Chapter 7: Conversations and Resolutions

Harry met Bellatrix's eyes from across the classroom; wryly, he thought that it would be unlikely if he ever thought of her as Professor Black again. He had chosen a seat with Rose, Celene, and Angelica, who sat off to the side around the center of the classroom. He was wondering if that had been the best spot, as Bellatrix was a little obvious in the glances she was shooting his way.

He honestly didn't know where he stood with her at this point. They had slept together, but did it mean anything to her?

For him, he still wasn't sure why he had done so. It had been like a beast had taken control of his body, and he had been unable to stop himself, his self-control shattered by the beautiful dark-haired woman.

Her dark eyes looked at him for a long moment before she looked away, the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks. What was she thinking, he wondered.

Harry had no idea; their chances for a normal relationship were probably shot, though.

The question was, would she tell anyone? He hadn't necessarily cared when she had threatened to tell Lily about his late-night wandering, but this was another level.

More than that, now that he had experienced sex, well, he had to occlude a certain sect of thoughts a lot recently. Indecent thoughts about the bodies of his fellow students and professor.

"Mr. Peverell," Bellatrix interrupted his train of thought, "Could you come help me with a demonstration of the reductor curse?"

"Bloody hell," Harry murmured to himself as he rose and walked to the front of the classroom.

His eyes met with Bellatrix's, and they held their gazes for an instant, her violet eyes staring through him before he felt a brush against his own mind; the only way he responded was with a raised eyebrow.

Bellatrix turned away and brandished her wand, and a dummy flew out of a closet at the corner of the room, rolling up to them.

Harry glanced at Bellatrix again, "How much force would you like me to use, Professor?" he asked.

A small murmuring fluttered through the class, not so much a questioning of his ability that he had demonstrated so far but seemingly not understanding the question he was asking.

Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow at him, and then something deep red bloomed on her cheeks, "Just enough to make your point, Peverall?"

Harry nodded and looked at the dummy, and let his wand slip into his hand, with a lazy twirl, the red curse blasted free from his wand, launching across the classroom in a flash.

A loud crack erupted, and the dummy simply vanished into a cloud of dust.

A loud murmur erupted through the room, which masked Bellatrix's own voice as she had made her way to Harry's side, "You overdid it, darling," she murmured.

Harry cocked a brow and gave Bellatrix a wry look, "Are you complaining?" he asked just as softly.

A deep red traveled fully across Bellatrix's cheeks, and she looked away, she didn't respond for a long moment.

She flicked her wand out, and the cloud vanished, but the dummy did not reform, likely because Harry's spell had overpowered the protective wards that should have allowed it to reconstruct.

"No," she said softly before, in a louder voice, speaking to the classroom at large, "A perfectly executed reductor curse, though I daresay most of you will have trouble concentrating your power that effectively, so don't be discouraged if your results are less than that, that's all for today, dismissed."

A loud banging echoed throughout the room as the students noisily got their bags ready to leave. Harry stowed his wand and walked back to his seat, depositing his materials in his school bag with a subtle wave of his hand.

Rose's crimson hair fluttered by him as she rose to her feet, idly stretching her back out and jutting her torso forward, causing her breasts to shift a little underneath her clothes.

"Professor Black calls on you a lot, doesn't she?" Rose said in a musing tone, "At least she's let up on the spell demonstrations on you, huh?"

Harry gave Rose a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, "I think she just appreciates my execution mostly."

"I'll say," Celene said, her eyes half-lidded as she yawned widely, not even bothering to cover her mouth.

Angelica shrugged, her dark hair bouncing with the motion, "Of course, Aunt Bella would like the best student in the class to demonstrate."

Harry gave a dry laugh, "I wouldn't say I'm the best, I just have experience," he shrugged his shoulders.

As a group, they turned to exit the classroom and began their journey to the Great Hall.

"Your date with Greengrass is this weekend, right?" Rose asked, her tone clipped.

Harry nodded, "Yeah," he said simply. Daphne had sent him a note during the class on Monday, which had told him to meet her at nine this Saturday.

Harry didn't particularly want to go with his recent research taking a large portion of his time, and now with the Bellatrix situation, but he also had already agreed on the train around a month ago and didn't want to go back on his word.

