Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: Le sigh. You know it, I know it, everyone with a brain knows it. Do I have to say it again?

Author's Notes: Sorry this part took so very long. Classes are really rough this semester. I am totally slapping my wrist for taking poetry and fiction technique classes at the same time. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this and thanks again for all the terrific feedback.

Dedication: To my brother who needs some cheering up. "At least you don't have diabetes." In other words, keep your chin up.

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An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth

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"It's worse than coke; it's like crack! I've become a crack whore. Fifteen dollar handjob, man. I *need* my HP!!!" -my best friend, RE: her Harry Potter addiction

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"Hermione...they're about to start." With his hands in his pockets, Harry walked out onto the balcony. The mid-November air was cold and wet; he visibly shivered. "Hermione?"

She was standing at the stone railing, looking out over the lake. The light from the full moon tangled in her hair, giving her an ethereal glow. "I'm here," she replied, softly. "I'll be there in just a moment."

Harry walked until he was standing just behind her. "It's cold...you shouldn't stay out here for too long."

"Harry..." Slightly exasperated, she leaned back against his chest. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm not a child. And I'm perfectly fine."

He took a deep breath, inhaling the delicious honeysuckle fragrance of her hair. "All right...it has nothing to do with the cold." Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently guided her around to face him. "With all that's going on, it makes me very nervous when you're alone, outside, in the dark." His shoulders lifted. "If that makes me seem maternal, so be it."

Hermione smiled. "Not maternal, just..." She lifted her chin and gave him a soft kiss. "...overprotective. But in a good way, I suppose."

"This meeting won't last long, you know." Harry traced the edge of her jaw with his finger. "Afterwards, we could go somewhere and..."

She pulled back ever so slightly. "I have to get back home as soon as it's over. I promised Harry I'd be there to tuck him in."

He nodded and hoped he didn't look too disappointed. Just then, someone cleared their throat, rather loudly. They broke apart quickly. From the edge of the balcony, Snape gave them an apathetic look. "If you two don't mind, there is important business to be discussed. But then we wouldn't want the investigation of the attack on our school to stand in the way of a terminal case of puppy love, would we?" Turning on his heel, he headed back into the castle.

Harry looked back at her. "You know...he *was* sort of worried about you on Halloween."

"Sticking up for Snape now, are we, Harry?"

"Well..." He gave her the grin that made her heart flip over. "Not sticking up for, so much as apologizing." Harry took her hand. "Are you ready?"

After a breath, she nodded. "I'm ready."

Still hand in hand, Harry and Hermione followed Snape's path into the castle, headed for the Great Hall. Even though it was a Wednesday evening, in the middle of the school year, there were no students to be found anywhere. No laughter drifted through the hallways, no hum of voices and the clatter of hundreds of forks meeting plates greeted them as they entered the Hall. Hogwarts was silent and very near empty. It made Harry's heart ache.

And, he had to admit, his blood boil.

There were only a few people waiting for them at the head table. Dumbledore was seated in the tallest chair with Professors McGonagall and Snape on either side. Hagrid was there, seated between Professor McGonagall and someone Harry couldn't make out very well. The man had a dark cloak pulled high around his neck and was leaning in, his face turned away, as he spoke to the half-giant.

Harry gave Hermione's hand a squeeze. "Seems rather like an inquisition, doesn't it?" She smiled nervously.

"Harry...Hermione." Dumbledore gestured to two empty seats next to Snape. "Please join us." They did as he asked, with Harry sitting directly next to the Potions master, so Hermione wouldn't have to. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Hagrid, we'll start by hearing from you."

Breaking off his conversation with the hooded stranger, Hagrid stood up. "Well...af'er a lon' search, I've come ter th' reckonin' that th' attackers flew in on broomstick. Ev'ry entrance were sealed up tigh'." Harry opened his mouth. "Aye, ev'n th' secret ones, 'arry. Since it were impos'ble fer them ter Ap'rate, they must'erve flown in. There's no ot'er way."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said. The huge man sat down. "We all realize that this means the attackers started out from somewhere nearby. The journey from anywhere else by broomstick is unthinkable."

Snape spoke up. "They could have traveled by some other means to somewhere nearby...Hogsmeade, perhaps...and then flown in."

