Good news! I have not been killed by an axe murderer! I am just an awful human being who has been really rubbish at writing anything. Literally, I have had no motivation for writing anything (even though all your reviews have been absolutely amazing! The only reason this made it anywhere was because of how lovely you guys all are!)

I promise I haven't abandoned this fic! It's just taking some time

And now, to give you guys some answers :)

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realised that they'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive had ever done. The lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that most of the class had mastered the basics; Professor McGonagall had them trying their first animate-animate transfiguration, Professor Sprout had given them a mysterious bulb to raise and harvest, Professor Flitwick had announced in charms that he thought they were ready to make things fly, and Professor Quirrell, well, he'd not said anything specific, but he'd promised that the day's lesson would be 'extra special'.

"Do not touch the box in front of you" he drawled as the class filed into their usual seats. There was an immediate murmur of confusion, that doubled in volume as the object of the professor's warning became obvious.

Each desk had a small, wooden box placed upon it, with oriental patterns and images carved into the sides and lid. They were small – not even big enough to store a potion's vial and they all looked rather innocuous.

"These are Chinese curse boxes – curious little devices originating from the Xiao Hinggan Mountain Range. One of the peoples there have developed a unique technique of imbuing non-magical trees with magic as they grow, allowing the resulting wood hold charms and spells for several months without the need for runic arrays" Professor Quirrell paused in his explanation, looking pointedly at the members of the class who weren't taking notes "Of course, since the creation of advanced duplication charms, their value has dropped slightly, but they're still an interesting item. I purchased one upon my travels to the orient several years ago, and have now duplicated it several times to allow you something to practise with. Each box is protected by a different spell – some would count as dark by the ministry's standard, some are protected with simple schoolyard jinxes. Most of them are so far out of your league, I would advise you not to even try assessing them. I have no intentions of healing you, if you attempt something too complicated"

Harry could feel Tom almost vibrate with excitement, the dark-haired boy already flitting from table to table to inspect the boxes further.

"Each box has a piece of parchment within it – if you manage to open a box then you can write your name upon the parchment. Then close the box to reset the protective charm, and move on to another. At the end of the class, I will count whoever has the most names and they shall win a prize from me. However, if you set off a single box, then you will lose all points and you will not be allowed to the infirmary until the end of class, no matter how painful the consequences. I have spent the last 8 weeks teaching you how to assess how dangerous an object is. There is no point having that information, then not using it to realise when you are in above your heads. There will also be house points on offer to whoever can give me a full diagnostic of each box, using the spells I have taught you so far"

He walked back to his desk and sat down, reaching for a pile of essays "You have 5 minutes per box. Rotate anticlockwise. Begin now"

Harry rested his head on the desk once it became obvious that the Professor was no longer watching. What was the point when he couldn't do the basic diagnostic spells?

Unfortunately, Tom was yet to be dissuaded and was prodding at his arm pointedly "Harry James Potter – you will open this box and you will do it now. I will not have us missing out on a prize from Professor Quirrell. Who knows what he might give us?"

Harry groaned, really beginning to resent Tom's hero worship of Professor Quirrell "The point of this exercise is for us to realise when we're over our heads. Therefore, I should just accept that Malfoy is right. I'm just a squib and as such am incapable of opening any of them"

"Stop being defeatist – you can at least do the first step"

Harry sat up straight, wrinkling his nose in distaste before giving in. He closed his eyes and stretched out his senses, feeling for the familiar crimson and black that made up his best friend. Once located he reached out further until he found the box. It shone with a sickly yellow light, which he recognised from the Professor's lectures on intent based casting.

"Strong magic" he said confidently "Not dark intent, but an intent to harm. Probably a prank jinx, or perhaps a minor pain curse cast by someone good at masking their true intentions"

His words caused Susan to look over at him from her desk. She had been glaring at her own box as her wand stubbornly refused to give her an intelligible reading on the charms protecting it. She leaned over and whispered "How do you do that? Whenever I close my eyes, I can't see anything except the backs of my own eyelids"

Harry grinned, preening a little at the compliment and acknowledgement of the only other piece of magic he could do except flying. Tom reckoned that Harry's ability to search for and locate his imaginary friend in his head allowed him to reach out his senses further to 'read' certain pieces of magic in the room. It gave him a headache though and he could only do it for a few seconds at a time before he lost concentration.

