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Category: Post-OotP Characters:All Genres: Angst, Fluff, Drama, General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 147 Summary: Harry's life is in turmoil since the death of his godfather, but realising he is in love doesn't make it any easier. This story tracks his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and all the problems he faces. Hitcount: Story Total: 69898; Chapter Total: 4506 |
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Friends and More Disclaimer: everything belongs to JK, I just write the story. That’s about it. Chapter Four: A Surprising Start To The Year There were, Harry mused, many painful things in the world, and he had experienced a lot of them. He had, he realised, begun a kind of league table in his mind. There had recently been a new leader on the board: nothing could ever beat unrequited love. The loss of Sirius was next, but in some ways it didn’t really come close, which made Harry feel guilty. The next two, the time when Voldemort had tried to possess him and the numerous times he had experienced the Cruciatus curse, were hardly on the same page. Still, Harry thought gloomily that Snape would be proud to know that double Potions first thing on a Monday morning made it to number five on Harry’s personal list. He was dreading it even worse than usual. For a start, proportionally there would probably be far more Slytherins in the class than any other house. Secondly, Snape hated him worse than ever after their last, disastrous Occlumency lesson, and thirdly he was at least partially convinced that he hadn’t earned that ‘E’ for his OWL, and that Snape had been forced into accepting him into his class. Ron and Hermione said nothing, but the three of them were probably the most miserable at the whole Gryffindor table that gloomy morning. After all, no other lesson even compared, and they were the only Gryffindors in their year taking the subject. It had been nice that they had had a weekend right at the beginning of term rather than going straight into lessons, but now academia loomed like a persistently large and annoying mountain. They trudged down to the dungeons in mutually supportive but silent misery. The Slytherins were already outside the door, and Harry shut his eyes for a moment, bracing himself. He opened them to see Draco Malfoy opening his mouth to say something, an arrogant sneer plastered over his pale, pointed face, but he was thankfully interrupted by the arrival of Snape, the few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students following close behind him, and Malfoy never managed to say anything, although he jostled Harry deliberately as they made their way into the classroom. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat, as always, at the back of the class, and Harry decided something. Even in Potions, he was going to work as hard as he possibly could. Not so that his scores were good, but so that he could avoid thinking about… certain people. He pulled parchment, ink and quill out of his bag, correctly guessing that the first lesson would mostly be note-taking, and looked steadily at Snape. And it was then that Harry noticed the change in the Potions teacher. His hair was longer than normal, and while it normally looked greasy it was now matted and tangled, almost knotted. His normally straight back was stooped with fatigue, and when he faced the class Harry was shocked at the grey pallor of his already unhealthy-looking skin. He looked ill and exhausted, and Harry realised that his efforts with the Death Eaters and Voldemort were draining the man Harry had loathed for so long. He remembered suddenly the scene he had witnessed in the Penseive, and Snape’s anger on discovering him, and for the first time he felt truly guilty for that. He probably could not have wounded his teacher more deeply, and he felt dreadfully ashamed. Snape cleared his throat. When he spoke his voice was as week as the rest of him, but he attempted to use his familiar low, sneering tone. “So, the brave few who have returned. Not many ever apply for the NEWT Potions course- and for good reason.” Snape’s red-rimmed eyes swept the room. “The concoctions you will study for the next two years are among the most potent and powerful known to wizard kind, and I warn you that students are expected to test their mixtures. It is, therefore, essential that you pay close attention at all times: any idle dreaming” and here his gaze snapped to Harry, who winced inwardly, “could result in truly horrendous results. If anyone is unsure that they are capable of what is demanded of them, they should leave now.” Snape threw out his arm toward the door, emphasising his remark, his cloak billowing out with a snap behind him. Ron muttered something about dramatics, but no one moved. Snape tried to smile thinly, but only succeeded in grimacing. He turned quickly to the blackboard, and began talking about their first topic, which would be about potions for plenty and fortune. Harry wrote quickly and clearly, getting not only what was on the board but the important points of Snape’s commentary as well. During a moment’s pause, he was surprised