DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter Fourteen - A Taste of Freedom
Harry was thinking about apparating. It was an idle train of thought, though, as the time for actual apparation had long since come and gone. Besides, he'd never quite mastered the ins and outs of it, preferring instead to apparate with another member of the Pack. He yawned widely and gave a lazy stretch, slitting one eye to peer at the room's only other occupant. Remus Lupin, the current bane of his very existence. Draco wouldn't have known that it wasn't Ministry Officials invading Greyback's territory, but rather the Order of the Phoenix hell bent on retrieving their wayward werewolf. And so Harry once again found himself enclosed in a room at Grimmauld Place, the only difference being that this room was equipped with an extremely impressive silver cage created specifically to contain him. He was almost proud of that fact, almost.
Giving another jaw cracking yawn, he rolled over onto his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms. If he'd listened to Draco's endless lectures about apparation, he probably wouldn't be in his current situation. Then again, on his list of regrets, failing to learn how to apparate probably would have been fairly close to the bottom at this point in time.
Wood squeaked on the other side of the room, the sound causing Harry to turn his head on his arms, eyes opening to study Remus. "Bored?" He purred, enjoying the older werewolf's discomfort. Since he'd been carted into Grimmauld Place three days ago, he'd remained under constant guard, one of the Order members with him for every minute of every hour of every day. Several months ago the steady supervision would have irked him, but after having lived in close quarters with a five-year-old, he found his sense of privacy greatly diminished.
A wave of sadness swept over him at the thought of Jaime, his hands balling into fists. It was the not knowing that was getting to him. Not knowing if Fenrir was still alive; not knowing if Jaime was safe and warm . . . not knowing if Draco had been captured by the Order. And his guards had remained extremely tight-lipped about the entire matter, refusing to answer any of his questions. That refusal had sent him over the edge at first - he'd howled himself hoarse when he'd been denied any knowledge of the Pack. It had occurred to him when he'd roused from the potion Snape had thrown into his gaping mouth that their unwillingness to share information wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe they simply didn't have the answers to his questions.
He turned his head when the door swung open and Dumbledore strolled into the chamber, the Headmaster of Hogwarts seating himself in the chair across from Remus, arranging himself comfortably before focusing his gaze on the younger male. He steepled his hands before him, lips pursed. It appeared as if he was gauging Harry's current state of mind, trying to determine what tact he'd take this time, whether sympathy or thinly veiled threats would work best.
"How are we feeling today, Harry?"
Harry, in turn, lifted an eyebrow, completely nonplused by the wizard he once considered formidable. "Claustrophobic." The snapped word was rewarded with nearly identical sighs of disappointment. Curling a lip in response, he rose to his feet and stretched fluidly, feeling the pull of muscles that had grown tight with lack of use. "How long do I have to stay in the cage?" He asked, stalking the narrow length of his prison. When he reached the wall of shining bars, he spun around and paced back across the worn Persian rug, narrowed eyes focused on the pair of wizards.
"You understand, Harry, that we're keeping you here for your safety. If we could trust that you would remain inside Grimmauld Place, we'd allow you out of the cage, but we just can't take the risk that you'd take off," Dumbledore explained, his voice calm and low. He lifted a hand when the dark-haired male whipped around with a snarl, forestalling the brewing argument. "Only you, and assumably Mister Malfoy, know what occurred in the corridor at Hogwarts that afternoon. Of course, once the Daily Prophet got word of the deaths of so many students, as well as the fact that Draco Malfoy and yourself were missing, it was assumed he'd killed them and taken you hostage."
Remus exchanged a look with Albus before pushing to his feet and crossing the room to the heavy desk that squatted against the far wall, rifling through the stacks of books and newspapers heaped atop its scared surface. "As there wasn't any proof of what really occurred that day, much of what was printed was speculation." He withdrew a ragged paper from one of the teetering stacks and crossed to where Harry stood, holding the old copy of the Daily Prophet out to the dark-haired male. "Of course, once it was bandied about that Malfoy was involved, people assumed the worst."
