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Chapter 46: Tyranny

The sun was rising when they returned to Bucharest, outlining the tallest buildings in a shroud of shadow. Moody's words were interrupted by the tolling of two bells near the city's heart. Each gong resounded through the streets and shook in Harry's chest.

"Up high!" the High Martial commanded, pointing to the tallest rooftop within their lines of sight. Harry clenched his teeth and wrenched the world back past him. His legs trembled when the void released its grip. Three days hunting dragons through the Balkan mountains had left him spent and light on sleep. "Augustus, what's been going on while we've been gone?"

Rookwood, who had apparated to and from the city several times over the course of their short absence, frowned. "Nothing, as far as I could tell. The couple men who evaded capture the night we were all sent out were rounded up, and things have been quiet."

"There." Ramses pointed to a city square blanketed in greenery and surrounded by a blend of columned, dome-roofed buildings and sleek skyscrapers. "There's a crowd."

"You have good eyes," Harry muttered, squinting for all that he was worth.

"Yes," Ramses replied, shading his eyes from the shred of sun poking up over the skyline. "There are some of Krum's men. I see red and gold."

"Are any of them in a discrete enough spot for us to apparate?" Moody asked.

"A few," Ramses replied after a moment's pause. "Would you like me to go?"

"Yes. We'll follow." Ramses vanished with a soft snap and Moody took in the rest of them. "On guard, you hear? I don't care how routine you think this is or how tired you all are. Constant vigilance!" The High Martial touched his sword-shaped cloak pin and they were all dragged through whirling shadows and in among the crowd. "Report," Moody growled at the trio of Krum's men, all of whom were re-holstering their wands. "What's…" his gruff voice trailed off and his hard face slackened. Harry tracked his gaze.

There were seven marble columns holding aloft the lowest rim of a theatre's steeped rooftop. Hanging from six of them were men aged into their middle years. Their once fine robes were marred with holes and gashes, and all three bore deep shadows under frantic eyes. Their muscles stretched and their mouths yawned wide as they strained and shouted. None of them moved so much as an inch. None made the faintest sound.

A commotion cut off Harry's mounting outburst. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as a sharp-faced man was all but dragged down one of the square's long walkways. Specs of blood stained his fine cloak and a swollen lump closer to a heap of metal than a working hand protruded from his shredded sleeve.

Andrei. Harry felt his anger rearing as he examined the injuries he had inflicted, yet… the man's proud nose had been straight last time they met, and the deep gouge along his hairline was a new wound.

Cold dread coiled around his lungs and squeezed them free of air. No…

Behind the two men dragging Andrei prowled Vadim Krum, whose gold cloak-pin gleamed in a shaft of sunlight slanting down between two pillars. "There." The High Martial indicated the lone bare column, flanked on both sides by three that bore the captives.

A hot flash burned through Harry's dread. The Elder Wand blazed inside its holster and he raised his right hand.

Kingsley seized his wrist. "No."

"Do you not see what's going on?" Harry snarled as Andrei slammed into the central column.

"I thought you wanted him dead," Morison piped in with a gesture toward the suspended Andrei.

"Not like this." There was a difference between grim hatred and merciless grotesquery.

"CITIZENS AND ONLOOKERS!" Krum called in a voice that had been amplified with a sonorus charm. "I HAVE CALLED YOU HERE THIS MORNING SO YOU MIGHT WITNESS JUSTICE. I THOUGHT IT PRUDENT AFTER LAST NIGHT'S TREACHERY."

Harry rounded on Rookwood. "What treachery? You said there was nothing!"

"I wasn't here last night," Rookwood protested. "Were you not one of the people insisting we needed all hands on deck for that Ironbelly and those Chinese Fireballs?"

"FOR THOSE UNAWARE," Krum continued, "LAST NIGHT, SEVERAL RESPECTED CITIZENS, INCLUDING THIS CITY'S OVERSEER, LAUNCHED A THWARTED JAILBREAK OF THE SEVEN MEN YOU SEE HERE; THE SEVEN MEN WHO HELPED CAUSE CHAOS LIKE ROMANIA HAS NOT SEEN SINCE MUGGLES WERE IN POWER." The crowd stirred, wrought with uneasy shifting and sounds of discontent. "IN CASE ANYONE ELSE HOPES TO AID THE KIND OF MEN WHO WOULD SEE US FIGHT AMONG OURSELVES LIKE MUGGLES DID IN DAYS OF OLD, LET THIS MORNING BE A REMINDER OF HOW THE MUGGLES TREATED US AND ONE ANOTHER AS THESE TRAITORS ARE PUNISHED IN AN ARCANE MUGGLE FASHION!" Krum stepped back and gestured at the line of marble columns. Seven of his venators raised their wands and the bright stones burst into pillars of red flame.

