Chapter 7: Friends, New and Old

Hermione lay back on her bed, wondering just what had happened to bring her there, as well as the odd boy that seemed to be wreaking havoc on a number of people's years. Not the least of whose, she was finding out, was hers.

That Morning*

Hermione had never truly enjoyed her birthday, when she was younger it was simply a reminder that she had no real friends but she would still get to have a nice dinner with her parents and the three of them would have a small celebration. However, ever since she had begun Hogwarts she was still reminded that she seemingly had an inability to make friends, only now she didn't even get to see her parents. She and her parents still exchanged owls throughout the school year, and on her birthday they would often send a card and maybe some small present that the owl could carry, but that was the extent of the day's recognition.

With those somewhat morose thoughts in mind Hermione rose for what she assumed would be another lackluster birthday. She gathered her uniform for the day and made her way into the bathroom to perform her morning rituals. After her morning shower, bunching her hair up into a lazy bun for the day and brushing her teeth fully enough that even her parents would have no complaints she left the bathroom and received her first hint that her 15th birthday might just be different than all those others she remembered.

She had just moved towards her trunk at the bottom of her bed to gather her books and supplies for the day when she saw it. There, sitting right on top of her trunk, where she must have walked right by it on her way to the shower, sat what was clearly a birthday present. Her parent's normal present shouldn't arrive until that morning's mail and even considering that the present was much larger than her parents would normally send, not realizing that mail owls could carry significantly more than a normal owl.

Immediately Hermione was suspicious. Looking towards her roommate's beds she saw that the two girls were still asleep as suspected, just as they'd been when she had entered for bed last night. So it was unlikely that they were responsible but she was still hesitant. Slowly picking up the package and examining it as she sat on her bed provided several more observations. There was no note, no tag, nothing to indicate who might have sent the gift. But, the wrapping was distinctly muggle wrapping paper. It was only because of this fact that she hesitantly drew her wand and waved it over the box to see if she could find any indications of some sort of prank. Finding nothing untoward led her to carefully unwrap the package and eventually open the box within.

The present itself confused her even more than the package's mysterious arrival and lack of note. Sat upon a thin cushion that was clearly designed to fit the box was a simple, if ornate, hand mirror. If that wasn't odd enough, on the mirror's face was a muggle sticky-note that read 'Say Grangers tonight at 8pm.' Hermione didn't know what to make of this odd development. While not nearly as concerned with her appearance as most other girls her age she wasn't unappreciative of the mirror but didn't think that her parents would have sent it to her. In addition the note led the mystery to an even deeper level. What could it mean? If this was some sort of prank why would the direction be so simple and for a time that she could easily be hidden in the privacy of her own room?

She couldn't make heads or tails of the few facts she had, confused further when her parent's gift had arrived at breakfast, a small box with a pretty new bracelet that she'd seen when out with her mother during the summer holiday. But it wasn't the bracelet that added to her confusion, but rather the letter, normal through most of it her parents had departed their normal sign off of 'Love, Mum and Dad' for a simple 'See you soon!' All of these small things led to a noticeably distracted morning of classes, she had only been shaken from thoughts of the mirror when during lunch Algol had approached her, asking if the seat across from her was taken. When she had answered that it wasn't, in her shock that he would approach her so blatantly, he smiled at her and sat down to eat his lunch. They had exchanged a few words throughout the meal and she had almost become comfortable with his quiet presence when they rose to leave and he had addressed her again.

He said that he hoped that she was having a good day and then proceeded to ask her if she would mind showing him around the village during the first Hogsmeade weekend in October. His request and seeming interest in her would push the mystery of the mirror completely from her mind until she had made her way to her dorm that night and saw it sitting on her nightstand where she had left it.

Quickly casting a tempus to see if she had missed the note's request she saw that she hadn't and had nearly half an hour until 8. Deciding to begin her nightly ritual she put her books from that day away in their proper spots in her trunk and gathered the tomes she would be needing for tomorrow. When she saw that she had only a couple minutes until 8 o'clock, she glanced outside the dorm to ensure no one was nearby that might be waiting to prank her, cast a locking charm at the door and waited until the clock ticked over and followed the note's instructions.

"Grangers" she said, following the note to the letter.

She watched as her reflection seemed to swirl into a vortex of color, moving faster and faster until beginning to slow and forming an image that was clearly no reflection of hers. There, sitting in what she recognized as the loveseat from their den, were her smiling parents beaming up at her, though like a reflection they were not stationary like a muggle photograph.

"Wha- bu- what is this?" she stuttered out, thinking that this was some sort of odd combination of a mirror and wizarding photograph until she watched, and heard, her parents call out a 'Happy Birthday, Hermione!'

"Wha- what is this?!" Hermione asked while looking about as though someone would be there to answer, shocked that her parents apparently managed to get their hands on something magical, something magical that she had never even heard of.

The two dentists laughed at the shocked look on their daughter's face before her mother, Emma, chose to explain.

"While we hope you enjoyed our little gift this morning and would love to take credit for these fabulous mirrors we can't. These are actually a gift from your friend Algol! Didn't he give you it? Or send a note?" Emma asked, somewhat confused why her daughter thought they were responsible for the mirrors.

"M- my…fr … Algol did this?" She stuttered out, still in shock at the strange turn of events.

"Your Algol?" Both her parents asked, though in very different tones. Her mother clearly teasing and somewhat excited, her father all of a sudden seeming to have rethought whether they should be grateful to the boy and his godfather who had dropped the mirrors off last week with an explanation.

"What? No, no no no. Not my Algol. I'm just… surprised? I didn't expect him to get me anything, or to even know my birthday!" Hermione exclaims, needing to cut off that avenue of thinking before either of her parents could get the wrong idea.

After several questions by her parents about this new 'friend' of hers, many of which she truthfully couldn't answer, the three moved to just catching one another up on their lives. Until one of her usual offhand complaints that she couldn't just show them what she's talking about when describing her latest transfiguration lesson.

"Well, why can't you?" her father asked to her usual complaint.

With a sigh, Hermione went to explain for what seemed to be the hundredth time why she couldn't.

"Dad, you know that we can't use magic out… side… of…" Hermione trails off as she realizes what she's saying and what her dad had meant.

Her parents watched with fond smiles as their quiet, unassuming and oftentimes too serious daughter hopped out of her seat with an almost manic energy and propped the mirror against what they could only assume was a stack of her many books so that she could step back and begin to show them so many of the things that she'd wanted to for so long.

