The next morning dawned with an air of apprehension as Harry and Daphne stared at each other with bleary eyes. It was still early but neither could find it in themselves to go back to sleep.
"It's going to be okay," Harry whispered. Daphne merely buried her face in the crook of his neck, prompting him to sigh and wrap his arms around her tightly.
The couple lay in silence for a long while until they felt it was time to get going for the day.
When they arrived downstairs, they found Perenelle and Nicholas sitting together at the table, chatting idly. The revered old lady was the first to spot them and she smiled invitingly.
"Come, you two. Join us," she gestured toward the empty seats. Harry pulled Daphne's chair for her and helped her in before taking his place beside hers.
"Ever had a French breakfast before?" Nicholas asked, earning a shake of the head from the couple. "Should be a nice change. I never liked the ol' English routine, you know? Too heavy for my liking."
Harry chuckled good-naturedly as Daphne fixed their plates. It was quite a variety, and Harry had little idea what the items were truly called. All he could make out was a long slice of bread, butter, a red and a yellow jam, a couple varieties of pastries, juice, and surprisingly, eggs. He did not pay much heed to all of it though, content as he was in simply going with the flow. He was sure he'd get his head bashed in if he unknowingly insulted the French couple by botching the name of whatever that bread was called and called it what he was thinking instead.
'Indeed. Telling them it looks like a dildo made of bread would surely get my head scruffed,' he thought with a snort.
"Hmm? Something funny?"
Harry shook his head toward Lady Flamel as he smiled at Daphne who handed his plate over to him.
"It might be a bit sweeter than you're used to," the old lady supplied helpfully. Harry nodded. He could handle a bit sweet.
A few minutes later, Daphne asked, "Where's the headmaster, my lady?"
"None of that lord or lady business, lass. I think we're grown up enough to call each other by our names, you hear me?"
Harry and Daphne exchanged a look with each other before they turned back toward the older couple and nodded.
"Good. Too much formality is irritating," Nicholas muttered.
"Albus is a busy man, dear. He went back last night. Not to worry though, he should be coming over soon. After all, I can't see him staying away from our evaluation," Perenelle remarked with a passing look over Harry's scar.
"He's one curious boy," Nicholas chuckled. "Always has been. The lad has his flaws but he's got his heart in the right place."
Harry and Daphne were more than a little surprised to witness people referring to the Albus Dumbledore as no more than a boy, as if he were still a mere schoolboy.
"Don't be surprised," Perenelle chuckled. "Albus might be reaching 150 but we're more than four times his age, dears."
All Harry and Daphne could do was nod dumbly and resume eating. It still felt unbelievable to realize that the old couple sitting with them were so old.
"You two must've seen so much in your long life," Daphne wondered aloud. "The Black Death, Joan of Arc, European explorations, expansions, and their eventual downfall, so much advancement in both muggle and wizarding knowledge… and so much I don't even know."
Perenelle smiled at the young woman. She reminded her a lot of herself when she had been at that age – having a thirst for knowledge and a sense of marvel for the world they had been born in, and yet remaining respectful and courteous. It felt like several lifetimes ago when she had been like her, which, for all intents and purposes, it had been.
"Believe me, we never dipped our feet too much into those affairs," Nicholas replied in her stead. "As far as people knew, we vanished sometime in the 15th century. The muggles believed us dead while the magicals were unsure. We never supported all the violence they carried out all around the world. Conquering countries and continents, subverting their cultures and imposing their own… it all leaves a bad taste in our mouths even to this day. You can see their effects even to this day."
"Sadly that has been the truth of our world since the beginning, has it not?" Harry remarked with a sigh, earning one from the man as well.
"I was but a scholar. Worked as a scribe for a little while before I created the stone. My capabilities have always been confined to the realm of academia. It would not be an exaggeration to say that when it comes to raw power and spellcasting, even you might be able to overwhelm me," Nicholas informed, much to their shock. The man chuckled.
"I'm not lying," he continued. "I do have knowledge, perhaps more than any other wizard or witch alive today, but I do not possess the power or the ability to put it all to use."
"That doesn't mean we're powerless though," Perenelle interjected, smiling. "There is a reason afterall behind the saying 'Knowledge is power'."
Harry and Daphne stared at the elderly couple and nodded in complete understanding. Knowledge indeed was power, and very few would know better than them now that they had joined the Hierarchy at Hogwarts.