"NO!" Harry's own shout was lost amidst the surrounding outcry. Kingsley maintained a firm grip on his wrist. "Let me go!"

"Don't be foolish!" Kingsley argued. "You'll cause a riot twice the size of the one we stopped. Think, man!"

Memories swirled through his roiling thoughts; a stone hallway drenched in blood and coated in a layer of shredded bone, jets exploding over a flaming hellhole, Lily with a dagger at her throat.

Harry lowered his hand. Kingsley was right; a full-blown riot would only breed more mayhem and add further names to the list of souls his carelessness had doomed.

Yet standing by was torture on par with anything Voldemort could have come up with. The crowd's roiling had ebbed into eerie silence, leaving the square filled to bursting with the dying's screams. With them came a sickly scent and a spreading veil of smoke that stung his eyes and throat.

The flames shifted back into unblemished marble. Cracked, crisp flakes formed a burnt coat over the lifeless skeletons of those who had been put to death. There was no discerning one man from the next; no clothes, no faces, no spark of life.

Krum was barking out a second speech. Harry never heard him. The world had condensed down to a single tunnel of sight connecting him and the hostages who had just been burned alive. The only sounds that reached him were the phantom echoes of their screams and the crackling of fire.

Then Kingsley was nudging him along and the venators were trailing Krum down the walkway and onto one of the city's main streets. Almost the entire crowd had scattered. Those who remained watched the precession retreat toward their headquarters. Harry could feel their stares boring into his back, could feel their fear and fury rippling out in hot waves.

No words were uttered until they entered the conference room Krum had used the night of Andrei's capture. The High Martial got his mouth halfway open before the Elder Wand was levelled at his chest.

"Lad." Moody's speech was slow and wary. "Put away your wand."

"What was that?" Harry spat at Krum, ignoring the command and the dozen venators who had closed ranks.

Krum did not so much as flinch. "Justice."

"Murder!" Harry growled. "A fucking war crime, that's what that was!"

"We are not at war." Krum had not even raised his voice.

"Are you trying to change that?" Harry demanded. "What do you think all those people will be feeling after your little ego flex out there?"

"Shame, I hope."

"The best of them might feel shame, but only for not stepping in and swarming us."

Krum was unyielding. "There is only one punishment for treason."

"And there is only one response to tyranny," Harry shot right back at him.

"Enough!" barked Moody.

"No." Harry was no longer shouting. "You made your point the first night we were here. So what if a few people were too hardheaded to see it? The riots stopped, did they not?"

"If the traitors had succeeded in freeing the men you and your comrades brought in—"

"If one of the children watching today was attached to one of the hostages you just murdered, they might grow up dreaming every night of vengeance. Does that mean we should hunt down every child who was out there and dash their heads against the cobblestones?" Silence. "Does it!?"

"Evgeni, Pavel, Ilya — escort Mister Kalloway outside so he can cool down and consider whether he's willing to make the difficult decisions this field of work demands."

"There's no need." Harry tore the sword-shaped pin from his red cloak and bounced it off Krum's chest. "If this is the sort of shit you pumped up policemen do when someone pisses in your porridge, I want no part of it."

"Kalloway." Kingsley held up both hands. "Wait."

"No."

"Please—"

"I know you're not all like him, Kingsley. I don't hold it against you or anyone in Moody's squad, but I made a promise to myself and I won't go back on it just because a narcissist who's got himself a bit of power wants to handwave war crimes." Harry levelled blank-faced Krum with his most acidic stare. "A word of advice, High Martial. Peace breeds peace, and violence breeds violence." Harry removed the iron disk from his cloak pocket using his left hand. In his right remained the Elder Wand. "Maius bonum."

The granite floor of Black Manor's entrance hall slammed into his feet. The ravens leered down from their stone plinths. Their eyes were too judging. Their owner's would probably be no better.