The next hour passed faster than any of them would have believed, Hermione gleefully showing off her talent for her first and favorite teachers and her parents watching in wonder at what their little girl could do with little more than a stick and some Latin. Eventually, her mother noticed the time and clearly regretfully mentioned that they should all get to bed or they would regret it in the morning, prompting them all to say goodnight and promise to call again tomorrow night.

After listening to her parents explain how to shut off the mirrors and the other instructions that Algol's godfather, a man named Sirius Black, had given them when dropping them off, Hermione watched the colors swirl again before coalescing into her reflection.

She let herself fall back onto her bed and began to reflect on the day, now determined to confront the strange boy that had shown up and thrown so many things into some sort of disarray.

"The Basilisk doesn't care that I'm a 'speaker', it's not going to let us go."

The twins glanced at one another before turning back to Harry.

"So, what's the plan?" they asked together.

"Well, we're going to have to trap it or kill it. Any ideas?"

"Can't say anything springs to mind." One of the twins said.

"You're the one who killed you-know-who, shouldn't you be the one with the ideas?" The other twin asked.

Harry released a sigh, annoyed that even when it had apparently killed him people expected his banishment of Voldemort to make him some sort of expert at fighting dark wizards and creatures.

"Not really, do you remember much from when you were two years old?" he asked, before sighing and continuing.

"Our biggest issue is its eyes. We may know that we can't look at it but in the middle of a fight it's going to be hard to keep our eyes shut knowing that it can see us when we can't see it. We need to blind it somehow." As he said this Harry slowly remembered the two standing across from him had begun their business in earnest over the past summer and they might just have part of the answer.

"Wait! Do either of you have some of your Peruvian darkness powder on you?" Harry asked excitedly.

Sharing a glance again, the two twins both asked together "How do you know about that?"

"We haven't told anyone-"

"and we've only just gotten it stable enough to use-"

"so how could you know about it?" they finished, suspiciously.

"Is that really important right now? Do you have any or not? In fact what all do you have on you, period?" Harry demanded, knowing that the likelihood that he'd be able to avoid the twins pestering him if they got out of this mess had gone from slim to non-existent.

Slowly, the two began emptying their pockets pulling out what Harry knew to be some puking pastilles, canary creams, several products he'd never seen before and others that seemed only half complete before George raised a small bag of the black powder that Harry thought could be the key.

"Alright great" Harry began to really look around the room to see what he had to work with and noticed that several of the columns that lined the chamber had worn and fallen over the years, those that still stood had sconces alight with magic providing the limited light they had. There was of course the pool of water near the giant depiction of Slytherin's face. As his eyes roved over the numerous stalactites hanging from the vaulted ceiling high above the makings of a plan began to form.

"Ok, I've got something. First, I'll flash steam the pool by Slytherin's head. Then, you two are gonna hide behind those two pillars." he motioned to two of the support columns that hadn't fallen over. "I'll open the door, and we can expect the thing to rush in. But, it is somewhat intelligent and royally pissed we're in here. So, don't count on making a break for it. When I say, you're gonna use the darkness powder so that it can't see us and we can't see it. Follow so far?"

"Yeah, we see where you're going but-"

"so far it just sounds like we'll be trapped in here with a blind and angry snake. "

"Admittedly, this is where it gets tricky. I'm going to goad the thing, try to draw it toward me near the old geezer's head back there," he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the giant bust of the founder, "while you two sneak out the way we came. Once you two are clear, I want you to send blasting curses back at the pillars and ceiling. We're going to entomb the thing if we can."

The red heads clearly thought the plan left a lot to be desired.

"It doesn't sound like the bloody snake is all that we'll be burying mate, just what is your plan to get out?" Fred asked, clearly not ready to consign another student, even one who'd seemingly kidnapped him and his brother, to death.

"Listen, I'm faster than I look, and have been in worse situations than this, believe it or not. Hell, that's only if everything else goes to plan, which it never does. So don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

As Fred seemed to channel his mother, puffing himself up ready to lay into Harry for what he thought was an idiotic plan that was sure to get him killed all because of his seemingly insane opinion of himself, he felt a hand grasp his forearm from next to him.

Looking down, he saw a hand that he knew quite literally as well as his. His gaze followed his twin's arm to his face, his eyes clearly asking 'why are you stopping me?' But George was still looking at Harry and only glanced at Fred before flicking his eyes back towards the mysterious teen, conveying the message as clear as speaking it would have. 'Look at him Freddie, really look.'

Acquiescing to his brother's unspoken request, Fred looked back at the teen that had somehow gotten them in more trouble in two hours than their entire first four years in the school. That was when he saw what had made George pause. Harry, Algol, whoever he was didn't seem arrogant and he saw no insanity behind those unnatural cyan eyes staring back at them. What he did see was a single minded determination that sent a shiver up his spine and made him feel smaller in a way. All of a sudden, he could no longer bring himself to question the odd boy that everyone believed to be dead.

Sighing, Fred could only get on board with the still objectively insane plan.

"Alright, let's get started I suppose."

It was finally time, Peter by no means looked forward to the ritual but being confined to the manor to wait on the disgusting thing that was his master was certainly worse. Trying to keep this thought in mind, Peter continued to set up all the pieces of the ritual under the watchful gaze of Bellatrix. He was dragged from his thoughts by the aggravated hissing voice of his master.

"Wormtail! Why are the preparations not complete? I believe we've kept our guest waiting quite long enough, wouldn't you agree?"

Wanting to point out that if it wasn't for Bellatrix crucioing him if she thought something were even a millimeter out of place he would've been done nearly an hour ago, but knowing it was a bad idea Peter could only apologize as usual. Knowing that while his lot was shite it could be worse, as evidenced by Barty Crouch Sr. gagged and tied to a nearby headstone, his eyes showing clear terror and disgust for what he was to be witness to.

"My apologies, my Lord. I must only add more wood to the fire and then we shall be prepared to begin."

"Excellent, tonight is to be one of the greatest for us all, is it not? We would not want to delay any further taking our triumph!" The bundle of rags that Barty Jr. held seemed to call into the night. Causing Wormtail to unconsciously flex his hand, silently lamenting its' loss already and thinking that it was hardly all of their triumph.