XXXXX
Dumbledore arrived an hour later, and there was an air of trepidation about him as he greeted Harry and Daphne. They did not pause for a chat though. It was tense and they wanted to get over it as soon as they could.
Dumbledore and Nicholas were talking in hushed tones as Perenelle set up the bed properly, leaving Harry and Daphne to stand together in silence.
"It's gonna be fine," Harry whispered once again. Daphne turned around in his embrace as they hugged each other firmly.
"Harry, we're ready if you are," Nicholas remarked, prompting him to sigh and nod. He looked tenderly in his girlfriend's shining blue orbs and dropped a soft kiss on her lovely lips.
"Keep this with you," he said gently, handing her over his wand. Daphne smiled at the warmth she felt when she took hold of his wand. It felt as if it belonged to her.
'A close bond indeed,' she thought.
"Daphne, come sit with me," Perenelle said softly as she took the girl's hand and led her over to the small settee near the wall. They watched Harry lie down on the bed before Nicholas dimmed the lights slightly.
"Do you have any idea what it could be?" Daphne asked the woman who had her hands clasped with hers.
Perenelle bit her lower lip gently, wondering what to say.
"Nicholas does have his theories after discussing them with Albus."
"And?"
Perenelle sighed.
"Let's say Harry would need you every step of the way no matter what it is. Do not falter, Daphne."
"I won't," the blonde replied resolutely, earning a soft squeeze on her hand. She had not gotten a clear answer but she was not an idiot. It was indeed serious. She only hoped it was as serious as they could take. Nothing could happen to Harry. She would do everything in her power to ensure he came out of it on top. She only hoped she wouldn't fall short of whatever might be asked of her.
Meanwhile, Harry lay on the bed feeling oddly relaxed. He was indeed slightly concerned with whatever it might be inside his scar that was making it react so violently but he felt they could deal with it. He was new to this world and he did not believe he knew the intricacies of magic, but he had enough confidence in his abilities to know he was capable of overcoming whatever mammoth of a task he might have in store for him in the near future.
He glimpsed Dumbledore's concerned gaze and smiled reassuringly at the man.
"You are at ease. That is good," Nicholas remarked from his right.
"I've got two of the most knowledgeable men I've ever heard about on my case here. Kinda hard not to feel a bit reassured," Harry replied.
"Smart kid," Nicholas chuckled, glancing toward Dumbledore. "Now listen, Harry. Albus and I have our theories and we will check this scar to see if there's any truth to them. Only then can we think of what comes ahead. All I need from you right now is that you stay relaxed."
Harry nodded and closed his eyes.
Nicholas nodded toward Dumbledore and the two wizards brandished their wands. Dumbledore waved his over Harry's body and a shining golden dome appeared over him. Meanwhile, Nicholas pointed his right over his scar, gently touching his skin with the tip.
"Se skiés vathiá kai aneípota vasíleia, Ekeí pou katoikoún oi psychés kai krývontai mystiká, Dóse mou théa péra apó to péplo, Na aisthánesai to skáfos, aithério monopáti. Apó tin ankaliá tis zoís stin ávysso tou thanátou, Apokalýpste to krymméno filí. Fasmatikí ousía, ousía alithiní, Apokalýpste to docheío, afíste to na empotísei. Afíste tous psíthyrous na fouskósoun, afíste tis enérgeies na dionkothoún, Apokalýpste to mystikó xórki."
The chant was followed by a sinister red glow inside the golden dome and Nicholas' eyes closed. He followed the dark magic's trail, examining the entire condition in his mindscape.
On the bed, Harry shifted slightly, prompting Dumbledore to gently press his hand on his chest and pat. The aged wizard kept his hand on his chest as Harry's breathing evened once again.
Hours passed and all Daphne could do was stare at the unmoving figures of Nicholas and Harry while Dumbledore diligently kept his hand on Harry's chest, pressing firmly whenever her boyfriend made the slightest movement. She did not know what was going on and at this point, she was too afraid to ask. All she knew was that the crimson glow she had seen in the beginning couldn't have been anything good.
It was afternoon when Nicholas finally opened his eyes and withdrew his wand. Right on cue, Dumbledore flicked his and brought down the golden dome. The moment Daphne saw they were done, she shot out of her seat and darted forward with Perenelle right behind her.