Harry disapparated, appearing at the mouth of the wide cave he used to store the founders' trinkets. Dawn was still fresh in Scotland. The morning's drizzle misted in the air and enclosed Hogsmeade in grey gloom.

Tearing off the red-gold cloak, Harry strode through the antechamber and pressed his palm against its backmost wall. The stones sank sharp teeth into his skin and the barrier they formed faded, admitting him deeper into the cave.

Wrath was still upon him. What had Krum been thinking? Did he not see how excessive cruelty would only bolster the citizens' resolve?

"Fuck him," Harry spat into the silence. There were always those few soldiers cut out for conflict and not peace.

What would Dumbledore think if he knew what was going on in Bucharest? Harry was half-tempted to seek out the emperor.

But where would he even start? Besides, this was not his Dumbledore. A great man for certain, but a man who had spent decades working alongside Grindelwald and a man who likely shared the common flaw of being too trustworthy with his otherworldly counterpart. It would be sixth year all over again, trying to convince his mentor about Snape and Malfoy's ill intentions.

The isolation closed in on Harry. What was he to do? Who was there to turn to? That had been his problem for so much of this past year. Had he been able to talk things out with an equal, he might not have blundered through everything the way he had.

But who had there been for him to go to? Dumbledore was seldom accessible, Lily had fallen under Riddle's spell, James had been too unsteady in his opinions toward him, and the Marauders had been closer to acquaintances than friends.

Things were even bleaker now; James was petrified, Lily was Merlin only knew where, Marlene was likely still a mess, Remus did not know him well enough. Sirius… no. They had spoken privately all of two times over the past twelve months.

There was no one. Not for this. All his friends and allies either had uncertain loyalties, fragile circumstances, or were not nearly close enough to him.

A harsh laugh bubbled in his throat. The closest thing to a viable option he had at his disposal was probably Narcissa…

"Oh, fuck it." She would hardly be a sage companion, but he could at least vent his frustrations to her. There was little doubt surrounding her intentions and she was about as close to him as anyone. What a depressing thought. Harry's fingers tightened around the embossed disk again. "Le plus grand bien."

Narcissa was standing behind the reception desk, counting coins into a drawer when he stepped inside. "Kalloway," she said, looking up. "My grandfather told me you were abroad."

"Not anymore."

Narcissa must have caught onto his mood. She dropped the last coins into the drawer and slid it closed. "Are you all right?"

"No."

She blinked at him. "That was a more candid response than I expected."

"You'll be getting a lot of that, as long as I'm here. I don't have the energy for word games."

"No, you mustn't." A frown crested onto Narcissa's lips. "You look exhausted."

"I am."

"I won't waste your time then," she replied crisply. "There's been no progress deciphering the enchantments upon the wand."

"I didn't come here for the wand," Harry interrupted. "I came here to talk."

Narcissa's face was as smooth as the enchanted glass as she looked him up and down. "All right. One moment while I tell Alden I'll be heading out." She strode through the lobby's rear door and disappeared. Harry stood and waited for perhaps three minutes before she returned with a black purse hanging from her right arm. "I know a good place," she told him. "Come on."

They stepped out into morning sunlight and strolled off down the busy street. Someone cat called at Narcissa and a teenage boy passed a bit too close beside her. "Would you like me to curse the next git who does that," Harry offered.

"No, thank you." The shadow of laughter hovered in her voice. "It's kind of you to offer."

"That's one way of putting it." They rounded a bend and paused at a small intersection. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"A restaurant. It's not far. Grandfather met me there when he last stopped in. They have private rooms and it feels like a nice middle ground between my preferences and what I imagine you would want."

"I don't have any money on me," Harry told her. "I only just got back from Bucharest and shopping wasn't on my to-do list."

"Fortunately for you, I have more than enough gold on hand to cover both of us." Narcissa turned toward him, showing off her sleek purse.

"You don't have to do that," Harry said. "This place doesn't sound cheap and I can easily ward us off a quiet area."

"Of course I don't have to," Narcissa flipped a sheet of sparkling hair over her shoulder. "I don't have to talk to you at all and could just as easily have brushed you off if I was uninterested."

"But—"

"Hush." Narcissa flicked a dismissive hand. "Consider it payment for saving my life, if it will assuage your heroic sensibilities."