Once he'd stoked the fire below the cauldron, Peter nodded to Barty Jr. that he was able to begin.

Barty Sr. could only watch as his son, his eyes alight with a manic glee, began to incant "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son," with a wave of his wand the grave beneath him exploded and several bones floated into the bubbling cauldron. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master," Jr. nodded to Wormtail standing next to the cauldron, who took a breath and then held his wrist over the potion and brought the silver blade down and shrieking in pain even as he heard his hand plop into the now roiling mixture. Ignoring Wormtail's shriek and continued whimpering , his son continued, the fanaticism behind his eyes nearly blinding. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe," Crouch Sr. gasped as he felt Bellatrix grip his arm and then watched in horror and then blinding pain as she brought a small knife down into his inner elbow and dragged it to his wrist, clearly delighting in his pain. She then walked calmly, but quickly, to the potion and let his blood fall from her blade into the now violently shuddering cauldron. As soon as she did, the potion calmed into a deathly black color and Crouch Jr. brought the bundle he carried forward and dropped it into the completed potion, holding his breath as it did its work.

It took only a minute or two, as they watched the potion begin to boil harder and harder until it exploded upward in a cloud of steam, leaving the silhouette of a man standing in the middle of the cauldron. Immediately, Barty Jr. and Bellatrix fell to their knees, prostrating themselves as though they were before a deity, while Peter continued to hold his stump and whimper nearby only half conscious to the return of his master.

"Robe me" Voldemort said, as he stepped forward and examined his new form.

Immediately, Bellatrix was at his side holding open a long dark robe that he slowly shrugged into the garment. Taking his time to luxuriate in the simple ability to feel properly again, as even his homunculus form limited worldly sensations.

"My wand."

After accepting his wand from Bellatrix, Voldemort extended his open hand to her, his demand clear. She held out her arm and shivered in pleasure at his touch, relishing the feeling of his power as he pressed onto her dark mark, calling his followers to him.

"Now, we see who was truly faithful, as well as those who were never fit to stand among us."

Taking his statement as a dismissal, Bellatrix prostrated herself once again and they all waited. One invigorated with a renewed sense of purpose with his return, two ecstatic with the beginning of a new era for wizard kind and one whimpering with self pity and silently cursing the world for being so unfair to him.

Fred and George took up their positions behind the two pillars closest to the chamber's exit, casting silencing charms on their shoes and standing quietly as they watched Harry approach the great pool in front of Slytherin. When he'd gotten within several meters of the water, he calmly raised his wand and with only a minuscule wave began to pour fiendfyre over the pool, instantly vaporizing the water and creating a thick cloud of steam. He then smothered the fiendfyre and conjured a light breeze to help spread the steam, making the air in the chamber nearly unbreathable with how humid it was now.

After coughing a few times, Harry called out and asked if the twins were ready. Getting a pair of affirmative responses, he thought 'here goes nothing' before looking at the door and hissing out a "Open."

Harry watched just long enough to see the door begin to open before averting his gaze to the floor, calling out "NOW!" and waiting for his vision to be blocked by the cloud of Peruvian darkness powder. As he stood there, his eyes glued to the floor, he listened and heard the door scrape as it slowly opened until it stilled. Still no darkness.

"Come on, George. Come on" he whispered under his breath as he tensed every muscle he had in preparation.

There came a slow slithering sound from the corridor beyond, beginning to draw closer until the pattern of echoes changed enough that he knew that the snake had now entered the chamber proper, there was no going back.

Still no darkness, but suddenly the hissing sounds of parseltongue rang out to Harry.

"SSssSsoo, you are the one with the massSster'ss gift? Interesssting."

"Shite, shite, shite." Harry muttered, wondering just what was going wrong. After another several seconds passed without the expected darkness falling Harry decided to risk it and raked his gaze towards where he knew George was standing, keeping his eyes as low as possible. Because of how he had moved his focus, Harry saw George's feet first, with a small pile of what looked like dark black sand next to him. When he got to George's face he saw that the boy was ghostly white with fear and holding an empty bag that was supposed to be holding the power. 'Bugger' he thought, before catching a glimpse of the snake's belly in his peripherals and realizing that the snake wasn't coming straight for him like they'd planned, it seemed to be slowly approaching and in less than a minute would pass the pillars Fred and George were behind, and with its' current pace it would almost certainly notice them.

Realizing that the plan was a bust, as always, and having no interest in chatting with the monster Harry roared.

"Fred, George, keep your eyes down and get to me. NOW!"

With that, Harry raised his wand to begin casting whatever he could, hoping to slow the snake and give the boys time to make it behind him. Yet, before the first curse even left his lips he felt it. That strange rushing sensation of magic being pulled into him had returned, though this time he noticed that it felt slightly different. Rather than it seeming as though magic was only being pulled uncontrolled and blindly from all around him, he now felt a steady pull and several areas that felt almost… warm? Even stranger was that those areas seemed to be growing larger and larger. Harry's eyes nearly flew open in shock as he realized the spots weren't growing, they were nearing. He was feeling the twins and the Basilisk.

Putting the odd occurrence out of his mind Harry returned to the moment, and began casting overpowered curses towards the Basilisk.

"Bombarta! Diffindo! Reducto!"

The sound of his spells impacting something besides stone would've been satisfying, had it not been followed by possibly the most unpleasant sound he could imagine, a snake's laughter, as well as the sound of its rushing scales not slowing even slightly.

Quickly adjusting his strategy, Harry wanted to simply create obstacles between the bloody beast and the twins. But before he could even begin to conjure or cast Harry felt the magic that had gathered within him and was still being pulled from his surroundings reach an overwhelming crescendo and demand to be released. The pressure was so great that he chose not to fight it and simply try to direct it at the ground between himself and the two presences he knows are the twins. The feeling of more power than he'd ever felt, besides the anomaly just before he was sent here, rushed down his arm and burst into a beam of a multitude of colors so bright that he could even make them out through his shut eyelids and rushed towards the two redheads running towards him.

