DISCLAIMER : The characters and past events described in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute.

2: Back room business

Harry had a split mind while he approached Gringotts, Ginny at his side. On the one hand, a cold anger simmered in his chest, outrage over the brazenness of this soon to be unmasked impostor, on the other hand, far in the back of his consciousness, a small voice of doubt nagged at him. What if…?

-No. He squashed the idea before it was even formed in his head. Regulus Black was dead, and no feeble hope that the prospect of encountering Sirius' brother might bring up in Harry was going to change it. The dead could not be brought back; that lesson he had learned.

The shop window of Quality Quidditch Supplies advertised a sale of broom handle polish, but Harry paid it no attention, even though he could have used some. He did not halt in his tracks until he stood in front of the imposing building in which the Wizarding Bank was located. One could hardly tell when looking at its white gleaming front these days that only a few years ago a fire spiting dragon had forced its way from the dark underground high security vaults of Gringotts to daylight, causing noticeable damage to the much too small doorways of the place (too small for a dragon, that is).

The couple walked past the watch-goblin through the bronze entrance gates and passed the silver doors that now once more held their old warning:

…if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.

Well, now Harry knew what could be found beneath Gringotts' floors apart from masses of gold. Or perhaps they had reconsidered their choice of security measures? For a moment he thought of asking Bill about it, but then he reminded himself that goblins were secretive folk and Bill was certainly not allowed to give such information away.

They stepped into the marble hall with its many counters, dozens of grim looking goblins behind them busily counting money, scribbling notes and stamping important papers. As a small boy of eleven, this place had utterly overwhelmed Harry, but even as a young adult, it had a remarkable effect on him: he felt small again.

Especially so since the goblins had never quite forgotten the mayhem that he had caused in their sacred halls. He had ashamed them by prying what had been entrusted to them out of their hands. It had, in fact, taken some subtle persuasion from the Minister for Magic before the goblins were willing at all to offer Harry their services again. Their cranky disposition towards him added up to Harry's concerns regarding today's business. Would the goblins be inclined to rashly believe anyone who purported to have claims to Harry's possessions just to get back at him?

With a tug on his arm, Ginny pulled Harry out of his reverie toward an unoccupied counter. 'Good afternoon,' she greeted the goblin even though that was lost love – goblins did not do politeness. 'Mr. Potter received a note this morning that the goblin who is assigned to the Black Family Property will await him at three o'clock this afternoon.'

The goblin looked down its particularly long and crooked nose in a fashion that distinctly reminded Harry of the looks Narcissa Malfoy had worn on her face in his school time. Nowadays Draco's mother was always carefully polite when their paths crossed. 'Has Mr. Potter brought the items that he was requested to bring?'

Great. So every goblin in Gringotts apparently knew what was going on!

Harry nodded in answer. 'Yeah, I've got everything I could think of.'

'Very well. You will be guided by a goblin to Grignok's workplace.' He called one of his kinsmen who, with a curt 'Follow me' headed off through one of the many doors that led away from the main hall.

As it turned out, there was a whole number of small offices located next to the hall, spreading on three floors. The offices on the first floor were tiny and only divided by slim wooden panels. Harry could clearly hear voices from inside of them. The workplaces on the second level were not much more spacious, but no whisper escaped them.

Grignok's workspace, however, was situated on the third floor. A long corridor led from the winding staircase through this storey. Had the lower floors left a rational, businesslike impression on Harry, this storey had a much closer resemblance to the money oozing luxury of the counter hall. Fabric wallpaper, interwoven with golden strands, reflected the candlelight that was issued from grand, silver chandeliers. A thick, expensive looking Persian carpet covered the floor.

Harry locked eyes with Ginny, who shook her head minutely to indicate that this wasn't the right time to make comments. Her warm hand settled in his and she prompted him to follow their guide who waited for them some distance ahead, shuffling his feet impatiently.

As they walked along the corridor, they passed several doors, each carrying four or five signs that Harry could not depict. Eventually, their guide stopped in front of a door close to the end of the corridor. Harry had a short moment to peruse the merely three signs that were attached to it – and suddenly he understood what they were. They were family crests. The one in the middle was the one that hung in Sirius' house, and the left one Harry dimly remembered to be the Malfoys'.