A tired laugh slipped out between his lips. "I think my heroic sensibilities just lost me a job. Maybe worse."

"Well then I doubly insist upon buying you a drink as well." Narcissa stopped before a stained-glass door and pushed inside.

A hostess in a long, red dress smiled. "Ah, Mademoiselle. "Vous étiez ici récemment, n'est-ce pas?"

Harry grappled with the words. Narcissa was already replying in smooth French. "Pour une rencontre avec un Maître Uranus, oui."

"Où voudriez-vous vous asseoir cette fois-ci ? La même salle que vous avez utilisée la dernière fois est disponible, si vous le souhaitez?" The hostess tilted her head, so it must have been a question.

Narcissa flashed a bright smile. "Ce serait charmant, merci."

The hostess led them down a walkway winding through the blocks of booths and down a long hall set behind the bar. She smiled at them and gestured to a closed door that Narcissa opened and stepped through.

"I hope none of that was directed at me," Harry said once they had taken seats in high-backed chairs. "I never did pick up French."

Narcissa's face made a peculiar shape, halfway between a sly smirk and the wrinkling of her proud nose. "If you'll forgive my saying so, you look like you just fought your way out of a lion's den and smell like you passed through a burning trash heap on the way. I don't think you'll be the one asked questions here."

Harry snorted. "Considering how close that is to what actually happened, I can't really be offended."

A copper-haired waitress knocked three times, then stepped in caring two menus. "D'accord, voici vos menus. Est-ce que je peux vous servir quelque chose à boire pendant que vous choisissez vos plats?"

"Oui, s'il vous plaît," Narcissa replied. "Je voudrais un Château d'Yquem, et mon ami prendra un Bordeaux."

The waitress smiled. "Bien sûr, je reviens tout de suite avec les deux pour vous."

Harry cocked his head when she had left. "Bordeaux's a place, isn't it?"

Narcissa actually did laugh this time. It was a bright, soft sound, like the tendrils of a weak wave spilling up the beach. "A wine in this case, but yes."

"I'm taking it that's mine, since it was shorter and less complicated to say?"

Her lips twitched. "Correct."

"Well, I'll have to trust you. I know as much about wine as I do French."

"Lucky you're with a Black then, aren't you?"

"Ah, yes. Stuck up purebloods, how could I forget?"

The lines around Narcissa's mouth drew taut. "That's a remarkably ignorant opinion."

"Depends who I'm basing it off, I guess." The wailing of an awful portrait welled up through a sea of memory. "How's Walburga, by the way?"

Narcissa sighed. "We're not all like her, you know?"

"I do," Harry said, choking down a hot lump.

Narcissa's eyes flicked down toward his throat, then back up to his face. "Today's not the day I'll press, but you are far too well-informed when it comes to certain things."

"It's a gift." And a curse.

"I'll take it Riddle's location isn't part of that gift yet?"

Harry's face went grim. "Not yet, no."

The waitress knocked and re-entered the room, carrying two tall bottles of wine.

"One moment," Narcissa said after a rapid stream of French had been hurled her way. "What kind of food do you like?" she asked Harry.

"I'm not all that picky. Something simple and solid would be nice after the past few days, though."

She briefly scanned the menu. "How do you like your meat cooked?"

Harry had to think about that; it had been years since he had ordered meat. "Medium rare," he said after a second's pause.

Narcissa turned back to the waitress. "Je vais prendre un Saumon en Croûte, s'il vous plaît, et mon ami voudrait un steak Diane, cuisson à point." The waitress smiled, then left again. "So, how precisely did your heroic sensibilities get you into trouble this time?"

Harry's right hand curled into a tight fist beneath the table cloth. "I objected to a war crime."

Narcissa cocked her head. "Pardon?"

"A High Martial decided to have seven captives burned alive in the middle of a crowded square and I dared to kick up a fuss."

Narcissa blinked twice. "Give me that again?"

"There was a huge riot in Bucharest. I joined Alastor Moody's team and we dispersed it, then linked up with Vadim Krum's squad to hunt down the leaders. There were some… distractions involving dragons for a few days, so we only got back to the city this morning. Bells were ringing when we apparated in. It was a call for the citizens to attend a public execution. Seven men were pinned against marble columns, then the stones were transfigured into fire and they were burned alive."