Harry felt the magic release from his wand and race towards the twins. He hadn't said or thought of any specific spell, it had been more of a desire. His racing mind had provided several ideas for how to slow the snake but it all came down to the eyes. He knew he needed to blind it like Fawkes did for them to stand a chance, so he had released the energy with the hope of kicking up whatever he could from the floor and send it hurtling into the thing's eyes. Hoping that it would find enough debris and banish it fast enough to pierce the damned snake's eyes and not clip one of the twins beforehand. What he hadn't expected however, was to see a glowing mass in his mind, as big as either twin, rush away from him and towards the twins. Landing just in front of their path and then exploding, with the loudest crack he had ever heard, into thousands and thousands of smaller little masses that rocketed past the twins towards the much larger glowing mass he sensed behind them. The roar of pain from the Basilisk let Harry know that he had certainly accomplished something, and trusting that he'd somehow accomplished the impossible he allowed the exhaustion to momentarily take him and fell to his knees and opened his eyes.

Luckily he was correct and the Basilisk's eyes were clearly shredded beyond any hope. Unluckily, he realized that he'd trapped the twins on the opposite side of a massive crater. With an enraged monster that, while blinded, still pursued them.

Before he could even consider his next move he saw one of the twins take a leap away from the edge of the crater and heard him yell "HARRY! CATCH!"

Quicker than he could react, even when not exhausted, he saw the twin whip his wand at the other and send him flying across the crater towards him. Unfortunately, any hope he might've had to send something at the monster were dashed by his immediate need to catch the flying twin from the air and it was just as he landed the one twin next to him that he saw the Basilisk strike the other, its' terrible fangs sinking deep into him and then whipping his limp body away towards the chamber's entrance.

Daphne and Tracey sat quietly at one of the tables their common room held for students to collaborate and work together on assignments. However, while Tracey worked on their potions essay that was due next Friday, Daphne found her thoughts drifting to the boy who remained an enigma. Algol Black.

She still didn't know what she thought of the boy. He was foolish for provoking Malfoy before even entering the school and more so for his blatant acceptance of all things muggle. His acceptance of Granger, the near flaunting of muggle styled clothes and outright refusal to use quills in favor of those muggle pens had rankled more than a few of the more traditional Slytherin in not only their year but those above them as well.

Yet, most confusingly, he didn't seem to care.

One of the biggest farces that the wizard of world used to justify their limiting of muggleborns to only lower level jobs within the Ministry and continued preferential treatment of purebloods was that muggleborns would not or could not transition to the wizarding world's customs, laws or traditions. The thought being that if allowed into a place of authority, they would simply change things to the muggle way and forgo any of the traditions that wizarding Britain held.

However, if one were to simply look they would see that muggleborns bend over backwards to understand and capitulate to wizarding norms, even when she could admit the muggle way might actually be preferable on occasion. She'd on occasion gotten to use one of the muggle pens and could not fathom the disdain showed to them by purebloods, not having to carry an ink pot or her quill dulling were easily worth the switch, yet muggleborns would often arrive with several and gradually shift to the inferior quills in search of acceptance and to placate wizarding feelings.

Algol's actions themself weren't entirely unprecedented, on occasion either in protest of a conservative law being passed or in celebration of their father managing to pass some legislation toward the integration of muggleborns, the Weasley twins would go out of their way for some time to do everything they could to appear muggle, often loudly extolling the superiority of different aspects of the muggle world with the express desire to thumb their noses at the Slytherins who couldn't stand to hear that they may not be superior in every way.

Algol though, he just... didn't care. Which in and of itself should scare the purebloods more than anything else. The future Lord Black continued to make clear that he would fully adopt muggle practices where he saw fit and ignore wizarding ones that he didn't agree with. He was doing exactly what the purebloods in the Wizengamot said all muggleborns would do. The only difference was that he was set to inherit one of the most influential roles and a place in their highest level of government with the gold to actually facilitate change, while they could do nothing to prevent it. Well… nothing legal.

Daphne's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of their head of house entering, drawing everyone's attention. Apparently however, she was not the only one with the Black heir on her mind as once Professor Snape had the student's attention he gestured to one of the sixth year boys and told him

"You, fetch Black for me."

They only had to wait a moment for the boy to return, alone.

"I apologize professor, but it seems that Algol has not returned for the night."

Glancing at his watch, Snape's irritation clearly rose further.

"Curfew is in less than ten minutes. Avery, why have you not ensured that one of our newest students-"

The professor seemed to suddenly tense before finishing chastising the seventh year prefect and Daphne noticed, though only barely, that his left fist had clenched around the watch until his knuckles turned white. Without another word the man swept from the room with his cloak billowing behind him.

George ran with everything he had towards where Harry stood. He could hear Fred panting next to him and could feel the indomitable presence of the Basilisk closing in behind them. They'd kept their eyes low until certain the Basilisk was at their back and then looked up, hoping to see Harry with some sort of plan. Unfortunately, when George saw him, the Slytherin had his wand raised but had stopped casting after his first opening salvo. He stood there motionless with his eyes squeezed shut… seemingly frozen in fear.

The unpleasant realization that he and Fred were about to die came and went quicker than a blink. Rather than worrying about what death would feel like, George inexplicably found himself thrust into a childhood memory from years earlier, before he and Fred had even begun at Hogwarts.

April 1st, 1985*

George woke up to his twin shaking him and whispering it was time to start. It might be their birthday, but they had been planning all their pranks for the day for weeks, there was work to be done.

The two budding troublemakers quickly dressed and quietly made their way downstairs towards the kitchen, knowing that their mother was usually the first one up in the mornings. But, before reaching the door their hearts dropped because of the clear sounds of activity coming from inside.

George immediately wanted to retreat and not risk their mother's ire on their birthday. But as he turned back towards the stairs he felt Fred's hand on his shoulder and saw that his eyes were locked on the door. Listening closer to hear what caught his twin's attention he heard what were clearly the sounds of crying and hiccupping that followed a true sob. Alarmed, he looked back towards his brother hoping that he would know what to do.

The two creeped closer until they could also make out the hushed sounds of their parent's voices and were able to tell that it was clearly their mother who was crying. While George most often let Fred take the lead, he knew that they couldn't stand by and had to help their parents with whatever the problem was. So, without second thought, George pushed the door open and slowly made his way into the kitchen, knowing that Fred would follow.

"Mum? Dad? What's wrong?" he asked, seeing his parents sat at the far end of the table.

The two startled and turned towards their young sons.

"George! Fred! What are you two doing up already?" their father asked.

Not having an answer besides 'planning pranks' the two blushed and glanced at the floor as they stuttered as they tried to think of something. The two were saved from answering by their mother's watery chuckle, drawing the other three redhead's attention.

