Harry Potter: World at War
Chapter 52: The Deathly Hallows

"The coast is clear," Aberforth grunted. "You can come out from under that cloak now."

Harry and Bella exchanged a quick glance, and then Harry pulled the cloak off, and straightened up, rubbing his sore thighs. The Hog's Head was dark, the only light in the pub came from the wide bay windows, but they were so encrusted with filth that the morning sun was nearly blocked out.

"Albus left the stuff for you in my office upstairs," Aberforth said, pointing to a rickety wooden staircase. "It's at the far end of the hall, password to the door is Ariana."

"Aren't you coming?" Harry asked, giving Aberforth a curious look.

"Yeah, I'll be along in a second," Aberforth said, walking around the bar. He plucked one particularly dusty bottle from a shelf and started to clean it with the sleeve of his robes. "Seems that you Blacks don't keep much booze in the house. I wanted to stock up."

Aberforth tucked the bottle into a wooden crate sitting on the bar, and reached for another bottle, this one shaped like a skull. "Do you two want anything in particular?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm good. Bella?"

"Ogden's if you have it." Bella said, smiling wistfully. "I haven't had Firewhiskey since before Azkaban."

Aberforth nodded, and grabbed two bottles filled with a dark amber liquid, and added them to his crate. Shaking his head at the younger Dumbledore, Harry started to climb the narrow staircase. It rattled with every step, but thankfully held together, and he soon reached the second floor.

This corridor was even darker, the oil lamps lining the walls were covered in a thick layer of grime, and Harry wasn't sure if they were even lit. He could only see a few feet in front of him, but as his eyes adjusted to gloom, Harry could make out a door at the far end of the hall.

He quickly made his way to the door, and stopped in front of it. A small portrait of young blond girl hung on the door. Unlike the rest of the pub, the portrait was meticulously clean, without even a speck of dust on it. The girl blinked slowly, and looked up at Harry, her eyes a piercing blue.

"Ariana?" Harry hazarded. The portrait nodded once, and broke out into a shy smile. There was a click of the lock, and the wooden door swung open, revealing Aberforth's office.

Like his brother, Aberforth clearly enjoyed a cluttered space; nearly every surface in the office had stacks of parchment, dusty wooden crates, or photographs resting on it. A plush armchair was behind the heavy desk, much like the ones that Dumbledore had frequently Conjured.

Carefully stepping over a battered trunk, Harry came around to the other side of the desk, and dropped into the chair. "Merlin, I wasn't expecting so much stuff."

"You can say that again," Bella snorted. "What are we even looking for anyway?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, quickly rifling through a stack of parchment. "These are just order forms."

He looked up, and was shocked to find himself making eye contact with a picture of the same girl from the portrait. She was leaning against a wooden fence, smiling broadly as she patted a small grey goat. She was quite a bit younger, not even Hogwarts aged by Harry's reckoning, and she was clinging to the sleeve of the teen boy beside her. The boy had dark hair that hung to his chin, and his blue eyes shone brightly even in the faded photograph.

"Must be a younger Aberforth," Bella commented, leaning over the table to look more closely at the photo.

Harry nodded, and glanced around the room again. He soon realized that every single portrait or photograph featured the same girl, but she was always young, never older than fourteen or fifteen. "I wonder who she is."

"Her name was Ariana Dumbledore," Aberforth's gruff voice came from the doorway, and Harry glanced up at him, feeling oddly guilty.

Aberforth sighed and set down the large crate he was carrying. "She was my sister."

"Was?" Harry repeated.

Aberforth nodded slowly, and leaned against the doorframe. His eyes were locked onto the small portrait of Ariana on the open door as he spoke. "When Ariana was six years old, she attacked by three Muggle boys that lived near us. They'd seen her doing magic, happened to see it through the back garden hedge. She was just a kid, she couldn't control it, nobody can at that age."

"Whatever they saw, I think it scared them." Aberforth continued, his voice hollow. Harry was sure that Aberforth had forgotten they were standing there, lost in his memories. "They forced their way through the hedge, and when she wouldn't—she couldn't show them the trick, they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak."