The goblin knocked, and the door swung open immediately. It opened to the sight of a big room filled with filing cabinets. In its centre, right in line with the door, stood a large desk, behind which a small goblin had its place. In front of the desk stood a pair of comfortable armchairs made of mahogany wood, their cushions covered in dark green velvet. At the wall to the left of the door stood a smaller desk, behind which an accountant did his work, an archivist assisting him by handing him the files he needed. Both of them inclined their heads minutely as Harry and Ginny entered the room.

The goblin behind the big desk, that Harry guessed to be Grignok, did likewise and motioned for them to sit down in the armchairs. The bit of hair that grew on his head and out of his ears was snow white, and his face was more wrinkled than Harry had seen it on any goblin so far.

'Mr. Potter!' he greeted Harry when they had settled down. 'I had been hoping to see you much sooner than this! After all, the Black property is a great responsibility that has not been properly taken care of by its owners in fifteen years.' He paused and looked at Harry penetratingly. 'At least you have followed my invitation,' he noted at last.

Grignok shifted some papers on his desk and subsequently stared at Harry with impenetrable, black eyes that were unnaturally magnified by his monocle. 'It is my duty to inform you that – due to the misinformation we were handed by the Ministry of Magic – after the passing of Mrs. Walburga Black in the year of 1985 the Black family property was assigned to the wrong person,' the goblin rattled down in a monotonous voice. 'Lady Black's last will had been to pass her belongings on to her youngest son, Regulus Arcturus Black. However, since intelligence had reached us three years prior that this man had been declared dead, the Black family property was allotted to the elder son, Sirius Black. This in turn was the reason why, after said man died in 1996, you, Mr. Potter, who had been appointed his sole heir, were registered as the rightful owner of the Black family vault, five estates-'

Five? Ginny mouthed at Harry, who could do nothing but shrug to tell her he had had no idea.

'-in London, Aberdeenshire, Hampshire, Florence, and South France, as well as the last remaining family House Elf.'

'You say it was passed on to the wrong person as if this was a fact…?' Harry threw in his question before Grignok had any chance to go on. All this talk of 'Black family property' had his mind spinning. He just was not made for this officialese. Harry was more the hands-on type of person, even though in his job as Auror he gave paperwork the respect it deserved. He simply did not need that on his one day off.

'It is,' Grignok confirmed. 'I have spoken with Regulus Black, the rightful heir of Lady Walburga, merely two hours ago.'

Harry leaned forward. 'He was here?' He pointed down. 'In one of these seats?'

Grignok nodded in silent confirmation.

'And why did he not bother to wait and speak with me in person if he really is who he claims to be? What makes you know he's not a trickster?' Harry demanded to know with a raised voice, shaken by this development.

'Mr. Potter, please calm yourself,' Grignok countered with emphasis on 'calm', not on 'please'. 'As diligence is one of the core virtues of Gringotts,' he continued, 'I of course have asked for an identity verification.' He pressed the last words through his clenched, pointy teeth, obviously feeling deeply hurt in his goblin pride.

From his dealings with Griphook, Harry knew that one had to tread carefully with these beings. 'I'm sorry,' he apologised therefore, 'I got carried away. I did not mean to say you were not doing your job correctly. But may I ask how this verification was done?'

The change of tone seemed to appease the goblin to some degree that allowed him to answer. 'I demanded to see his wand, of course.'

'His wand?' Harry asked stupidly. Regulus Black must have lost his wand in Voldemort's cave. Could an impostor have gotten hold of it?

'Yes, Mr. Potter, his wand. A wizard's wand has always been the most reliable means of verifying his identity. Mister Black's wand was registered with us shortly after his seventeenth birthday, when Lady Walburga dictated her will to me. You will also notice that therefore I have seen Mr. Black already twenty-two years ago, which enables me to additionally verify his identity by sight. I recognised him.'

A dumbfound look spread over Harry's face as he leaned back into the armchair. He looked at Ginny in search for some kind of logical explanation for all of this. Could you fake wands? Surely looks could be deceiving after such a long time, but faking a wand that had disappeared twenty-one years ago? Who – apart from the goblins – would remember it at all? Mr. Ollivander had settled down abroad. Surely no one had got hold of him there and forced him to produce a duplicate?

'I must demand the return of the Black vault key, now, as well as the keys to No. 12, Grimmauld Place,' Grignok pressed Harry.