Rose nodded, and Harry noted she was nibbling her cherry red lips, seemingly in thought, "Right," she murmured seemingly to herself.

Harry's brow furrowed slightly, and a small feeling of unease rippled across his occlumency and Harry found himself surprised he recognized the feeling.

"You alright, Rose?" Celene asked, turning a lazy eye on her friend, though Harry noted the gaze was serious, a stark contrast from her usual countenance.

"I'm fine," Rose gave her friend a small smile, "Just thinking, Harry's spent so much time with us that it'll feel odd for him to be gone for a whole day."

Angelica shrugged her shoulders, though Harry noted her expression was seemingly carefully neutral, "It'll just give us some time for discussion among ourselves, discussions where a boy isn't warranted."

"Oooh," Celene cooed, "So you've been waiting for Harry to leave, huh?"

Angelica's cheeks flushed bright red, "That's not what I mean at all!" she said sharply, "I like having Harry around, but he is a boy; there are things that would be improper to discuss in front of him!"

"Like what, huh?" Celene murmured tapping a finger to her cheek as she smirked at Angelica, "Whatever do you mean by that?"

Angelica sputtered looking shocked at Celene before her eyes flickered to Harry momentarily before looking back, "I don't know what you mean," she said shortly.

Celene hummed before lazily shaking her head, her golden locks cascading down her back, "If you say so, Angelica," she sing songed.

The day of the date arrived with little fanfare after a lackluster week.

Harry had searched through his moleskin pouch, searching the bag for an appropriate outfit he could resize to his purpose.

He had chosen his signature red coat along with a pair of black boots, paired with dark black jeans and a white buttoned shirt.

He had arrived in the courtyard where students assembled to go to Hogsmeade early and was prepared for the extra wait time as he scanned through a journal he had acquired from Syltherin's study taken from a dark wizard during the man's time alive.

'It is exceedingly difficult to deal with dark magic using dark magic itself; dark magic has the tendency to feed on itself, only growing larger, not smaller, when used against itself. In example, fiendfyre spells matched against each other will simply become a larger conflagration-"

The words filtered through Harry's brain, and he frowned in thought. This did not truly apply to Horcruxes, fiendfyre and other dark magic could destroy them, or at least destroy the protections on the containers.

Yet there was something here that poked at his thoughts.

If Dark Magic could not help, was he not ignoring Light Magic? Yet in there was a crippling weakness. Light Magic, like the Patronus spell, he was incapable of casting at an advanced level, as he had discovered with his world's Lupin. Even if there was a solution with Light Magic, he found it unlikely he would be able to cast the necessary spell or ritual.

"Peverall?" came a soft voice, and Harry looked up to see Daphne Greengrass had approached him; she was dressed in a dark green pleated skirt that came down just above her knees along with white stockings that led to simple black shoes. She had a buttoned white shirt and a green blazer over the ensemble, which matched well with her blue eyes, which were as chilly as ever, framed by her blonde hair.

"Greengrass," Harry politely acknowledged while storing his book in an inside coat pocket; truly, it was a tragedy he didn't get to wear it as often as he'd like to during school.

Daphne's eyes ran over him for a moment before she spoke again, "You're dressed as you were back when we first met."

Harry frowned thoughtfully but nodded regardless, "I suppose so," he agreed simply.

Daphne looked at him for a long moment as she arrived by his side, glancing several times at his left arm, "Should we hold hands?" she asked in her typically soft voice.

Harry shrugged, "Only if you'd like to," he responded.

Daphne's hand slipped into his own grasping his fingers gently.

They walked down from the castle, beginning their journey to Hogsmeade. Harry had grown used to other people helping carry the conversation so he found himself at a loss for what to say to the girl.

She had been the ask him out; wouldn't it make sense that she would initiate the conversation as well?

Or was she expecting him to speak?

The entire walk ended up being in silence, surrounded by the verdant greenery of the Hogwarts grounds, until they exited through the gate and, after a short distance, arrived in Hogsmeade.

Looking around Harry did not find the place all that different from his world. There were perhaps differences he couldn't see from the streets, but the buildings, the streets, and even the feel of the magic remained the same.

"Where would you like to go first?" Harry asked curiously, looking at Daphne.