Narcissa's throat rippled as she swallowed. "Lovely."

"I went off on Krum once we were alone. He asked a few of his lackeys to escort me and I told him there'd be no need. I threw my pin at him, then portkeyed off."

"I haven't heard of Vadim Krum," Narcissa said. "The name sounds Eastern European."

"Bulgarian, I think."

"A lot of the high-ranking venators from those regions are known for ruthlessness."

"That's not ruthlessness," Harry objected. "Ruthlessness is—"

"I know," Narcissa said. "I'm not saying this is the norm. It's definitely an extreme case. I've just heard rumours of that region producing colder, harsher venators more willing to take extreme measures."

"Grindelwald's influence, I'll bet," Harry muttered.

"You're probably right, though I'm not sure how much communication High Martials have with the emperors. I would guess not much, unless they happened to also be the Lord Consul."

Harry fixed her with an intense stare. "I sense a but coming."

"Most men in that region grow up idolizing Grindelwald and reading about his conquests as if they were a manifesto, and… well, Grindelwald was always the more brutal of the two emperors. Where Dumbledore has expressed regret for Russia and some of his other actions during the Conquest, Grindelwald has always shrugged them off and shown no remorse. It sets a certain example, if you catch my meaning."

"And Dumbledore just lets this happen?" Harry asked. That was too much for him to swallow.

"I won't pretend to understand the emperors' business," Narcissa said carefully. "All I'll say is that if I were in power and ruling alongside someone with harsher methods than I preferred, I would probably be quite forgiving."

Harry stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that the empire's rule is built on strength. Any cracks present opportunities. Why do you think that things are escalating the way they are?" She arched an eyebrow at the surprise that flashed across his face. "What, did you think it was purely based on the schematics? Did you think so many people were willing to fight on both sides because of that alone?"

"Not alone. There have been all kinds of riots and violence on both sides, and that feeds into itself."

"True," Narcissa conceded. "That's certainly a part of it. The larger part is opportunity, though. There are people who have waited years for a chink in the empire's armour."

"Idiots," Harry muttered.

"Are they?" Narcissa asked. "Did you not just watch an imperial official resort to murdering his hostages to make a point?"

"That's not the entire empire, though," Harry argued. "There's been less violence the past thirty years than at any point in recorded history."

"And what about the thirty years before that?" Narcissa challenged. "What about Russia being wiped off the map? Or New York being ravaged? London has never been the same since the Surrender, and Africa was torn apart."

"But it was in pursuit of good." For some reason, Harry's heart was beating hard. "If the end goal was peace, then that's one thing."

"Could you not use that excuse to justify almost any action?" Narcissa countered. "Did Krum not use that excuse when the two of you were arguing?"

"I never told you that."

"You didn't have to, Harry." There was a sad smile on her pristine face. "All tyrants are the same. They all promise peace and prosperity and use that vow to justify anything they see fit to do. I know. My uncle Pollux was crippled during the Surrender."

"Sirius told me about that," Harry murmured.

"Did he tell you the sort of things my great-uncle rants about?" Harry shook his head. "It's self-centred, mostly, but every once in a while it will be about the Order of Merlin and what it was like when they were on the rise. Plenty took issue after New York, and Grindelwald wasn't the only one to handwave it away."

"Dumbledore…" The words fizzled out on Harry's tongue. Narcissa was telling him about what had happened, there was no good in arguing.

"Dumbledore's not perfect, either," she said as if reading his mind. "I know a lot of Brits think he is and I can understand that. You should talk to my grandfather about him, though."

Harry grasped for a foothold. "So, what? Are you saying Dumbledore supports this kind of rubbish?"

"No," Narcissa said. "I'm saying that it is in his best interests to at least go along with it and not present disunity, especially right now. That was the same back then, and the actions he and Grindelwald took is what enables people like Vadim Krum to act out the way he did this morning."

"But that's different. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were conquerors facing opposition. Krum's a giant crushing gnats, in the grand scheme of things. The Order didn't have to worry about maintaining peace, Krum does. It's obvious that kind of shit is just going to stir up more violence."

Narcissa quirked an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"Of course it is. Look at history — how many examples can you come up with where shit like this has started revolutions?"