"We should talk to the shopkeepers," Harry suggested. "See if any large, strange groups were seen around Halloween."

"Minerva, do you think you could do that?" Dumbledore asked.

"I could certainly try," she replied.

Dumbledore nodded. "The Ministry of Magic has given me full reign over this investigation. In fact, they seem to want little to do with it. The Aurors claim to have an on-going inquiry, but it's mostly just to placate the outraged parents. Everyone wants an explanation, but no one is willing to search for one." He looked at his closest staff. "That's why I'm going to need each and every one of you to find the responsible parties. Only when they are caught will the children return." His eyes were sad. "Hogwarts needs its students. Never, in all the many centuries, has something like this happened. We've experienced everything from trolls to basilisks to dementors, but nothing, absolutely nothing has ever paralyzed this school until now. Which is why I've asked someone else to join in our efforts." Dumbledore glanced past Hagrid to the hooded figure. "I'm sure no introductions will be necessary."

Harry looked over, curiously. His puzzled face melted away as the newcomer quietly removed his hood. "Sirius!" he exclaimed.

His godfather smiled at him. "It's been a very long time, Harry." It was not the time for a reunion. The older man cleared his throat and addressed the matter at hand. "The one thing that the Aurors have agreed to do about this is investigate shops on Knockturn Alley that possess spellbooks with the sort of curse I believe was placed on the children. And Hermione."

The woman in question raised a tentative hand. "How do we know exactly what that was? I know I don't remember what the man said as he was coming at me."

"Process of elimination," Sirius replied. "There aren't that many known curses that could have had this sort of effect."

"What about unknown ones?" Harry asked, grimly.

Sirius blinked as though the thought of an original curse had never even occurred to him. "That would take a wizard of enormous power, Harry. Far beyond the capacity of anyone alive today."

Hermione paled. Harry glanced at her before he spoke. "I'm sure we can all think of at least one wizard who posessed that sort of ability."

All eyes were on him. Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that..."

"I'm not suggesting," Harry stated. "I'm saying very plainly." He took a deep breath. "Voldemort has risen."

There was a long minute of silence as the people at the table digested his words. Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "And how do you know this, Harry?"

"I saw him," Hermione said quickly, as though the memory would hurt less if she got the words out as fast as possible. "While I was under the curse. He called it...he called my thoughts his world." She closed her eyes. "I can't even begin to describe what he...the things he did were..." Harry felt for her hand under the table and threaded his fingers through hers. "It was horrible," Hermione continued. "And he's the only one who could have done it to me."

The look Sirius gave her was sympathetic. "While I understand that what you went through was intense, Hermione, I don't believe that there's ample proof in just that to say that..."

Harry jumped to her defense. "My scar has been hurting again," he blurted out. "It was the worst on Halloween, right before we heard the first screams." He licked his lips, anxiously. "The only times my scar ever hurt was when Voldemort was up to something."

After clearing his throat, Sirius simply stated, "Harry. You killed him."

"And you don't think there's any possible way he could have come back?!" Hermione winced as Harry's grip on her hand intensified along with the fervor of his words. "Let's think about this, Sirius. My scar, Hermione's dreams, an attack on the school's Muggle-born, the rise of anti-Muggle sentiment...it all fits together! Voldemort is gathering strength." Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off. "Yes, I thought I killed him, too, but I must not have. He must have found a way to survive and has just been....waiting for ten years. He's done it before; this all fits perfectly into his pattern. Don't you see?! Voldemort is preparing to re-enter the world." He took a breath. "And he's using Draco Malfoy to do it."

Sirius frowned. "Draco Malfoy doesn't have enough brains to be even Voldemort's pawn, Harry. He's just a spoiled wizard who never grew up. Nothing more." Harry shot a glance at Snape, still expecting even after all the years for Snape to stand up for Malfoy. To his own credit, Snape had no reaction to Sirius' words.

"One doesn't need brains to be Voldemort's key to re-entering the world. I think that Wormtail proved that." Harry took a breath. "Would you at least just consider the possibility? I wouldn't make this up."

