Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author Notes: Thanks so much for your great reviews... And now, I present you another episode of Harry Potter and the... 'Cliffie-fic' - er, sorry I meant 'The Sacred Alliance', whatever that means to you... (I was going to mention something about a 'Bullwinkle', but that would mean shamelessly quoting one of my dedicated reviewers - you know who you are!).
OK, before you conclude that I am fit for the mental ward at St. Mungo's, I'd like to point out the fact that putting cliff-hangers is the only way for me to have continuity in the story. So, even though I know that cliffies are injurious to readers' health, I can't help not using them. Makes sense? :-)
Harry Potter and The Sacred Alliance
Chapter 8
The first rays of the new-born sun, peeking from behind the clouds, filtered through the curtains, illuminating the room with a distinct orange glow. Yet they did nothing to assuage her anguished mind, except waking it from its forced slumber. She had lost count of the number of times she had woken in the night, heart palpitating from another hideous nightmare of a dying Harry. And each time she wished that the events of last night had never taken place - that they were just figments of her own imagination, just like the nightmares. As she was wishing now.
Moving her bushy brown hair out of her eyes, she dared to take another look at the piece of parchment lying on the stand beside the couch, which had been serving as her makeshift bed. It was blank. Devoid of any print. Yet she couldn't believe it - there must have been something wrong with the charm, she tried to assure herself.
A few feet away Ron was snoring lightly on his couch, and beside him, on another sofa, were Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, who - being anxious about Harry herself - had for once allowed them all to stay there for the night, in spite of the misadventure they had gone on last evening. Ginny looked as if she had been crying - she probably still had residual feelings for their green-eyed friend, left-over from the crush she had for him in her younger years. But how Ron could sleep so peacefully escaped Hermione's mind, especially after the way he was acting last night. Boys in general, and Ron in particular, could apparently take this situation better than her and Ginny in particular, and girls in general. Either that, or Ron was a sufficiently deep sleeper for his worries to interrupt his slumber.
But Hermione would not let her emotions get hold of her. Logical thinking was her speciality; emotions were not. As far as they knew, Harry was still alive, though her doubts increased with each passing minute. Yet, she was still expecting, as they had been doing for the better part of the night, either Mr. Weasley or one of the other Order members to appear at the fireplace and say that Harry was all right. Heck, all she needed was some confirmation of Harry's well-being - not this endless suspense. And she didn't even want to think of the other possibility.
Being the only person awake, she let her mind wander to the events of last night, part of her hoping once again that pinching herself would get her out of this bad dream.
"How much time more?", asked Ron, growing impatient by the minute. Evidently, Muggle travel was too slow for him.
"I dunno what's your problem mister... Ten minutes in the cab an' you've already asked that question for the third time. Its a car, for Christ's sake - not a plane!" replied the cab driver, forcing Hermione and Ginny to suppress giggles. He was not in a good mood either.
Looking down at the charmed parchment, Hermione could deduce that Harry was not staying at one place - he had changed streets twice since the trio had taken the taxi, and the block numbers in his address were constantly changing.
A little while later, they were walking briskly in the direction taken by Harry, according to her calculations. And adding to her excitement was the fact that a few Muggle bystanders had seen a boy exactly fitting their descriptions, passing through that lane only a few minutes ago. Ironically enough, he had been asking one of them for directions to the Underground station.
Heart beating in anticipation, she marched full-speed along with Ron and Ginny, scanning the residential area around them for any signs of Harry. They passed a few intersections and a mostly empty children's park, but Harry was nowhere to be found.
It was another ten minutes later that she took a look at the parchment. But what she saw confused her - the address had stopped changing.
"I think we must stop... Harry's stopped moving," she said, showing the parchment to the others.
"Look, it says a public garden - was it the one we passed a few minutes ago?" asked Ginny, forcing Hermione to curse her carelessness. Why hadn't she looked at the parchment before?
"I dunno... it might be another one up front," suggested Ron, "How many parks do these Muggles have?"
"Well, you may be right, Ron..." Hermione said, doing some quick thinking. Then it struck her. "Oh God! We forgot that Harry's got the Invisibility Cloak!"
Her exclamation was met with silence for a moment.