"They're setting up their jokes for the day, of course, Arthur." Molly said, blowing her nose with a handkerchief. "Just like Fabien and Gideon" she finished.

Looking back at his sons with a small smile now, Arthur gestured them over and asked, "have we ever told you about your uncles?"

The two twins approached, shaking their heads.

Their father began to share "Their names were Fabien and Gideon-" before being cut off by their mother, taking over for him.

"They were twins, and today was their birthday too." she explained. "That's where your names come from, F for Fabien and Fred, G for Gideon and George."

The two young boys shared a glance before George quietly asked, "what happened to them?" worrying that he might make his mother cry more.

"They… they were killed when you were just babies… " their father answered, when it was clear their mother couldn't say the words.

"Oh…" was all Fred could say in response.

The four sat for several minutes in silence, before George quietly asked in a clearly hopeful but understanding voice.

"Can you… tell us about them?"

For a moment it looked as though their mother would refuse, before her shoulders relaxing and another small smile crossing her face.

"I think I'd like that." she answered.

With that, the twins and their mother began a new tradition where the three would wake up early on the two's birthday and she would tell them stories of their uncles. Sometimes their father would join them, sometimes not. But what George always found funny, was just how their mother would share all the details of their uncle's pranks when she knew he and Fred would just try to recreate it. It wasn't until they started Hogwarts that he realized that while she disapproved of the trouble they got into and would never admit it, she likely got a smile every time she got a letter from the school about a prank they'd pulled that was clearly inspired by her stories of her brothers.

The Present*

As the nostalgia passed and he returned from his memory, all while still sprinting with his brother towards the massive Slytherin bust and the strange boy in front of it, George thought not of himself.

He thought of his family and wondered what they would think. Would they think he and Fred had gone too far with an experiment and gotten themselves killed? If he made it out, would Harry tell their family what happened, even though he'd be liable?

But above all, George worried about whether his mum would be able to move on after losing her twin brothers and now sons?

All these thoughts raced through his mind even as he continued pumping his legs in what he knew to be a vain attempt to outrun the snake. Suddenly though, he was dragged from his morose musings by the sight of Harry jabbing his wand forward and a continuous beam of what George could only describe as magic surged toward Fred and him. The beam of energy coalesced into perhaps the most dangerous looking bombarta they had ever seen and George found his hope renewed, thinking that Harry had found a way to overcharge his spell enough to damage even the legendary beast behind them. It only took two strides for his hope to turn to horror, and he watched as the writhing ball of energy hit the ground just in front of them and with the loudest crack they had ever heard exploded the solid stone floor directly towards them.

What happened next happened too fast for George to be certain of anything. The brothers reflexively flinched back from what was certainly hundreds of thousands of jagged shards that would rip them to pieces. Only, where they expected stabbing pains there was nothing. What they found instead was high pitched whistles as those thousands upon thousands of shards flew by them, some close enough that he thought that he could feel them parting his hair. Those whistles were followed immediately by a blood curdling roar of pain from the basilisk behind them, though it was clear that the snake was still coming.

Unfortunately they reached the massive crater created between them and Harry and there was no apparent way to cross. It was then that George noticed Harry had fallen to his knees, his arm slumped to the side, and felt him accept the fact that there was no way that he and Fred were both going to make it. But maybe, just maybe he could save one of the twins in his mother's life.

As he saw Harry attempt to rise again, in what he knew would be a futile attempt to help, he jumped back towards where he knew the monster was, then whipped his wand forward at his brother's back and yelled "HARRY! CATCH!" and then cast the strongest banishing charm he could at Fred, sending him hurtling towards Harry.

In the next moment, George felt something massive collide with him and pain exploded in his right shoulder and lower abdomen. The pain was so great that he squeezed his eyes shut in reflex before feeling what had to be the Basilisk whip his entire body backwards and release him. He felt his body fly through the air a short distance before all went black as he collided with the ground.

Albus Dumbledore had thought on his limited interactions with the newest Black heir, and found himself with yet more questions. With the addition of the newest prophecy, he was determined to begin finding answers rather than simply more questions. Which is why he had sent his potions master to fetch their newest fourth year and escort him to his office. However, he found himself surprised when Severus returned alone far quicker and far more agitated than he'd expected.

"Albus, it has happened."

With that, Severus ripped up his left sleeve and Dumbledore's dread grew as he gazed upon the writhing black tattoo that the two had observed darkening the past few months.

Hating the necessity of what he had to ask of the man before him, he looked up into the man that still so often reminded him of the lost boy he had been in the halls he now taught.

"You know what must be done?" he asked.

With a swift nod Severus Snape swept from the room towards what Albus knew would be the most dangerous position many had seen since the last war.

As the door shut behind his spy Albus waved his arm to disengage the defenses on his office so that not even those seconds would be wasted when Severus returned to inform him of the newest developments. He steepled his fingers and began to consider what their next moves would need to be.

Fred's world spun before his eyes but all he could think about was what was happening to his brother. He landed and immediately whipped his eyes towards his brother, paying no heed for whether he'd catch sight of the Basilisk's gaze or not. As he turned, all he could do was watch in horror, hoping he would wake up from what had to be a nightmare, any moment now. It seemed like slow motion that he saw the monster lunge at his brother.

George was tossed like a ragdoll by the monster, and Fred felt himself shutting down. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know how he would tell his family, he didn't know how he could tell his mother.

Before he could fall fully catatonic, he felt the ground around him and Harry seemingly melt upwards and form a sort of sphere around them, the only flat part being the ground they stood on. Before he could ask what was going on he was thrown back against the wall behind him and felt the sensation that they were hurtling through the air unsuspended.

Only seconds later he stumbled forward as the impromptu earthen bubble cracked perfectly down the middle and he saw that they now stood just in front of where George lay and saw Harry take several quick strides to kneel next to his unconscious brother.

Harry laid a hand on George's chest for a moment before saying "He's still alive, but fading."

Having regained its' bearings and still seeking revenge the Basilisk roared in response to hearing its' prey now behind it near the entrance and quickly began to slither their way.

Looking up from George in response, Harry surveyed the quickly approaching Basilisk and completely ignored Fred except to give a brief order.

"Get him to the entrance, now. I'll be there in a moment. GO!" he said, while standing and taking several steps past Fred towards Slytherin's monster.