He hesitated. Harry knew that from Grignok's point of view, the goblin was entitled to make this demand and expect Harry to meet it. Nevertheless, the boy who had lost too much in his life already was not willing to give his deceased godfather's assets up this easily. Well, in truth, he would not be left with nothing. Sirius had inherited some money from an uncle shortly after he had run away from home, after all, which was not part of the Black family inheritance. Still, for some reason Harry did not want to let go of the house, and even less so when that meant giving it to a swindler.

'I would like to speak to this Mr. Black first,' he stated flatly.

Grignok peered over his monocles with a chiding frown on his features. 'Mr. Potter,' he commenced once more, 'you have no right to make demands. You have come into this inheritance unrightfully and will thus return it immediately. Otherwise I see myself forced to call the authorities!' The small goblin had risen on his chair and bent menacingly over his desk.

Harry had half a mind to take his chance – in the end he knew most of the people who worked in the Department of Law Enforcement. However, Ginny hissed at him not to be a fool. 'You have no hold at the moment. Hand over the keys, and then you can still think of a way to uncover what's really going on.'

Glaring darkly at Grignok, Harry fished the keys out of the back pocket of his trousers and threw them onto the desk. He jumped up and made for the door. Yet the goblin's call held him back.

'Mr. Potter, not so fast. I have something for you.'

Harry barely refrained from snorting. Who would have anticipated that! After all this talking about losing Sirius' money he was getting something!

'Here is your receipt, so that everything is in order ' – the way Grignok said that, it was clear that he was still affronted by Harry's implied accusations.

Harry stood with his arms folded near the door, refusing to cooperate any further, even if that only meant taking the piece of parchment that the goblin held out to him.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny accepted it in Harry's stead. 'I'll take this. Thank you for your time and patience.'

The goblin grimaced.

.~*~.

Harry slammed his travelling cloak into a corner and slumped down in his favourite seat. He fumed. Here he was, the man who had faced down the wizard that was so dark, evil, and intimidating that no one had dared utter his name, but he could not stand his ground with a grim old goblin!

His mind worked frantically, trying to decide what steps to undertake next in order to put a stop to the impostor's game. The young Auror jumped up and moved over to the small desk he had set up for those evenings when he chose to take the paperwork home. He fumbled for a piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled down a quick message to Bill, asking him how reliable wand verification was and if it could not be tricked. He would have fire-called him, but Bill and Fleur had mentioned that they were going to visit Fleur's parents in France for a few days.

Blowing over the parchment to make the ink dry faster, Harry hurried to the tiny balcony adjacent to the kitchen where they had set up a place for their owl. Harry could not bear the thought of replacing Hedwig, but he had bought a majestic Eurasian Eagle Owl with crème-coloured and black feathers and vibrant orange eyes for Ginny. Bubo sat on his perch, looking with disinterest through the window at Harry. Even though Harry had paid for him, the proud bird always made a point of showing him that he knew that Harry was not his rightful owner, despite Ginny's expressed permission for Harry to use him whenever he needed an owl.

Having rolled the parchment together, Harry opened the French window. 'Good evening Bubo,' Harry greeted him. 'I have a special delivery for you. It could well be that you have to fly to France, to the Delacours. It's for Bill,' he explained. The strange thing about Bubo was that he always grew much more interested when he was asked to do a long distance delivery. He seemed to regard flights within England beneath him. Graciously, the huge bird stretched one of his thin legs toward Harry. When the wizard had fastened the letter, Bubo lifted his wings lazily, spread them slowly as if doing some loosening-up exercises until he was standing with his full, majestic wingspan of almost seven feet on the perch, leaned forwards, and eventually took off with one grand flap.

Pleased to have done something, Harry stepped back into the kitchen and rummaged in the cupboard for tea. He was alone in the flat. Even though it had initially been his idea, Harry had been too upset to go to the concert in the Three Broomsticks, so that Ginny had asked a friend of hers to come along instead.

The young wizard pondered while his tea water heated up. What else could he do? Apart from contacting Bill about the wand, he really could think of no way to undermine Grignok's decision at the moment. Yet the impostor had made a severe mistake: if Harry were foul enough to trick people like that, he would be smart and make a bolt for it as soon as he had the money. That guy, however, seemed to feel very safe. It almost looked as if he planed to impersonate Sirius' brother for a longer period of time to milk the cow as best as he could. That gave Harry plenty of time to expose him.

