Warning: Real life is a sh**show. Oh yeah, there's also sex, torture, and gore ahead.
For those of you who reached out to me, asking if I was well:
Thank you for caring. If not for you, I very well may have given up on writing. The past few years have been trying on so many levels, and seeing concern from complete strangers meant a great deal.
For those of you who did not reach out at all:
Thank you for just living your own lives. Nothing whatsoever wrong with everyone just minding their own business.
Alright, let's get on with it. Wednesday has been waiting for over two years now, for her wedding night/honeymoon.
Atypical wedding night
"Mr. Lovegood seems pretty sure about this whole 'Deathly Hallows' thing." Harry commented as they walked away from the garishly dressed wizard.
Shaking her head, Wednesday countered. "It doesn't matter how sure he is. That symbol is the Frump signet... Although, I must admit his story does sound familiar. Like a bedtime story Grandmama used to tell us when Pugsley and I were little."
Collecting her thoughts, Wednesday tried her best to retell one of her favorite childhood stories. "Long ago there was a powerful witch who had been wronged by arrogant wizards time and again. Deciding he'd had enough, the witch vowed to bring death and woe to all of wizard kind. Being a wise witch, he set traps to ensnare wizards. One such trap was a calm stream that he enchanted to drain the magic from all to enter its waters."
The Three Foolish Wizards, and the One Wise Witch
Laughing gaily, three brothers came upon a stream that blocked their path.
"Ignotus, brother, sully not your finery in the muck and wet. Let us use our power to form a bridge that we may cross more easily." The eldest brother insisted.
The middle brother agreed readily. "Fine idea Antioch, I shall cause this stick to grow that it may span the breadth of this stream."
Nodding, Ignotus joined with his brother's effort. "Well done Cadmus. I shall double your stick thrice, that our bridge may be wide enough for us all."
"And with my power, shall I turn our bridge to stone that it may support our weight." Finished Antioch with a flourish.
The witch known as Donn was wroth, but stayed his temper that he might yet take a greater prize than three pompous wizards.
"What splendid magics do I see before me." Donn announced his presence with false praise. "Pray tell noble sirs, is this fine bridge your doing?"
"It is as you say witch. It is poor fortune that your own magic cannot perform such feats." Cadmus was quick to brag.
Stifling his fury, Donn continued with honeyed words. "What you say is true, but please, I beg that you let me perform my craft in service to you. With a day I can weave fine enchantments, yet should you give me but one week, I can give you your hearts desire."
"Very well." Antioch agreed after scarcely giving any thought to Donn's offer. "If you so wish to aid us, who are we to say nay? We have business in yon hamlet. In one week's time we shall return to claim our prizes. Should your skill allow, I would ask for the finest wand, one that will never fail."
Cadmus followed his brother's lead. "Should such a task not tax you overmuch, I would ask for a way to commune with the dead without needing to commission a foul necromancer."
Taking longer to mull over his options, Ignotus finally voiced his request. "I desire a way to ensure that I remain unmolested whilst I slumber. No matter the strength of the wizard, in sleep one is as helpless as a babe."
Donn bade the three brothers farewell, and retired to his study to enchant three gifts that they may wreak a terrible vengeance on the prideful wizards.
Upon returning to the gentle stream, the three foolish wizards found the witch, Donn waiting for them.
Donn held a wand aloft. "I have here the finest wand crafted from the wood of an elder tree. So impregnated with runes, it shall never fail its master."
Handing over the wand to Antioch, he turned to Cadmus, producing a small stone. "Necromancy, though foul, is a craft I know well. Simply turn over the stone thrice, and spirits shall heed your summons."
"For you young master, I labored mightily." Donn unfurled a silver cloak that shimmered and flowed like water. "Wrap yourself in this cloak, and none shall be able to divine your presence, lest you yourself allow it."
So pleased were the wizards with their fine gifts, that they remained ignorant of the malice embedded in each rune.
The elder wand was in truth a mighty focus, one so grand that even a witch might use it if only just. The price for such power was that its wielder would trust in its power absolutely. Such trust would lead hundreds of wizards to ruin. As promised, the wand would never fail its master, Donn.
The necromancy stone was a mere parlor trick. Using its wielder's memories, the stone would birth a false shade that would seek to lead the owner to their doom. Donn's mastery of necromancy ensured that the ruse was all but flawless.