"No one is calling you a liar, Harry," Dumbledore assured him. He glanced around at the others who were all still contemplating Harry's announcement, as evidenced by their perplexed expressions. "For now, let's continue our investigation, leaving no stone unturned. Especially ones that Voldemort may be hiding under." The joke did nothing to lighten the mood. "Everyone is free to go."

As the others stood up, Harry slumped back into his chair. "None of them believe me."

Hermione reached for Harry's hand. "You did all you could do."

"Why do I get the feeling that they still think of me as a child?"

"I suppose that's what happens when you let ten years go by," Sirius replied before Hermione had a chance to. The look he gave Harry was a strange one, the result of his desire to both embrace and strangle his godchild.

"I meant to write..." the younger man began as he stood up.

"And I did. Many times." Sirius sighed. "I thought you were dead for awhile."

Harry bit his tongue. *So did I,* he thought. Lowering his eyes, he acknowledged his godfather's words. "I am sorry."

Giving in, Sirius pulled Harry into a quick hug. "At least you came back to us." He looked down at Hermione. "To all of us."

"Sirius," Harry started, determined to convince the other man of the danger they all now faced. "I am being serious. About Voldemort."

His father's best friend shook his head. "Harry...I saw Voldemort's robes. There is not a doubt in my mind that you killed him ten years ago. And to my knowledge, no wizard in history has ever been able to rise from the grave."

"If you don't believe it's him, then at least accept the fact that he still has followers." Harry's lip curled up. "And that Draco Malfoy is most likely in charge of them."

Sirius reached up to scratch the back of his head. "The younger Malfoy has been getting more attention lately than he deserves. You know what he's really upset about, don't you?"

Hermione spoke up. "Muggles at Hogwarts?"

The older man nodded. "Especially since his son will be starting here next year." He paused. "Your son, too, right?"

"Yes," Harry replied without thinking. "I mean...her son. Harry...little Harry. Her son."

Hermione stood up, tired of being dwarfed by the two men. "Speaking of Harry, I need to get back to him." She lifted her chin to kiss Sirius' cheek. "It is good to see you again." Her gaze brushed over Harry. "Goodnight."

After she was gone, Sirius glanced at Harry. His godson was still watching the end of the hall, although Hermione had already disappeared from view. "Do you still fancy her?" The color of Harry's cheeks betrayed him. Sirius had to smile. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

Harry cleared his throat. "So...Draco has a son?"

Sirius nodded, as though the sudden switch in topic did not catch him off guard at all. "A boy. Bronson. Born around the same time as your own son."

He took guilty pleasure at seeing Harry throw up his hands. "If it's so easy for everyone to figure out, why isn't it out in the open?" his godson asked out loud.

"We should talk about this somewhere else." Sirius caught Snape watching them out of the corner of his eye. Taking Harry's arm, he steered the younger man out of the Great Hall. As they started out through the corridors, Sirius began to speak again. "Most people don't look too deep, Harry. When they see a red-haired child and a man with red hair, they put two and two together too rapidly. As for Dumbledore and myself...we simply looked deeper."

"I see." Harry sighed. "Well, my personal life is hardly the real issue here." He came to a stop in front of the portrait door that led to the professor's apartments. Miss Belle was dozing, her chin resting on her decollaged chest. "I need to know everything about Ron's death." Sirius started to speak, but Harry cut him off. "And it's not just for my own benefit...or for some sort of lingering grudge against Malfoy. It's for my son. Sirius, he believes it was his fault! I can't let him go on thinking that."

Sirus lowered his head. "At the time...I told them they should have put it in the report."

Harry frowned. "Put what in the report?"

"Malfoy was there, Harry." His godfather tucked his hands into his black robe. "In London, at Westminster...when Ron was killed." He watched Harry as the news sunk in.

"He was there," Harry repeated. "And he's never been brought to justice?!"

Sirius smiled sadly. "We don't put wizards into Azkaban for sightseeing on a holiday."

"That's what he said he was doing?" Harry fumed. "It's a lie! Draco despises everything to do with the Muggle world. There's no way in hell he'd spend his holiday in that part of London!"

"I know that and you know that. But at the time, it was simply a coincidence. Most wizards know absolutely nothing about Muggles and again, they don't look deeper when such Muggle things as scaffolding apparently fail. They expect it; it's not magical, after all."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm starting to wonder if he doesn't have the Aurors on his payroll."