.~*~.

The-Man-who-lived-twice's mood did not improve over the following days. Tuesday had been loaded with work, and Bubo took his time – which was understandable in regard to where Harry had sent him but did little to heighten the Auror's spirits.

When on Wednesday he finally got hold of Kingsley in the lunch break (fortunately Harry had at least no night shifts this week), the Minister could not give him any new information. 'The introduction of the voting system requires all my time and energy at the moment, and that of my assistants. I have sent the Black case back to the Wizard Registry for them to deal with it.'

So Harry put in a 'coffee break' in the afternoon and headed up to Level Seven, the only Level in the Ministry Headquarters that had been able to spare a room for the new mini-Department. Tiny it was indeed. It reminded Harry very much of the time he had visited Mr. Weasley's Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. The room of the Wizard Registry was not as small, but the number of files stored there was bigger, and the Ministry employers that worked there had also to leave enough space to be able to receive visitors. Kingsley had said that in the further course of reforming the Ministry, the division of the building would be overhauled as well, but presently, the Wizard Registry Offices were a barely sufferable interim solution at best.

'Good afternoon, Mrs. Barbary,' Harry greeted the file worker as he entered. The woman had graduated from Hogwarts only four or five years before Harry from what he knew, and was the sister of The Weird Sister's guitarist.

'Mr. Potter!' she beamed up at him from behind her desk. 'To what do I owe your most welcome visit?'

Harry returned her greetings and proceeded to explain his concern. 'So,' he finished, 'what are you going to do, now?'

Mrs. Barbary ogled at Harry, discomfort apparent on her features. 'Well sir,' she stammered – ever since he had defeated the Dark Lord for a second (or more the umpteenth) and final time, people tended to treat him with even more respect than they had already shown to him when as an eleven year old boy he had entered The Leaky Cauldron for the first time and everyone had shaken his hand with awe – 'the matter has been settled already.'

'Settled? How?'

Realising that her news weren't taken well, she averted Harry's eyes. 'Well, I invited Mr. Black into my office yesterday and asked him a couple of questions in reference to his long absence. Afterwards I accompanied him to the wand registry office, where his wand was compared with old files that we were fortunate to come upon after some research. Everything was in order,' she concluded apologetically, 'and therefore I accredited full citizenship to him again.'

Now it was Harry's turn to ogle at Mrs. Barbary. 'Just like that?'

'Now, Mr. Potter,' the file worker's voice still held its sweetness, but grew somewhat firmer, 'not"just like that". Of course, I did everything in my power to determine Mr. Black's true identity, and I came to the conclusion that he did speak the truth.'

'So he could explain how he escaped the clutches of dozens of Inferi in a potion-induced state of madness, could he?' Harry asked snidely, seized by a rage he could not fully understand himself and was hard to control. Sirius was still his one point of weakness.

'In fact, sir, he did!' Mrs. Barbary said indignantly.

'Care to fill me in, then?' asked Harry sarcastically, but with a more restrained tone of voice.

The file worker, who had been so amenable only minutes before, now sat up straight and looked at Harry coldly. 'I cannot. This is private information that Mr. Black confided to me under the veil of confidentiality. I cannot pass it on.'

Harry stared at her displeased. 'Fine. Thank you for your answers.' Harry ground out and hurried out of the room before he lost his temper.

He fumed. What was going on here? Was everybody blind to what was really behind the sudden reappearance of 'Regulus Black'? Harry needed someone to talk to, a different face, and advice.

He took the elevator again and went three levels up. When the doors slid open, he entered a corridor that was lined with posters of all kinds of magical creatures. To his right, a bird-like beast with the upper body of a rooster and a tail like that of a lizard or a dragon was pursuing a mouse, but since its eyes were bound (a justified precaution since cockatrices – this creature was one of them – were known for the same deadly stare as their relative, the basilisk), it was not successful. To his left hung the picture of a proud Griffin that spread his wings upon seeing Harry.

The young wizard did not have to pay attention to any room numbers – he knew that he had arrived at his destination when a high voice squeaked 'Harry Potter, sir!' in delight. From an enlarged photo that was pinned to a door, Dobby beamed with large eyes at Harry. Hermione commissioned a painting of him in loving memory of the pioneer of elf emancipation.