The cloak of invisibility was the most subtle of the three instruments of Donn's wrath. Even as it would protect its wearer from view, so too would it encourage its wearer to take greater and greater risks.
With great interest did Donn scry, silently watching over the three foolish wizards.
The eldest wizard, Antioch, grew emboldened by the power of the runic wand. Filled with unearned confidence and hubris, he challenged rival after rival. Soon Antioch was slain by a far more talented wizard, learning the harsh lesson: Power is nothing without the skill to use it.
The middle wizard, Cadmus, disappeared into seclusion, entranced by the stone's illusions. From a lost love, to family that had passed, Cadmus sought to be with shade after shade of those he loved. So ensnared by the stone's power, he began to eschew food, water, and even sleep. It did not take long for Cadmus to wither and pass, never learning the truth: Live life to its fullest, death will take you regardless.
The youngest wizard, Ignotus, evaded Donn's wrath for decades, infuriating the witch all the more. It seemed the wizard's cunning, and will to live was a match for the cloak's compulsions. In time, Donn took it upon himself to seek out the final brother. Powerful though the cloak was, it could not hide Ignotus from it's creator. In the dead of night Donn finally found the last of the three wizards, sleeping under the cloak he had created. With malice and glee did Donn take up the cloak and use it to strangle Ignotus. With Donn's mad face as his final sight, did Ignotus learn: Run or hide, it matters not, death will find everyone.
The final lesson, was for Donn, who learned it gladly: One cannot mislead and outwit all. Sometimes a more direct path must be taken.
"My goodness Dan, I wonder if all magic weddings are like this one." Only slightly inebriated, Emma Granger laughed, leaning onto her husband while they danced. "I don't know why Hermione didn't want us to come. Everyone is so friendly."
Dan Granger shrugged. "My best guess is she just doesn't have your sense of humor. Not everyone appreciates gallows humor. Hermione never was too good at telling when someone was joking, always assuming the worst."
Sighing with regret, Emma looked into her husband's eyes. "Did we do the right thing Dan? Always putting her into the best schools, even if they were boarding schools... Should we have kept her closer to home, maybe do a better job teaching her to do things other than study?"
"Calm down Emm. We weren't taskmasters like all that." He gently patted her back. "Besides, I think this young woman Wednesday has helped loosen her up. It's almost like Hermione is a whole different person now. Sure it seemed like she really didn't want us to come here, but she's never had a problem leaving us for her magic friends before."
"That is true. We should find the blushing bride, and thank her." Stepping away from Dan, Emma turned to search the crowd for the young woman in the striking red dress. "Huh, speak of the devil."
"And he shall appear." Finished Wednesday. "Mrs. Granger, are you comparing me to the Morning Star?"
Laughing, Emma leaned into the comparison. "Well, he was the most beautiful of them all, and who can be more beautiful than a bride on her wedding day. That dress is gorgeous it suits you so well."
"Thank you." Wednesday acknowledged placidly. "My mother was buried in it."
Dan, not quite the dark humor enthusiast his wife was, nonetheless knew how to spot a joke. "Your mother is that lovely woman waltzing with the man who walked you down the aisle right?"
Wednesday nodded. "Yes, they were playing hide-and-seek on their honeymoon. She figured it would take him too long to find her and she'd win."
Shooting her husband a wicked grin, Emma guessed how the game played out. "Something tells me win or lose, both your parents had a real good time that night."
"It's been proven, time and again." Asclepius insisted passionately. "Magic is in the blood. That is why I chose to follow the Dark Lord. With him leading us, we will rid our society of the weakness that has infected it."
Hermione shook her head. "Your whole premise is flawed. I mean, I agree with the importance of blood, I'd be a fool at this point not to. The problem is, you're assuming too much. What part of our blood makes us powerful? From what I've seen, there are weak pure-bloods, just as there are powerful muggleborns."
"I think your argument is a little suspect." Rabastan sneered at Hermione as he exited from the crowd to stand next to his boyfriend. "As a mud-blood, you've all the reason in the world to try and skew the facts in your favor."
"And as a pure-blood I could say the same of you." Hermione countered defiantly. "You lot couldn't manage to kill me last June. I mean we were children, you outnumbered us, and you didn't kill any of us."