"Let's head back then," said Ginny finally. "We could try calling his name or something..."
"But if he was using the cloak, then how come those Muggles saw him?" asked Ron.
"He might have taken it off when he was asking them for directions," suggested Ginny, joining Hermione who had already turned to go back to the park.
The address did not change anymore, but something different about the parchment caught Hermione's attention - it seemed as if the script was fading. But she simply shrugged it off, blaming it on their dimly lit surroundings, as they swiftly retraced their path, her heart beating madly with excitement.
After a few minutes, in which Hermione checked her parchment repeatedly, they reached the park. From their distance, she could barely make out a few figures forming an irregular circle around a spot near the park's entrance. Initially she thought the street-lights were playing upon her eyes. But soon the figures became clearer, standing in a place which had been deserted the last time the trio had passed the place.
A number of possibilities raced through her over-working mind - none of them very appealing. Ron and Ginny, she noticed, were stiffening too. Since underage magic was not allowed, they were possibly walking right into a trap without any means to defend themselves. However, the fact that Harry was there too strengthened their resolve to move on, albeit cautiously.
A sudden coldness gripped Hermione as they neared the location, but it receded as soon as she felt it. But it wasn't the coldness that caught her off guard - it was the attire in which the figures were clothed. And to top it all, a huge translucent silver bird was hovering up in the air. With a closer look, she knew that it was a Patronus - in the form of a phoenix.
"The Order!" Ron blurted out, stunned.
A horde of hooded figures in scarlet robes were gathered together a few feet away, apparently in some deep discussion. Now Hermione was truly confused. For a few fleeting moments, relief swarmed through her. But it was soon replaced by apprehension - what could have possibly occurred in the last twenty minutes to warrant the presence of the whole Order?
"MISS GRANGER, MR. WEASLEY!" a harsh female voice shook them up from behind. "And... ah, Miss Weasley! WHAT are you three doing here?" It was a voice which Hermione had heard countless number of times before. Professor McGonagall.
They had now caught the attention of the other Phoenix members too. One of them came running over to where McGonagall had caught the trio.
"Did I hear you saying...", started the man, in a voice they instantly recognized.
"DAD?" exclaimed Ron and Ginny simultaneously, to be followed by moments of stunned silence, before it was pierced by McGonagall, who seemed to be positively seething with rage.
"ARTHUR! I will NOT allow Potter's friends here. Take them back immediately!"
Mr. Weasley tried his best to calm her down, finally succeeding in returning her to the assembly of the Order members. Then he returned to where Hermione and the others were standing, bursting with questions. Hermione noticed that Mr. Weasley was himself not behaving like his usual self.
"Where have you three been?" he said in a tired voice, "Molly was so worried..." But he was interrupted with questions the three could hold back no longer.
"Where's Harry?"
"What happened, Dad?"
"Is Harry OK?"
To their dismay, he couldn't answer any of them. Ron kept pressing him without success, while Hermione turned her attention to the Order gathering. Most of them, she noticed had disapparated. The Patronus was gone too. Then suddenly everything fell into place - Harry... Order members... the sudden coldness... the Patronus. The realization hit her with a pang of anxiety - Harry had been attacked by Dementors.
But he could fight them away, couldn't he? Then what were the Order members doing here? Why hadn't they come for him before, if they could track him? Probably they couldn't track him, she reasoned, until Harry had performed some magic against the Dementors... But why wasn't Harry here then? And why had the charmed parchment gone completely blank?
Within a few minutes they were portkeyed away, despite their protests, to Godric's Hollow, without any answers.
A loud thud jarred her from her recollections, also waking all the other occupants of the room. The cloaked figure of Tonks had appeared at the fireplace bumping into the mantelpiece. One look at her pale face confirmed that she hadn't had a drop of sleep all through the night. It also suggested something else - something that made Hermione have second thoughts about wanting to hear her news.
However, Tonks wasn't alone. Behind her came Fred and George, with similar grieved expressions on their faces - something she had witnessed only once before. When their father's life was in danger. And what added to her apprehension was the fact that all the three new-comers were keeping absolutely mute and deliberately avoiding the others' eyes.
After an eternally stretching minute, George finally looked at his mother. But the few words he managed to choke out brought Hermione's whole world crashing down.