Harry knocked curtly and, after hearing a prompt to come in, entered. 'Hermione, I need your help,' he said without any preamble.

'Harry! What's up?' his old schoolmate asked concernedly. 'You don't have any problems with Ginny, have you?' She shifted a few stacks of paper on her desk so they did not have to talk peering over them.

Harry started pacing her room and retelling everything that had happened in the past days. 'I received a letter from Gringotts Monday morning ordering me – mind you ordering! – to visit them in the afternoon and hand over Sirius' things because there'd been a mistake. So I went, thinking that the mistake surely was on their part and things would clear up, but then this stupid goblin just wouldn't listen and forced me! The nerve of them! Some random wizard comes along, claiming he's a Black and everyone buys into his story! Even that witch from the Registry Office just now!' He paused to take a deep breath.

Hermione used the short reprieve. 'Harry, calm down and tell me again,' she said in typical Hermione-exasperation when someone made no sense. 'So you say that there is someone who purports to be a member of the Black Family, did I understand that correctly?'

Harry nodded, still wearing a path into Hermione's carpet. Fortunately, her office was very spacious. 'And they made me hand back everything I had inherited from Sirius! You know I don't care about the money, and the house is basically a dark, filthy place, but still… -It's about everything I've got left of him!'

'Now Harry…,' Hermione broke off and made an impatient sound as her eyes followed the pacing form of her best friend. 'For heaven's sake, sit down, you agitate me!' Despite her prompt for Harry to take a seat, she herself jumped up and retrieved two cups to make them some tea. When she turned back to her desk and saw that Harry still had not followed her 'invitation', she fixed him with a strict glare that soon had Harry change his mind about his preferred position in the room.

Once he was seated and clutched the cup, Hermione proceeded to talk. 'As I was saying, I don't see how that is possible. No matter how close or distant a relative that is supposed to be, he does surely not have a claim to Sirius' belongings. Your godfather has willed you everything he owns, Harry. Any other claims are null and void because of his testament.'

'Yeah,' Harry said edgily because he was unnerved that he had to explain everything again for he had made such a poor job of it the first time, 'I still have the right to everything he owned. No one doubts that-'

'But then-' Hermione wanted to chip in, but Harry overrode her because he was not finished.

'I still have no right to the house, or more precise: to the five 'family estates' all over Europe, because he had no right to them either!'

The frown upon Hermione's face showed her puzzlement. 'How…?'

'Some guy has popped up and claims to be Sirius' brother! And his mother had appointed him her sole heir! Remember, she had disowned Sirius when he was sixteen.'

The puzzled expression on Hermione's face turned into a surprised look of understanding as she sat up straight. 'Oh, you mean someone says he's RAB?'

Harry nodded curtly.

Hermione leaned back in her comfortable seat with the high, upholstered backrest, a look upon her face that Harry knew only too well and told him that he might not like what came next. 'You know,' she began, 'it could be the truth. I mean, no one has ever seen his dead body, have they?'

'No. Only Kreacher saw him in the hands of dozens of Inferi, being dragged under water! Fat chance he got out of that in his state at the time, don't you think?'

Hermione had the grace to look flustered. No matter how much Harry cared about his friend, sometimes it felt good to be able to put her in her place. 'But Kreacher never said he actually saw Regulus die either…,' she fought her ground. 'For all we know, he could have made a miraculous escape.'

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation and jumped up again. 'Great. Really great. Now you're on their side, too!'

'No,' Hermione said with emphasis, 'I am merely trying to point out all possibilities!' She huffed, then she said in a softer voice, 'Please let's calm down and talk this through reasonably. I don't mean to say this person is Sirius' brother; I just don't want you to judge rashly.'

Some of Harry's outrage deflated. 'Yeah, I know,' he admitted meekly. 'Sorry, 'Mione.' With that apology, he plumped down on the seat once more.

Hermione pushed the cup further towards him. 'What we need to do, now, is to think of a way to determine this man's true identity. You said something about the registry?'

'Yeah, I just talked to Heather Barbary down in the Registry Office, and she said this would-be Regulus has told her a nice story about how he managed to escape and what he's done since. Oh, and he's apparently got a wand that looks like Regulus Black's old one.'