"How many examples can you think of in the last forty or so years where this sort of violence has put down revolutions?" Narcissa held up a hand. "I'm not justifying it. It's disgusting, what Krum did. You have to realize that history stopped mattering quite as much after the empire came into power, though. We live in unprecedented times that aren't comparable to the examples that you mentioned. The empire has operated this way for decades and they're the example all their subjects follow. Today was extreme, but justifiable if Krum cherry picks examples, and the method is in line with the order's philosophy of rule."

"But that's…" Harry struggled to find the proper words.

"Barberic?" Narcissa suggested. "Immoral? Tyrannical?" She shrugged. "You would hardly be the first to say so. Like I said, talk to my grandfather at some point. There are plenty of people with interesting insights, and he's quite high on that list."

Another memory bubbled up, one from the last time he had been in Paris.

"Are recent events really the catalyst behind all of this unrest?" Alden Vieilla had asked him . "Think on it, Monsieur Kalloway, and know my door is always open if you wish to discuss a more nuanced answer to my question."

"I'm sorry," Narcissa said when the pause had dragged too long. "I've never been a good confidant. Grandfather's always said I need to do a better job of listening to people's problems and focus less on rationalizing them." She looked down at her folded hands.

"I actually appreciate it," Harry said. "It's… been a long time since I've been able to have these sorts of conversations."

"Too many secrets," Narcissa guessed.

"Too many secrets," Harry agreed. "Too many other things, too, and not half as many friends."

"That, I understand." Narcissa poured out a glass of wine and he matched the motion. She held up her glass. "To grim, friendless souls like us."

They touched glasses and then drank. It was a strong, sour taste at first. A hint of plum crept in once he'd swallowed. "Not bad, that."

"It's a good middle ground," Narcissa told him. "It's adequate wine while not being too inaccessible."

Harry sipped a second time. "And yours?"

"Excellent wine and significantly less accessible."

Harry smiled just as three knocks wrapped against the door and the waitress came back in, placing plates in front of them. His mouth watered at the smell of steak and sauce. "Est-ce qu'il y a autre chose que je peux faire pour vous deux?" the waitress asked.

"Nous avons tout ce dont nous avons besoin pour l'instant." Narcissa replied. "Merci." They set to their respective meals when the waitress exited, steak Diane for Harry and what look like salmon wellington for Narcissa.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry broached after several minutes. Narcissa nodded, quietly chewing her dainty mouthful. "What are we, really?"

She swallowed. "I'm afraid you'll have to specify your question."

"Are we friends? Acquaintances? Just business partners?"

Narcissa sipped her wine. "What makes you ask?"

"Your quip about grim souls made me think of it, I guess." Harry turned his fork between two fingers. "And it's hard to tell, sometimes. You're… not always consistent."

"Oh?"

"You just… shift, it feels like." Harry shuffled in his chair, unease writhing in his stomach. "Sometimes we talk like this and it feels natural and easy. Then sometimes… I don't know, it's like you close yourself off. You get brisk and formal. It happened last time we met, at Alden's."

Narcissa chewed for what felt like half an age. "I'm sorry." The words surprised him. "I'm not very good at accepting people into my life. I never have been." The upward curving of her lips had a mocking quality. Harry did not think it was aimed at him. "There was some truth in my quip about grim souls, at least on my end."

"Mine too," Harry admitted. "I… had close friends I trusted with my life, once upon a time."

"They're all dead, aren't they?" Narcissa asked. Her eyes were bright like smooth water bathed in noonday sunlight, yet deep as black pools waiting silently at midnight.

"Yes." In his bid to avoid bitter or dramatic tones, his fell flat and hollow.

"I think we're friends." Narcissa said it as if only now deciding. "At least, I think I would like it if we were."

It was surprising, how easily the darkness faded from him. "I think I'd like that, too," Harry said, hardly able to believe what was unfolding.

"Friends, then?" Narcissa offered up her hand.

Harry's stomach fluttered as he touched her skin, smooth and cool as marble on an autumn day. "Friends."

"The harshest tyranny is that which acts under the protection of legality and the banner of justice."

— Montesquieu

A special thank you to my high-tier patron, Cup, for her generous and unwavering support.

PS: The next chapter will be out in two weeks. Remember that chapters can be read early on Discord, YouTube, and P*T*E*N! All those links are on my profile, and if any give you trouble, use my website's homepage. That site can be found via a generic Google search of my pen name.