Magical Me
By Publicola

Published: 6-9-13

Afternoon with an Auror

It was admittedly underwhelming, to return from my meeting with the Hufflepuff mothers in eager anticipation of the next episode in the 'Snape & the Marauders: Year Five' soap opera, only to discover that any developments occurred off-screen.

On the other hand, it was only at the end of Fifth Year that I finally began to comprehend Flitwick's lesson plans, and saw how the 150-plus spells in the Charms curriculum fit together.

I could hardly fault Flitwick for my lack of understanding. Charms is undeniably the most scatter-shot of all the classes taught at Hogwarts, covering everything from dancing pineapples to the Fidelius Charm. Flitwick may have presented each charm in a clear and concise manner, but where was the logic in progressing from levitation to mending to tickling charms in successive weeks?

As I'd previously seen, Charms was for First Year primarily about wand-movements, and for Second Year primarily about area of effect. While there were exceptions — a few esoteric wand-movements like the widdershins and deasil curlicues would not be introduced until Third Year — these summaries were easy enough to discern.

But a summary of the Charms curriculum from Second Year on? Bloody impossible. The 'far grander' classification scheme that Flitwick had promised at the end of Second Year was still nowhere in sight as we rounded the Easter holidays of Fifth Year.

And then something... shifted.

I'm not sure how it happened, but one moment I was lost, and the next the planets aligned, and nearly every piece of information I'd gathered about Charms fell into place.

The classification scheme Flitwick had alluded to relied on a set of philosophical distinctions, based on the metaphysical notion of accidental properties. Where transfiguration may target and alter the very essence of an object (form of matchstick to form of needle, for instance), charms only affect the non-intrinsic properties, called 'accidents.'

Aristotle defined nine types of accidents, and the magical world has largely retained his usage.

The first category involves Quantity, the question of 'how much?' This class of charm is typified by Gemino, which duplicates an object. The pickings in this particular category are rather slim, however.

The next category involves Quality, and the pickings here are far more extensive. Accidents of quality affect everything from the shape and dimensions of an object (e.g., Engorgio, or more daringly, the Undetectable Extension Charm), to color (Colovaria), to even the state of matter (Spongify).

The third category involves Chronology, the question of 'when?' Naturally, most charms of this sort are guarded rather zealously by the Unspeakables. On the other hand, Tempus is considered simple enough for the Second Year curriculum, and there are several charms used in NEWT-level Herbology that can marginally age or rejuvenate a plant for maximum potency.

The next category involves Location, the question of 'where?' The concept is rather easy to grasp, as is the spell-work related to it, such the compass-like 'Point Me' charm, not to mention the highly-regulated Portkey creation spell.

The fifth category involves Arrangement, which defines the connection of a part to the whole. In the limited sense, this comprised statements like "my hand is raised," which wouldn't seem particularly useful for Charms. In the broader sense, however, this kind of charm encompasses practically every form of relative motion, and the variety of these is nearly limitless. There are, thankfully, several ways to classify and sort them. The first is by their object: the simplest charms for inert objects, more complex for objects infused with magic, and the most advanced when dealing with beings possessing a magical core. Another classification method is by type of movement: Leviosa charms lift or levitate, for instance, while Locomotor allows for lateral movement. Of course, that's not to mention the plethora of other charms intended to summon, banish, ascend, cease motion, etc.

The next category involves Relation, the twin questions of 'with what?' or 'of what?' Where Arrangement defines parts to the whole, Relation defines the connection between independent entities (as in the statement "she is my wife"). The Protean Charm is representative of this category, along with any charm that operates on the sympathetic principle.

The seventh category involves Action, which surprisingly does not mean motion, but rather means the elements that define how a thing might act on others. Take for instance the Flame-Freezing Charm, which affects the ability of a fire to warm or burn objects around it, or the Cheering Charm, first taught in Third Year, which affects the emotions of a targeted magical being.

The next category involves Passion, which touches on any element that is the result of past action, influence, or change. This would include almost all healing charms (Episkey, etc.) along with a number of hexes, jinxes, curses, and other spells better left to DADA.

The ninth and final category involves Possession, which relates to practically everything to do with the verb 'to have.' This class of charm would thus encompass anything from disarming spells (I "have" a wand), to concealing and revealing charms (it "has" certain information), and even obliviation (we "have" memories).