"Mum, he's gone... forever."
* * *
The compound resounded with a cacophony of gunshots from the Kalashnikov rifles. Another inmate incapable of the labor, probably due to age, was meeting his/her deadly fate. Or perhaps it was just a warning to the others, proving that 'ill-behavior' was not tolerated. Or it could simply be entertainment for the guards, who hadn't witnessed human blood ever since the civil war came to an abrupt end two months ago.
But she didn't care - caring for others' lives was not an option here. Here it simply boiled down to the fundamental law of life - survival of the fittest. Discovered by some scientist named Darwin. Or so she recalled learning in the unreal dream that her past now seemed to be. Yet the memories still haunted her sometimes... Of a time when she cared for others... A past where she had known love...
And then there were the visions she had been having lately. Visions she couldn't explain... Of a people among whom she had once lived - people speaking in the only tongue she had learned in her eleven years of life before being brought to this hell. English. But now that life seemed so unreal...
A snarl from a nearby guard jerked her back to reality. She did not speak their language, like many others in the compound. But years that she had spent here had taught her well enough what the guard meant. Her skinny dirt-covered hands trembling, she forced the remaining tasteless watery substance that they called lunch into her mouth, before returning back to work.
* * *
The Dementors drew nearer, as Harry looked on petrified, his head exploding with pain and terrible memories. Reaching out its cold and lifeless hands, the closest one lifted his powerless self so that it could perform the final ritual. Voluntary movement not possible, Harry's eyes were nevertheless shut involuntarily. But nothing could subdue the foul decaying stink emerging from the creature, or the nerve-wrecking screams filling in his ears.
Being incapable of coherent thought, only flashes flooded his mind - flashes of his life... Sirius, who he thought he would be seeing again... And people who he would be not seeing again - Hagrid... Dumbledore... Lupin... Ron... Hermione... Somehow he held on to the last strains of consciousness, as he sensed an alien presence upon his lips. He didn't know what to expect... Pain? Liberation? The next great adventure after life? Or would he lose his consciousness altogether, ceasing to be a living soul?
However, what followed was totally unexpected. He was engulfed in total absolute darkness, but his consciousness was still there - he knew that, since he was still able to observe. Yet his senses seemed to have left him. Vision, hearing, smell, feel... All were gone. He could feel no body... No breath... No heart...
And then, gradually his thought returned. Enough for him to comprehend what had happened... But was this death? Then how could he still be able to think? But then this thinking was different, much different. Usually he thought in English, but now he wasn't thinking in any language at all. But the thoughts were somehow flowing... Even after he had left his body... That was all he could understand.
Then just as abruptly as it appeared, his thought vanished once again, taking his consciousness with it.
Null. Void. Vacuum.
He blinked his eyes, adjusting to the light. Disbelief. He could feel his breath. He could feel his heart beating... His hands... His feet... Vision, hearing, smell, feel... He could sense it all once again. Relief swept his heart, which was pumping with a new vigor. Emotions returned... Tears threatened to overflow his eyes - but these were tears of joy.
"I'm alive!" he couldn't stop himself from exclaiming aloud.
It was then that he directed his attention to his surroundings, and he instantly knew that this was not his world. It could not be Earth. And yet he remembered this place - he could have sworn he had come to this world before. He knew it from the cool breeze... the pleasant sensation in the atmosphere... the soothing fragrance that filled his nostrils. Probably he had visited it in his dreams, he concluded.
He was lying on the ground, fine soft velvet-like grass cushioning his back. Feeling strangely rested, he wondered how long he had been sleeping here. All his worries, memories of the recent incidents were driven out of his mind. The orange sky stretched over him, the gold-tinged clouds moving visibly faster than they did on Earth. Looking around, he could spot different species of colorful flowers on strange wild bushes.
Unable to resist his curiosity any more, Harry got up to his feet. Within a few seconds of inspecting his surroundings, he could conclude that he was on a slope; he could barely make out sparkling ice cover at the misty top of the hill. Strange sounds filled his ears - they were almost like music, as if horns were blowing somewhere with varying notes. Wondering the source of the sounds, he let his legs carry him to what seemed like a cliff to the plateau he was on.