All Nicholas did was nod and Dumbledore sighed.
"It is as you said," Nicholas remarked, earning a resigned nod from Dumbledore who had already seen the red glow emanate from the scar in the beginning like everyone else.
"What happened? Is everything okay?" Daphne asked quickly as Harry slowly sat up and glanced at her. He had no idea how he was going to break it to her. He knew she would be devastated.
"Harry would fill you in, dear," Nicholas said gently, nodding. "Come back when you're done explaining."
Harry nodded as he got off the bed and took Daphne's hand, leading her out of the room and toward the garden outside.
"Is it…?"
"It is," Nicholas sighed. "The boy is a horcrux."
XXXXX
"Harry, what's wrong? What happened back there?" Daphne asked again, and as usual, Harry kept silent as he led her toward the garden. He made her sit on the bench and took his place beside her. The blonde quickly grabbed his hand again, looking at him with urgency.
"Harry, please speak up already," she pleaded. "What happened?"
Harry sighed.
"Well, Nicholas did that weird chant and I felt something lurch right here…" Harry said, pointing to his forehead. Daphne gaze fell on his scar as he continued, "I don't know what it was but it felt as if something reacted inside me… then suddenly, I was back at Hogwarts, only… brighter."
"Brighter?"
Harry nodded, his eyes faraway.
He looked around at the glowing walls, the shining floor, and the rock sentinels that were perched upon the massive walls, all emanating the white glow. It was all very blinding.
"Well, this is definitely not what I expected," he muttered before he felt movement behind him.
Harry abruptly whirled around and his eyes widened when he saw none other than Nicholas Flamel step forward.
"As the caster, I felt this would be the most relaxing environment for you. It's the only one I know well, after all."
Harry nodded, looking around.
"So what is this place, exactly? Looks like Hogwarts, but it's pretty obvious it isn't."
"I think it would be correct to say we're inside your mind," Nicholas replied as he began walking. "Follow me, lad."
Harry hastened, falling in a step beside the elderly alchemist.
"We're in my mind?"
"Your mind, your soul, your magic, your very being. You can call it anything. They're all the same," Nicholas replied. "It's always amusing whenever I hear about things like magical core or differences between one's self and one's soul. Makes for a nice laugh every once in a while."
"The perks of being a genius. It's lonely at the top," Harry chuckled.
"Tell me about it," Nicholas smiled. "I digress though. You see, it all makes you. The only difference one can make is between the body and the soul. Think of it as your body and your clothes. You wear one, put it aside when you're done, and then you wear another. The soul works similarly, and the body is its cloth."
"Makes for a very sobering thought," Harry replied.
"I've worn the same one for over six centuries, lad."
"And you don't seem to be in any hurry for a new one," Harry chuckled.
Nicholas clapped him on the back, amused at the quip.
"I like you lad. I like you more than most I've met in my long life already. Come on, let's get going."
"Where are we even going though?" Harry asked.
With a serious face, Nicholas stared ahead and replied, "To discover the secrets of your scar."
On cue, a haunting roar rang out, echoing off the silent corridors of Hogwarts and Harry's eyes widened. His heartbeat rose marginally and he turned toward Nicholas who stared at the floor.
"Trapped in the dungeons, color me surprised," the man muttered drily. "Come, lad. Looks like we'd get our answer sooner than I expected."
Their strides grew quicker as they approached the Grand Staircase, and they quickly began descending.
"It's something bad, isn't it?" Harry asked, gulping slightly. Nicholas could see the young man was trying to put a brave front but his concerns were easily visible. He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Forgot your belief in me and Albus so quickly?" He asked with a chuckle, firmly holding him by the shoulder. Harry's eyes widened slightly. "Don't worry, lad. We'll take care of things."
Harry nodded slowly and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he nodded resolutely. Nicholas smiled and with another soft squeeze, he pulled his hand away and walked forward with Harry walking right beside him.
"Tell me, lad," Nicholas began. "What are your suspicions? Surely you have wondered what it might be?"
"Daph and I discussed it," Harry began. "I started speaking Parseltongue recently. I've never been able to understand snakes or speak their language before. She believes something surfaced within me when my scar began to react, and it made certain abilities start to manifest in me."
"Smart girl," Nicholas praised. "She is indeed correct in her theory. Go on."