to see that he had already filled three pages with notes, and they were more extensive even than Hermione’s. Ron was looking at him with a very strange expression on his face. With ten minutes to go to the bell, Snape wrote some questions on the board, to see how much they had taken in. Harry questions the words on a fresh piece of parchment, then flicked backward and forward through his notes until he found the information he needed to answer each one. He was just writing the answer to the last question when he felt a sharp pain on his ear. Jerking up he put his hand to it he felt blood pouring from quite a long cut running all along the skin joining the lobe to his head. It was almost as if someone had tried to slice the ear off, but thankfully the spell, for it must have been a spell, hadn’t made the cut deep enough. Nevertheless, it was extremely painful and was bleeding heavily. He put the full stop to the last answer and held up his hand to get Snape’s attention, dreading what cruel reprimand that was surely coming his way. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Draco Malfoy smirking, though somewhat disappointedly, in his direction, and tucking his wand back in his pocket. “Yes, Potter?” Snape was standing a few feet away, the expression on his face unreadable. “Er… Sir, I’ve got a cut on my ear somehow. Can I go and clean it up, please? I’ve finished the questions.” Snape strode over and lifted Harry’s hair with a surprisingly gentle hand to see what was wrong. Harry heard a sudden intake of breath as the hand was moved away, and Snape said quietly, “I think the hospital wing would be a better idea, Potter. Please be quick, though, I want a word with you after the lesson. You too Miss Granger, Mr Weasly.” Harry got to his feet, thankful that Snape was in such a mellow mood, and was about to step out of the door when he heard Snape say something that he had never dreamed he would say in a million years. “Twenty points from Slytherin.” The room rang with the silence. Harry was frozen, facing into the corridor but not seeing anything. Snape, taking points from Slytherin? Harry had half a mind to pull his wand on Snape, remembering Barty Crouch junior in his fourth year, but Snape told the class tersely to get on with their work, and proceeded to berate Malfoy. Harry decided that this talk he wanted with himself, Ron and Hermione had to be important, so he hurried to the hospital wing. “Here already, Potter? I was hoping to go at least one weak without seeing you. This is the first lesson. How do you plead?” Harry grinned despite himself at Madame Pomfrey’s sarcastic comment. “Not guilty. I don’t think I can be held accountable if someone curses me during class.” He lifted his hair and showed the nurse his cut. She hissed in a half exasperated, half sympathetic way, and used a damp cloth to clean the wound before performing a simple skin-knitting charm on the damaged area. She told him to sit quietly for a moment, and sat down at her desk to write up the incident in her report book. “So… how did this happen?” “Well, I think someone cursed me.” She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You think?” Harry hurried to explain. “I was concentrating on a quiz in Potions and I felt a pain. I noticed I was bleeding, and I caught sight of someone looking at me and putting their wand away. I didn’t hear the spell, though, so I can’t be sure. But I wasn’t taking a knife to it, or anything like that.” The nurse looked like she was trying to suppress a laugh. “I assume we’re talking about Mr Malfoy?” Harry nodded, grinning. Madame Pomfrey was well aware of the enmity between the two young men. “And what did Professor Snape do?” Harry frowned. “Not what I expected. It was him who suggested I come here, rather than just washing the blood off… which reminds me, I’ve got to go back at the end of the lesson.” She nodded, acknowledging the request. “And then I was about to leave and he docked twenty points from Slytherin.” Madame Pomfrey dropped the quill. Harry couldn’t help but grin at her reaction, and she smiled at him as she picked the pen up again. “I have been at this school rather longer than Professor Snape has been teaching, and to my knowledge he has never once taken points from his own house, and has never even raised his voice to Mr Malfoy. I wonder why he is now?” Harry frowned again. “You know, he isn’t acting normally. He didn’t insult anyone all lesson, though he looked for a while like he was trying to. And he looks pretty ill as well… exhausted.” Madame Pomfrey gave him a quick look then smiled. “I may not be a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Potter, but I can see what’s in front of my face. I think you’re right: he’s working very hard at the moment… suspiciously so for the summer holidays. I’ll have a word with him when I next see him, and maybe persuade him to take one of his own potions. And no,” she said slyly, seeing the look of horror on Harry’s face, “I won’t tell him what you’ve told me. Wizards have the oath of hypocrisy as well. Now, lessons are about to end, Potter. You wouldn’t want to keep your favourite teacher waiting, would you?” Harry grinned at her and left