As we neared the end of Fifth Year, my earlier disappointment had been long since displaced by the triumphal flush of comprehension. I couldn't help but share my discovery with Flitwick, who bore it with all the patience of a parent listening to their child's first knock-knock joke.

"…it explains everything!" I finished.

"Not quite," he cautioned. "You're almost there, but you're forgetting something. You know what that might be?"

"Oh." Sure, rain on my parade, why not. "Erm… did I miss an accident somewhere in there?"

"No, you did well; Aristotle only described nine."

"Well, good, because I was really sure about that one. It's like the four virtues, or the seven deadly sins – hard to forget a nice simple number like that, you know?"

"Indeed." He looked at me expectantly.

Clearly he wasn't going to let me off the hook. "I haven't the foggiest. Help me out?"

Flitwick sighed. "You're forgetting that no classification scheme is complete without exceptions."

"An exception." I deadpanned. "Really." How very helpful of him.

Flitwick stared me down with a disappointed mien, which freaked me out seeing as the goblin facial expression for disappointment bears remarkable resemblance to the one for hunger.

Also, how was he staring me down? His head only came up to my navel. "Fine then."

What was I missing? If it wasn't an accident, it was something to do with essence, but that was the purview of transfiguration, not an element of the Charms curricu— wait, could it be that simple?

I spoke carefully. "If I recall correctly, transfiguration can do most anything with the elemental composition of an object, but it doesn't deal so well with elements on their own."

Flitwick grinned toothily. "Spot on. The usual name for this tenth category is 'Creation.' It deals with low-level conjuring of various elements, such as …?" He prompted me.

"Well, there's the four basics – fire…"

"Incendio," he set the floor under my feet afire.

"Air—augh!" I leapt back.

"Ventus," the flames mushroomed under a gust of wind.

"Stop that! Put it out!"

"With what?"

"What d'ya mean, with what?"

"What element's next?"

"You mean earth?"

"Wrong! Raw earth can only be conjured, not created. What's next?"

"Water, water!"

"There it is. Aguamenti!" He doused the fire.

I turned on him. "What is wrong with you?"

"A little practical application never hurt anyone," he smirked. "There's a reason I let my students figure all this out by experience: you think you'll ever forget it?"

"No, though I'm tempted to down a few liters of firewhiskey right now, so ask me again tomorrow morning."

"Pish posh, you'll be fine. Now, you did omit a few of the more esoteric elements like ice, lightning, that sort of thing, but we'll covering most of those in NEWT classes. Any questions?"

However much I might wish to throttle him, there was one pressing question. "Why aren't these categories taught from the beginning of class? They make so much sense out of this – why wouldn't you share that with students?"

Flitwick's gaze turned somber. "I did, once. But I learned a quick lesson. You cannot believe how easy it is for students to fall prey to complacency and overconfidence. Every year I would watch them, even the muggle-born, learn to treat magic as being somehow banal, or as though they had plumbed its deepest mysteries with a First Year spell-book. In time I took to omitting the classifications, letting my lessons move from charm to charm without regard for the categories."

"But you still shared the nine types of visualization exercises, not to mention the common wand movements…"

"So the perceptive students would catch on regardless, and their retention would be all the stronger for having discovered it on their own."

"And the others?"

He sighed. "Well, they can still perform the charms, even if they don't appreciate the finer points." He paused and looked back at the pensieve. "I think we should call it a night. All that remains of Fifth Year is the OWLs, and I hardly think you'd find it interesting to watch me stand around for several hours proctoring tests."

Well this was irksome. I had so hoped to see for myself the confrontation that Harry had seen in Snape's pensieve, which took place after a DADA exam Flitwick proctored. But I couldn't exactly give that as a reason, now could I?

Flitwick soon departed through the Floo, leaving me to my thoughts.

Speaking of OWLs…

Early the next morning, I sat at my writing desk and grabbed a sheet of parchment.

Professor Tofty,

I scratched that out.

Professor Eigen,

Thank you for passing along your recommendations for my reading list. I greatly enjoyed your company two days ago, and ask that you pass along my compliments to Professor Vector as well.

If I may ask, would you be able to pass along copies of the OWL and NEWT test questions for DADA? I wish to ensure that my students are caught up before their end-of-year tests. Any OWL exams from other courses would be appreciated as well, as I'd like to tailor my course to related content being taught in other classes.