Having no clue what to do, feeling hopeful that George was still apparently alive and terrified that he was clearly fading fast. Fred didn't question or turn to look at what was going to happen. He simply levitated his brother and began to sprint back down the tunnel they had come from.

He'd barely made it out of the chamber when he heard a hissing and the entrance slammed shut behind him. Then, muffled explosions and roars could be heard echoing down the tunnel as he ran, sparing only a quick thought that he hoped the strange boy would be alright.

The fury he felt when he saw the Basilisk strike George made Harry forget his exhaustion. He felt the magic return to his veins and demanded it get he and Fred to George immediately. Without wand or incantation he felt the ground melt upwards around both of them before shooting them across the Chamber.

Trusting that his magic wouldn't allow him to be delayed, Harry found himself stepping forward before it seemed to crack and fell away on its own. He knelt next to George and felt his chest, praying that he would feel the tell tale rise and fall of breathing.

It was there, but he felt it growing fainter by the moment. "He's still alive, but fading" was all he could say before an unearthly roar behind him drew his attention to the Basilisk once again.

"Get him to the entrance, now. I'll be there in a moment. GO!"

Harry watched Fred run from the chamber with George's limp body floating in front of him before hissing out a simple "close" to seal the doors.

He turned to face the nearing Basilisk, furious that yet again, innocents were paying the price for his carelessness. How could he be so stupid to bring people down here without ensuring the beast was dead. He already knew things were different from where he came from, and who would have killed the snake in a world where he had been killed a decade prior.

Knowing that his anger wouldn't be constructive to killing the monster, Harry took a breath and for the first time reached out and focused on the feeling of drawing magic into himself. To his surprise, it seemed to respond in an instant, almost eagerly. Even more strangely, the now familiar feeling of rushing magic was accompanied by the faintest tickling, or perhaps whispering, in the back of his mind that gave him an idea of just how to kill the beast without Gryffindor's sword or getting bitten himself. He opened his eyes and felt himself smile in spite of himself, before he began to wave his wand faster than he would have thought he was able.

Voldemort watched as one by one his followers gathered in the decrepit graveyard in a circle around where he, Barty, Bella and Peter stood. There were holes, which was to be expected. He knew a number of his Death Eaters were being held in Azkaban but that alone would not explain all the gaps. After they had stood in silence for several minutes without a new arrival and he felt that those that had arrived were beginning to grasp the depth of their failure he began.

"At last, my friends. We are reunited once again! I'll admit, I find myself…. disappointed." He let his smile fall and began to circle around and look at each and every one of the black clad and masked men and women.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Selwyn, Nott… all of you! Not one, not a single one of you sought to find me. Did you perhaps believe your master lost? Defeated by a child? Perhaps you thought it a lie when I told you all that I had gone farther than any had before to ensure my immortality?"

Suddenly, one of the robed Death Eaters stepped forward and fell to their knees, prostrating themselves before the snakelike man.

"My Lord, if there had been but a whisper I would have been there as soon as possible."

"Ahh Lucius… One of the most supposedly devoted to the cause. Rise" he commanded.

Lucius rose, feeling the brief elation at the recognition settle into a sense of foreboding, quickly morphing to fear when the Dark Lord gripped him by the chin and forced his head back to look into his eyes.

In a low, menacing whisper that didn't carry to the others he growled out "There were more than mere whispers, Lucius. You think I don't know that while I languished you lived in comfort? Ruling Britain in my place? You have much atone for Lucius."

Releasing Malfoy's chin and sending him stumbling back into line, Voldemort continued, this time loud enough for all to hear.

"All of you, have much to atone for! I expect each and every one of you to earn the right to take your place in my followers again. Some of you have already begun to repay what you owe." At this, he walked next to Peter and grasped his elbow and brought his wrist up as he continued. "Those who earn it…" he waved his wand and a molten silver hand seemed to pour from the air itself and attach itself where the rat's hand once was. "...will be rewarded."

Dropping Wormtail's arm, who immediately began to cradle his new hand with a sense of awe, Voldemort continued his pacing around the circle of his supposedly faithful. Eventually, his pacing led him in front of Barty Crouch Sr., tied to the headstone of his pathetic muggle father. Voldemort almost found himself impressed, while he could tell the man was terrified he showed nothing but defiance on his face. Laughing, he decided to twist the knife for the man just a little bit.

"Ahhh Barty, how rude of me, I nearly forgot our guest! After all, without you we wouldn't be standing here tonight, would we?"

Still gagged, Barty could only continue his defiant stare, until Voldemort continued.

"Kind enough to break one of my most loyal out of Azkaban," here Voldemort scowled and in a much less friendly tone accused "though, he wouldn't have been there in the first place if it weren't for you. Though, you did provide the blood for tonight's ritual, so I suppose you deserve a reward as well."

The ripple through his followers at the thought that he would reward someone who'd sent so many of his followers to Azkaban amused him.

"Because of your usefulness tonight, your continuing usefulness in the future and your son's impassioned request that I not kill you, you shall be allowed to live."

Voldemort saw the man's eyes widen in disbelief and flick towards where his son stood, with a cruel smile on his face that didn't match the sentiment.

Walking over to where Barty Jr. stood, Voldemort continued in a tone of surprise, as though what he was about to say surprised even him.

"Yes, as one of my most loyal who didn't stand idly by during my absence I was willing to reward him with almost anything. Yet, all he asked was that I not kill you once your usefulness was through." Then, turning as though he'd just remembered an inconsequential detail he twisted the metaphorical knife.

"Well, I suppose that isn't true, he asked for two things. The first, that I not kill you, and the second… that he be allowed to."

As the man's shoulders fell and the tears began to fall at his realization of just how deep his failure ran, Voldemort and the Death Eaters around them began to laugh, all the while Barty Jr. stood with a maniacal smile on his face, staring at his father.

Harry left the bleeding corpse of the Basilisk, opened the Chamber's main door and sprinted up and out of the Chamber, hoping against hope it wasn't too late.

When he made it to the entrance to Myrtle's bathroom he found Fred there cradling George's head and seeming to beg his brother not to go.

The fading boy did not look good, paler than even a redhead had any right to be. But what Harry immediately noticed was that the balls of warmth that he'd determined to represent the boys' magic were no longer as identical as the boys themselves. No, George's was very clearly dimming quickly.