Rabastan laughed, and drew his wand. "I can't speak for the rest, but I was never really trying. The Dark Lord did want Potter alive after all. Care to try me for real?"
Hermione glanced around quickly, noting that her parents had moved off quite a ways into the thick Addams crowd. "Why not. I trust your friend Asclepius will stay out of it?"
"Of course." Rabastan agreed, leaning in to give Asclepius a peck on the cheek.
Before Rabastan could step away from his boyfriend to duel properly, thick ropes snaked around the two Death Eaters, binding them tightly to one another.
A flat nosed witch with long black hair stepped out of the crowd, and slashed her wand downward. The bound Death Eaters were thrown violently to the deck. The witch followed up with two stunners, and looked up at Hermione with a smile. "Wotcher Hermione. Looks like I got here just in time."
"So you see," Uncle Loopy explained, "Sanity, or the lack thereof, can be measured. Therefore, it's not just an abstract concept, but something concrete that can be modified reliably... Well, mostly."
Neville and his grandmother stared at the grinning Addams as the three of them slid along the floor of the Knight Bus. Augusta had felt it wiser to use the public transport, rather than attempt apparition in her current state of mind. The two of them sat upon the edge of a large four poster, while Loopy had chosen to hold on to one of the posts, while standing on the bed's frame.
"That, that doesn't make any sense." Neville pointed out.
"Admittedly," Loopy pursed his lips while stroking his beard, ignoring Neville's observation. "It is quite a bit easier to remove sanity than it is to return it, safer too."
"But you believe there is a chance." Augusta stated, trying desperately not to build up too much hope. "At this point I am willing to try anything to get my son back. Even if it is a dangerous procedure, I know my Frank would not be afraid."
"Of course!" Loopy confirmed immediately. "Only, I didn't mean it would be dangerous for Frank and Alice. You see, sanity isn't something you can just conjure from nowhere. I'll have to take it from somewhere, or rather someone."
With a look of annoyance, Hermione cast a disarming charm, as the disguised Tonks stunned Asclepius and Rabastan.
A look of shock and betrayal washed over the metamorphmagus' face, wiping clear the smile it held only a moment before. Tonks' wand flew out of her hand, and into Hermione's.
"That was rude." Hermione chastised, before casting a tripping jinx to send Tonks sprawling. "We were having a polite argument."
Tonks scrambled desperately to her feet, only to fall forward again. The rope she'd secured the Death Eaters with, had wrapped itself around her ankles at Hermione's command. The other end of the rope lifted up with an overpowered levitation charm, raising the auror's feet into the air.
Before Hermione could decide what to do next, a large gorilla bounded out of the crowd. The primate leaped into the air, grabbed the rope, and shimmied up the main mast, dragging a now screaming Tonks away.
Hermione stood with her mouth agape, not quite sure what to make of what just happened.
Gomez had led Harry away earlier, leaving Wednesday to walk with her mother through the increasingly boisterous crowd.
Morticia smiled as she clasped her daughter's hand. "Such a beautiful ceremony. Cousin Itt's speech was simply exquisite, he truly has the heart and soul of a poet."
"Yes mother, but I doubt Margaret will let him keep them for too much longer." Wednesday tried to look through the chaos around them, wondering where her husband and father had gone. "What are those two up to now?"
"You'll find out soon enough dear. For now just take it all in." Morticia looked around with pride. "Laughter, screams, chaotic revelry, all for you."
Wednesday tried to follow her mother's advice, noting amusing and interesting interactions all around. Harry's cousin Draco was dragging her unconscious brother out from underfoot. Cousin Ptolemy was playing with a woman she didn't recognize. Pubert and What had overturned a powder keg, and were playing in the black powder. "I know I should be enjoying this more, but right now I just want to be alone with my husband."
"And so you shall!" Gomez proclaimed, approaching his wife and daughter. He held out a small brass key. "This is for you. Your charming husband awaits your presence."
"Where?" Wednesday began to ask.
"Follow the docks that way." Gomez pointed with his lit cigar. "Just past the run down warehouse, you'll find a row of small shacks. Yours is the one with all the police tape, and bloodstains on the step."
"Oh! One more thing. Harry wanted me to give you this." Gomez reached into his pocket, and pulled out Harry's wand.