Harry snatched the paper from Remus's hand and glared down at the front page, gaze tracing the arrogant curve of Draco's jaw. His knuckles whitened as he read the headline, a rumbling growl vibrating his throat. Lifting his chin, he stared at the duo in outrage, giving the newspaper a wild shake. "There were pictures. Colin Creevey took pictures . . . I remember seeing him take pictures." He continued to gap at the pair for a moment before his jaw snapped closed, his teeth coming together with an audible click. Righteous fury consumed him and he spun around with an outraged roar, slamming his palms against the bars, ignoring the sharp bite of silver. "I killed them! I killed them all and you'll just let Draco take the fall for it."
"Colin Creevey's camera was damaged during the attack, and he sustained a head injury that caused him to forget the entire incident," Dumbledore murmured softly with the whisper of a smile. "There's no evidence to prove that Draco Malfoy wasn't the killer."
Eyes blazing, the dark-haired werewolf released another snarl and flung the paper back at Remus, whipping around and slinking angrily back and forth across the cage. "And what happens after Draco is condemned? Do you think I'll just fall in line like a good little show dog you can trot out whenever you need a morale boost?" The laugh that spilled from his mouth was wild and he gave a small shake of his head, enjoying the sudden look of consternation that appeared on the faces of the pair. He let the wolf climb higher in its internal prison, gave it enough freedom to allow the duo to get a good glimpse of the beast, and then he pushed it back into its place, turning his back on the older wizards and glaring out the window.
"In time, you'll understand the choices we've been forced to make on your behalf are in the best interest of everyone," Albus said. With a creak of old bones and a hiss of robes, he rose to his feet and wandered from the room.
Remus watched his mentor exit the chamber before swinging his gaze back to Harry, staring at the rigid back of the younger male. "Harry, you didn't leave us with a lot of options." The words fell upon obviously deaf ears. With an aggrieved sigh he left the room, halting with a hand on the door knob to stare back at the youth, perhaps searching for some sign of understanding from the angry male.
Jaw clamped closed to contain the numerous curses building upon his tongue, Harry sank slowly to his knees, gaze on the heavy clouds beyond the panes of glass. He could feel his freedom slipping between his fingers, the possibility of finding Draco and freeing Jaime drifting farther and farther away with every hour he spent in the cage. The wolf inside his head called mournfully, the rattling cry making him close his eyes and grit his teeth.
A loud pop had the dark-haired male spinning around on his knees, teeth bared in silent warning. The fierce expression vanished at the sight of Kreacher, the house-elf grumbling beneath his breath as he gathered the pages of the Daily Prophet Harry had scattered across the room. Harry arched a brow at the elf's obliviousness, a slight grin twisting his lips as Kreacher snapped his fingers and the pages of the paper began to rearrange themselves in numerical order. "I don't suppose you'd care to snap your fingers and let me out of this cage?"
Kreacher turned and eyed Harry askance, reaching out and grabbing the paper now floating before him. He folded the old copy of the Daily Prophet perfectly on the crease, droopy ears twitching in an agitated manner. "Kreacher was told Harry Potter was to remain in cage." Shooting the dark-haired werewolf another look, the elf waddled across the receiving room and began to organize the contents of the desk.
"Since Sirius . . . left me Grimmauld Place, doesn't that mean you have to obey my every command?" Harry asked with a curious tip of his head.
A dry laugh escaped Kreacher before he covered it with a cough, appearing extremely embarrassed to have emitted the sound. "Funny Harry Potter. House-elves own nothing. Werewolves own nothing. Witches and wizards own everything. Grimmauld Place belongs to Albus Dumbledore now." Giving an amused shake of his head that had his ears flapping about his bald skull, Kreacher straightened the final stack of magazines and vanished from the room.
Harry stared at the spot the house-elf had stood before giving a wag of his own head. How unfair life had become. Releasing a heavy breath, he relaxed into a sprawl across the rug, his fingers tracing the blue squares that time had nearly erased. It would seem Remus wasn't the only one with limited options. There were ways he could win his freedom from the cage and Grimmauld Place. Eyes drifting closed, he began to sort through his options, examining all the possibilities available, as few as there were. His brow furrowed when the wolf voiced its opinion, adding variables he hadn't considered, decreasing the handful of escape options he had been left with until only two remained. As death no longer held the same appeal as it once did, he rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes, plotting his escape.