the hospital wing. He was back downstairs five minutes later, standing with Ron and Hermione in front of Snape’s desk. Snape himself looked even more tired than he had as he surveyed the three of them. “I shall make this quick, and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from speaking. I am aware of the antipathy you have always held for me, and while I may not like to admit it, I cannot deny that it is not wholly undeserved. In return, I expect you to realise that your behaviour towards me may not always have been what it ought.” He paused for a moment, and then continued. “Over the summer, I have reconsidered my… attitude, my position. I decided to allow you onto the advanced course because I realised that was the best way to aid our efforts. For the same reason, the less… friction between us the better. Do you understand?” The three of them nodded. “Good. So long as we are clear. Now, you should get to lunch.” They all headed to the door. “Oh, Mr Potter?” Harry turned back. “Well done with the questions. All right. Remarkably detailed as well. Maybe you do have a little talent for Potions after all.” Snape gestured for them to go, and Harry nodded, a small smile on his face. He, Hermione and Ron went up to the Great Hall in silence. It was Ron who spoke first. “What the hell is going on, and what has been done to Snape?” It was so true, and Ron looked so serious as he stuffed sausages and mashed potato into his mouth that both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing. Ron looked a little sheepish for a moment, then chuckled along with them. Soon, though, Harry felt he had to answer his best friend. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out eventually, but I’m not sure I completely buy this whole ‘for the greater good’ excuse. It didn’t change anything last year. On the other hand, I’m not going to complain.” Hermione smirked at him. “It might have something to do with your sudden genius. You realise you scored exactly the same as me on that test?” It was Harry’s turn to freeze, peas falling off his fork, and Ron roared with laughter as Hermione giggled. She eventually calmed long enough to guide Harry’s fork as far as his mouth, which seemed to rouse him from his catatonic state. “Honestly Harry, what’s with the sudden rush of academia? The first day, and you’re working harder than you did before OWLs.” Harry swallowed with some difficulty. “I just… want to do well this year. Want to make sure I get to do Auror training.” It was true, in so much as nothing he had said was false. It also went nowhere near actually answering the question, but Hermione seemed satisfied, and didn’t notice Harry’s sudden blush since he bent his head to his food. Harry ate quickly and decided to make a start on the essay Snape had set them on the uses of common herbs in potions that affect food during their free period before their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the term. ~*~ Harry hadn’t paid much attention to the staff table at the start of term feast. He had had a lot to think about. He only vaguely remembered seeing an elderly, stern looking witch he didn’t recognise sitting next to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore saying something about Professor… Lawhead, was it? being the new Defence teacher. As he stood with Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Neville and one or two Slytherins, including Blaise Zabbini, he supposed dully that this year would probably be strictly curriculum based. It wasn’t that that was a problem, but… quite frankly, he felt he already knew enough of what they were likely to learn. He sighed, determined to do his best here as well. He had glimpsed Ginny earlier, and the icily indifferent look she had given him had been enough to confirm in his mind that keeping as busy as possible was the right thing to do. Professor Lawhead walked up smartly a couple of minutes before the start of the class and opened the door. They all filed in, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville took the seats on the first row in front of the teacher’s desk. Harry pulled out his book and more parchment, then sat looking attentive as the teacher pulled out various sheets and books and placed them on the desk. When everyone had settled, Professor Lawhead looked up sharply and spoke. “Right. I expect hard work and concentration in this class, and your punishment if I don’t get it could well be worse than losing points or detention. You all chose to take this class for a reason: I can only assume that you feel it would be a good idea to learn how to defend yourselves properly.” She glared around at all of them. Harry agreed completely. There was more at stake here than grades. Lawhead pulled the hatpins from her hat and removed it, revealing the tight, iron-grey bun beneath. She looked quite similar to Professor McGonagall. She read smartly down the register and then stood, straight backed and severe, and wrote on the blackboard ILLUSION, STEALTH AND DISGUISE “This year, we are going to study in depth the principles of magical deception and its uses in a defensive context. There will be some theory, but I am of the opinion that learning to do something is generally preferable to learning about something. Now, open your books and turn to page 7. Mr Thomas, could you start at the first paragraph, please.” As Dean prepared to speak, Harry felt himself becoming excited. This looked very promising, especially if they were going to be concentrating on the practical side of such an interesting topic; one that Harry was sure would come in very useful. There was something very slightly bothering him, though. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it… something about Professor Lawhead’s voice… There was no doubt, though, that she was an excellent teacher. After Dean, Ron and Blaise had all read passages from the chapter she went over them, writing notes on the board that Harry was careful to copy. She would give examples, and even experiences, since apparently she had been an Auror at one time and had specialised in under-cover work. Sometimes she cracked a dry, sarcastic joke that would have the class, while not rolling in the aisles, chuckling gently and smiling till the end of the lesson. She asked questions and asked pupils to guess at answers sometimes, challenging their initiative and intuition. Harry was surprised when the bell rang and the class stood to leave the room. “Potter, Weasly, Granger and Longbottom, a word if you would be so good.” Professor Lawhead was gesturing to them to remain in their seats. “My, aren’t we popular today,” Ron muttered under his breath. Neville looked at him, puzzled, but Hermione nudged him in the ribs while trying not to giggle. Harry had just realised what was bothering him about Professor Lawhead, though, and sat back with a strangely satisfied smirk on his face. “Harry? What’s up?” Hermione looked startled at his expression, but Harry closed his eyes, still grinning, and gave a small shake of his head. Professor Lawhead stood behind her desk, surveying them all closely. “Do you four know why I asked you to stay?” Hermione cleared her throat in a nervous sort of way. “Has… has someone told you about the… Ministry of Magic last summer?” Lawhead shook her head. “I already know all about that. Anyone else?” “Er… you don’t want people sitting on the front row?” Neville sounded almost scared. Harry burst out laughing. His friends looked at him perplexed, while the teacher raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing across her face. “Well Mr Potter? You have something to add?” Her tone sounded very odd now, as though she were trying to control a laugh, but making her voice different in the process. Harry calmed down but was still smiling as he said quietly, “It’s just good to see you again, Tonks.” Ron and Hermione’s mouths fell open, while Neville looked blank. Lawhead, though, gave them a wink, closed the door with an uncharacteristic backwards kick, and soon her appearance was back to normal. Harry realised that it said a lot about him that he could think that spiky lavender coloured hair could be considered ‘normal’. Tonks grinned. “Wotcher. Surprised?” Ron and Hermione both laughed and Hermione ran round the desk to give her friend a hug while Harry explained everything to Neville, who hadn’t met Tonks for long: he had only seen her briefly at the department of mysteries. “What’s with all the secrecy, Tonks?” Ron was still grinning madly at her. “Well, Dumbledore thought it would be a good idea to have someone else he felt he could trust around, and I was the ideal choice since I have such a natural disguise ability. We felt it would be a nice surprise for you. The fifth years had a lesson just before yours, so Ginny and Luna both know as well. Just don’t tell anyone else. The only other people here aware of who I am are Snape, McGonagall and Hagrid, since they’re members of the Order.” Hermione pulled back, looking excited. “That was a really great lesson! You know, I didn’t have you pegged as good teacher material,” she said in a slightly cheeky voice, and Tonks grinned yet wider. “Well, I’m not sure I’d be able to teach you much else, but this is my area of expertise. Oh, but I’m going to be your supervision in the DA, Harry. I hope that’s all right.” Harry nodded, still smiling at her, and they spent a few minutes going over his plans for the DA before Tonks transformed back into Lawhead and they all walked to the Great Hall and dinner. ~*~ Torches guttered and flared on the walls as Harry turned around for the second time, the invisibility cloak swishing around him, and kept muttering to himself. “I need somewhere to practice. Somewhere to learn to fight with my new weapon.” The sword was strapped to his belt in a sheath he had been given by the Weaslys, who had seemed to realise that he really would be using it, rather than just learning how to. As he looked up, the door to the Room of Requirement appeared before him, as innocent as ever. He opened it and found himself standing in what looked partly like a gym and partly like a roofed courtyard. There were targets made of wood and straw, machines to exercise himself physically and wide-open spaces. Perfect. He walked over to something that looked like it might be the magical version of a treadmill, and looked at his new watch: it had taken him a