumos." Hermione's wand lit up. "Come on, you heard what he said, let's go!"

Harry had the good sense to pull out his wand as well. "Lumos." He muttered as he followed her, making sure not to trip over anything in their path as they hurried out of the large camp site, pressed in all sides by the large crowds of people trying to get away. The boy was literally crushed as he tried to squeeze through them, getting pushed and shoved from every direction as the people tried to scramble away.

They quickly followed the dark path deeper into the wood as the sounds of the screams grew more and more distant, until finally they had gotten deep into the forest and they could hardly hear any noise at all.

"Looks like we're safe for the moment." Harry murmured, looking down – but alas, to the boy's shock he realised he wasn't holding his wand. Hurriedly he spun around, hoping he had simply dropped it somewhere nearby, but soon realised it must have slipped out of his grip in all the hurry. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Harry cursed himself in anger at realising he had made such a stupid mistake – and it had been in his hand no less! Now if anyone came along he was virtually unarmed and helpless, especially with his thin physical frame. But then how can I even fight them off? Levitate them wandlessly to death? The boy thought cynically, recalling the little trick he had learnt in the summer.

So relaxed was he in the summer that the dangers he had undergone seemed distant and too far away to bother him. He thought it would be a bit of fun, toying with his magic, but he had completely forgotten that even with his wand he barely knew any defensive spells – at least real ones anyway. All he was, Harry realised with disgust, was someone who would just get in the way.

"MORSMORDRE!"

A burst of green light illuminated the forest, flying into the sky as it burst, forming the shape of a colossal, sinister green spell with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue – both Ron and Hermione looked at it in horror.

"Harry, we need to leave!" Hermione hand reached forward, tugging at his collar desperately with a pale and terrified face. "We need to leave now!"

"What is that thing?" Harry demanded as he followed her.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry, it's You-Know-Who's sign..."

Sithspit.

Before they had even taken a few hurried steps, however, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards – Harry whirled around, quickly registering that each of them had their wands out and were pointing at them. "DUCK!" He yelled without pausing to think, grabbing the other two and pulling them towards the ground.

"STUPEFY!" A blinding flash of red accompanied the roar of the voices as jets of light zinged right over their heads.

"Stop! STOP! That's my son!" Mr Weasley quickly burst into the clearing as the wizards all lowered their wands warily and the trio pulled themselves up. "Ron, Harry, Hermione – are you all right?" He asked shakily, striding forward.

"Out of the way Arthur!" A cold voice snapped, as Mr. Crouch and other Ministry wizards pushed past him, their faces taut with rage. "Which of you did it? Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?" The man demanded in fury.

"None of us did!" Harry answered back heatedly. "We're just students!"

"Don't lie! You've been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Come on Barty, they're kids, they'd never be able to..."

"Someone from over there," Hermione pointed to the place they had heard the voice, quivering. "Someone behind the trees..."

Amos boldly stepped forward, his wand at the ready as he walked into the darkness. They could hear the rustling of leaves and the snap of twigs before the man answered. "Blimey – there's someone here, but..."

"You got them?" A wizard asked.

Quickly, Amos re-emerged from the trees, carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms – one that Harry immediately recognised as Winky the house-elf.

Crouch looked at the form in shock. "This cannot be – no..."

"Don't bother looking, there's nobody there," Amos said, shaking his head morosely, though Crouch went through the bushes anyway, looking for signs of the culprit. "Bit embarrassing really... Barty Crouch's house-elf... I say..."

"Come off it, Amos, you really think the elf conjured the Dark Mark?" Arthur asked incredulously. "She'd need a wand, for one thing..."

"And she had one," Diggory said, raising the wand – one which Harry recognised immediately.

"Hey, that's my wand!" The boy said in shock before everyone at the clearing looked at him.

"Excuse me?" Amos asked incredulously.

"Yeah, that's my wand – it fell out of my hands as we were trying to get into the forest..." The excuse sounded weak, even in Harry's ears.

"Is that a confession? You threw it aside after you cast the Dark Mark?" Amos said in disbelief.

"Amos, you can't be serious!" Arthur butted in angrily. "Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er – no..." Amos mumbled. "Sorry, got carried away..." His gaze hardened as he raised his own wand. "Ennervate!"

Winky stirred feebly, looking up shakily before seeing the Dark Mark and bursting into terrified sobs.

"Elf – do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!" Amos snapped. "And you've violated Clause Three of the Code of Wand use, for the Dark Mark!"

"I – I – I is not doing it sir!" Winky sobbed. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"I think you do - you picked it up and thought you'd have a bit of fun with it, is that right?"

This is too cruel, Harry thought in disgust.

Winky was now crying. "I is... I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark sir, I is not know how!"

"It can't have been her," Hermione spoke up, slightly fearful in the presence of all these Ministry wizards. "Winky's voice is squeaky, the voice we heard was much harsher and deeper..."

"That's right," Harry piped in with his support, and Ron also nodded his agreement. "It was definitely a human voice.

"Well, we'll soon see. Priori Incantato!" The man sneered as a smoky serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met. "Looks like you've been caught red-handed. Deletrius!" Diggory shouted as the skull went out with a wisp of smoke.