"Well – you don't really need to do it. I mean, Professor Quirrell said that it's a useless skill because it takes a lot of concentration for not a lot of reward" He shrugged, wishing Tom would listen to the Professor. His friend thought it could have many uses and was forcing him to search the library to find more information on it. "No one else in the class got it either, and you're getting really good at diagnostic spells. You're hardly ever messing up the classification now"

There was a bang and Harry leaned away from Susan quickly.

"Mr Weasley – I told you not to try something you could not handle. Even if that something is just a simple Fununculus charm" Professor Quirrell said without looking up "Let that be a lesson to you all – do not try and open something you cannot handle. No talking amongst yourself please. This is supposed to be a competition. Treat it as one"

Several more people activated their boxes over the next two hours, finding themselves with different coloured hair, boils or in one nasty case, transfigured into a ladybird. In the last instance, the professor had very carefully put the affected Gryffindor into a jam jar to avoid them being accidentally stepped on. Harry had been affected by nothing – after all, he'd not tried to open a box yet.

Tom was glaring at him angrily "That last box just had a weak protection charm on it"

"I can't do magic – you know that" Harry hissed as he moved to their final box. His head was aching, dull and incessant behind his eyes and why was Tom just rubbing his failures in?

"You've stopped trying" Tom accused and Harry flinched as the boy put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly "The teachers are talking. They're wondering if it was a mistake to let you in here – the great Harry Potter, a squib. They'll send you back to the Dursleys and if they do Harry, I won't protect you again. I only protect people worth my time"

The disgust in Tom's voice hurt, and Harry blinked back tears that made him glad he had ended up in the front corner desk where no one could see them.

"Fine – I'll try" he said, reaching his senses to look at the box

It pulsed darkly in the landscape of his mind, red flashes of light and dark smoke that billowed from the lid, across the desk and towards him. He opened his eyes, inhaling sharply

"Dark magic. Powerful" he gasped "Intent to hurt… I have no chance of disabling that"

Tom raised an eyebrow, and Harry kept his eyes to the desk morosely. It wasn't his fault – no one in first year could disable something like that. It was exactly the sort of thing Professor Quirrell said they shouldn't try and open themselves and instead they should find someone more equipped so they didn't end up in St Mungos.

Harry paused, then grinned as he had an idea – an idea that not even Tom had thought of. He stood up, not touching the box and headed up towards the teacher's desk.

He grinned at the Professor winningly, just as Tom had taught him – a sparkle of mischief in his eyes and boyish enthusiasm that tended to charm most teachers "Um… Professor. I seem to have found myself a box protected by dark magic. As it is so obviously out of my league, I thought I should find someone more equipped to handle it. Would you be able to disable it for me?" He said, practically parroting the teachers lesson back to him.

Professor Quirrell looked Harry up and down, scrutinising him. Judging him. Eventually, he seemed to find what he saw tolerable because he smiled in a way that reminded Harry almost exactly of Tom.

"Certainly Mr Potter – I am pleased you are aware when you are beaten" he said, sounding so smug that Harry wanted to argue back. But then he'd have to look at Tom's disappointed expression again. Instead he swallowed his pride and just nodded "However, I only help those who are worth my time. I would like you to prove yourself to me. I am aware you have just moved onto levitation charms with Professor Flitwick. Perform one for me"

Harry became acutely aware that the rest of the class was looking up at him (at least those who weren't squealing in pain from setting off their boxes) and he swallowed. He couldn't perform a charm like that – most of the class couldn't perform it yet. It was the most complicated spell they'd learned. He turned to Tom, who was looking at him pointedly.