The girl blinked, looking about as if looking at her surroundings for the first time. "Madame Puddifoots, I think," she said, though her tone didn't seem to indicate that she desired it.

Harry shrugged, and then together they walked into the building, taking a seat at an alcove.

A waitress came by, and they ordered two cups of tea along with a couple of pastries, which were served in short order, leaving the two of them to stare at each other.

She was quite pretty, Harry reflected.

Daphne drew her wand and then flicked it about her, and Harry felt the magic leaving its tip, privacy wards along with similar enchantments to blur the view of onlookers.

Harry raised an eyebrow in interest; perhaps this wasn't going to be so boring after all.

"Before we continue," Harry said blandly, taking a sip from his cup of tea, "I don't mind a fight, but I'd rather not make a scene, in short, if we could finish our tea before you start slinging spells at me, that would be lovely."

"Are we not on a date?" Daphne asked, arching a golden eyebrow at him, her face expressionless, "It would be disgraceful to attack my guest."

Harry hummed thoughtfully, looking at the girl, "What is your plan for me then?"

Daphne blinked, her face still impassive, "To have an enjoyable date?" she said, though there was a questioning lilt at the end of her sentence.

Harry nodded, looking at the girl thoughtfully. About a month ago, he would have that his questioning end there, but there was something nagging at him.

Rose didn't like the girl.

"You said you fell in love me with me at first sight," Harry said slowly, "Forgive me, I'm not an expert on love, but I don't believe your actions match as such."

Daphne looked at him for a long moment before the right corner of her perfectly shaped ruby lips twisted up in a small sneer, though Harry didn't think the expression suited her, "Listening to your sister about me?" she said, her voice just as soft as it had been before.

Harry's brow furrowed, looking at the girl, "She actually hasn't said much about you," he said honestly, "I understand Rose has an issue with you, but I don't really know why."

Daphne's lips pursed, and she looked thoughtful as she took a sip of tea, "Potter, I think, understands me better than most," the words were soft, almost mournful, "Tell me, Peverall, you don't share a last name with your sister because you are the heir of the Peverall family while she is the heir of the Potters, correct?"

"For the most part," Harry casually shrugged.

"There are many rumors about you, Peverall, your sudden reappearance, your capabilities, all in the context of Grindelwald's efforts in the other parts of the world; even with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's death, Britain is only safe because of the efforts of one Albus Dumbledore, and some say because of your sister Rose Potter, the Girl Who Lived."

Harry nodded slowly, examining Daphne thoughtfully, "How does this relate?" he asked.

"Do you know who the Greengrass family sided with during the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Daphne asked, "It wasn't with either of the Dark Lords, and it wasn't with Albus Dumbledore, yet neutrality did not win either side's affection; we lost many members of our family in the attacks that raged through Britain. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated, and Grindelwald left the isle, we did not sigh in relief as the rest of Wizarding Britain did. We know it's only a matter of time before he returns, likely with at least the governments of the South American continent, if not more, with him. One wonders if Albus Dumbledore will stop him again."

Oh, so they were talking history; Harry had read a bit of this world, but a somewhat first-hand impression would be nice, "He stopped him before, didn't he?" he asked in a conversational manner.

"For a given term of stopped," Daphne shrugged carelessly, "Imprisoned only for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to free some decades later, it's immaterial with wizards of that power level. Yet when Death Eaters and Acolytes attacked the World Cup, that should have frightened Wizarding Britain and indeed was the intent, yet somehow the attack was stopped dead in its tracks."

"By the bottom feeders and grunts of their forces," Harry dryly pointed out.

"Perhaps, certainly not all of them were their best, but there should have been enough to cause damage; more than that, it was one wizard that stopped them, say, the captured Death Eaters and Acolytes that did not manage to escape; what do you make of that?"

Harry smiled, amused, "A tall tale perhaps. Would we not be aware of a wizard who could fight so many others at once, even if they were the lowest members of their forces?"

Daphne looked at him over her own cup of tea, "Alastor Moody, one of the best Aurors on the force of the Ministry, wouldn't be able to fight numbers like that, and he is exceptionally capable. Whoever this wizard is, he's needed," she said, and Harry could practically taste how pointed her statement was.

"I still don't see what this has to do with me?" Harry said, an eyebrow raised.