"Amos, don't be ridiculous, where would she have learnt to do that spell – think about it, very few people actually know..."

By this time Crouch had returned. "Perhaps Amos is suggesting that I teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?" He stated, cold anger dripping from every word.

Silence. "Er... Mr. Crouch... not at all..."

At this point Harry, sick of being a spectator, piped in with his own opinion. "It looks like Winky was unlucky – the culprit clearly took my wand, conjured the Mark then disapparated, leaving the wand behind, and Winky simply picked it up by complete accident. We don't know the time gap between these events, meaning that Winky might not even have seen him."

"I agree with you, Harry," Arthur nodded. "That seems to be the most likely scenario."

"Amos, I know ordinarily you would take the elf in for questioning, but I must ask you to allow me to deal with her. You may rest assured that she will be punished." Crouch said, his face a cold, tight mask.

Diggory nodded grudgingly, clearly not wanting to upset the influential member of the Ministry.

By this time Winky was grovelling on the grass. "N-No! P-P-Please master, not clothes, not clothes!"

"You have failed your master, Winky. I specifically ordered you to stay in the tent, but here you are, at the scene of a crime, and as my elf, not only have you made yourself suspect, but also me as well."

"Winky is s-s-sorry, master! P-Please, n-not clothes, n-not clothes!"

"Come on kids, let's leave," Arthur said, and there was no room in his voice for argument – even from Hermione, who looked at this scene this with indescribable fury in her face.

Harry began moving as well, but once the others' backs were turned, he stopped and went back, waiting until Crouch pulled out a glove, tossing it to the sobbing elf before walking off dismissively.

Part of him felt extremely sorry for her – it was frankly disgusting, the way that she was being treated as he recalled the first fantasy book he ever read, the Lord of the Rings – Tolkien was right after all to suggest that different races would inevitably mistrust each other and for certain species to consider themselves superior.

And the other part of him felt extremely inclined to do something about it. I know I'm going to regret this... Harry thought as he walked forward – this probably wasn't going to be the best decision he ever made, but at the same time, he felt it was the right thing to do, as the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn, from Star Wars floated through his head, berating his young apprentice for being too future-focused - "But not at the expense of the moment"...

What was he, some pureblooded, wizard bigot? Standing by and doing nothing was the equivalent of a silent agreement that he thought this was right. Harry was many things, but he certainly didn't want to maintain the status quo of wizard society, and if fantasy games taught him anything, it was that even small things could make a difference, no matter how small they seemed.

And as Harry contemplated the moment in a way that would have made the Jedi Master proud, he knew this was the right call – one that Qui-Gon probably would have made as well. "Winky," he said slowly.

The elf paid him no attention, clutching the glove and continuing to sob pitifully.

"Would you... would you like to come and work for me?" Harry stated hesitantly.

Suddenly the house elf spun around, looking at the boy with wide, even hopeful eyes. "Harry Potter would like Winky to work for him?"

"Er – yeah. I won't pay you, if you don't want to..."

"Yes sir! Winky would be glad to be working for you sir!" The elf quickly got up, its previous depression vanishing as it bobbed its head enthusiastically.

Knowing that his time was running out before someone noticed he was gone, Harry needed to make it quick. "I can't give you the job right this instance – however I can later on. Is there somewhere you can go that's not too far from Hogwarts?"

"Winky can go work in the kitchens of Hogwarts if new master likes?"

"Er... yeah, that'll be good." Harry said lamely. "And after that we can make it official, if there's some sort of process involved."
"Winky will do as new master asks!" The house elf said enthusiastically. "There is bonding process between house elf and master, so everyone knows that elf has work!" With that, the elf gave a bow, before vanishing with a pop.

"Harry!" Arthur's voice echoed in the distance. "Harry, where are you?"
"I'm coming!" Harry yelled back as he moved off. Now he needed to find out just what the heck had happened here.

-HP-

A/N: A reviewer asked why Harry didn't exchange muggle money for galleons when he was going into London all the time – that's because he wasn't in London. Surrey is actually a county/town, quite a large and busy one, and it's been presumed by many fans that Little Whinging is in North Surrey. Surrey also is fairly wealthy and has a good economy.

As many of you have noticed, just because Harry knows a trick or two doesn't mean (at the moment anyway) that he is any stronger than he was in canon. He's probably less physically able than he was even, what with him just sitting around all day reading books and watching movies (occasionally). That contributed to him being clumsy enough for his wand to slip out of his grip.

Despite this, I hope it'll make an interesting change – Harry is nearly a nerd now, and everything he sees will be from that perspective – as a cynical keyboard warrior, occasional forum troll... just joking. I think. The fact that he sits around and watches while Crouch demeans his elf in canon even though he stands up to Malfoy in the second book because of it (?) is a point that's annoyed me, especially given his own background.

Still I always found it frustrating that Harry was so helpless and a spectator throughout the books even though he was too blind to see it himself. Now that he's made the connection between him and many other heroes who at one point or another were also in the same position, he actually wants to do something about it, which, despite all this, is a big improvement methinks.