He took out his wand, felt the familiar rush of warmth from it just taunting him

"You can do it Harry" said a familiar voice, and he flushed at Hannah's confidence in him, quickly followed by Susan and Ernie, all three of whom had been practising spell casting with him in the evenings.

Perhaps this time would be different – that was how it worked in books after all. The protagonist struggled, yet managed to perform the task at the crucial moment. Unfortunately, this wasn't a story, and when Harry said 'Wingardium Leviosa', the quill he was aiming at remained stubbornly down.

There were titters from the remaining Gryffindors, whilst the Hufflepuffs remained steely-faced in solidarity. Harry flushed, eyes fixing on the floor so he didn't have to look at Tom's face. Why couldn't he just do magic? Why, when he had managed so much magic at home?

"Please return to your seat, Mr Potter" Professor Quirrell didn't even sound disappointed. Instead, he was… gleeful?

Harry turned back to the quill, putting his wand back in his pocket. He remembered being back in his cupboard, with the Dursleys asleep and Tom instructing him to find that power inside him. He remembered the warmth channelling from his chest and to his hands, the click of the lock as it opened and the relief as he realised he could finally eat again. He held that feeling of desperation close to him, and waved his hand at the quill, trying to make the whole move look easy as he channelled his frustration at the feather.

There was a beat, and it rose solidly from the desk. Professor Quirrell looked at it in disbelief for a moment, before he relaxed with a laugh "Wandless and wordless magic – impressive Mr Potter. You've been holding out on us"

The feather dropped to the table, and Harry looked at his teacher pointedly whilst trying to hold back his exhaustion "Thank you, Sir. My box?"

Harry smiled proudly, eyes only on Tom as the Professor slowly stood up and tapped the box once with his wand. It screamed, a piercing noise that made everyone in the room cringe. Smoke drifted from the wood before it opened to reveal a blank piece of parchment. Harry walked back to his desk, pulled out his quill and wrote his name down with the polished calligraphy that Tom had spent years forcing him to learn.

"And with that, our lesson is done" Professor Quirrell said, walking back to his desk and looking over his students "It would appear that only one person has managed to open a box and write their name on it. That is to be expected, and I will award 5 points to each person who was intelligent enough to realise that as a first year, barely two months into your magical education, that you are not equipped to dismantle anything. So all of you who made it out unscathed, I congratulate you. And to Mr Potter, the only one to remember the second part of your instructions, and an impressive display of wandless and wordless magic, I give 20 points and ask to remain back after class. The rest of you may leave"

Harry stood awkwardly at his desk as his friends walked towards the door, holding a limping Justin between them. Once they'd all left, Professor Quirrell moved.

"Congratulations Mr Potter – you performed admirably, considering your… disability"

Harry scowled, looking at his teacher furiously and Tom put a hand on his shoulder before he had an unfortunate outburst

"Thank you, Sir," he said with gritted teeth

"Your little display of wandless magic was particularly illuminating"

Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that, so he stayed quiet whilst Professor Quirrell's gaze sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine. The man seemed to be trying to meet his eyes, and Harry didn't need Tom's warning to start looking at the floor.

"And I suppose, Mr Potter, that you would like your reward"

Tom squeezed his shoulder, and Harry said stiffly "Yes please, Sir"

"Then follow me" the teacher said, and with a stern glance from Tom, he followed the teacher out of the classroom and down some corridors. It took a long time for him to recognise the part of the castle they were heading towards

"The Hospital Wing?" Harry asked, sounding confused

"Yes, Mr Potter. This is my reward to you. Ah – M… madam Pomphrey. M…m…may I have a w…word w…with you about M…m…mister Potter?"

The Professor started talking to the nurse in hushed voices and Harry, quickly getting bored, wandered into the main infirmary to check after his friends.

"Where is everyone?" he asked to the room, empty bar for a fifth year Gryffindor with tentacles growing from their face.