Wednesday breathed in the cold night air. The scent of tar and rotting fish assaulted her. She smiled as she unlocked the door, and stepped into the dim shack. In the center of the decrepit shack stood a thick oak pillory. Harry's head and hands were locked in place with several heavy brass locks.
"I wanted to make this night special." Harry craned his neck to look up into Wednesday's eyes. "You've already surrendered yourself to me. Tonight, I'm completely at your mercy."
Licking her lips, Wednesday's mind reeled with the possibilities. "Yes, yes you are." She locked the door behind her, and walked right up to her trapped husband.
She gripped his chin with one hand, forcing him to strain to meet her eyes again. "Of course by now you must know, I don't do 'mercy.'"
Harry smiled, even as she let go and stepped out of his sight. "Our bags are over in the corner."
Wednesday didn't respond, but Harry could hear a bag unzip, and rustling as his wife searched through it. More rustling of cloth was heard, along with the thunk of something being embedded into the wood floor. Suddenly Harry saw Wednesday's bare feet and calves stick out from underneath the pillory. He felt her undo his belt, and pull down his trousers.
"Ever since I played with that girl's heart, I've wanted to see what fun could be had." Wednesday said, before she began to chant softly.
Harry was both excited, and curious. He could feel Wednesday's firm grip on his nether region, followed shortly by the unmistakable feeling of steel sliding through his flesh. A strangled choke was all he could manage, the pain being something he'd never even imagined before.
Wednesday stood up, and walked around to set a chair in front of Harry. She drove an evil looking kris into the floor, and sat down facing him. She had removed every stitch of clothing, and held what must have been Harry's manhood up for him to see. "This won't do at all Harry, I need you to be... more excited."
Harry wasn't sure what was more provocative, the sight of Wednesday using her mouth to pleasure his dismembered member, or that he could still feel everything as if it were still attached. In moments, Wednesday looked pleased with the results. "That's more like it."
Shuddering, Harry groaned with pleasure, while he helplessly watched and felt his wife masturbate with a part of himself.
Careful not to allow Harry release, Wednesday brought herself to climax multiple times. Breathing heavy, she shakily stood up, and reached beyond Harry's line of sight. She had grabbed a leather harness of some kind, which she wrapped around her hips. He watched her attach himself to the front of the harness with a steel ring and some smaller straps.
She licked her lips again, and stared into Harry's bright green eyes. "What's the phrase? Ah yes, turnabout is fair play."
Harry blinked few times, as he put two and two together. By the time his sex addled brain made the connection, he felt Wednesday's sharp nails dig into his arse. "Well, bugger me."
"That's the idea." Wednesday agreed as she drove him into himself.
His screams were incoherent. Several different pains mixed with multiple pleasures, including a feeling he'd never known before, which wasn't quite either.
Wednesday used her husband's cries to guide her. Trying different angles produced different sounds, and soon she found a balance between what she felt were cries of ecstasy, and those of agony. It didn't take long before she felt his legs shake, and he cried out in release.
"Where are the keys to these locks, or do I need to pick them?" Wednesday asked calmly, over Harry's staggered breaths. "Our honeymoon has only just begun. Oh, what I have in store for you."
"I'm sorry, visiting hours are during daytime only." The receptionist at Saint Mungo's was trying to decide if she was annoyed at, or if she felt sorry for the Longbottoms.
Augusta pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She did know better. "Is there any way an exception can be made for us tonight?"
"If it makes a difference," Loopy whispered into Augusta's ear. "We won't need to wake them."
Nodding, Augusta added, "You have my word that we won't disturb any of the patients, including my son and his wife."
The receptionist shook her head. "I'm very sorry, but it's more than my job is worth to make exceptions. If you wish, you can stay in our waiting room until morning."
Shaking her head at how foolish she'd been in rushing over, Augusta was about to decline the offer. Before she spoke, Loopy once more leaned in and whispered fervently. She looked at the Addams man almost in shock, then glanced at her grandson. "Very well, Armand and I will stay. Neville, you should floo home and get some rest. You can return tomorrow after you eat breakfast."
"Where are we going anyway" Harry asked in mild curiosity, as he followed his wife through alleyways and back streets. Occasionally, he felt the need to adjust himself, as if to reassure himself that everything was back in its proper place.
"Can't a girl just want to spend the twilight hour with her husband in a poorly lit alley?" Wednesday deflected while stopping to inspect a pile of trash.