while to get used to all the different dials and measurements, but he had managed it eventually. He took off the invisibility cloak, his robes and the jumper he wore underneath, leaving him in a white t-shirt and jeans. Not exactly perfect clothing for such strenuous physical activity as he was planning. Glancing around, he saw a corner of the room hidden by a curtain. Looking round it he found a small shower cubicle, as well as some clean t-shirts and shorts in a wall cupboard. Blessing the ingenuity of the room, he took his own clothes off and pulled on some of those provided, before climbing onto the treadmill and starting it up. Unfortunately, the activity of walking and then running steadily, controlling his breathing all the while, did not really occupy his mind well. His thoughts drifted… and then flew, like iron filings to a magnet, to Ginny. Ginny. It was bizarre. He realised that he didn’t even know her full name, or when her birthday was, or any other of a thousand things he should know after knowing her for five years. He cursed himself for having been so oblivious to her all this time and understanding, with a bitter expression on his face, why she hated him so much now. He had scheduled Quidditch tryouts for the Tuesday of next week, and he was dreading them because he just knew that Ginny would come, and try for Chaser, as she had told him she would last year. And of course she would be at the DA meeting on Friday as well. She was too stubborn not to, he thought with a rueful smile, even if she did loathe him. Too many people would badger her about it. That was something, at least, that they had in common. Both of them longed for nothing more than a quiet, relatively ordinary life. All things considered, Harry thought she would be unlucky. For her age, she was immensely powerful, and he knew that she was extremely clever… not quite so much as Hermione, but not all that far off. No, Ginny, he felt, was not really destined for a peaceful existence. God save us all from clever women, he thought with a smirk, imagining Ron. Hermione had told the two of them recently that she had had a letter from professor McGonagall, asking if she wanted to skip her sixth year, since she was already well up to taking her NEWTs, but Hermione had refused. Thankfully. Harry wouldn’t have known what to do without her. And, of course, she had insisted that she had too much to learn. From the looks of Professor McGonagall after Hermione had left her office, the teacher hadn’t expected Hermione to agree. Their teacher knew them too well. When he felt sufficiently warmed up, he stopped the machine and looked at his watch. He had run for fifteen minutes solid. Not bad, considering that his running experience had caused him to be something of a sprinter: very fast over short distances. Breathing deeply he stood in the middle of the room and drew the sword. By this time he was totally comfortable with the long, bladed weapon. Its weight felt not only comfortable but also felt natural in his hand. He felt the pommel and, when he touched a tiny raised area he gave a very small push. The end swung off seamlessly, revealing the hollow inside the hilt. With a small, satisfied smile he secured his wand safely inside the cool metal and shut the secret container again. He had discovered this little trick of Godric Gryffindor’s after about a week of training. It was very convenient, and Harry had a suspicion that he would be able to cast spells with the sword now, as though it were the wand itself. That was something he intended to discover tonight. First, though, he closed his eyes and began the deep breathing that helped to calm every muscle and sense in his body. He began to move, legs and arms together, faster and still faster, his feet dead steady on the wooden floor beneath him. He opened his eyes and saw the flashes of silver and red that were the passing of the sword in front of him, but he did not look at it. In a fight, he knew, you could not afford to look at your weapon at the expense of paying attention to your enemy. So instead he focused on an empty point in midair that never remained constant, since he was by now spinning and whirling like a tornado of flesh and metal. However much he moved and twisted and leapt and weaved and ducked his eyes never wavered, not once. The movements had come naturally to him, and now he moved with purpose towards the targets and dummies. The first one he decapitated without even seeing, the blade sharpened by some magic he couldn’t control or understand until he only felt a slight pressure on the blade before the solid wooden head fell to the ground with a clatter. The next he impaled, at exactly the point where the hear would be, before extracting the blade smoothly and, as it left the canvas covering the manikin, he made a small movement with his wrist, grinning at the ‘x’ slashed into the rough material. A metallic rasp made him turn, but he was still on his guard, his concentrated training over the summer having schooled his reflexes and reactions until he could choose whether to attack or not so fast he might have had his nerves on a hair-trigger. He had been expecting that the incredible room might