Lastly, as I speak German, I could not help but be intrigued by your given name – Eigenlich Sachlich. You wouldn't, by any chance, be acquainted with a muggle family from Pennsylvania, USA, that goes by the name Berenstain, would you?

Best regards,

Gilderoy Lockhart

I signed and sealed the letter, and set it aside to make room for my next. I'd left Slughorn with several memories of Snape, but now I reminded him to send me the full seven years' worth, not only including his memories of Potions class, but also any observations on power politics in the snake pit. He was the Slytherin Head of House for quite a few decades, after all.

That done, I picked up my incoming mail. Most could be safely discarded, but there was one from Dirk Cresswell that caught my eye.

Mr. Lockhart,

Finally heard back from Ragnok about the Potter will. Turns out the manager's stonewalling was partly justified, as the will was sealed by Wizengamot order around the time of the Potter's death. Ragnok says that unsealing it would require either a countermand, or approval from an executor. Get this, though: the first executor is the younger Mrs. Longbottom – the one in St. Mungo's Thickey Ward – while the other is the traitor Black! I don't see any way forward, do you?

Cresswell

Interesting. My reply was a single line.

Ask to meet with Amelia Bones about the 'traitor Black,' and tell her I sent you. You'll be surprised.

Lockhart

I duplicated his letter with a brief explanation to send to Amelia, and added both to my outgoing pile.

Then Flitwick floo-called me and it was time to start on his memories of Sixth Year.

Once again, it was oddly uneventful, at least on the social side of things. Snape seemed to keep a very low profile, and didn't even try to retaliate against James for the humiliation of last sprinng. Sirius remained fairly downcast, despite Regulus occasionally approaching the group to seek reconciliation. His efforts were abortive. Lily also had an uncharacteristically gloomy disposition, though that shouldn't have surprised me. Living next door to Snape after his public repudiation of their friendship must have made for a dismal summer.

As far as course content went, Sixth Level Charms added even more exceptions to the nine-point rule, introducing several NEWT-level sub-topics that could be pursued for further study or even a Mastery. These specializations might range from elemental magic –the sort I'd been reading about for the last several nights – to enchantment of magical items, and most anything in between.

Soon, we broke for lunch, and Flitwick left for the afternoon while I prepared to meet with Hestia Jones.

I honestly wasn't sure what to expect. On the one hand, Amelia recommended her as an ally and friend. On the other hand… well, my encounter with her sister Gwenog had left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

I Floo-called at the appointed time and with her permission stepped into the emerald flame.

My brief glimpse of her moments before had been underwhelming, but I stumbled on exiting the Floo with my first good look at her. Hestia Jones was not what most people would call pretty. She wasn't ugly by any means, but her features were fairly plain. Yet there was something in her expression – an intensity in her eyes, a gentleness to her features – that immediately grabbed my attention.

Of course, part of that may have been my battle instincts, for there was much intensity and little gentleness in her stature at the moment. She beckoned me over to a table, and as I neared I saw her tighten her grip on her wand.

"Mr. Lockhart."

She paused and grimaced.

"Mr. Lockhart, I should tell you that this was not my idea. I suppose I am grateful that you brought these matters to our attention, but I do not see why we must continue to work with you, of all people."

Only Occlumency allowed me to look at ease. "Me… of all people?"

"Yes, you of all people. What, you think I should trust you? You, the gentleman adventurer whose extraordinary feats are acclaimed by all but witnessed by none, whose books are so incredible, so implausible, and filled with so much self-congratulatory mush that the only reason I don't accuse you of secretly being a peacock animagus is because that would require you to possess a modicum of actual talent!"

…

Ouch. Sure, most of that could justly be applied to the old Lockhart, but damn if it didn't hurt to hear now. "Ah." Where to go from here? "Your sister Gwenog mentioned you might be like this."

"Like what?"

"She said you thought my books were hokum."

"They are."

"She also said you hadn't read them."

"Of course she would. Otherwise she might have to give up on her pitiful crush on you."

"The same crush that made her try a love-potion on me?"

"Oh?"

"Because I do wonder whether that incident might not be the real reason for your disdain of me."

"I'm not my sister."