"You may be more right than you think." Sirius withdrew one hand to scratch his temple. "At the time of his death, Ron was heading up a one-man project to investigate Malfoy's involvement in the Dark Arts. He contacted me two days before the accident, to tell me that he'd had a breakthrough. We were supposed to meet the next week so he could bring me up to speed. But, obviously, that never happened."

"And you have no idea what it could have been?"

"None. But if he had any documentation, there's only one person in the world who would know where it is now."

Harry looked up at the high-arched ceiling. "Hermione. It's just too bad that she refuses to tell me anything about Ron's work."

"She's protecting you."

"That's been suggested to me."

Sirius patted his godson's shoulder and winked. "You may have to use a bit of your father's charm to coax it out of her." His tone became serious again. "But if you want to bring Malfoy to justice and perhaps, in the process, solve the mystery here, we need to know what Ron found out...that got him killed."

Harry nodded. "I understand." Clearing his throat, he knocked on the gilded frame of Miss Belle's portrait. She awoke with a start, overly-defined bosom heaving. "Professor Potter...." Her lips curled up. "Sirius Black...it's been a long time since *you've* come knocking at my portrait. The last time, I believe, you and James Potter wanted to see what was under my..." She stopped with calculated precision. "Well, you know."

Sirius squirmed faintly under Harry's inquisitive stare. "We were sixteen," he reminded James' son.

The younger man lifted an eyebrow. "Belladonna," he spoke the password. Miss Belle blew the men a kiss and the portrait door opened. "Goodnight, Sirius."

His godfather reached out and pulled him into a quick embrace. "You were very missed, Harry. Don't go off wandering again."

"I won't," Harry promised. "I have too much to protect here."

****

In the second week of December, the children began to return to Hogwarts. Still battling their memories of Halloween night and braving the possibility of another, most of the fifth, sixth and seventh year students arrived via the Express to begin a light class load.

"They've only come back because the O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S. start in the spring," Hermione told Harry over breakfast the day classes started up. "Some parents would rather have their children petrified than have them do poorly on the exams."

Harry slathered jam onto a piece of toast. "At least they've come back. I actually started to miss teaching." He took a big bite and mumbled around it, "Why aren't you eating?"

She glanced down at her bacon and eggs. "I don't know." Pushing her plate away, she leaned forward on her elbows. "Harry, will you do me a favor?"

He swallowed. "Of course."

"After your classes, could you get Harry out and doing something? It's been weeks and he's only been outside once or twice. At first I thought it was just that he was still worried about me, but now I'm starting to get very worried about him."

Harry held his breath as Hermione's knee accidently brushed against him under the table. How could he deny her anything, especially if it meant spending time with his son? "I'll take him down to see Hagrid's Fiji mermaids," he told her. "I'd play...um..." He searched for the word, so hard to do when she shifted and more of her leg came into contact with his. "Um...that game. Balls....on broomstick...?"

"Quidditch," she supplied.

"That's the one. We could play it, except then I'd have to teach him to fly. And he shouldn't know that before...um...before all his future...classmates."

Hermione nodded. "I agree." After a glance at her watch, she stood up. He nearly let out a combined sigh of relief and moan of disappointment when the warmth of her leg left his. "I've got the sixth year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in five minutes. What about you?

Harry fumbled around in his robe's pocket for his new schedule. "Damn. Slytherins. It's too early in the morning for them."

She shook her finger at him. "There are no such things as bad students." The look he gave her made her laugh. "Okay, okay." She started to walk away, but then turned back around. "Will you come over for dinner tonight?"

"Shepherd's pie?" He made a face.

"Yorkshire pudding."

Harry grinned. "I'll be there at six."

****

Christmas was upon them before they even realized it. Despite the decorations inside and the snow outside, Harry didn't stop and acknowledge the holidays until the day the Express departed, carrying most of the students back to their homes. He had been so caught up in his classes, the regular owls to and from Sirius, spending time with little Harry and Hermione, that Christmas caught him off guard.

He needn't have been worried about spending it alone. Hermione's weekly dinner invitation was extended to include Christmas Eve. After several hours of shopping in Hogsmeade, Harry finally fell into the spirit of the holidays.