Harry flinched at the word. Aberforth's voice was twisted with pain as he spoke about his sister. The old wizard shook his head. "It destroyed her, what they did; sweet Ariana was never right again. She wouldn't use magic, but she couldn't get rid of it. The magic turned inward. It drove her mad. At times she was strange and dangerous; the magic would just explode out of her, and she couldn't control it. But mostly, she was sweet and scared and harmless."

"My father went after the bastards that did it," Aberforth said quietly. "He attacked them. And then the Ministry locked him in Azkaban for it. He never told anyone why he'd done it. He knew that the Ministry would toss Ariana in St. Mungo's if they knew what happened to her. They'd claim that she was a threat to the International Statute of Secrecy, unbalanced as she was. He didn't want that to happen, so he served his time in Azkaban. Or he tried to. He didn't live to see the end of his sentence."

Harry spared a glance at Bella. Her eyes were wide, and her skin was even paler than normal. She knew better than anyone just how horrible Azkaban could be.

"We had to her safe and quiet." Aberforth continued. "We moved house, told the neighbors that she was ill, and my mother stayed home to look after her. To try and keep her calm and happy."

"There were limits to what my mother could do." Aberforth said, his voice trembling. "I was always Ariana's favorite. I could calm her down when no one else could, I could get her to eat when she wouldn't do it for my mother. But I had school, I couldn't be there all the time."

"She was fourteen," Aberforth continued, and Harry could see tears shining behind the man's glasses. "If I'd been there, maybe I could've calmed her down, but I wasn't. Ariana . . . she had one of her rages, and my mother wasn't as young as she used to be. It was an accident, Ariana couldn't control herself. My mother was killed."

Harry swallowed nervously. He hadn't expected Aberforth to open up so much after that simple question.

"After that, everything changed." Aberforth said softly. "I tried to quit school, to stay home and help Ariana, but Albus wouldn't hear it. He insisted that I return to Hogwarts, and decided that he'd stay home and take over for my mother. It surprised me, but he did fine for a while. Until he came."

A dark look crossed Aberforth's face. "Grindelwald."

Harry froze. "Gellert Grindelwald? The Dark Lord?"

"The very same." Aberforth confirmed. "He and Albus were friends, long before Grindelwald became a Dark Lord. But even as a teen, there was something off about him. A darkness that would only grow. Not that Albus ever saw it."

Harry was stunned by the revelation. He'd known that Dumbledore wasn't as pure of a wizard as most people believed. But consorting with a future Dark Lord?

"Albus was too enamored by young love to see what kind of monster Grindelwald was." Aberforth said, shaking his head. "At last, my brother had an equal to talk to. Someone just as bright and talented as he was. After he met with Grindelwald, nothing else mattered to him. Looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while Albus and Grindelwald were hatching all of their plans for a new Wizarding order, and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was that they were so interested in. After all, they had grand plans for the benefit of all witches and wizards, and if one young girl was neglected, what did that matter? Albus was working for the greater good."

Bella had a sudden look of understanding at Aberforth's words, but Harry wasn't sure why. He had more questions now than he ever did before.

"After a few weeks of it, I'd had enough." Aberforth said firmly, still staring at Ariana's portrait. "It was nearly time for me to go back to Hogwarts, but I couldn't leave Ariana with them. Not while Albus and Grindelwald were too caught up in their own plans to care about her. I confronted them one morning outside the house, and I told Albus that he had to give it up. Ariana was in no state to be traveling around with them, and he would need to stay, to help care for his sister."

"Grindelwald didn't like that." Aberforth continued. "He didn't like that at all. He got angry, and he threatened me. He told me that I was a stupid little boy, trying to halt the progress of wizards for one person. Couldn't I see that Ariana wouldn't have to be hidden once they'd changed the world? Didn't I know that Albus would be in a better position to help our sister if he was famous?"

"There was an argument." Aberforth said, his tone suddenly changing, his voice growing colder. "I drew my wand, but Grindelwald. . . he was faster, and before I knew what had happened, I was under the Cruciatus curse. Albus tried to stop him, but he didn't want to hurt his friend. Before long, all three of us were dueling, and the flashing lights, and the bangs and the noise. It all set her off, she couldn't stand it."

The color was draining from Aberforth's face, and it suddenly seemed that the doorframe he was leaning against was the only thing that kept him standing. "I think she wanted to help, but she didn't really know what she was doing. I don't know which of us did it, it could have been any of us. All of the curses that were flying around. But she was dead."