"We believe it to be somehow connected to Voldemort, and if I'm understanding this correctly, that scream we heard just now was actually Voldemort himself. He's somehow in this scar, isn't he?"
Nicholas pursed his lips.
"There are many branches of magic that have evolved over the years. Some have prevailed or developed further by the witches and wizards that came later while some have gone into dust, never to be called upon again. However, there exist several magical arts that are deemed, for the lack of a better word, forbidden. These magical arts have been left untouched for centuries and exist to this day in their raw forms, as devised by their creator. What we're dealing with here is something along the lines."
Another roar rang out, this time much closer, as they reached the bottom floor and began walking down the stairs that led to the dungeons.
"Looks like he's getting agitated," Harry muttered.
"Let the bastard be," Nicholas remarked distastefully. "Now where was I?"
"Forbidden magic," Harry supplied.
"Ah yes," Nicholas nodded. "One of the most sacred, and shall we say, dangerous branches of magic concerns the soul. What we are dealing with toes the line of the natural state of things. Something to not be trifled with. The soul itself, which we know by now is also?"
"Our magic, our mind, and our entire self," Harry replied.
"Indeed. Glad you're paying attention," Nicholas smiled. "Now, if our theory is correct, then this Voldemort fellow split his soul and stored it inside you."
"Phylacteries are real!?" Harry asked in shock.
"Phylacteries?" Nicholas asked.
"Yeah, like a soul jar."
Nicholas whirled around and fixed him with an intense stare.
"How do you know about that!?" The man demanded.
Harry stared at the man as they came to an abrupt stop right as they stepped into the dungeons.
"I played D&D with my cousin," Harry replied with a small frown.
"D&D?"
"Dungeons and Dragons. It's a pretty popular muggle game, came out a couple decades ago, I guess."
"A muggle game!? And this game has horcruxes?"
"Whore-what?" Harry asked in surprise.
"The soul jar you mentioned."
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Split your soul and place it inside a container. As long as the container is safe, you can't die. That's what you're talking about, right? Wait a minute, that means…"
"Merlin, lad!" Nicholas hissed, still coming to terms with the fact that muggles had come up with the concept of phylacteries, or as Herpo had started calling them, horcruxes, without even knowing about magic.
"I've got that bastard's soul living inside me…" Harry muttered. "Fuck. I knew it was something bad, but this!? Voldemort's alive and he can't die as long as I'm living…"
"Yes, now stop stating the obvious. You're surely cut down a large part of my lecture already," Nicholas remarked drily. "How much do you exactly know about these horcruxes?"
"Phylacteries are called whorecruxes in the magical world?" Harry asked in surprise. "What do whores have to do with them?"
Nicholas closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Not whore, lad. Hor. H-O-R. Horcruxes."
"Ah. Right," Harry replied slightly awkwardly. "Well, all I know is that it's used to store the life force if someone wants to be a lich. That's someone who's used dark magic to become an undead and cheat death. Needs quite a lot to make one, and it needs to be a high-quality object to make it a phylactery. You enchant the item, use the spell, and trap the soul. If it's successful, you place the fragment of your soul inside it. There might be a few more requirements depending on the case but that's the gist of it."
"Well, looks like things differ slightly here," Nicholas mused as they resumed walking. "Although the concept is the same. To create a Horcrux, you need to tear your soul apart. While you could do it by many means, the most common one used in history has been the murder of someone innocent. Someone who has never done or even means any harm to you. Once you commit the murder and tear your soul, you can break it off and store it in a container of your choice. However, that is no simple affair. Only a certain few can do it, and it requires all of willpower, magical power, sheer intent and belief in oneself. Many have tried to create a Horcrux over the centuries, only to end up as nothing more than a soulless husk."
Harry stared at the haunted look on the man's face as he nodded. He felt there was more to it than the man had explicitly told him. Before he could ask anything of him though, he continued his explanation.
"Your phylactery requires a high-quality object. While the Horcrux doesn't need its container to be of high quality, it does need to have immense personal significance to the one who is splitting their soul. It becomes resilient to most circumstances and magics, and there are only a few chosen methods that can destroy a Horcrux."
"Personal significance?" Harry asked. "Then how come I'm a horcrux? I can't imagine I'd be of any significance to Voldemort."
"And you know Voldemort and what you mean to him?" Nicholas asked keenly. "You're sure you're insignificant to him?"