"I'd imagine the Professor made it so they were all healed once they left the room" Tom said, coming up behind him. He sighed at the confusion on Harry's face "Obviously it would be considered strange if several first years came to the infirmary with numerous painful injuries, directly after a lesson"

"Of course. That is a perfectly logical conclusion to make in a school where everyone carries a dangerous weapon"

"Quite" Tom said, ignoring the sarcasm "Now, considering your apparent lack of interest, I assume you do not care for what they are discussing over there? Oh… You do? Why should I tell you if you make no attempt to find out for yourself?"

Harry scowled at his imaginary friend, who just infuriatingly raised an eyebrow, before continuing in a voice normally reserved for young children, or the mentally deficient "They're talking about testing you for something – the nurse is saying it's too early for a diagnosis, whilst I believe Professor Quirrell said that the only way it wasn't this illness is if you were a squib. That making you wait any longer for treatment would be cruel" he paused "I like the man"

Harry ignored the last comment "What could I be diagnosed with?"

Before he could answer, Madam Pomphrey came bustling in, Professor Quirrell following serenely behind her "Well then, it is easy enough to test" Madam Pomphrey said, still sounding sceptical "Mr Potter, would you mind sitting on the bed for me?"

Harry frowned "What for? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Nothing, Mr Potter. The Professor has suggested a test that I would have considered at Christmas. But considering new information, we might as well try now. Stay still for me. Loco potentiae"

She seemed to read something from her wand that no one else could see

"Priori potential incrementum"

She lowered her wand, and looked at Harry for a long moment "Professor Quirrell, I'd thank you to leave so I can talk to my patient. Would you be so kind as to locate Pomona for me? I think she should be here for this"

"Of c-c-c-course P-Prof-fessor" Professor Quirrell said, looking rather cowed by the Matron. Harry wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the response, and wondered if Madam Pomphrey knew she was being mocked "G…G…good day, M…m…mister Potter"

"Madam Pomphrey, what's wrong with me? Is it about my lack of magic?"

"Oh Mister Potter, you aren't lacking in magic, don't you worry. Let's just wait for your head of house to arrive"

However, when the portly woman arrived she was soon followed by none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

Harry wasn't sure whether to be worried or honoured that the man had come, though Tom had an entirely different reaction

"Is it common practise to have the headmaster come to talk about a student's private medical records?" Harry finally repeated after Tom, when the boy pinched his shoulder hard enough to make tingles run down his arm

"I wouldn't say common, Mr Potter, but I daresay it is unusual to have such a situation in the first place. But do not fear, I am bound under confidentiality as certainly as the good Matron is"

"Would you like the headmaster to leave, Harry?" Professor Sprout asked, and Harry shook his head before Tom could make another ridiculous request

"No Professor, it's ok. I was just surprised" Tom pinched his arm again, and Harry deliberately ignored him

"Well, I thank you for your confidence in me, Mr Potter" the headmaster said, a kindly twinkle in his eye that made Harry feel more confident in his decision to defy Tom. This man was one of the greatest wizards of his lifetime, after all.

"Well, now that's all sorted" Madam Pomphrey said, sounding impatient to begin "I believe Mr Potter has Patercore Rupture"

The two Professor's frowned, with Professor Sprout saying "Oh, the poor dear"

"Um… sorry. But what does that mean?" Harry asked, anxiously looking between worried faces

"Well, Mr Potter" Madam Pomphrey started, obviously trying to simplify her explanation "Have you had any classes on magical theory yet? Yes? You remember that witches and wizards have a magical core that takes magic from the environment and stores it? And this core is the centre of your power/ Well… that is an oversimplification.

"Instead, there are three cores, called the Tricorda. Each of these cores has a particular role in performing magic, and they work together to let you create different types of magic Unfortunately in your case, one of these cores - specifically the one that allows you to use wanded magic has been… overloaded and burst. Like a balloon that has been overfilled"

Harry nodded as though he understood, and the nurse continued "Because of this, it's not filling with magic. Instead it's just draining out as quickly as your body can replenish it, meaning there's none available for you to cast spells with"

"How… how do you know?" he finally asked "Are you sure?"