And the view was breath-taking, to say the least. Hundreds of meters below him stretched a vast rain-forest... A river was cutting through the greenery, its source being what seemed to be a waterfall from Harry's distance. But that was where the similarity with Earth ended - or at least as he had known it. Because there were heads of gigantic creatures protruding over the tree-tops and Harry had seen them before. But only in books and Muggle movies.
Dinosaurs.
Or at least that was what the Muggle paleontologists called them, as far as he could remember. Needless to say, he was sure he was dreaming and pinched himself quite a number of times before giving up. It took him a few moments to realize the fact that these creatures were the source of the sounds, along with the huge bat-like flying creatures he could now spot in the sky.
And then suddenly he felt a strange sensation, as if something was behind him. He turned around immediately, but there was nothing - at least nothing visible. A sudden dread replaced his happiness - he had no idea what kind of inhabitants this strange world had. And who or what had brought him here?
Subconsciously he reached for his wand. But it was not with him. It was then that he noticed that he didn't have his glasses on either - and yet his eyesight was as sharp as ever. Who was he? Where was he? What had they done with him?
Willing his mind to his immediate concern of finding his wand, he darted over to the spot where he had been lying. But the wand was nowhere to be found. And then he sensed 'it' - whatever or whoever it was - again, this time to his right. Trying not to panic, he decided to try talking - though he doubted 'it' would understand English.
"Who are you?"
For a few seconds, no response came. And then he felt a presence in his mind... As if some entity was examining his thought signals... And placing its own signals in his head. But Harry could make no sense of it. Apparently, the entity couldn't either, since it was gone less than second later.
A few more seconds passed - silent except the backdrop of the distant booming sounds of the creatures - before his surrounding abruptly warped, as if he was being sucked out of this world with a tremendous force to some unknown destination.
* * *
For the second time since he had been 'kissed', Harry blinked his eyes open. Driving the memories of his strange experience out of his mind, he scanned his surroundings - but most of it was a blur. Apparently, his eyes needed the service of his glasses once again. At least that was back to normal.
A dim bluish white light illuminated the room, and from what he could make out, he was alone, lying on a bed similar to the ones in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Hoping that his glasses would be nearby, he tried to sit up. But the sudden shock of hearing a loud hoot brought him back to his lying position. That was before he registered the source of the cry.
"Hedwig!" he exclaimed. A snowy blur fluttered to his bedside, nipping his fingers lovingly.
"Welcome back, Harry," a deep voice greeted him, which he didn't require much time to recognize. Dumbledore.
"Where are you?" he asked, unable to locate where the voice was coming from.
"I shall see you in a minute, Harry, but you must first rid your mind of all emotions."
He guessed that this was probably necessary to prevent Voldemort from detecting Dumbledore's presence through him. But the problem lied in clearing his troubled mind. After five minutes of staring intently at Hedwig, he was finally satisfied with his mental state. Apparently Dumbledore sensed this too, since he instantly appeared beside Harry's bed, a brief twinkle grazing his eyes before they turned grave.
"We are in Hogwarts. This..." he said, flicking the blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles around the room, "is my private chamber. The office of the Head of the Order of the Phoenix, to be precise. And... Oh yes, here are your glasses."
With his glasses on, Harry inspected the room - he had never seen it before in his five years at Hogwarts. Runes in ancient scripts were carved on the stone walls, while the ceiling was in the shape of a dome. The air was cool but stale. He was probably in the dungeons, he deduced.
The next few silent minutes were spent in Harry stuffing himself with enormous quantities of food and drink which Dumbledore had arranged for him. It was evident from his appetite that he had been unconscious for quite a few days. Eventually when he had eaten his fill, Dumbledore reappeared, clearing away the empty plates with a flick of his wand.
In the following hour, Harry explained his experiences in detail to Dumbledore, who listened patiently and calmly. But his eyes revealed something else altogether - a mixture of concern and sadness. Harry himself was totally confused - he didn't know what was real and what was dream anymore. Hell, he wasn't even sure if this was a dream or not.
"Well, it does seem that you've cheated death once again," said Dumbledore finally, his brow tense, probably due to deep thinking.