Aberforth's voice cracked on the final word, and his glasses were fogged with tears. He took a deep rattling breath, and the sound seemed to echo in the small office. Harry wanted to comfort the older wizard, but how? He didn't know much about Aberforth, and yet he knew this, this deeply personal story.

"Of course, Grindelwald vanished as soon as he realized what happened." Aberforth continued, his voice thick. "He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didn't want Ariana set to his account too."

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. "I didn't mean for you to go through that again."

Aberforth shook his head. "You deserved to know as much as anyone. The truth is, I've never forgiven Albus for what his role in what happened. For the longest time, I hated him for it. Perhaps part of me still does. But, for all of his faults, Albus tried to be a good man. He did what he thought was right to try and make the world a better place, and that's more than most of us can say."

After a long pause, Aberforth awkwardly cleared his throat. "The box he left you is in the drawer on the right of the desk. I don't know everything that's in there, but I think you should go through the letter he left before we go back to Grimmauld Place. You're going to want some time to vent."

Harry apprehensively glanced down at the drawer. "More secrets?"

Aberforth didn't respond, and slowly, Harry pulled the drawer open and removed a small leather-bound trunk. He set the trunk down on the desk in front of him, and popped it open with a prod from his wand.

Bella gasped sharply, and leaned across Harry, removing a small, brightly-colored book. As it passed by his eyes, Harry briefly caught sight of the title: The Quester's Guide to the Deathly Hallows.

"This is what Dumbledore was hiding?" Bella asked, turning the book around to show Aberforth. "You mentioned he was searching for them, but he actually found them?"

Aberforth nodded. "He did, although it took him most of his life."

"Then the wand?"

"Is the very same one." Aberforth confirmed. "That was why he was so determined that Potter take it. Grindelwald was actually the one who found it, but after their duel, Dumbledore took it by right of conquest."

"What about the cloak then?" Bella asked, her dark eyes narrowing.

"You tell me," Aberforth said, breaking out into a smile. "You've actually had the chance to use it."

Bella's eyes flicked over to Harry, and he shifted awkwardly under her scrutiny. "You mean to tell me. . ."

"Passed down from Ignotus himself." Aberforth nodded. "Or so Albus told me."

"Would one of you like to fill me in here?" Harry asked, finally fed up with their back and forth. "What's this about my wand and my cloak?"

"Do you remember the story I told you on our date a few weeks back?" Bella asked, turning to look at Harry.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "The Tale of Three Brothers, right?"

"That's the one," Bellatrix confirmed. "That story spawned a legend. The legend of the Deathly Hallows."

"The Deathly Hallows?" Harry repeated, his tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

"Aye," Aberforth grunted. "Here." He took a piece of parchment from the top of one of the towering stacks and flipped it over. Grabbing a quill, the barkeeper quickly sketched out a straight line. "The elder wand," He added a circle around the line. "The Resurrection Stone." Aberforth finished by surrounding the shapes with a rough triangle. "The Cloak of Invisibility."

Harry gasped at the familiar symbol. It was the same rune that was carved into the cover of the golden book. "I thought that was Grindelwald's insignia?"

"It was," Aberforth said, setting his quill down. "But before that, it belonged to a bunch of folks that called themselves "Questers". They dedicated their lives to finding and uniting the Hallows. Grindelwald and Albus were both Questers, and Grindelwald eventually perverted the symbol into his own mark."

"So, these Hallows," Harry said slowly, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. "They're the same magical items from the story. The ones that Death gave to the brothers. An unbeatable wand, a stone that can recall the dead, and an invisibility cloak."

"That's right," Bella said, nodding.

"I can get how Dumbledore figured out he had the wand," Harry said slowly. "It's very different than any other wand I've used. And the stone would be obvious, there's nothing else like it. But how can you be sure that my cloak is the cloak? I mean, there's loads of invisibility cloaks in the world. They're rare, but they exist."

"Your cloak was passed down to you from your father right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but—"

Aberforth cut him off. "Most invisibility cloaks fade with time. Either the Demiguise hair it's made of starts to turn opaque, or the Disillusionment charm fades. Your cloak has been passed down through your family for generations, never weakening, never faltering. It's unheard of."