Grabbing both brother's shoulders, Harry dragged both the unconscious and shocked twins into the tube before once again demanding the floor to shift and rise beneath them, only this time they shot up the tube with a speed that he thought he'd be hard pressed to recreate with his Firebolt.

Hissing a quick "open" when they neared the sink the three found themselves flung into the bathroom that Harry had dragged them hours prior.

Both Harry and Fred quickly began to approach where George lay unresponsive, but Harry grabbed Fred and spun the only conscious redhead to face himself.

"Go to Dumbledore, get him to bring his Phoenix, it's' the only chance he has."

With that, Harry turned to the twin lying on the floor and pressed his wand to the center of the boy's chest while clenching his eyes shut. Every muscle in his body seeming to tense in some unseen struggle.

Still feeling an odd level of trust for the strange boy, and knowing that he was probably right that Dumbledore was George's only hope, Fred took off towards the headmaster's office using every shortcut he knew.

When he finally arrived at the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office, after what simultaneously felt like the fastest and slowest he'd ever crossed the castle, he felt a moment of panic when he realized that he didn't know the password. Luckily, the gargoyle spun out of the way unprompted and he barely had to hitch his step before continuing to sprint up the spiral staircase and through the door to the office and finding the eccentric Headmaster sitting behind his desk, though clearly surprised to see one of his student's was bursting into his office at such an late hour of the night.

Bending at the waist and holding a stitch in his side, Fred could only pant out what he thought the most important points. "George… dying… Myrtle's… need… Phoenix"

Luckily, Dumbledore didn't seem to need more and stood faster than his age would lead someone to believe, moving around the desk while holding out one arm to which his familiar swooped to without prompting and the other to Fred.

The Headmaster and Fred appeared behind Harry in a burst of flames, but the boy seemed too preoccupied with George and didn't notice.

Fred shook off the odd sensation then took in the scene in front of them, seeing that George was even paler than when he left and his breathing was so shallow it may as well not exist. The earlier terror taking hold of him again, Fred was about to run to his brother when he saw the Headmaster whipping his wand towards Harry's back.

Knowing that whatever may have happened, Harry was the only thing giving George a chance, he quickly knocked the Headmaster's arm aside and sent the red light of a stunning spell over the two on the ground.

"No… he's' helping!" He gasped out in explanation.

The spellfire seemed enough to draw Harry's attention who looked towards the three, though his arm never wavered from pressing his wand to the middle of George's chest. He seemed to ignore the headmaster's wand aimed at him in favor of locking eyes with the bird on the man's arm.

"H-hey… F-f-fawk-kes… Can I g-get some h-h-help?" he asked, his stuttering drawing Fred's eyes away from his twin for the first time and stunning him with what he saw.

Harry looked worse than George. Where George looked as pale and still as a corpse, Harry was even paler and seemed to shake in exertion while sweat poured down his face.

The headmaster rushed over and knelt next to the two boys, allowing his familiar to hop from his arm onto the unconscious boy's chest while beginning to wave his wand in what Fred assumed to be some sort of diagnostics.

The bird seemed to look the boy over and then dipped its' head towards one of the puncture wounds and examined it, squawking in surprise and flapping its' wings in distress while looking at Harry in what could only be described as suspicion.

"P-p-please" was all he could seemingly muster in response.

Watching him for another moment, the Phoenix seemingly calmed in acceptance, then dipped its' head to the wound again and seemed to blink several tears before hopping to the other wound and doing the same before bursting into flames again and leaving only a baby chick and pile of ash on George's chest.

Fred watched as both wounds seemed to steam and stitch together on their own, relief flooding him as he began to let himself believe that his brother was going to be alright.

Harry removed his wand from George's chest and began to stutter once again as his eyes began to flutter.

"T-t-tha…" his words slurred then trailed off as the headmaster, baby chick and Fred watched the boy's eyes roll back into his skull and his muscles give out as his body slumped backward, Dumbledore quickly slowing his fall as he lost consciousness.

After several more waves of his wand in diagnostics Dumbledore stood and addressed the only other conscious person in the room.

"Mr. Weasley. I believe that we will need to have a conversation about just what you, your twin and Mr. Black were doing tonight… after we inform your parents of your twin's condition of course.

Fred winced at both the thought of what his mother's reaction would be as well as the realization that there would likely be a large number of questions he wouldn't be able to answer due to the vow Harry had him and George swear.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Molly Weasley screamed, upon seeing her son laying so still in the infirmary wing bed with the matron bustling about him, her husband remaining quiet but looking to the headmaster and making it clear that he expected answers as well. Sirius stood across the room, next to where Harry lay motionless on the bed, looking down at the boy he both wanted and feared to learn more about.

"I was hoping to find that out myself, Molly. But I believe that your other son may be the only one with the answers." Dumbledore explained, while turning to where Fred sat on a nearby cot, watching the scene unfold.

Luckily for Fred, it seemed that his father would be taking the lead in his questioning.

"Fred, what happened? How did this happen?"

"George… uh… got bit? It was an accident though, I swear! We weren't even doing anything dangerous… well, we didn't think so at least"

"We know that neither of you would've meant for him to get hurt, but clearly something happened. And bit? What were you three doing?"

"We were just trying to have a conversation with… Algol. Really, that's it! But then… uh… things went wrong."

With both his parents' and the headmaster's full attention on him and Madam Pomfrey's still on George, it was only Fred that noticed Sirius' stiffening in reaction to his hesitation over Algol's name.

But, seeing that his mother was about to explode at his seeming reluctance to be open about what happened, Fred quickly put aside the realization that Sirius knew Harry's true identity and tried to head her off by looking at each of his questioners and blurting out.

"Mum, Dad, Headmaster. I'm really sorry, but I can't tell you much more than that. I promise I would if I could, you know I wouldn't risk George's life like this. I swear!"

Madame Pomfrey chose that moment to return to their sides, seeking information of her own.

"What was it that bit Mr. Weasley?" she asked.

"I… uh… can't say."

"Mr. Weasley, it is most important that-" she was cut off by Dumbledore placing his hand on her arm and addressing her, though his eyes never left the nervously squirming redhead sat before them.

"Poppy, I understand your need for information in regard to your charge. However, I implore you to do your best with the limited information you have at hand. I assure you, that we will inform you the moment we determine it out for ourselves. As it required multiple of Fawkes' tears to halt the venom's progression, I believe it is safe to assume at least a class four magical beast was involved."