"I didn't say you were. You don't look like you could bench-press me, for one."

"No, I mean, my sister and I don't see eye to eye."

"Well you are taller than she is."

She growled. "Why must you be so obtuse? My sister is a spoiled brat, and we haven't gotten along since she seduced my boyfriend in Sixth Year. Any time she makes a fool of herself is occasion for me to rejoice. Now, what is your point?"

All right, that didn't work. Time to tack to the wind. "Only this: if you did indeed read my books , perhaps you remember where you got them?"

"Flourish & Blotts, of course." Her eyes reflected her confusion.

"And what section were they in?"

She paused. "…Adventure?"

"That's right. I imagine that's not the sort of section you frequent, but did you happen to see what other books were on the same shelf?"

She shook her head.

"Thought so." I smirked. "It turns out my books are next-door neighbors with the Harry Potter adventure series. Strange, don't you think?"

She was momentarily at a loss for words. "But those are fiction, that's…"

"Are they? Or are they true stories from long ago, recast with the Boy-Who-Lived in the starring role? I don't doubt many wizards are too dim to note the difference, but we can safely blame that on Binns, not Blotts. We live in a story-book world, Ms. Jones, a world where the fantastical occurs every day and even our fairy tales are based on historical events. If certain adventures were exaggerated, if the details of others were edited out or altered, I would have done nothing that hadn't been done a thousand times before, and with very good reason."

For a brief moment Hestia gaped like a guppy, but the interrogation soon continued. "So you admit that you are not the hero of your own adventures?"

"Not all of them, no."

"Which ones?"

"That would be telling."

"How does this not make you a fraud?"

"I prefer to call myself a writer of homages."

"Is there a difference?"

"Mine won't get me saddled with a fine?"

"I think public humiliation is more the order of the day."

"I'll have you know my books conform to the standard practice for published adventurers."

"Really? Do tell." Her expression was one of utter skepticism.

"You seem to forget, madam, that we live in a world where it is an everyday occurrence for mere intention to alter reality. You can't seriously believe that I would provide actual facts, when those facts could be so easily abused by readers as a primer on curses, dark creatures, and battle magic. No, my books are to entertain, not instruct. And if this approach also causes perceptive readers to under-estimate my abilities, all the more reason."

I had put considerable thought into this issue since arriving in this world, and was rather pleased with the defense I'd constructed. Most of it was true enough – Blotts didn't have a 'Fiction' section; most wizards didn't have a clue – and the parts that weren't true still allowed me to backtrack my more ridiculous claims without getting sent to Azkaban.

Soon enough Hestia recovered, a new light in her eyes. "You are not what I expected, Mr. Lockhart."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't—no, I suppose it actually was a compliment."

"I know."

The light dimmed somewhat. "Doesn't mean I like you."

"Didn't think you would."

"If anything, I'm now even more inclined to think you're a peacock animagus."

"And what's your opinion of my plumage?"

"I think—" She stopped and glared at me. "Now you're just mocking me."

"Not really. I just find it terribly amusing that you haven't yet realized my public persona is mostly an act."

"Oh." The light dawned anew. "Really?"

"Well, I've had a great deal of practice at making it convincing."

She scoffed. "I'll say!"

"Again, thank you."

"That's wasn't a compliment."

"Doesn't stop me from taking it as one."

She growled.

"Right." I scrambled. "Wasn't this meeting supposed to be about the Sirius Black case?"

Her shoulders straightened. "So it was. How much do you know?"

"Well, I was the one who reported Harry's abuse and caught Pettigrew, so I'm up to speed with that. Also, I heard from my contact with the goblins that Sirius Black is a co-executor of the Potter Will, and the only one who can countermand the Wizengamot seal. It's not hard to connect the dots back to Dumbledore, though I don't know all the particulars."

She thought for a moment. "Well, much as I hate to burst your bubble, you should know it's practically impossible to connect the dots back to Dumbledore, but I'm still looking into it. On the other hand, it turns out that the Black case has surprisingly strong leads back to our inestimable Minister."

"Fudge?"

"Amelia said I needed a secrecy oath from you before I could say more."

"Done." I made the oath.

"All right, how much do you know about the days following You-Know-Who's defeat?"

"Not much; I was still in Hogwarts at the time."