Harry fell silent, regarding his cloak with new eyes. Eventually, he spoke again. "You said there were Questers, peopling seeking the Hallows in order to unite them. Why? Individually, they're all powerful items, but why put them together?"

"The legend says that whoever unites the Hallows will become the Master of Death." Aberforth said gravely. "Nobody knows for sure what that means, as no one has ever more than two of the Hallows at one time."

"Master of Death?" Harry repeated softly. He suddenly winced as his scar burned, and he clamped one hand over it.

"Harry!" Bella shrieked. "What's going on?"

Harry didn't respond, his eyes screwed up as he fought to push the pain away. His scar was throbbing, pulsing beneath his hand, and everything around him was fading away. Harry could feel blood trickling from his scar and onto his hand, and he slumped back in Aberforth's armchair. He felt strangely gleeful, and a mad giggle escaped his lips as he faded into unconsciousness.

*****HP: WAW*****

A smile crossed Harry's lipless mouth as he raised one pale hand, and knocked softly on the large door before him. He felt giddy and younger than he had for years; a part of him wanted to laugh out loud at the sheer idea of what they were going to do here today.

Harry spared a glance at the girl beside him. Already, her wand was in her hand, and her silver lips were curled into a snarl. Yes, recruiting Susan had been the right choice. She had a bloodthirst that could only be matched by his own.

After several long moments, the door remained stubbornly closed, and Harry's smile faltered. Tired of waiting, he raised his long yew wand and blasted the battered door open. The hall itself was lit only by a handful of gas lamps along the walls, and Harry sneered at the sight. Muggles, how pathetic.

Slowly, Harry walked down the hall. It was very different than how Severus had described it. To hear the traitor speak, the house was derelict, and hardly habitable, but the entrance hall of 12 Grimmauld Place told another story entirely. It was outdated, but maintained a subtle elegance.

At the end of the long hallway, a looming door swung open, and small house elf entered, dressed in a black and red tunic that hung to its knobby knees, and a family crest was outlined on each of the elf's shoulders.

The elf's bulbous eyes widened. "No! Yous must not be here. Dobby will protect Mr. Harry Potter sir's family!"

Harry laughed, his voice high and cold. Without hesitation, he wrapped his magic around the little elf's neck, and twisted it, a sharp CRACK echoing in the hallway. He threw the dead elf aside, and marched onwards. He was here to take back what was his.

-POP-

Another elf was standing there, clad in that same ridiculous uniform. He held a long butcher's knife in one hand, and he glared at Harry, his eyes full of hate.

"You killed Master Regulus." The elf croaked. "Kreacher will kill you for Lord Black."

Harry didn't flinch as the elf flung himself forward, its knife waving wildly. Susan stepped forward, brandishing her wand. Under the dim light of the lamps, her metal jaw glowed a fiery orange, and Harry nodded his satisfaction. He hadn't been sure if she was worth saving, but she had a talent for Necromancy, and her mutilated appearance helped strike fear in his enemies. It was a worthy gift.

A bolt of black lightning erupted from Susan's wand, and struck the wizened elf in the chest, throwing him back, the knife clattering to floor. Black smoke poured off of the creature's chest, and the hallway was filled with the unmistakable smell of burning flesh. The elf struggled to get back to its feet for a moment, but fell back to ground.

Harry fired off a Killing curse to still the elf, and continued forward, destroying the far door with another flick of his wand. As he stepped through the threshold of the doorway, Harry stopped to take in the sight. Elphias Doge, a long-time member of Dumbledore's infernal Order, was crouched behind the overturned kitchen table.

"Ossum Fracturum!"

Harry casually deflected the spell, knocking it into the massive chandelier. It exploded, raining a shower of glass down "Pitiful." He turned to Susan, shaking his head. "You deal with this fossil. I'll take care of Potter."

Doge's wheezy laugh sounded from behind the table. "You couldn't have picked a worse time. Potter's not even here."

White-hot rage flowed through Harry's veins. Potter wasn't here? That boy had an uncanny knack for survival. Without a second thought, Harry raised his wand, collapsing the ceiling above Doge with a silent spell. The aged wizard narrowly summoned a shield to deflect the worst of the debris, but he was quickly buried beneath a pile of rubble.