XxXxX
It was snowing outside, the large flakes swirling past the frosty window panes to land, assumably, on the street beyond. Harry blinked slowly, gaze locked on that winter wonderland, wishing with every part of his soul that he could be out in the icy storm. The shuffle of feet in the hallway turned his head, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, testing the current of air flowing beneath the door to identify the individual standing just beyond the portal. His brows lifted as the familiar scent reached him, a combination of curiousity and guilt warring within his chest.
Rolling onto his stomach, Harry pushed himself slowly up on his elbows, waiting for the individual to work up the nerve to enter the room. He licked his lips in anticipation when the doorknob rattled, focusing his complete attention on the panel as it swung open with the faintest of squeaks. When the door eased to a stop, he smiled widely and met the almost catatonic stare of the witch standing there. His eyes flicked down to the wand she held clutched against her bosom, the first whisper of unease stirring inside him as she glanced up and down the corridor before stepping into the room and softly shutting the door.
"Come to kill me, Molly?" He asked in a cheerful voice. A chuckle escaped him when the witch flinched at his casual use of her name, the reaction enough to bring the wolf sliding closer to the surface, whispering words of caution in his ear. Taking heed of the beast's warning, he pushed slowly to his feet, pacing toward the bars that separated him from the Weasley matron.
Molly blinked at him and then smiled coldly, her eyes remaining oddly blank. "You killed my boy. My Ron." She ran her fingers up the length of her wand before turning around and walking back to the door, closing it gently and sliding the bolt into place. The tip of her wand touched the knob and it glowed brightly, the charm she breathed sealing the room.
"Are you sure? Because I recently read a newspaper article that claimed Draco Malfoy was the culprit." He studied Molly intently, reading every nuance of her expression, every shift of her body. When he spoke, it was to throw her off guard, to garner a reaction that turned the tables in his favour. Pursing his lips as if in thought, he tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow, allowing a smile to blossom seconds later. "Then again, I do think I remember the sound of his neck snapping. . ."
The muted scream the redheaded witch released was laced with grief and fury. She charged across the short distance between them, leveling her wand shakily at his chest, her breaths panting. Her entire body seemed to quiver with the emotion she was barely containing, the sparking tip of her wand wobbling dangerously back and forth. "You shouldn't be allowed to live."
Hate laced the hiss, the sheer force of it nearly enough to set Harry back on his heels. But the witch's unexpected proximity presented them with a new opportunity, and the wolf breathed their course of action through his thoughts, firming their resolve with one whispered word. Draco. "Ah, so you're just going to kill me then? Maybe hit me up with a Crucio or two before you do the deed. That doesn't seem very sporting of you. Hell, even I gave Ron a head start before-"
Harry lunged forward when Molly parted her lips, his fingers wrapping around her wrist and jerking her forward. Her head slammed into the bars and before she had a chance to stumble backwards, he'd pressed a hand against the inside of her elbow and reversed the direction of the tip of her wand, pressing it forcefully against her forehead. They stood posed like that, their eyes inches apart, their chests both rising rapidly. It took Harry a moment to recognize the gleam in her gaze, and a second longer to understand it - satisfaction.
"Death by wolf, Molly?" He mused, loosening his grip ever so slightly. He watched that shimmer of satisfaction slide into triumph, knew that she thought she'd won, but the soft tread of footfalls in the corridor caught his ear, a variable neither of them had considered. The doorknob was turned lightly and then rattled furiously, the jiggling accompanied by a yell that had everyone in the house converging before the magically locked panel. "I never thought you'd have it in you. And by your own wand, too! I really must be a bastard to a kill a harmless witch with her own wand."
"Open the door, Molly, please," Arthur called over the loud whispers, his voice sounding extremely strained.
Eyes ever watchful, Harry saw the exact moment the witch realized her plan would no longer be successful. He couldn't help but give a gloating smile, flashing teeth that would happily have torn her throat out if she would have obligingly leaned a little closer. His attention shifted to the assemblage in the hallway, picking up the calm tone of Dumbledore and the frantic murmur of Arthur. So caught up in the drama unfolding beyond his line of sight was he, that he almost failed to notice the tensing of Molly's body. It took the quick reflexes of the wolf to wrench the tip of the wand away from the witch's forehead and shift his body awkwardly to the left, the swift movement sending the green ball of magic slamming into the floor between their feet. With wide eyes he watched the wood blacken, watched as dark lines splintered and bisected the boards.