'He has?' Hermione enquired with a tone in her voice that Harry once more did not particularly care for.

'Must have had it made to look convincing. Both Gringotts and the Ministry have examined it,' he supplied succinct. 'Come to think of it, perhaps we could find the one who faked the wand. It must be pretty good work if it managed to fool so many people. Bet there aren't too many wizards around who can do that. Perhaps Mundungus could turn out useful, after all…'

'Harry…,' Hermione raised her voice to what Harry knew would be another crushing of his hopes. 'Those examinations are not just visual ones. They check them for certain signs – the age of the wand, for what kind of spells it's been used, how old the animal was when it gave the ingredient for the core, where the tree grew that gave the wood for the wand. Everything's recorded, Harry. You cannot fake a wand.'

For a moment, Harry slumped down in defeat. Then it hit him. 'Who says that Regulus' wand drowned with him? Perhaps he had lost it on the island, and Kreacher found it and took it back to Grimmauld Place! After Sirius' death, Mundungus must have found it during one of his "visits" when he looked for anything he could turn into coin…'

Hermione looked doubtful. 'That is a possibility…'

'It's as likely as Sirius' brother escaping the Inferi. I figure even much more likely.'

Hermione wrinkled her nose. 'Fine. So we've got two possibilities: either someone's managed to hoodwink both the Ministry of Magic and the sharp eyes of the Gringotts goblins, or Regulus Black is in fact still alive and wants what's rightfully his, now.'

'Not bloody likely,' Harry muttered in a passable imitation of Ron.

'None of them seem to be, but one must be true,' Hermione pointed out. 'So, as I've already said, what can we do to be really sure of the man's identity? He's already delivered a plausible story it seems, and he has presented the wand. What we really would need is someone who knew Regulus Black before he disappeared and could recognise him.'

Harry winced inwardly. That was exactly what Grignok had said – that he had recognised Regulus Black. After talking everything rationally through with Hermione, the truth slowly started to seep into him. As improbable as it sounded, the chance that the man that perpetrated to be Regulus Black was in fact not him was very small. Should Harry not be happy? The fact was that even though he knew that Regulus Black had had a full change of heart and had taken a huge risk to cause a substantial amount of harm to his former master, Harry's ears still rang with Sirius' bitter words about his brother. Of course, Harry did not wish the man to be dead, but he would not carelessly accept that someone claimed to be him just because of any sentimental reasons.

'Harry?' Hermione pulled him out of his stupor.

'Yeah, well, who is still alive from his old crowd?' Harry managed to get back to the question at hand.

'There are people,' Hermione stated. 'I'm sure that we could find out who went to school with him with Professor McGonagall's help' – Harry nodded – 'but I think we can think of some people who were in close contact with him ourselves.'

Harry looked at her clueless.

'It's obvious! Not all of his relatives are gone. I guess since Andromeda was a few years older than him and was blown off the family tree already in the very early seventies, she'll only have known Regulus as a child. But surely Narcissa Malfoy née Black knew him better, and her husband, who, after all, frequented the same dark circles as Regulus did…'

Notes concerning chapter 2

The wand verification (DH/26) might have been a trick of the goblins, but it is still a plausible idea, which is why I used it. [edit: rubina - you're right; since the trio intended to hoodwink the goblins with Bellatrix' wand, it must be a widely known identification method. Thanks for pointing that out! :)]

The Eurasian Eagle Owl is called 'Bubo bubo' in Latin.

I struggled a little with my version of Harry. I still primarily remember him as the angry boy he was after Sirius' death (smashing Dumbledore's office, raging against Professor Snape etc.), whereas he of course is more mature these days. However, I think that it is reasonable to assume that Sirius might still be a weak spot for him, thus rendering him more emotional and irrational than he otherwise would be. I'm sure I'll manage to make him come back to his proper senses later on. ;)

Thank you again for adding me to your story alerts and favourites, and for your comments. I would love to read what you think about the story, even if I haven't revealed the actual plot yet. I dare say this will turn out to be a rather long piece of fiction…

Thank you for the favs, story alerts, and the reviews!

A short outlook: Part I consists of 3 chapters; Part II will have further eleven chapters and will go back in time, including a somewhat complicated love interest. Part III will return to the present. I develop the story slowly, so don't expect an extreme action adventure.

I'm looking forward to your comments!