At seven that evening, he knocked on Hermione's door, loaded down with presents. Little Harry answered, his green eyes nearly bugging out at the sight of the presents. "Are these for us, Professor?" The formal title still bothered Harry, but save for "Mr. Potter", he couldn't think of anything else for his son to call him.

"They're yours if you can take them." The boy eagerly relieved Harry of the bulky armful. Harry shut the door behind him.

Hermione had decorated her apartment to cozy holiday perfection. A cheerful fire did a merry dance upon the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room. He took his usual seat in front of the fireplace while little Harry carefully arranged the new presents under the Christmas tree.

She came out from the kitchen a minute later. "Happy Christmas, Harry," she greeted him.

He gave her a soft smile. "You look beautiful."

Hermione blushed and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you two want to eat out here by the fire or at the table like civilized beings?"

"Fire!" their son chose.

Harry lifted his shoulders. "The boy has spoken."

Hermione pursed her lips, but went back into the kitchen to finish dinner preparations.

A hour later, little Harry announced that it was time to open presents. "You don't want to wait until tomorrow?" Hermione asked her son.

"Tonight!! Please, Mum??"

She sighed and gave in. "All right then. But don't complain when you have nothing to open up in the morning."

This didn't seem to worry the boy. "Can I open Professor Potter's first, Mum?" he asked, hopefully.

"Whatever you want, Harry."

The older Harry pointed to a large package. "That one there."

Little Harry ripped the package's paper with great enthusiasm. "Woah!" With a bit of a struggle, he lifted a marble and ivory chess board from inside the box. "Wizard's chess!"

"I've already put the spell on it," Harry said. "I hope you like it."

Hermione reached out to touch the marble crown on top of one Queen's head. "It's gorgeous, Harry." She looked at her son. "What do you say?"

"Thank you, Professor Potter!" Their son stood up and to both of his parents surprise, threw his arms around Harry. "Can we play now?" he asked.

Harry laughed, returning the hug. "Maybe in a bit. First...I want your mother to open her present."

A fresh blush colored her cheeks. "A present for me?"

"The green one," Harry told the boy. Little Harry picked up the package and handed it to his mother.

Hermione fingered the edge of her present's red bow. "It's heavy."

"Are you going to open it, Mum?"

Without further hesitation, Hermione unwrapped Harry's gift. Nestled in the tissue paper was a large, leather bound book. The words "Hogwarts: A Revised History" were embossed in gold across the cover. Hermione looked up at Harry, disbelief in her eyes. "Harry...this book isn't due to come out until summer! How did you manage to..."

"I have my sources," he replied mysteriously. "And besides, you and Ron and I are in this new version so much, it's only right you should have the first copy of it." Harry pulled at his ear, suddenly afraid that what he thought would be the perfect Hermione gift might not be. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Her eyes shone. "Harry...I love it." On impulse, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Little Harry unknowingly broke the moment. "There's more presents," he kindly reminded them.

Hermione touched her lips briefly before jumping into action. "Right. Harry....you can go ahead and give Professor Potter your present now."

The boy nodded and fished under the tree for a long, rectangular box. It was almost too long for him to handle; he gratefully passed it to Harry. "Here you go, Professor."

"What on earth could this be?" Harry pulled at the paper and lifted the box's lid. A second passed. He lifted his eyes. "Is this...my Firebolt?"

Little Harry nodded gleefully. "Mum helped me fix it up real good for you!"

"Really nice for you," Hermione corrected her son.

"We found it in storage; no one's used it since you, I expect." The boy grinned. "Now you can play Quidditch again!"

Hermione watched her old friend's face carefully. "They're still the best in the world, Harry. France won the International Cup last year on Firebolts."

The first time he had received the broom had been wonderful. The second time was even better. "Thank you, Harry. I appreciate this so much."

Several hours and one forced game of Wizard's Chess later, little Harry was fast asleep against Harry's shoulder. He was reluctant to move; having his son fall asleep on him was one of the many things he had been afraid he'd never get to experience.

Hermione glanced over at them as she cleaned up the living room. "Now that's a nice picture."