"Let Molly go, Harry," Dumbledore murmured. The wizard stood in the open doorway, the Order of the Phoenix crowded behind him, gaping at the scene before them. Seeming unconcerned that Harry still had a grip on the redheaded witch, he walked into the room ponderously, studying the younger wizard with wise eyes.
"How in this scenario am I the bad guy?" Harry snapped, releasing Molly and giving her a rough shove. He rubbed hands that had grown damp with sweat down his thighs, only remembering the silver burn when it rubbed uncomfortably on the material of his trousers. Attempting to relieve some of the pressure on the wound, he gave his hand a couple of hard shakes, anger beginning to churn in his gut.
"How dare you!" Molly screeched, the shrill scream causing everyone in the room to flinch and gape at her in astonishment. "You slaughtered eight boys in cold blood and you want to question the treatment you're receiving? You should never of been allowed back into this house! If it were up to me you would have been put down like some rabid animal found in the street."
Hatred was audible in every word, as was a certain amount of despair, but Harry couldn't really give a fuck about how grief-stricken Molly Weasley was. His hands balled into fists at his sides, the wolf baying for blood deep inside his skull. How dare he? How dare she! With a throaty growl, he wrapped his hands around the silver bars and leaned into them, ignoring the biting sting to focus blazing emeralds on the witch. "I may have been bitten by a werewolf, but it was your precious son that made me the animal I am today." He reveled in the outraged shriek, ignoring the sudden chatter of the Order to push himself away from the bars with scorched palms. A wild laugh fell from his mouth as he watched the witch attempt to point her wand at him again only to find herself seized by her husband and Tonks.
Animal, the wolf sneered, beginning a slow slinking climb toward the surface. We are First Bitten of Jaime Greyback. Show them who we are. Grinning widely at the wolf's ire, Harry watched the Order fight amongst themselves, glorying in the chaos, and then he pushed the wolf back into its place, locking it into its personal prison. He drew several deep breaths, working to calm himself as Molly was forcefully led from the room by Arthur. Perhaps three minutes later, the chamber quieted , the Order members remaining in the room regarding Harry with obvious distrust. "She started it." Harry mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
Dumbledore lifted a hand before the comment could spark an explosion. "Harry, Molly's been having a hard time since Ron's death. You need to understand that." The leader of the Order of the Phoenix glanced at milling group and fluttered a hand in the direction of the door, indicating the majority of them should leave. "I'll have Arthur take her home and see that she doesn't return, but you need to behave. The only way we can allow you to remain here is if we all respect each other."
Nearly blinking at the beginnings of what was most likely going to be a memorable lecture, Harry curled a lip and shook his head. "'Respect each other'? If you really respected me, you'd let me go. Despite the fact that you're generally regarded as being a very wise wizard, we both know that by keeping me locked up, you're not doing yourself any favours. Besides, at this point in time, there's only one way I'll follow your orders . . . and an honourable wizard like yourself would never stoop so low as to use the Imperio curse. So, you may as well let me go right now and save yourself a lot of aggravation."
This time it was Dumbledore who shook his head slowly, appearing greatly saddened by Harry's snarled threat. "I'm afraid releasing you is no longer a viable option. Your earlier interaction with Molly is proof enough that you allow the beast to rule in your dealings with other individuals. It's become obvious you're to aggressive to release back into society. It's either the cage here, or a cell in Azkaban. I'll leave you to consider your choices." Giving a nod of dismissal, he spun around and shepherded Moody and Remus from the room, the door closing whisper soft at his heels.
XxXxX
Knees tucked against his chest, Harry sat in the center of the cage, trying to ignore how dry his mouth was. His gaze flicked from the condensation covered glass sitting just inside the silver bars to the wizard slouched across the room, wondering what price he would have to pay for a sip of the soothing liquid. A twitch of his nose answered the question and dragged a snarl from his throat. "I don't suppose I could get a glass without the Veritaserum?" He asked, trying to keep his tone as polite as possible.
"No," Severus Snape replied, long fingers drumming rhythmically on the arm of the chair he occupied. He was clearly displeased he'd been assigned to babysit Harry, his frown deepening at the younger male's snort. The Potion Master's eyes flicked to the clock perched on the mantel across the room, obviously marking the time remaining of his shift.