"Finish him off," Harry snapped, turning away from Doge. "And make him suffer."

Susan hurried past him, her wand already moving. At least she had some level of competence, unlike the rest of his followers. Harry stalked out of the kitchen, and stopped at the base of the stairs. He flicked his wand, silently casting a Homenum Revelio.

According to his spell, there three others inside the Black family ancestral home. No doubt it was the traitor Bellatrix, Lucius' ex-wife Narcissa, and Snape. Harry smiled briefly as he climbed up the stairs, making his way up to the second floor. It had been Susan's idea to throw Snape's battered body into the Floo after he told them everything he knew. What better way to strike fear in his enemies than to show exactly what happened to those that crossed Lord Voldemort?

Even without the Revealing spell, Harry would have known exactly where to find the others. The door beside the stairwell was nearly sparkling with magic; he could identify at least a dozen wards and traps by feel alone. Reaching out with his own magic, Harry began to nimbly deactivate the wards and break down the spells, one at a time. He frowned as he unraveled a particularly nasty Entrail-Expelling curse. That must have been Bellatrix's contribution. She had always had a good mind for laying traps.

After a few moments, Harry had successfully disarmed all of the wards, and with a flick of his wand, the dark door swung open, revealing a small sitting room. Two couches and a chair were clustered around a heavy wooden table, and a large fire was dancing merrily in the hearth. Harry sneered at the sight. It looked disgustingly simple.

Two people were crouched down in front of the fire, bent over a third prone shape, but they both looked up at the sound of the door's hinges. Harry was mildly disappointed when he recognized Narcissa Malfoy and Potter's Slytherin slut. He had been looking forward to torturing Bellatrix again, punishing her for her crimes.

Both women jumped to their feet, hands frantically reaching for their wands. Harry smiled at the sight. It was always more fun when they wanted to resist. Without bothering to move, he ripped their wands away, throwing them into the fire.

"Now now Narcissa," Harry hissed, binding the women's arms and legs to their sides and forcing them to sit down on opposite couches. "Is that any way to treat your guest? Dear Lucius would be so disappointed in you."

Harry could feel them struggling against his spell, and after a brief moment's consideration, he released their mouths, but locked the rest of their bodies down

"I could care less what Lucius thought of me," Narcissa spat, her eyes shining brightly in the light of the fire. "He's the one that brought filth like you into my home. That turned Draco into a sycophant like himself."

Harry tightened his spell again, cutting the witch off before she could speak another word. "You should be proud of your son. He has swiftly risen through my ranks to become one of my best Death Eaters. He's not quite at the level his father was yet, but given time, I have no doubt that Draco will prove to a most valuable Death Eater."

Narcissa's struggling increased, and her eyes flashed with hatred, but she couldn't speak, bound by Harry's spell.

Slowly, Harry crossed the room, stopping in front of Potter's new wife. He reached down and picked up her hand, raising it up until it was mere centimeters from his mouth. The girl valiantly fought against the spell, trying to pull away, but it was a futile gesture. She didn't have nearly enough raw power to resist. Relishing in the discomfort and fear that practically radiated off of the witch, Harry pressed a light kiss to the back of her hand.

"You must be the new Mrs. Potter." Harry said smoothly, releasing her hand and letting it fall back to the arm of the couch. "A pleasure to meet you my dear. I'm sure you know who I am, but just in case, my name is Lord Voldemort. I've known your husband for many years now."

A wet cough sounded from the limp shape lying before the fire, and a wide smile stretched across Harry's face. "Severus. I'd nearly forgotten you were here."

Snape coughed again, spewing crimson from his mouth, staining the pale carpet of the room. Slowly, the man climbed to his feet, staring defiantly at Harry, looking much the same as he had moments before Harry tossed him into the Floo. He was naked, and his pale skin was covered in a thin layer of blood. Several oozing wounds covered Snape's bare chest, spelling out the word TRAITOR, and his left forearm had two more large gashes crisscrossing over the livid Dark Mark.

"I've suspected you were the spy for some time Severus," Harry said softly, making sure to keep his wand trained on the battered man as he stepped closer to his former servant. "You were the obvious choice after all. A double agent can just as easily be a triple agent. But still, the information you gave me was useful, and the few tidbits I let you give to Dumbledore were minimal. After Azkaban, I began to truly believe you were on my side. What possible reason could you have to free me from Dumbledore's cage, unless you were truly loyal? But then, you prevented me from killing Potter, and you helped free him. From then on, I knew you were no longer mine."