"Yes Mr Potter. Those spells I cast showed a very specific pattern of results. The first spell I cast looks at your power levels, which are lower than average. That could be because your magical cores haven't developed properly yet – that is very common and usually fixes itself within the first term of Hogwarts. We have an abundance of magic in the air around here, and that's very good at fast-tracking magical growth. However, for that to be the case we should see your other two cores also being significantly smaller, and the spell I cast showed that they weren't. They're a perfectly healthy size"

"So that means I could only have this… pater-thing?" Harry asked

"Well – there is a second explanation for these results. It is possible that you have used all of your magical reserves for your Patercore, but even at your age, that would take an impressive amount of magic and willpower. Not to mention, my second spell suggested you have been this way for at the least the past couple of months. Long term, Focused casting like that is just not possible in someone your age. Plus, even if you were currently casting a spell, the order of magic means that I should see the flow through the Animacore and Dextracore as well, which I don't.

Does that make sense, Mr Potter?"

That didn't make any sense whatsoever, but Harry trusted Tom's research ability far more than he trusted his voice at that moment in time.

"It's ok dear – if you think of any questions then you can come to me or Madam Pomphrey at any time and we'll help you as much as we can" Professor Sprout said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Harry looked at his knees.

"So, I'll never be able to do magic?" he asked hesitantly, voice thick with disappointment

"Heavens no, child" Professor Dumbledore piped in, "I'm sure the good Matron was about to discuss how we can treat this"

"We're going to give you a potion, Harry" Madam Pomphrey said. Her voice was gentle, and Harry bristled. She sounded like Dr Haywood, when she told him that Tom wasn't real and that they were going to try some new pills this month.

"What your core needs is some time to recover. I'm going to give you a potion that… stops you from sequestering magic, and another to strengthen the walls of your cores. That will give you the chance to start repairing your magic properly"

"Don't take them Harry" Tom said warningly, standing between Harry and the nurse with a fierce scowl on his face

"We'll have to order them in from St Mungo's, but they'll be here soon. I'll have them sent to the Hufflepuff table for you"

The rest of the meeting went in a blur of nods, and explanations of side effects and prognosis. Harry didn't think he took in a word of what was being said. All that kept running through his head was 'I can't do magic'

Professor Sprout walked with him to the corridor "Mr Potter – I know we haven't known each other long, and there is little reason for you to trust me yet but you can talk to me. About anything. I promise that I will believe you, no matter what it is"

"I know Professor" Harry said, dully "I'm not very hungry. I think I'll go straight back to the common room if that's ok?"

"Of course it is, my dear. Remember to come to me if you have any questions"

Harry nodded, and walked down the long, stone walkway in a daze, with Tom oddly silent beside him. He hadn't been walking long when a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seemed to clean. It was followed by the sound of low grunting and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet.

The stench was foul enough to knock Harry out of his stupor, in time to duck behind the corner as a huge creature shuffled into a patch of moonlight. It was twelve feet tall, its skin a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

It stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"What's a troll doing in a corridor?" Harry gasped, remembering the creatures from his textbook. Tom shrugged, looking almost bored at the new development, as lost in his thoughts as he was.

"If you want to play hero" he said "The key is in the door. You could lock it in and alert a teacher"

Harry couldn't see a flaw in that plan, so he edged towards the open door, mouth dry and praying desperately that the troll wasn't about to come out of it. Harry managed to drab the key, slam the door and lock it.

"Yes!" he cheered, triumphantly, but his victory was short-lived when he heard a scream from inside what now appeared to be the girl's toilets.

"Don't you even think about it" Tom said, putting himself bodily between Harry and the door "You don't even have magic".

"That's Hermione – I'm not going to let her get killed!" Harry cried, pushing his imaginary friend out of the way and unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went. Harry reached down for a piece of tap, and threw it against the wall desperately.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went. Harry paled as the club went for him, and rolled to the side to avoid it. The troll stopped, staring at the place Harry had been and made a confused noise. By the time it had relocated the boy, he was darting over to Hermione, grabbing her by the arm to pull her up.