come up with something like this. A shadow stood before him, man shaped and proportioned, and holding a sword of its own in one tenebrous hand. The construct leapt towards Harry, who darted out of the way, angling his own blade as he moved to make a passing slash as he dodged which the shadow barely parried, forcing it to pause and recover its balance. Harry pressed the opportunity, darting forward with the blade coming round from behind him in a graceful arc, and his opponent dropped to the ground and rolled under the attack, coming to his feet again almost immediately, straight into a defensive pose. Harry knew that he could never beat this thing. It would improve as he did, and always counter everything he tried, but that wasn’t a problem. For now, all he needed was someone, or something, to practice with: all the exercises and stationary targets in the world could not compare with a living opponent, one who could think, and make decisions, and adapt, and force him to change what he did. Harry pulled his sword up in front of him, his breathing as steady as a rock, and waited for the coming attack. ~*~ Around an hour later, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off himself in the sixth year boys’ dormitory. He had fought with the shadow- his shadow, he had realised at some point- for quite a long time, and it was late now. He hadn’t had an opportunity to try casting spells with the sword, but there would be time for that later. For now he felt exhausted but more at peace than he had done for a long time. The Room of Requirements must truly be the most amazing thing in Hogwarts… As he removed the sword and stashed it in his trunk before changing into his pyjamas for bed, he noticed Ron sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at Harry a little anxiously. Harry raised an eyebrow, begging the question. “Have… did it go well?” Ron’s face was mostly in shadow, but Harry caught the pink tinge in his best friend’s ears that meant he was under stress. Harry smiled at this, but wondered what was wrong. “It was good. Really good. Whoever made that room was a genius. You didn’t stay up to ask me that, though. What’s the problem?” There was silence for a moment, and then Ron suddenly leant forward, looking straight at Harry, his expression almost… frightened. “Harry, you don’t mind, do you?” Harry was nonplussed. “Mind what?” Ron took a deep breath. “I asked Hermione out.” He looked at Harry as if he might explode. Harry raised his eyebrow again, his expression quizzical, before bursting out laughing. Ron was affronted. “Look, it’s nothing to laugh about…” Harry eventually got his lungs back under his own control and held up a hand. “Ron, you and Hermione have been acting like a couple for the last few months. In fact, I’d go so far as to say the last few years.” Ron looked incredulous. “The way you two argue… it’s like a married couple, honestly.” Harry chuckled. “It’s almost like your relationship has actually diminished from happily married to the point where you’re two teenagers who feel embarrassed around each other. I know I’m hardly the expert on these things, but Ron, it’s about bloody time you actually made it official. It isn’t as though everyone doesn’t realise. You don’t even notice how affectionate she is towards you half the time.” Ron now looked bemused. “So you… you don’t mind?” Harry frowned. “Of course not. You two are my best friends, but you never annoy me more than when you dance around each other. I’m really happy for you. And hey,” he added with a smirk, “you never know, maybe you’ll bicker slightly less, now you’re a couple.” Ron smiled and hit Harry on the arm, but said, “Thanks mate. I just didn’t want you to feel, you know, left out.” That hit a nerve. Harry gave a rather forced grin as he rolled into his bed, pulling the curtains shut behind him, before letting his expression drop and staring sadly at the canopy of his bed. He was happy for Ron and Hermione. He really was. But the new state of affairs was going to change their friendship, it was inevitable. Harry had known this would come at some point, but it didn’t make it much easier. The real problem wasn’t that he’d feel left out. He knew he’d still be able to hang around with his best friends. The problem was that he was going to get increasingly jealous of them, and that was the last thing he wanted. And yet, the closeness they shared was what he craved more than anything, but it wouldn’t be with anyone except Ginny, and she hated him. He sighed, trying to cheer himself up with memories of her laughing or smiling or just sitting quietly, but it was too painful. He grimaced and buried his face in his pillow before falling into an uneasy sleep. (AN: Whoa. Probably my favourite chapter so far… hope you enjoyed it! By the way, this chapter is dedicated to Stephen Lawhead, one of my favourite authors. In the slim possibility that he or someone he knows reads this, I hope he doesn’t mind me using his name… Plans for chapter five are quite advanced… with any luck I’ll be able to update again in a couple of days. Remember, nothing motivates a fanfic author like a good review! -Tom) |
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