Daphne gave a put-upon sigh that Harry thought was rather theatrical, "You're the wizard who interfered, are you not?" she said bluntly.

"What leads you to that conclusion?" Harry asked curiously.

Daphne's eyes were like ice chips. "You've only recently emerged in our society. Would it not make sense that you are the most likely outlier? I've seen your work in class."

"Class is class," Harry said dryly, "Great wizards, their power didn't come from their Hogwarts education; the great duelist learned it against other wizards and witches; the great transfiguration masters learnt their craft from personal one on one instruction from the masters, true power comes from relentless study over decades."

"You're eighteen and seem capable enough," Daphne said defensively; her eyes widened slightly as she examined him.

Harry nodded, "Now imagine what I'd be like in my forties, my fifties, my sixties; at the rate wizards age, I'll still be hale and hearty but my depth of magical knowledge will be as an ocean compared to what I know now. Now apply that to the truly great wizards like Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and even Voldemort."

Harry was under no illusions about these wizards. Voldemort he had been taken by surprise at the moment of his victory. Could he do it again?

His bet? Possibly. At least, it was the hope he was banking on. The Dark Lords he had faced in his world afterward had never held a candle to wizards like Voldemort or even wizards like Grindlewald.

Since he had come here, he had zapped a couple of bottom feeders who weren't expecting armed resistance, Acolytes, and Death Eaters who were most likely to run the first time they saw Aurors.

Magic was such an absurd scale, just learning spells in your primary education wasn't enough, the average wizard who graduated Hogwarts versus the Wizards who spent further decades learning their craft.

"Your sister defeated He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, didn't she?" Daphne said looking at him but this time there was a small bit of uncertainty in her gaze.

"And no one knows how she did it, do they?" Harry retorted dryly.

Daphne frowned, but she still locked eyes with Harry, glaring at him, "I still think you're the wizard who got involved at the Quidditch World Cup," she said firmly, "Say what you will, but you're the most likely candidate."

Harry sighed, pressing a finger against his forehead as he looked at the stubborn girl, some of the wizards he had been in his previous world resurfacing, "And even if I was, how is that information relevant to this conversation?"

Daphne blinked at him, a small flicker of confusion in her eyes, "Excuse me?" she asked.

Harry drew on the man who had intimidated dark lords worldwide in his previous world, looking at the girl, "I reiterate, what is your plan for me?" he said, deciding that now was finally the time to get straight to the point, tired of the circuitous route their conversation had taken.

Daphne's lips quirked into a small frown, "I want you to ally with my House, whatever means I need to go to achieve that, I will."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the girl, "Isn't my sister the one you should be asking?" his tone was as dry as paper,

Greengrass frowned at him, "You're the head of a separate house; you're related to the Potters, yes, but only as a secondary heir to your sister. You're exactly the person I want to talk to."

"I don't care about that nonsense. Head of what? I'm the only member of the Peveralls alive now, The Potters have been whittled down to two as well. There's no wizengamot seat for the Peveralls. There's nothing I can give you politically," Harry said firmly.

This was exactly why he left Britain in the first place. How many times had people tried to get him involved in politics previously? It was one thing that he had always agreed with his Dumbledore about: staying out of the politics of wizarding Britain was the correct move.

Daphne's eyes lit up for some reason, "That's where you're wrong. My family doesn't need a politician, we need a capable wizard like you. An alternative to the power struggle between the Dark Lords and Dumbledore."

Harry locked eyes with the girl and contemplated, for the briefest of instants, blowing out the wall next to him and leaving.

He didn't even really know what was stopping him.

Rose's face flashed through his mind.

Regardless of what he managed to do about the Horcrux, she was still Voldemort's target. Could he turn down allies out of hand, especially when he still didn't know just how wide the power bases set up against her were?

Harry sighed, a long, drawn-out thing; give him a duel against another cult of Dark Wizards any day; this stuff was exhausting, the second-guessing, the diplomatic maneuvering.

"If I agreed, what would you have me do?" Harry questioned.

A gentle hand ran down the length of Harry's neck, and he looked up from the book he had opened in the common room to see a concerned-looking Rose looking at him.

"Harry?" she murmured, "Are you alright?"