Clearly not thrilled with the Headmaster's intervention, but grudgingly accepting it, the Healer launched into a brief status update of the unconscious redhead.

"Mr. Weasley will likely be fine. He is currently suffering from a mild case of magical exhaustion as well as extensive muscular regeneration. He would even be awake by now had I not sedated him to allow him to avoid the discomfort of that regrowth. It seems it was a close thing, whatever it was that bit him-" she glanced again at Fred, as though he might now interject with an answer to her earlier question "-was venomous enough that I likely would have struggled to counteract it another way besides Phoenix tears anyways. It seems that we were most lucky that Mr. Black was there, his previous experience with such an eventuality allowed him to send for the proper help Mr. Weasley needed quickly enough that no permanent damage was done."

All eyes now shifted towards the where the other patient lay unmoving, some with gratitude in their eyes and others with questions. While the elder Weasleys didn't think much of it, neither Sirius, Fred nor Dumbledore missed the matron's mention of the other boy's familiarity with such a dangerous situation

"What do you mean, Poppy?" Sirius asked, worried he wasn't going to like the answer.

Walking over next to Sirius, the matron reached down and pulled up the sleeve of the hospital gown she had changed Harry into and gestured towards a large circular scar on his forearm that Sirius had only caught glimpses of before.

"If you compare this to Mr. Weasley's new scars, you will find that they are remarkably similar. My scans have shown that there are traces of phoenix tears in his blood as well, though obviously further diluted than Mr. Weasley's at the moment. So I suspect that Mr. Black was a victim of a similar creature before, years ago, and was similarly lucky to survive. However, this time he seems to have somehow avoided being bitten and ended up worse for it. His case of magical exhaustion is the most acute I have ever seen."

As she finished, all eyes were locked on the scar on Harry's arm. Eventually, however, they were all drawn from their musings by the Headmaster clearing his throat and offering that the adults could spend the night in the castle, suggesting that they all retire for the night and regroup in the morning when the two should be awake, to which they all agreed and left for their respective beds.

Each of those from the infirmary found sleep evasive for one reason or another. Some were worried for their sons and the thought of the danger they had put themselves in. Another with a professional curiosity born from an experienced healer seeing wounds unlike any she had seen before. Oddly though, most of them thought little of either of the boy's injuries at the moment. Their minds awash with thoughts of the raven haired enigma and what his appearance meant.

Albus Dumbledore found himself becoming more and more worried about the strange young man that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. The boy was oddly self-assured for an orphan and seemed to be a truer Slytherin than many who passed through the castle's dungeons. What worried him most were that the parallels between the boy and his old student, whom most mistakenly believed was gone, kept piling higher and higher. The addition of the second prophecy only further muddied the waters and made the aged warlock's path forward even less clear. He had already determined that he would begin to put checks in place for the new Black heir, but now he worried if that would be enough.

Beyond his behavior and the events surrounding him since his emergence into Britain's wizarding world, Albus was still intensely curious as to where the boy had come from. The way he had seemingly appeared from nowhere was cause for more than a few concerns by itself. The boy's mannerisms and accent both indicated that he was English, and more specifically had extensive experience in the muggle world. Yet, the raw talent he had heard from the boy's professors made clear that he was not new to the magical world. However, no one Albus was acquainted with had ever heard of the boy before. These incongruencies by themselves would have been alarming, but combined with the discovery that he and Severus had made two years prior and tonight's encounter had begun to lead the Headmaster to a most terrible suspicion. So terrible in fact, that Albus decided that he would be speaking with his muggle studies professor, and hopefully her husband, and sharing at least part of the new prophecy in hopes of persuading them to help convince Sirius of the danger posed by his new Heir.

Fred Weasley unknowingly shared some of his headmaster's concerns. However, knowing that Algol Black was in fact Harry Potter, the boy credited by many to have been the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, meant that he wasn't so much concerned about the boy being an agent of the dark. It wasn't even thoughts of where Harry had been all these years that kept Fred awake. No, it was all the seemingly mundane happenings of the night and the knowledge that Harry seemed to possess. Even if it was his father who created the map, how did he know that they had it? Beyond that, how did he know of the Chamber? He had never attended Hogwarts and it wasn't on the map, so there was no reason he should have known of it. Thinking back to their time in the Chamber also made clear that Harry was not only familiar with its' existence but also its' layout. Fred didn't know how or when, but Harry had been there before.

Even ignoring the odd knowledge of the castle, Fred knew that he and George had only shared some of their creations with others, and the Peruvian darkness power was not one of those. Yet, Harry not only knew of it but also seemed to know how to use it, to an extent. Then there was his arm. Madam Pomfrey had described it as 'remarkably similar,' but Fred knew better. He had spent his life being somewhere between 'remarkably similar' and 'completely identical' to another person, so maybe he could have ignored the unlikelihood that Harry both knew of the Chamber and had crossed one of the rarest magical creatures before. But his scar dispelled any doubt in his mind, Harry had been bitten by the very same Basilisk. In fact, now that Fred thought about it Harry had not only apparently crossed the Basilisk before but also a Phoenix, which were easily just as rare. All these little inconsistencies made Fred wish George was awake even more, he had always been the one of them to see the bigger picture and somehow Fred knew that he would be able to see what he was missing.

Similar to the other two, Sirius Black found himself lying awake, with only his worries to keep him company. Unlike the other two, Sirius was not worried by Harry or his appearance but rather for him. When Madame Pomfrey had uncovered Harry's arm Sirius' heart had dropped. He had seen the scars on the boy's back and knew that he'd suffered. He knew that things in his world had gone horribly and the boy knew tragedy. But even knowing all that hadn't prepared him to see evidence of how close Harry had come to death, nor how willing he was to risk his life. Sirius had only spoken to the boy hours ago, before finding himself sitting through a nerve wracking interrogation by his best friends and then being awoken by a Patronus from the Headmaster telling him that Harry, or rather Algol, was in the hospital wing. Seeing him so pale and motionless was hard enough, hearing that he had the most severe case of magical exhaustion Poppy had ever seen had hardly helped his nerves. But what had hit him even harder was seeing the scar on Harry's arm and the realization that the boy was apparently far more familiar with near death experiences than Sirius had thought.

A/N: Long hiatus primarily due to not being thrilled with how this chapter was going. Decided to commit and move to the next stage of the story, but very well may tweak this chapter later if needed.