"But why didn't I... I mean how am I alive? Could it be that the dementors didn't kiss me?" Harry somehow managed to ask.
"No they did. I saw them..."
"YOU SAW THEM!?" His temper was getting the better of him, despite his attempt at Occlumency. All through his years at Hogwarts he had simply believed that Dumbledore could take care of anything. And in spite of Dumbledore's failure to do so last year and the year before to some extent, a part of him had still believed that Dumbledore would be able to get him out of the situation. "Why didn't you do anything?"
"I'm truly sorry, Harry," Dumbledore replied, without making eye contact. "But old age, I've learnt, does get in the way of... rapid action. I had no means of tracking you down until you tried the Patronus charm, though we had a general idea of your location. By the time we reached there, the dementors had already administered the kiss. And we all thought that it was the... end... Most fortunately we were wrong. But I admit that it was our fault... Miss Granger, I discovered later, did find a way, but she, your friend Mr. Weasley and his sister decided to meet you on their own, since even they did not expect this attack."
"Hermione and Ron were there too? Did they see me?"
"They would have, since they reached the place much earlier than we did using a clever Auto-Address charm. But apparently they missed you, presumably due to your Invisibility Cloak, and proceeded to search the adjacent areas."
"But the dementors found me..."
"Yes. Dementors cannot see, only sense."
"But... Why couldn't I produce a Patronus?" he asked, this being one of the two questions that had been haunting him ever since he had woken up. "I've had lots of practice, really."
"That is something that I myself am not certain why. However, I believe that Voldemort was using your connection with him to disorient you. And I might add that you were quite drained yourself... because of my inability to help you."
"So how did I live?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer that correctly either. When we found you, you had no pulse - no sign of life. All magical and physical methods indicated so. For eight unending hours, all we did was use spell upon spell - half the Order was traveling all over the world, searching for some healer who could reverse the effect of the kiss. But we knew the truth even before we had started trying - there exists no way... no magical treatment that can bring back a soul sucked away by a Dementor."
"But..."
"Please let me finish, Harry. There would truly be no way to save you if a Dementor sucked out your soul. And since you are still alive before us, this can have only one explanation."
A moment passed in silence before Harry caught on.
"That the Dementor never sucked out my soul? But I felt it near me... you said you saw it..." he said, puzzled.
"But you did you really feel the kiss?"
"Actually, I didn't... Just as I sensed its breath on my lips, everything turned black, and... well, I've told you what happened."
Dumbledore simply stared back at him, as if expecting him to figure out the answer on his own, which was exactly what he was trying to do. He didn't feel the kiss... But the Dementor had kissed him... Kissed his lips, to be precise. Which meant that he couldn't feel his lips. This just wasn't making sense, unless...
"You mean I - my soul - wasn't in my body anymore when the Dementor tried to suck it out?"
"That seems to be the most likely explanation. But mark my words, Harry. As far as I know, there doesn't exist a single human form of magic - Dark or not - which can voluntarily remove a living being's soul and then give it back after eight hours. Your experience confirms my suspicions, that whoever or whatever helped you might not be an Earth-bound creature at all. But then, we might be wrong, as you know from previous experience that dreams or visions can be fabricated."
Harry didn't know what to say. So he decided to change the subject, albeit reluctantly.
"So is anybody coming to see me here?" To be truthful, he was dying to see his friends again - especially Hagrid, Ron and Hermione. If not for the companionship, then just to be sure that he was still alive.
At this Dumbledore adopted an even more grave expression than before. "The whole world knows that you are no more. And after a lot of internal debate, I believe that it is best that we keep it that way."
"WHAT!? But sir..."
"Look Harry, please hear me out before you judge my decision. As I have said before, we tried for eight hours to heal you before giving up. Yet, in spite of the guilt consuming me, I still had some hope left. So I brought you - your body to be precise - to this room, putting a preserving charm on it, after I reluctantly announced your demise to the world. It was then seven in the morning, when I was alone in this room, that your breathing resumed.
"Initially I was filled with joy and relief. And I also wondered how your recovery was possible. But what interested me the most was the fact, that your miraculous recovery occurred the moment everyone else had left this room, just after my announcement - as if the person responsible for it had been waiting for the announcement, and somehow knew that I was alone with you before giving you back your soul. Why, was the question.