"Same for me, which made digging through the records quite a challenge. Here's what we've figured out, from memory and the summary sheet. The day after You-Know-Who's defeat, a report came in of a major magical explosion in Swindon. Fudge, who was at the time the Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, was the first to arrive on the scene. Fudge reported seeing Sirius Black still cackling about Pettigrew's death, with his wand still pointed at the crater. Fudge stunned him, cuffed him with magic-dampeners, called for back-up, and started reconstructing the scene."

"Reconstructing?"

"Area-effect mending charms on the street and damaged café."

"What, he just cleared the scene without even checking it out?"

"Of course, it's standard protocol. We're not like the muggle police, Mr. Lockhart. Our first rule is to preserve the Statute of Secrecy. After all, we can always view the scene again in a pensieve, or get the truth from witnesses."

That's fair. "Except in this case he did neither."

"Well, we're getting there. Fudge transferred custody of Black to Barty Crouch Jr., who was at the time running the Auror Investigations office."

"Wait…"

"Yeah, I know. It wasn't two days later that Crouch Jr. was caught alongside three other Death Eaters torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom to insanity. It fell to Crouch Sr., who headed the DMLE, to sentence his son to Azkaban and then to tap his replacement for the Investigative Office. He turned to Cornelius Fudge, riding a wave of popularity after being credited with Black's capture."

"So it was Fudge who ran the whole show, front to back."

"Believe me, it gets worse. See, the whole time, Black was being held in Azkaban, under dementor guard – since he was such a menace, you know. But then Junior was out and Fudge was in, and it took another two weeks before anyone got around to actually questioning him. That was the date given for Black's confession, at least, when it was leaked to the Prophet."

"Wait, Black confessed?"

"Not really. The published transcript is pretty short, and most of it is just variations on 'I killed them.' Normally that statement would be invalidated, since exposure to dementors is known to elicit false feelings of guilt, but that detail never appeared in the Prophet. Fudge was so new to the position, he might not have even known about that rule in the first place. And so Black's words were taken as proof positive that he had killed Pettigrew and the twelve muggles, and had led You-Know-Who to the Potter home."

"To be fair, though, 'I killed them' is pretty unambiguous. What do you suppose Black meant by it?"

"Well, we know from the rat that Black suggested Pettigrew as Secret-Keeper, so the dementors probably wrecked havoc on sense of responsibility for that."

"Ah, that makes sense."

"I know." She parroted my earlier words with a smirk. "Now, it was around this time that Crouch was running the trials of captured and implicated Death Eaters. But after his son's capture, Crouch's influence waned considerably, and many of the accused were let off the hook. I think it's safe to say that bribery may have also played a role," Hestia noted with a wry grimace.

She pressed on. "Here's where it becomes speculation. We believe Fudge was the one to persuade Crouch to forgo a trial in the Black case. Given the many setbacks Crouch had suffered with the trials, I doubt he'd want to risk letting Black walk free like the others. That would certainly explain the gap in the record. As for why Fudge's reasons to avoid a trial, maybe he had finally gotten around to reading the rulebook, and worried that Black's confession might be thrown out if it came to trial. It's also possible that Fudge was encouraged to look the other way by Lucius Malfoy."

"Why would Malfoy care?"

"Because Malfoy's son was next in line to inherit. Sirius' mother might have favored his younger brother, but after Regulus disappeared in '79, Arcturus had no choice but to acknowledge Sirius as heir apparent. If Sirius could be gotten out of the way, though, the estate would pass first to Pollux, then to Pollux's grandson through Narcissa Malfoy."

"But couldn't Narcissa inherit, or one of her sisters?"

"Nope, I checked. Black family rules only allow the men to inherit."

"That's not common, is it?"

She laughed. "No, it's pretty rare to see a House go for exclusive patriarchal descent like that. I think the Prewetts may have a rule about matriarchal descent, but those families are definitely the exception. You may have noticed, but the magical world doesn't really struggle with sexism like muggles do. Our last Minister was a woman, for Merlin's sake. Men may be generally stronger in physical terms, but that's not the case with magical power, which pretty effectively levels the playing field."

"Indeed." Well, thank heavens for that; at least I won't have to deal with the sort of freaky sex-slave clichés you see in some fan-fics. "Back to Malfoy, though."

"Oh right. As I was saying, Malfoy became one of Fudge's major patrons, especially after Fudge's election. But that's a story in itself."