"I… I don't know what you mean," Harry replied.
"Doesn't matter," Nicholas waved his hand dismissively. "What I am confident of is that Voldemort did not intend to make you his horcrux. He was going to kill you, but something happened that forced his soul to split off and latch on to you."
"Really? What?"
"I don't know," Nicholas replied. "But I'm sure it's got something to do with that golden glow."
Harry looked over where the man was pointing and saw the wall right opposite them was glowing brightly. The golden light seemed to be coming from one of the prison cells at the far end of the corridor and their footsteps hastened.
The sight that greeted them once they reached the cell stilled their steps. Wide-eyed, they stared at the sight of massive golden arms that emerged from all three walls, the floor, and the ceiling of the cell, and the feebly struggling creature – as black as tar – held firmly against the floor.
It had without the shadow of a doubt the most horrific face Harry had ever laid eyes on. He was sure it had once had a human face but now, it's face was wispy, entirely abnormal and disfigured, as if it had been mutilated beyond recognition. It's crimson eyes glinted malevolently as they glowed, only to be thwarted by the lustrous golden glow of the arms that held the creature in place.
The situation seemed to be well under control, if only they ignored the pair of destroyed arms they could spot right under the creature's feet. It seemed it had successfully thwarted a couple in its resistance, something that Harry felt had undoubtedly happened when his scar had begun to react.
"I think I've seen enough here," Nicholas said and turned around to walk away, prompting Harry to follow. The last thing he saw was the creature's face being slammed against the floor as it let out another pain and rage-filled roar.
"And yeah, that was it," Harry sighed.
Daphne stared at him, unblinking.
"Merlin…" she whispered finally. She could not formulate any words. This went beyond anything she had ever imagined. To think that Voldemort had gone so far as to split his soul…
"What I'm confused about is why he made me a horcrux," Harry muttered, his demeanor more controlled then it should be, all things considered.
"And how are you significant to him? Significant enough that he placed a portion of his soul in you?"
"I have no idea, Daph," he muttered with a sigh.
"What about getting it out of you?" She asked fearfully. "They can get it done, right? You said Nicholas told you there are a few ways to destroy a Horcrux. Surely there's one that we can use and make sure you're alright, right?"
Harry remained silent.
"Harry…" Daphne whispered.
"I sure hope there is, Daph… I sure hope there is."
While they were outside, Nicholas was filling the others in.
"It's not doing anything more than occasional episodes of pain right now, which I believe happened only because Voldemort was so close to him," Nicholas intoned. "However, there is a possibility for the influence to grow stronger and we cannot ignore that."
"Tom's soul must be very volatile to have split off like that," Dumbledore remarked, hiding his unease behind a veneer of calm.
Splitting the soul even once was heinous, and to think his former student had done it so many times that it had become so volatile that a piece of it had split off… Dumbledore almost shuddered.
He continued, "There is no possibility of him choosing to have Harry house a piece of his soul. He wanted to kill the boy."
"The prophecy, yes," Perenelle nodded. "It explains how the soul piece found itself inside Harry as well. After all, for that volatile soul piece, nothing in that place held any significance, and the prophecy made Harry very significant to him."
Dumbledore nodded.
"We will be doing Lily Potter a disservice if we don't acknowledge the intricate web of spellwork she had put forth in her son," Nicholas said softly. "She single-handedly ensured her son's survival that night as well as his continued safety from Voldemort. I do not believe that he would be able to even touch Harry so long as the protection remains intact."
"What she did was the demonstration of blood magic of the highest order. To sacrifice herself in such a manner…"
"There could be our hope in this, Albus," Nicholas said gravely.
Dumbledore turned toward his mentor expectantly, curious to hear what he had to say.
XXXXX
Harry and Daphne arrived back and joined the others a few minutes later. The blonde looked much subdued. Perenelle gave Daphne a concerned look which she didn't even see, engrossed as she was in staring at the floor.
"Take a seat, you two," Nicholas sighed. Once they had sat down, he began, "It's quite a conundrum we find ourselves in. As we have established already, Harry, you house a portion of Voldemort's soul, and I believe I should be honest with you regarding what it entails."
Harry nodded, staring at the old man expectantly. He wanted to know everything there was to know about this. From her spot beside him, Daphne took his hand and looked up, staring intently at Nicholas with a resolute look. Nicholas glanced toward her and smiled.