Harry shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that, but it doesn't seem to match with the hints you've been dropping about your plans."
An evil grin grew on Wednesday's face, and she pulled something from the rubbish. "Is this closer to your expectations?"
Grasping his hand tightly with one of her own, Wednesday held up a small plastic skull. Harry heard her say "Playtime," as the world spiraled away with the familiar pulling sensation of a portkey.
When the world stopped spinning, Harry stood up, not surprised in the least that his wife had never lost her footing. "So, where are we now? The dingy lighting is nice, and it smells like something died in here."
Wednesday took in their surroundings. The room was almost empty, but it was obvious that several large machines had once filled up most of the space. There were large industrial lights, hanging from the ceiling without bulbs. What little light was present, came from dirty skylights.
"Many things have died here. I think this used to be a meat processing plant, or something similar." She took in a deep breath. "The stench of death is recent though."
"As recent as this morning in fact." A darkly amused voice cut through the empty room, and a figure made it's way toward the newlywed couple. "My preparations are complete. Follow me, and I will explain your roles in tonight's ritual."
"Voldemort? Ritual?" Harry's confusion was apparent.
"I've been writing back and forth with him for months now." Wednesday admitted, taking Harry's hand and pulling him along after the Dark Lord. "I thought it would be nice to take part in a profane ritual for our honeymoon. Voldemort assures me it will be absolutely agonizing for you."
The newlyweds followed Voldemort into a small stone chamber, oddly out of place in the abandoned building, listening intently as he explained the ritual and the roles they would each play.
The entrance to the dome shaped chamber sealed behind them, and runes that covered nearly every surface glowed momentarily. There was a stone alter with steel restraints in the center of the room, and a stone pedestal stood a few feet from its head.
Whimpering along the edge of the chamber, there were nine men and women. Stripped naked, bound, and gagged, each sacrifice was struggling weakly against the ropes that held them.
"There's no real need for the gags right?" Harry asked as he drew his dagger, and stripped down to his underwear.
Voldemort snorted in amusement. He had forgotten how far Dumbledore's pawn had fallen. "They'll all be silent soon enough. So long as you sacrifice them properly, you may indulge yourself."
The nearest sacrifice struggled with renewed vigor as Harry reached for him, grinning madly. Harry caressed the man's cheek with his blade before cutting free the gag. "That's better, no sense in muffling those beautiful screams."
Before the man could beg, harry slid his dagger across the man's stomach, allowing his entrails to spill out onto the floor. Looking into the man's terrified eyes, Harry plunged his hand into the open wound, and proceeded to finger paint runes onto his bare chest with the dying man's blood.
Leaving the first man to scream and cry, Harry moved on. Repeating his actions with a second man, and a woman, Harry soon was covered with bloody runes. All three of his victims were pleading for their lives. Unable to accept their fate, they each offered everything and anything they could think of to buy their lives back.
Voldemort handed Harry a simple wooden bowl, carefully confirmed each rune, and stepped back to continue monitoring the ritual.
With one clean slash, Harry slit all three of his victim's throats, and moved quickly to make sure that a sample of the precious crimson liquid was collected from each sacrifice. Taking a moment to savor the aroma, Harry drank deeply, and laid himself down on the alter.
Needed no further prompt, Wednesday secured each of the enchanted steel bands, taking extra care to tighten them beyond the point of discomfort. With a final ratchet of the band at his waist, she backed off and gathered the three remaining women in preparation for her later role.
Ignoring the disturbing nature of the young couple's relationship, Voldemort drew an emerald encrusted ceremonial dagger, and focused his attention to the task at hand. He held the dagger with both hands, and began chanting in a long dead tongue.
The air grew thick with magic, accompanied by an obscene miasma. The still-living sacrifices began to retch, bile rose as their bodies fought against the abomination that the ritual embraced. Wednesday breathed deeply, allowing the profane magics to touch her own. She shuddered as she felt the wholesome Hufflepuff affect melt away completely.
Voldemort approached the three remaining men, and plunged the dagger into each one's heart, waiting a few moments for each sacrifice to expire. The emeralds briefly glowed red with each life taken, a sign that the dagger was absorbing the blood instead of spilling it. With the last man's dying breath, the emeralds glowed with power, and remained blood red.