Harry smiled at the girl, "Of course," he shrugged his shoulders easily, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Rose bit her lip, and her eyes flickered away from him, "It's just, well, you haven't said much since you came back from your date with Greengrass."

There was an implied question there, Harry realized, yet he didn't know what it was, "Sorry," he gave the girl a tired smile, "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with. The date was fine, but I don't think we'll be having another one."

Rose seemed to light up instantly, a smile appearing on her face before her expression quickly became one of forced neutrality. "I see," she said. Well, it's probably for the best. I don't think she was much your type anyway."

"Oh?" Harry cocked an eyebrow at the girl, a somewhat amused expression on his face, "And what is my type?" he asked curiously.

"Well- I- That is to say," Rose began stuttering rapidly, and her cheeks flushed a bright red as she looked away from him and took a deep breath, "I think you need someone who is willing to draw you out of your shell," she said softly, "Someone to tell you that they love you unconditionally."

There was that word: love.

"What does love mean to you, Rose?" Harry asked, looking at the girl thoughtfully.

Rose looked away for a moment before she turned back, locking eyes with Harry, "Promise not to laugh," she said softly, and there was something more vulnerable in her emerald eyes than Harry had seen before.

Harry nodded.

"When I was growing up, Mom always told me that it was Dad's love that caused him to buy time for us and that it was your love for me as my brother that saved my life," Rose looked down, "I suppose that's where m foundation of the concept begins. Something so powerful that you would sacrifice yourself for someone else."

Rose gave a soft, somewhat melancholic chuckle, "I guess that's kind of silly now that I think about it; if love was enough, why did so many other people die to Voldemort?"

Harry frowned, "Has Dumbledore ever spoken of it to you?"

Rose's brow furrowed, and she looked at Harry surprised, "How did you-"

Harry waved away the question, "It was something we talked about back in Diagon Alley," he said simply.

Rose nodded slowly, and Harry saw the questions in her eyes before she spoke again, "Well, yes, he did," she said, "There's a protection around me that protects me specifically against Voldemort; he said your sacrifice formed it, a magic Voldemort could not understand. I guess now I wonder how it formed, seeing as you're alive," there was latent curiosity in her gaze, a wondering.

Uncertainty stayed on Harry's lips for a long moment; he was unsure of what to say. For a wild, fleeting moment, he wondered if he should spill his secret.

He had already placed a habitual privacy ward around them, but he realized that now wasn't the right time. There was too much information to cover, and he doubted that Rose's occlumency barriers were up to the task of protecting the secret.

"It's not a quick story," Harry hedged, "I suppose the best way to explain it is that a part of me was indeed sacrificed and helps form the protection around you."

Harry immediately spotted the welling of concern in Rose's eyes as her mouth opened, seemingly horrified, he quickly continued, "It's not something to concern yourself about," he said firmly, he promised himself that someday he would tell her even as he was uncomfortably reminded of the secrets that Dumbledore had kept from him.

Rose looked doubtful, but she nodded slowly, "Okay," she said slowly,

"Anyway," Harry continued, "Thanks for telling me, Rose; I appreciate it," he gave the girl a warm smile.

Warm red tinted her cheeks as Rose smiled at him, "Anytime, Harry," she said softly.

Seeing her pretty face, her dark red hair, and her well-proportioned body that did its best to fight the concealing nature of her clothes with the hourglass shape of her waist leading to a tight but cute butt and her well-shaped breasts, Harry felt the beast that had emerged around Bellatrix pawing at the back of his mind.

Rose bit her lip and then, to Harry's surprise, swung herself over the edge of the couch he was on to sit next to him.

"I had a question of my own," Rose said hesitantly, "If you don't mind?"

"Shoot," Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"How do you see me?" Rose asked.

Harry blinked, turning to face Rose taken aback by the question, "What do you mean?" he asked.

Rose's cheeks flushed a bit, and she looked away from Harry, "I mean, like, in what way do you think of me? Do you, you know, see me as your sister?"

Careful control made it so Harry didn't wince, but it was a near thing.

This- Well, Harry couldn't bring himself to lie.

"No," Harry said, "I'm sorry," he knew the words didn't mean much with such a blunt statement, but he tried.

He had tried, really he had, but he didn't see Rose as his sister more than he saw Lily as his mother, he wasn't from this world, not really. His parents were all dead not just his father like Rose.