"What story?"

"Of how Fudge became Minister. You mean you don't know? How could you have missed it? It was barely two years ago."

"Hey, you read my books, I've been away for a while. I haven't paid attention to affairs in Britain until just recently."

"Fine, guess I'll have to fill you in. Now, as you may know, Barty Crouch Sr. was promoted to head the DMLE in the middle of the war, after his predecessor was assassinated. His approach to the conflict was 'fight fire with fire,' which made him quite a popular figure and the odds-on favorite to replace Bagnold. But then Junior was discovered to be a Death Eater, and it all fell apart."

She took a breath. "Part of the scandal was the fact that his son was a Death Eater, but a much bigger scandal was the fact that a Death Eater had been Crouch's second-in-command, in charge of the entire Investigative arm. Junior's arrest put into question every piece of evidence the DMLE had gathered on any Death Eater who hadn't been literally caught in the act."

"Holy hell..."

"Yup. So when all of them went free under the Imperius Defense, Crouch received the blame. He was demoted to the Department of International Cooperation, and Amelia was promoted to replace him."

"What a nightmare. Still doesn't explain how Fudge became Minister, though."

"I'm getting there," she huffed. "Now, when a Minister retires, the one in charge of the DMLE is the one most often tapped for the head gig, for a number of reasons. But Amelia didn't want the job. She told everyone she was quite comfortable working in law enforcement. So the Wizengamot went looking. All the other Department Heads were too old, too specialized, or too unacceptable for some reason or other. They asked Dumbledore, but he declined as he always does. But at last they landed on Cornelius Fudge, who had over the past decade cultivated a reputation as a war hero responsible for single-handedly capturing You-Know-Who's second-in-command, Sirius Black himself!"

"You've got to be joking."

"Nope. That's why I said it would get worse. Our esteemed Minister built his entire campaign around the Sirius Black case. Sure, with Malfoy's money and Dumbledore's implicit support, Fudge sailed to an easy victory in the polls. But without the Black case, he's a non-entity."

Wow. "I suppose that explains why he sealed the case."

"And keeps all the documentation in his office, where investigators like me can't get to it."

"Good thing we have the rat to bust the case open."

She grinned as toothily as any goblin I'd ever seen. "Indeed."

I shivered. "Right. Last question: what was Dumbledore's role in all this?"

"That's what I can't figure. From where I'm sitting, Dumbledore had to be involved. Dumbledore had every reason to want Sirius out of the way, at least assuming he's looking to control the Potter kid. He's the head of the Wizengamot, sat on the Council of Magical Law, and is the one person the DMLE must consult when sentencing criminals. Dumbledore had to have signed off on Crouch's plan to forgo a trial. But he's like a ghost in the bureaucratic machine. If his signature's anywhere, it'd have to be in Fudge's file, because I looked everywhere else."

"Everywhere?" I grinned. I couldn't help it.

"You ever heard of the Spirit Division archives? I checked there because I thought they might have records of Azkaban. Do you have any idea how creepy that place is? Believe me," she glared. "I checked everywhere!"

"Yes ma'am!" For a brief moment it looked like she might deck me, so I hastily tried to pacify her. "I've never been to the Spirit archives, but I don't doubt it. So I suppose the case against Dumbledore will have to wait until we bring Crouch and Fudge down?"

"You mean, until we bring them down hard; but no, we got nothing on the big guy. Unless you've got another rat running around somewhere?"

"Sadly, no."

"Pity. Though Dumbledore certainly won't look so good when his protégé falls."

"Protégé?"

"Merlin, you are witless, aren't you? Malfoy's money may have opened some doors, but it was Dumbledore's patronage that allowed Fudge to build his reputation and political base."

"Huh. Between Malfoy and Dumbledore, Fudge must have had the Wizengamot sewn up."

"Tighter than a Reparo."

"Just as it was between the pair of them that Sirius got burned."

"Hotter than a – well, you know."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Thanks to all the reviewers who continue to help improve this story. You can read my responses to selected reviews on my forum. You can find the link on my profile, or type in:

fanfiction . net / forum / Stories-by-Publicola / 150993

And to the dozen or so of you who were wondering: nope, this story hasn't yet given up the ghost. "Never give up! Never surrender."