"To begin with, housing one's soul inside a living being is advised in only one case, and that is when you already have a bond with them. That is because the magic of the bond recognizes the soul, and we have already established that soul and magic are one and the same. You understand what I'm saying?"
"You're saying that the other living being's self would be more amenable to house that soul piece because of the bond. In any other case, since there is no bond, and thus no familiarity, the being would reject the soul piece."
"Correct, and we can see it happening with you," Nicholas smiled. "Your magic rejected the foreign entity, and the protection you have been blessed with acted. It is that protection that has been keeping that soul piece trapped inside you."
"The protection my mother gave me when she sacrificed herself for me," Harry whispered. His eyes closed as he recalled what he had read in her journal which she had been keeping in her post-Hogwarts years. A blood ritual to ensure he survived. What she had achieved had surpassed even her expectations. He did not know the intricacies of it but the results were alive within him.
"Indeed, and as long as that protection remains powerful, that soul piece can do nothing. Even if by some chance your mother's protection is nullified, I don't believe your inherent magic would let that soul piece take over. You seem much more capable than to surrender yourself like that."
Daphne sat back in slight relief, releasing a small breath she did not know she had been holding. She also believed the same, and it felt heartening to hear her thoughts confirmed by the man who probably knew more than anyone else alive today.
Perenelle smiled at the girl. She could see how much stress the blonde had been under ever since this morning, and the sight of her shoulders sagging a bit filled her with relief as well.
"If things remain the same, you have nothing much to worry about. You'll certainly feel pain, and quite possibly a lot of it if Voldemort comes near you, but I'm sure you'd prefer it over any other scenario I'm sure you two must've thought of already," Nicholas smiled.
Daphne could not help but shudder a little bit at that.
"I did fear that Voldemort might take over Harry's body or something like that," she admitted.
"There's a small chance he might be able to influence Harry's behavior," Dumbledore replied before he turned toward Harry. "However, with the proficiency in Occlumency you have developed already, that is very unlikely. I don't think you need to worry about it."
"Right," Nicholas nodded. "You might also start displaying a few abilities Voldemort possessed, as already seen with Parseltongue. You might also be able to look into his mind if you play your cards right, although I don't know if you'd like to see what you might find in there. However, the biggest advantage you could have is an ability to sense any other Horcruxes he might have made or will make."
Their eyes widened.
"Seriously!?"
"We believe Voldemort's soul was already so volatile that when the killing curse rebounded thanks to your mother's sacrifice, a portion of it split off and latched itself to the only thing that held any significance to him."
"That's what I don't understand though," Harry sighed. "How am I in any way significant to him? All I know is that he wanted to kill my entire family and almost succeeded."
"Wanna do the honors, Albus?"
Confused, Harry and Daphne turned toward Dumbledore who stared back solemnly.
"A prophecy was given before you were born," Dumbledore began, and once again, Harry's life changed. He and Daphne listened with growing disbelief as the headmaster told them everything about what the prophecy entailed and it was no brainer to understand why Voldemort had personally gone after his family, or rather, him.
"So you mean to say they were never his targets?" Harry asked with an undercurrent of rage in his voice. "That they would've survived if not for me? I'm the reason why my parents are dead!?"
"Your parents would've been targeted nonetheless," Dumbledore replied. "For him, it was merely killing two birds with one stone."
Harry sat listlessly, staring at the floor as Daphne tried with all her might to convey as much support to him as she could. She squeezed his hands reassuringly, whispering words of calm and sense.
"Never blame yourself like this again," she whispered firmly. "Your mother didn't go to such lengths only for you to blame yourself for their deaths. There's only one person to blame and you know who it is."
Harry took a few deep breaths and nodded.
"I understand," he replied. Looking back up, he stared resolutely. "Tell me everything you can, Nicholas. I want to know it all."
He was ready to take his challenge head on. There was no way he was going to give up so easily. Voldemort was still alive out there, and he seemed to be the one prophesized to kill him. Well, he would happily do that.
Voldemort had started this story, but he would be the one to finish it.
To be continued…
Thanks for reading, everyone, and if you'd like to access chapters early or have a say in what goes, check out the link on my profile.
There are also character artworks for the ladies if you're interested in seeing what they might look like.
I'll be back soon with the next update for this fic. Meanwhile, check out my other fics if you haven't yet. Cheers!