"Come on, run, run!" he yelled, trying to pull her towards the door but she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and echoes seemed to affect troll though, driving it berserk. It roared again and started towards them, waving its club in wide, arching swings as it did so. The two children flung themselves in opposing directions as the wood came down on them, and the troll stopped again in confusion. It grunted once, and choosing a direction, turned back to kill Hermione.

Then Harry did something that was both very brave and very stupid: he took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll would notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped. It had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life. Any second, the troll was going to rip him off, or catch him with a terrible blow with the club.

"Harry. Catch" Tom said, voice as calm as if they were just taking a walk around the lake.

The piece of shrapnel that Tom threw at him was sharp, and glinted dangerously as it levitated across the distance more slowly and accurately than should be possible. It hovered around Harry's hand for a second too long, whilst the boy rearranged his grip to grasp it and without any further prompting from Tom, he stabbed it into the troll's throat. It screamed with pain as Harry ripped it across as though cutting through butter. Blood spurted from the wound, painting the walls and Hermione in bright red. The beast no longer cared about Harry, who dropped carefully from its back to make his way to Hermione. Its hands pressed against its neck whilst it made gurgled, terrified noises. It took several minutes for it to fall unconscious, and several more for it to die and the two children watched it in morbid fascination the whole while.

Silence fell over the bathroom.

It was Hermione who spoke first "Are you ok?"

Harry was startled by the question, until he realised he was shaking, his impromptu weapon held in a white knuckled grip. He dropped it, with the clatter that echoed around the bathroom.

"I'm fine" he muttered, slumping against the wall. He waited for the sardonic response from his best friend, but none came.

"You just killed something – you're not fine" Hermione said, her voice verging on hysterical. She paused "I mean… thank you. Thank you for saving my life"

Harry smiled, or as close as he could do in his state. His brain felt funny, like all of his thoughts were travelling through treacle. His eyes darted around the room for his friend 'Where's Tom?' he thought, or at least he thought he did.

"Who's Tom?" Hermione asked, but Harry didn't hear her as he frantically looked around the bathroom for evidence of the boy, breaths coming hard and fast. He was alone… Tom had gone… what if he never came back?

There was a sudden slamming and loud footsteps that made Hermione look up. They hadn't realised what racket they had been making but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, and at the blood that covered the whole floor like a red, glassy lake and let out a faint whimper, sitting quickly down on a toilet.

Snape bent over the troll, whilst Professor McGonagall looked at the pair with a pale face, and cold, furious eyes

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, her voice barely louder than a whisper "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Please Professor McGonagall" Hermione said quickly "Harry's going into shock – he rescued me! He needs the hospital wing!"

There was a silence and the Professor seemed to take in the eleven year olds' pale, shivering state. The boy was muttering to himself under his breath, robes soaked with blood and eyes glassy. Hermione was barely in a better position. Her face softened

"Rightly so, Miss Granger" she said, "But don't you think that gets you out of any trouble. I want a full explanation from you both"

"Of course, Professor" Hermione said, looking at her friend. He flinched as the Professors tried to come over, muttering something about 'not being protected'. She glared at the grown ups, trying to be brave. She was a Gryffindor – that was what they were supposed to be like.

"Come on Harry" she murmured softly, putting a hand on his arm "You need to stand up now. We'll get you cleaned up and in bed. I think you used a lot of magic on that summoning charm"

She coaxed Harry to his feet like you would coax a wild animal, guiding him around the body of the troll and ignoring the Professors entirely. She wasn't the sort of girl who ignored her teachers but Harry had been in trouble, and they had been more focused on punishing them!

"It's Ok" she kept muttering, though her own hands were shaking and her mind kept replaying images of the attack "We'll find Tom in the morning, ok? We'll find him and everything will be alright"

She never felt the spell that hit her in the back, nor the one that stopped her and Harry from hitting the ground. And she certainly didn't hear a whispering, sinister voice say "Interesting"

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