"I was never yours," Snape whispered, his face twisted. The man's hands were balled into fists, and he was trembling, either with rage or pain.

Harry laughed coldly. "You were once. It was a willing Severus Snape that took my Mark all those years ago. And you were only too happy to give me the prophecy you overheard. At least until you realized that your Mudblood would be in danger."

"And look at you now," Harry said, shaking his head. "Standing here, on the brink of death, ready to fight with your hands, like some common Muggle. Pathetic."

"Do you know why I sent you through the Floo Severus?" Harry asked. "I wanted Potter and his friends to see you, to see what happens to those who choose to resist Lord Voldemort."

The Mark on Snape's arm turned a deep crimson at Harry's words, and Snape let out a pained hiss.

"But, more than that, I wanted them to see the face of the man that betrayed them." Harry finished triumphantly. "You see, it was Severus here that led me to you. It seems that despite all his years spent spying, and his mastery of Occlumency, he is just as susceptible to torture as anyone. It took some time, but eventually, he broke, and he told me everything."

Snape's pale face was flushed with anger, and his dark eyes flicked over to Harry's, gauging the distance between them.

Harry smiled widely, letting his voice turn even colder. "Once a traitor, always a traitor I suppose."

His words had the desired effect, and Snape charged forward, no trace of his usual composure or skill in his actions. Snape's fists swung wildly, but Harry casually stepped aside, letting the traitor stumble forward from his own momentum, sprawling out across the low table.

"Pitiful," Harry said, shaking his head. "Hardly a fitting attempt for a man of your prodigious skill. Avada Kedavra!"

With a flash of green, Severus Snape fell forward onto the table, and his ragged breathing abruptly stopped.

Harry levitated Snape's body aside with a swish of his wand, and looked back at the two women who were still held in place by his spell. Both stared back at him unwillingly, their eyes betraying their fear and revulsion. Harry paused for a moment, considering the best way to leave a statement for his enemy. He needed to be sure that Potter was so blinded by grief and anger he would run headlong into a trap, consequences be damned.

His musing was interrupted by the soft sound of a doorknob turning, and he glanced over to see the door swing open. Susan strolled into the room, her mask gone, and a narrow cut along one cheek, still bleeding freely.

"My Lord, I have killed the Order member and done a sweep of the building," Susan said, kneeling down. "We are alone."

"You've done well my dear," Harry said, nodding towards the Necromancer. "Return home. I will rejoin you shortly."

"Are you sure?" Susan asked. "Wouldn't you like me to stay and help you deal with these blood-traitors?"

"Crucio!" Harry snapped. Immediately, Susan fell to the ground, a scream tearing from her lips. He let her suffer under the curse for several moments, before finally cancelling his spell. "Do not question me again Susan. Leave me."

Susan climbed back to her feet, her body trembling from the after-effects of the curse. She nodded shakily, and then Disapparated with a CRACK!

Harry turned back to his captives; despite what they'd witnessed, both women struggled valiantly against the spell, but were unable to free themselves. "Now, where were we? I believe you shall be next dear Narcissa."

He rested the tip of his wand in the hollow of Narcissa's throat. The witch's breathing quickened, and she stared down at the length of yew, her body trembling ever so slightly. "As a service to your son Draco, and your former husband, I will make your death quick. I am nothing if not merciful. Avada Kedavra!"

Narcissa slumped back against the couch, the light fading from her eyes instantly. For a brief moment, Potter's wife broke free of his spell, and her shriek pierced the quiet room.

Harry turned back around, staring down at the girl. She had already fallen back under his spell, unable to resist it any longer, but her eyes glared back at him, filled with hate and defiance. "You will not be as fortunate at your friend here," Harry vowed, raising his wand again. "I will not give you the relief of a quick death. I want to make sure that Potter feels every second of your suffering, and know that he wasn't able to protect you. Crucio!"

Harry released the spell binding the girl's body, and a smile crossed his face as her howls of pain filled his ears.

A/N:

Two chapters left in this arc!