"It feels right." Harry's voice was soft.

She looked down at her hands, full of red and green wrapping paper. It was impossible to deny the truth in his statement. The entire night had felt right, as if the three of them together was the way it was always supposed to be. Hermione shivered. But then...what about Ron?

"We should get him into bed," she said, swallowing a thick lump in her throat. "Can you carry him?"

"Of course." Ever so careful to keep from waking him, Harry picked up his son and started for the stairs. Hermione expelled a pent-up breath as soon as he left. She needed a moment to sort through everything she was feeling. Her first instinct was to berate herself. If only she had stuck to her resolve and kept Harry out of their lives...

But then, she thought, it could just all be his fault for coming back.

When the Christmas mess was cleaned up and the fire near embers and he still wasn't back, Hermione climbed up the stairs. "Harry?" The door to her son's room was open; as she walked in, she smiled to see him lying on his bed, tucked up to his chin in the quilt her mother had sewn for him.

Harry sat at the boy's desk, watching his son sleep. He addressed her as he felt her presence in the room. "I've missed so much of his life...and I can't ever get that time back."

Her heart went out to him, despite the rational thought that he had no one to blame for that but himself. She walked to him and gently touched his shoulder. "There's plenty more times to be had."

There was a moment of pensive silence. "Are you ever sorry? Do you ever regret that night?"

"No." It was the easiest question to answer, despite its sudden appearance. "Never."

He looked up at her. "Neither do I."

Only a moment passed, but for Harry and Hermione, it might as well have been years. The first move was hers; she leaned down and pressed her lips to his in a smoldering kiss. After allowing himself a second to get past the shock, Harry slowly stood up as not to break the embrace. Her arms slid around his neck, adjusting to the extra height he had gained during his ten year absence. Damn him. That first kiss on Halloween hadn't adequately reminded her. He was still an amazing kisser.

Harry pulled back first. He could tell where the kiss was leading. It both excited and worried him. "Hermione...maybe we should take things...slowly."

"We have been," she reminded him.

"Yes, but..."

She took his hand. "Come on." Harry allowed her lead him out of their son's bedroom. She shut the door and turned around to face him again. "If you don't want to go any further, I'll understand. But I will be disappointed."

Harry's confused expression was adorable. "When I came back, my intention was not to get you into bed again."

"I know." She kissed him softly. "That's why it's going to happen."

He shook his head, confusion dissipating. His fingers combed through her loose hair. "I thought about this almost every night I was gone. You were with me during a snowstorm in Iceland...a sandstorm in Egypt...a bull-run in Spain." His hands cupped her cheeks. "If you'll have me, I will do everything I can to make up for all those times I wasn't here."

Hermione's hands covered his on either side of her face. "I'll have you," she whispered. "I love you." Rather than wait for him to say it...or be crushed if he didn't...Hermione kissed him once again, this time pulling him towards her bedroom.

****

Much later, Hermione found herself back in the most comfortable place in the entire world. Harry's arms. She lazily drew the sheets up around her breasts and angled her head back to look at him. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" His eyes were closed, a content smile on his pleasantly perfect face.

"If I fall asleep, do you promise to still be here when I wake up?"

He chuckled. "Don't even worry about it. I don't think I could move right now if I tried."

"Well...don't try." She resettled her cheek against his chest. The arm around her bare shoulders tightened, indicating his response. Hermione closed her eyes; she could feel his heart, steadily pounding just under her ear. It lulled her into a peaceful doze.

Her sleep would not last long. The creak of the slightly rusted hinges on her bedroom door woke her what seemed like only minutes later. She squinted in the dark until a shaft of light hit the bed.

Beside her, Harry awoke. "What's going on?" He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Their son stood in the doorway, the light from the hall framing his small body. As Harry adjusted to the mixture of lightness and darkness, he could see the boy's dull stare focused directly on his mother's bed. There was shock, disbelief and worst of all, horror in the deep green centers of little Harry's eyes.

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, no."

Harry reached for his glasses. "Harry..." he said, feeling around on the night stand. "Harry...we can explain..."

The boy didn't wait for an explanation. Turning on his heel, he ran back to his room, slamming the heavy oak door behind him.

****

To Be Continued