For some reason, this didn't seem to upset Rose, and she looked at him with curious emerald eyes, "I don't see you as my brother either. I've tried, I really have, and I care about you and everything. It's just we didn't actually grow up together, we don't really have that relationship. That's kind of a relief you feel that way, to be honest."

"It is?" Harry questioned.

Rose nodded, giving him a soft smile, "It's freeing. It means we get to decide our relationship with each other and don't have to focus on anything else except what we both decide we want our relationship to be."

The warm smile she gave him made Harry's chest warm, and he found himself smiling back at the girl.

Rose took a deep, relieved breath, "Whew, glad that's off my chest," she said with a laugh.

Harry nodded and gave the girl a smile of his own, "Mine too," he said.

"So, what do you think about this Triwizard tournament thing?" Rose asked, "You thinking of entering?"

Harry allowed the forceful chain of topic with a lazy smile of his own, "No, I'm not interested in the slightest, you?"

Rose gave him a mock, surprised look, "Are you kidding me? Eternal Glory, who wouldn't want that despite the risk of deadly harm against the worst challenges they can throw at us."

Harry kept his eyes on her, and Rose sighed, shrugging her shoulders, "Oh come on, it's a joke. I have more fame than I know what to do with; if I'm in this tournament, it won't be because I want to be."

Harry hummed, "Do you mean something by that?" he asked, noting her choice of words.

Rose sighed, shifting her shoulders up and down, "I- Well, I'll just say I have a track record when it comes to potentially deadly circumstances. There's no real reason I should be in this tournament; I just can't shake the feeling that, well, something is going to happen."

There again were the circumstances of Rose's first three years, something Harry could only guess at, but he did wonder…

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked before he really thought of the words.

Rose blinked before she gave Harry a half smile and a shrug, "Not really, it's a lot, and I don't really want to think about it right now."

Harry nodded solemnly, accepting the answer; maybe at some point, he should try teaching Rose occlumency; he imagined that might help as it had helped with himself.

"Enough of that!" Rose said, perking up, "I wanted to talk about stuff that was fun and interesting; what do you have for me?"

Harry frowned in thought before slowly nodding to himself, "Did I ever tell you about the time I had to negotiate a labyrinth within a Greek temple?"

Rose shook her head, her eyes widening slightly, "You did that?" she exclaimed

Harry chuckled dryly, "Not without a bit of help from a leprechaun and a particularly friendly Nundu cub."

"Excuse me?" Rose raised an eyebrow at him. "You're pulling my leg," she said dryly.

Harry laughed, raising his hands, "Let me explain."

Across the room sat Angelica Black and Celene Lupin, both hunched over their work in a bubble of silence cast by Angelica.

"Rose and Harry seem to be enjoying themselves," Celene remarked in an offhanded way as she glanced over to the pair.

Angelica shot a look over to them as well, raising an eyebrow as she saw Harry gesticulating about with his hands as Rose had covered her mouth either in awe or amusement, something that was hard to tell by her sparkling green eyes.

"I suppose," Angelica said calmly; she imagined her father would very much like if she was participating in that conversation, but unlike him, she at least had some care for how her house was viewed by the outside world.

"Longbottom doesn't seem to much care for it," Celene remarked.

Angelica shot a look at the center couches of the common room and, indeed, spotted Neville, who had a slightly sour look on his face as he stared at Harry and Rose in the corner. Seamus engaged him in conversation, and the expression shifted, and he turned to talk to the other boy quickly.

Angelica pursued her lips thoughtfully, looking back down at her work. That probably didn't mean much of anything, she reflected.

She was aware through the gossip how Longbottom had somewhat of a crush on Rose, but the girl had never reciprocated, and while she was polite to the heir of the Longbottom family, she remained relatively aloof. It was typical Rose, honestly; the girl liked keeping to herself and her close friends.

The fact that it seemed Harry was now counted in them… Well, it was interesting.

Maybe she should have a conversation with Potter,. or was it Peverall, just to get some more information about whether she would need to interfere.

I am also launching P. A. T. R. E. O. N. for my original works. I'd love for you all to check it out. That, of course, does not mean that these stories will stop being published. There will just be original works on that website.

Dirty Doug

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