Suppressing the urge to sigh, Harry extended his left leg and used the tips of his toes to push the glass over. He watched longingly as the liquid pooled before beginning to race along the tiny cracks between the boards, creating a network of minuscule creeks around his toes. Raising his gaze, he studied the dour faced wizard, shifting slightly upon the cold floor. He tipped his head, ears picking up the distant whisper of voices rising up from the downstairs kitchen, reassuring himself that the rest of the Order was otherwise occupied before returning his attention to the Potions Master. "You do realize that Fenrir and the Pack will find Jaime . . . and they'll kill anything that gets between them and the pup."
Eyes flicking to the clock again, Snape straightened in the chair and smoothed his hands down the sleeves of his robes. "Greyback is the least of your worries, Potter." The older wizard muttered, tugging the cuffs of the black robes over the backs of his hands.
The gesture was oddly telling, displaying Snape's discomfort with the topic, and bringing the wolf sliding to the surface. "But not yours, bastard," Harry purred, fingers clenching on his knees. "I imagine you've seen what Greyback can do when he gets . . . upset. He's merciless, utterly ruthless. And the Pack will follow where he leads . . . even if that means slaughtering every Death Eater in Voldemort's army." His ears caught the tread of boots on the stair runner, the sound muffled yet easily audible to him. A wicked grin curved his lips at the flash of uncertainty that flickered across the older male's features, the expression vanishing behind a mask as the door opened and Remus stepped into the room.
"It's time," the older werewolf stated, approaching the silver cage unhurriedly. He held his wand in one hand and a large key in the other, both held in a manner which could have been observed as threatening. "There haven't been any problems, I trust?" Remus asked softly, watching Harry rise fluidly to his bare feet and stroll lazily forward. That display of thinly veiled strength was worrying.
Striding forward to join Remus, Severus withdrew his wand and smiled grimly. "Of course not. Harry and I were just having a delightful chat about Greyback-" Snape's mouth snapped closed at the look of warning Lupin shot him, giving an indignant huff as he gestured at Remus to open the cage door.
"Can we hurry this along," Harry asked mildly, rolling his shoulders to settle the long-sleeved shirt he wore. The navy blue material was well worn, the fabric allowing his movements to go unhampered. "I really have to piss."
"Hold it," Snape sneered. He took a step back when Remus turned the key and the door of the cage swung open, allowing Harry to step freely into the room. Both Remus and Severus tensed, the tips of their wands following the younger male's slinking form across the chamber. Though the bathroom was just down the corridor, Harry was only allowed out of the cage under the wand points of at least two Order members, and only at three designated times during the day for no more then ten minutes.
Turning his head back to glare at the Potions Master, Harry curled a lip and replied, "Oh, I have been." He laughed silently at the worried glance the duo shared, the tension in the room becoming almost tangible. Stepping between the double doors, he looked to the left and right, spying Shacklebolt leaning against the wall just down the corridor, the Auror's wand held in plain sight. Harry didn't bother to hide his amusement at the trio's overly nervous escort, pacing silently down the hallway toward the tall wizard and halting directly in front of him.
Straightening slowly, Kingsley tipped his head at the gaping bathroom door, indicating Harry should enter the chamber immediately. "Your ten minutes has begun." The statement was laced with warning and reinforced by the subtle flick of the wizard's wand against his thigh.
Harry didn't bother to reply, just stepped into the dark bathroom and shut the door quietly behind him. He slumped against the wood and allowed his head to drop back, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath. The three brief moments he was given in the bathroom each day were the only time he was without a guard's eyes on him; the only time he could let his guard down and truly breathe. Pushing away from the door, he opened his eyes and crossed the room in the dark to crank the valve for the hot water. As the shower sputtered to life with a rattle of old pipes, Harry began to strip, his stealthy movements concealed by the patter of water upon porcelain. He reached behind the stained ivory curtain when he was free of his shirt, checking that the tap was open fully before crossing to the toilet.
When he was finished doing his business, he stepped to the sink and stared at himself in the small oval mirror, smiling slightly at the eerie glow of his eyes. The air in the bathroom began to thicken with steam, the heat causing sweat to bead upon his forehead. Placing his hands on the counter to either side of the sink, he leaned forward and glared at his reflection. This was it; his final play. He drew a deep steadying breath, mentally preparing himself to do whatever was necessary to gain freedom, and shoved away from the vanity with a lazy roll of his shoulders.