"It was then that I realized the advantage the Dark side had unknowingly presented us with. As long as you lived, Voldemort, knowing the first part of the prophecy, feared you - even more than he feared me - since you are the only person who can defeat him. Consequently, he has been employing all his resources to kill you - including blackmail and mind-control of the Ministry."
"Do you mean that Fudge is under the Imperius?" asked Harry, bewildered.
"Yes, Harry, the way Cornelius has been going after you is not his nature at all. It is most likely the combination of bribes, blackmail and advanced forms of mind-control - more advanced than the Imperius, which the Order is currently investigating. Moreover, even in your death, you are a great leader. The moment your death was announced, outrage like never before rose against the Ministry. It has been just a week and a half, and instead of losing hope, the wizarding public has formed countless organizations - all under the common cause of uprooting the corrupt Ministry and defeating the Dark side, and half of them named after you. Some radical ones even believe that you will re-incarnate some day, and work endlessly towards that cause."
Dumbledore chuckled slightly before continuing, "So, although Voldemort has all his resources free to unleash his new reign of terror, it will be most difficult for him to do that any time soon. And by that time, we will be able to train you in hiding, prepare you for the inevitable battle."
To say that Harry was overwhelmed by Dumbledore's new plans would be an understatement. But did this mean that he would be locked up like Sirius? And he didn't even want to imagine what his friends might be going through after his 'death'. He for one was sure he would land up in St. Mungo's if anything happened to Ron or Hermione after Sirius. And how would he be able to spend even a year without their companionship? He needed them and they needed him. Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore seemed to read his thoughts.
"If you are wondering if you will be locked up in a room, then don't. Because you will be going to Hogwarts like any other witch or wizard of your age, albeit under a different identity. And until its absolutely necessary, no one - not even Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley - should know about our new arrangement. Except you, myself and Professor Snape."
Harry had still not forgiven Snape for indirectly causing Sirius' death by not helping him in Occlumency. But you didn't make any effort either, a small voice in his heart scolded him. But that didn't justify Snape getting any special treatment. In fact if there could be one advantage of having a new identity, then it would be in escaping Snape's wrath, since he would not be a 'Potter' any more.
"Why Sna... I mean Professor Snape?"
"Because, as you will realize in a few days, he - being the Potions master - will play a very important role in your disguise."
There was no way escaping Snape, he guessed. But that didn't clear up Hermione or Ron's case. They needed him, just like he needed both of them. At least he could say that Hermione did, and even Ron did - though he didn't show.
"Sir, I guess I will be seeing Hermione and Ron in school. But they won't know its me, will they? I've already gone through this - mourning over the loss of someone so close. I don't want them to go through this..." said Harry.
"It is this love for others that makes you great Harry... Its your decision, really, to tell them or not. I do trust them completely, but my advice would be to wait while you can... It will be easier for you to assume your new identity if none of your friends know, though it will be no doubt hard for them, as it will be for you to some extent. In addition, no... ah, spies... of Voldemort will be able to uncover your identity through your friends, even if they resort to Imperius, Polyjuice or Veritaserum.
"It is both for their safety and yours that I advice you to keep your identity a secret. You will know when the right time comes to disclose your secret to them. But as I said before, the decision lies totally with you, Harry, not me. As lies the choice of whether or not to proceed with my plans. I daresay you'll need time, and I'll offer you four days. I am sorry there isn't any more time on our hands, since we need at least two weeks, before term starts, to set up your new identity."
"Er... I'll try to think, sir," replied Harry, wishing he had Hermione and Ron to help him.
A/N: COUGH, COUGH *clears his throat*
Ladies and Gentlemen! The time has come for me to launch into a two-hour long detailed lecture on why readers should review Fan-fiction. So, unless you are looking forward to two hours of quality sleep-time, after which you'll have to review anyway, you might as well hit the review button now.
OK, here goes... blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, review, blah, blah, blaaah ... zzzzzz [In an unexpected development, the speaker has fallen asleep too. 3-) ]
LOL
Tune in for the next chapter in approx. four days time...
Qool
[A.D.] (Hey! I just discovered that my real initials match Dumbledore's!)