As he moved to stand over the pedestal, Voldemort's chant grew rhythmic, and he drove the blade into the stone. The artifact slid in up to the hilt as if the stone offered no more resistance than flesh would.
The oppressive power that filled the room coalesced around both Harry's forehead and the jeweled dagger, visibly linking the two together. Harry began spasming violently, bucking wildly and involuntarily against his bonds. His eyes rolled back as his scar split wide open. Blood flowed freely from his forehead, and was soon joined by thin rivers of sanguine from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.
Wednesday looked on in fascination as her husband thrashed about. The enchanted bands of steel that held him down, cut into his flesh, spilling more of his life's blood. She unconsciously licked her lips as the deliciously familiar metallic scent grew stronger. Harry's mouth opened with a silent scream that slowly grew into a soul shattering wail that made Wednesday shudder in delight.
The bloody runes on Harry began to glow, and Wednesday shifted her attention to the women by her side. Grabbing the closest by the hair, she held her first sacrifice over the alter. With one hand holding her victim's hair tightly, she raked her nails across the woman's exposed throat, tearing through flesh, and severing the carotid artery. She smiled as she watched the arterial spray cover her husband, and felt the life vanish from the woman she held.
Letting her first victim drop to the floor, Wednesday then untied the wrists of the next closest woman. She pulled the struggling woman to stand between Harry and the dagger, and stretched her arms out to hover over both Harry's scar, and the dagger's hilt. Locking eyes with the panicking sacrifice, Wednesday dug her nails deeply into the woman's wrists.
As the woman's blood fell, Voldemort began chanting faster, with fevered intensity. A thick black smoke poured out of Harry's scar, and entered the sacrifice through her slashed wrist. The woman began screaming through her gag so loudly it barely muffled her cries. Wednesday's iron grip held the woman in place, and despite her agony fueled thrashing, the woman was unable to break free. Eyes filled with pain and fear widened, and then faded. The struggling stopped as the smoke flowed back out of the woman, and into the blood-red emeralds.
Wednesday tossed the corpse to the side, and grabbed the final victim by her throat. With a graceful flourish, she pulled the ceremonial dagger free, and bent the sacrifice backward over the pedestal. Eagerly, she drove the dagger into the sacrifice's chest, and proceeded to cut out her heart. Wednesday pulled the heart free, and let the body fall out of the way. She then set the heart on the pedestal, and stepped out of the way as she handed the dagger to Voldemort.
Voldemort's voice rose, and with a final word he plunged the dagger into the heart with enough force that the stone pedestal split down the center. Slowly, the heart blackened and shriveled away, leaving only the jeweled dagger. Just as slowly, the emeralds reverted back to their original green. If not for the aura of corruption that emanated from it, one might think it was still the same dagger a young Tom Riddle stole from the Chamber of Secrets so many years ago.
Carefully placing his newest horcrux safely within his robes, Voldemort looked down at his former mortal enemy, honestly surprised that the boy was still breathing. When he designed the ritual to transfer his horcrux, he had put no thought into Harry's survival. Perhaps, after he allowed the children the gift of finishing their honeymoon, he would one last time ask the former Potter to join his ranks. The boys wife would make a fine Death Eater as well.
"Congratulations, and enjoy your honeymoon." The Dark Lord said as he drew his wand. "I suggest the two of you leave this place withing the next twenty minutes."
Voldemort cast a spell, forming a shimmering sphere near the top of the stone dome. A second spell ignited a writhing mass of fire within the scintillating bubble. "The cursed flames will destroy this place once they break free."
A final wave of his wand, and an opening formed in the dome once more. Voldemort walked out, and vanished with a soft -pop-.
Author's note: Once again, there are far too many reviews for me to respond to in any reasonable way. I will try to do better, but you have heard that before. That having been said, if you specifically want a response, I am generally better at responding to private messages than reviews.
Perfect is the enemy of good, and I know my story is flawed. For way too long over the past couple years, I attempted to rewrite the whole thing to fix mistakes and plot holes. The more I fixed, the more I found, and the less happy I was with my writing. I came very close to scrapping the whole thing and even considered deleting my stories and account.
My story is not perfect, but I know it is good, well... it's alright. The good reviews far outweigh the bad, and I want to finish my story. Thank you for reading, see you in the next chapter.