It's time, the wolf whispered inside his skull. The warning was echoed by a loud thud against the door and Shacklebolt's deep voice repeating the wolf's words.
Stepping silently through the heavy layer of steam that had blanketed the bathroom, Harry put his back against the wall next to the portal. The element of surprise would be his, both the darkness and the creeping steam that would conceal his form until the last second increasing the odds in his favour. Rolling his shoulders, he listened to the murmurs occurring on the other side of the portal, attempting to bury any hesitation he was feeling. He jumped slightly when Kingsley banged on the door again, the slightest whisper of anxiety audible in the Auror's voice. He knew the tension in the corridor would be increasing, the trio feeding off each other's nervousness. When the doorknob rattled, his muscles bunched, his body quivering with barely contained energy.
When the door swung open, he sprang. His right hand closed around Shacklebolt's wrist before the wizard had a chance to illuminate the bathroom, his fingers crushing the delicate bones even as he yanked the Auror into the shadowed room and launched him across the small chamber. The sound of the shower curtain tearing free of its hooks was a call to battle, Kingsley's body crashing into the tiled wall its herald. Hearing the air leave the Auror's lungs in a telling whoosh, Harry awaited his next adversary, heart pounding in the back of his throat. He slit his eyes when light exploded in the room, Remus's voice echoing in his ears.
"Stop this, Harry!" The older male yelled, unknowingly giving his position away.
Lunging through the gaping portal, Harry wildly swung his left arm, catching Remus across the throat and sending him sputtering to the floor. He ducked the spell that Snape aimed at his back, kicking Remus's wand beyond his reach and turning to face the Potions Master. His hands opened and closed at his sides, his panting breaths loud in the corridor. Remus and Shacklebolt would recover momentarily, but Snape was the only one standing between Harry and his freedom. Dipping his chin, he began a slow prowl toward the Potions Master, lips curving when the older male took a faltering step backward, the tip of the wand leveled in his direction wavering just the slightest.
"Greyback is dead." Severus calmly stated. Harry's eyes flared at the unexpected announcement and he stumbled, that momentary loss of equilibrium presenting Snape with the opening he'd wanted. With a suave flick of his wrist, Severus purred the curse that had been upon the tip of his tongue, dropping the younger male to the dusty carpet. "We weren't supposed to say anything - Albus's orders, of course." He walked the short distance to Harry's sprawled form, nudging the werewolf's still form with the toe of one boot.
"Really, Severus," Remus said, his voice little more than a rasp. He crawled across the floor and halted on his knees next to Harry, gently tipping the young male's head to the side. The emerald orb that met his gaze was glassy, the emotion frozen on the normally tanned face telling. "What exactly did you hope to achieve by telling him that?"
"A broken spirit," Snape replied baldly. He spun away from Harry's frozen body and entered the bathroom, giving a shake of his head at Shacklebolt's slumped form draped over the edge of the old claw-foot bathtub. Turning the still sputtering shower off, Severus hauled Kingsley from the tub and dumped him on the floor before returning to the corridor. "You and Albus are both under the impression that he'll come around the longer he's separated from Greyback's pack. Unfortunately, you're both wrong. As long as he believes there's somewhere for him to run to, he'll keep trying to run. If I had really wanted to break him, I'd have told him that Draco had been captured as well. I'll leave you to tidy this mess while I inform Albus of this development," Severus said. With a final glance at the young werewolf's inert form, Snape turned and walked down the hallway.
Heaving out a deep breath, Remus clambered to his feet, his wand clutched between his fingers. "Oh, Harry," he mumbled softly, wondering how things had ever gotten this bad. Rubbing his bruised throat, he levitated Harry's body down the hall and back into the cage, closing the silver gate with another wave of his wand. The finality of the cage door snicking into place caused him to draw in a shuddering breath and stumble backwards until his thighs met the edge of the chair, collapsing awkwardly into it. Dropping his head into his hands, he sat there silently pondering Harry's fate.
XxXxX
A/n: For those who are still with me, and those who have just joined me, thank-you.