A/N: Harry Potter books and characters belong to JKR. I take no credit for any repeated quote or event from the original source.

Prologue

''Up! Get up!'' He heard echo through his room as he rapidly opened his eyes.

''Get up now you freak!'' His aunt screeched as she hit the door loudly causing him to roll off his bed as fast as he could. Knowing full well that keeping his aunt waiting was a bad idea he immediately opened the door, initially feeling his cheek hurt in pain.

''I've told you not to keep me waiting. You losing your meal privileges for that. You better have breakfast ready in the next ten minutes or so be it, you wont see any food for the rest of the week.'' She threatened as she walked up the stairs.

Gently rubbing his cheek where he had just been slapped he quickly went into the kitchen and turned the cooker on as he started to make the Dursleys breakfast. Typical, egg and bacon, get out of the room before either of those three come downstairs or I'm dead.

Harry James Potter lived in the very normal house of number four Private Drive, where the most normal people live in. Or at the very least, that's wat everyone else called the structure that he lived in. In reality, he honestly doubted if there was anything normal about him, and he knew that there was nothing normal about the people that he was forced to live with. They obsession with normalcy was a dead give away for that, not that they let anyone see that of course. If anyone asked, it was always the 'boy's' fault.

To be honest there really wasn't much use trying to deny it. He was different, and everyone knew it. There wasn't much need for someone to talk to him for them to realize that he was unlike any other child in his age. No effort was needed to tell that he was much more mature than the other boys of his age, intelligent, quiet and small being the main traits that always came to mind, or would if they paid less attention to how different he was.

His relatives were the very definition of normal, or at least their mask's were. Inside of closed walls, were no mask were needed, he could always see the horrible people that he had to live with. The people that made sure to make his life as difficult as possible, directly or indirectly just to make sure that he suffered in every degree possible. At the age of three he had started taking care of the house, at the age of four he cooked and took care of the garden, eventually, he took care of every house job that was done in the house that everyone considered normal. Yes, Harry had long since realized that they were some of the worst humans that existed, careful not to anger them knowing full well the dangers of doing so, even if sometimes he had no control as to why. The Dursleys hated him, there was no real reason why or even any doubt in that statement. They hated him because he was different.

He had long since forgotten the dreams of family, the craving to be part of it, part of him always praying to God that anyone would come here, tell him it was all a mistake, and take him to his real family, at this point an angel taking him to his parents would have honestly been enough.

Those thoughts had ended when he reached the age of five, where he had somehow miraculously survived a life or death injury in his own room, the cupboard. Granted he wasn't particularly religious because of it, but from then on he made sure to thank whatever god or deity that had saved his life, even if he personally didn't think that it was worth much.

The main problem laid with his uncle, who hated him from his very core. A large, drunk, self-centred, arrogant man that held his reputation at a pedestal, and anything that he did not deem 'normal' wasn't taken lightly, and unfortunately, Harry always seemed to make things happen that couldn't be explained, unfortunately, that wasn't deemed normal. The man responsible for his oversized second-hand clothes that no longer fitted his cousin, or his second hand cracked glasses or anything of close to no worth that he owned.

Dealing with the chores hadn't really been that much of a problem for Harry. He may have had to start at a young age but it hadn't been that difficult to deal with. But soon after it had rapidly escalated into work that no one his age should have had to do.

Then there was the violence. It had started, as they say, nice and easy with the occasional few slaps before it escalated to using a belt, and before he reached the age of six, there were punches and kicks that would have made him vomit if he was actually fed. Once or twice he had been pushed into objects that had shattered and cut deep into his skin. Of course, it had been his fault and he had been locked in the cupboard as punishment for barking something.

Just like the previous incident, for better or worse his body seemed to have an incredible speed healing rate, occasionally leaving a scar depending on how severe the injury had been. When his Uncle drinking habit started to escalate, so did the insults and violence. His uncle had always associated the 'freak' occurrences to him, blaming Harry and telling him that he deserved his punishment. The worst part is for the first few years he had actually believed that he was at fault, and not the other way round.

After his life and death situation when he was five he started to ask the questions that his curious mind couldn't help but think of. Usually asking why he was associated with anything 'freakish' that seemed to occur around him. It was obvious that they knew something that he didn't, something that linked him to the 'freak occurrences', though why they looked down on him when the strange things seemed to protect him was something he couldn't come up with. Because of this, the one and the probably only important lesson he learned from his uncle was that whatever he considered 'normal', he would make sure to learn to do the reverse.

Then there was his cousin, following his uncle in size, arrogant but most importantly, stupid, unable to do much without his parents. This had been something that he had started to exploit, make him think that he wanted to do something, or that he was doing what he wanted, and he was able to avoid him for the most part.

However, exploiting his stupidity became difficult after his cousin made 'friends' with other children that all enjoyed 'Harry hunting'. Escaping, for the most part, was easy, but from time to time he was corned, or simply couldn't afford to escape knowing that the replication from his uncle would be much more dangerous than whatever his cousin had been planning.

Of course, Dudley, or Duddydums, could never do any wrong since he was such an example of what was known as the pinnacle of gentleman behaviour. Witch I'm quite sure is going downhill.

Lastly, there was his Aunt, a housewife, though one that did not do the chores, that mainly gossiped or made the image of her family's normalcy. Unlike the other two, he wasn't sure what his Aunt opinion was of him. She didn't like him, that much was obvious, whenever she thought he wasn't looking, her eyes had a brief show of jealousy, though confusing, he assumed that it caused the rift between them. However, she made sure that he was feed just enough, and clothed just enough, for that he would be able to survive.

She was skilled in spreading rumours and picking up the little truth from those rumours she heard, putting them together in a way that allowed her to figure out the truth. Being able to watch her do this more times that he could count, he had picked up on her ability to pick up the truth from her, not that he would ever tell her thought, since he was already on a thin line in the household, and he wasn't going to risk letting them now he knew much more than what they would ever think he did.

His uncommon traits made him all the more unusual, thick silky bright red hair reaching just on top of his neck, bright green almond-shaped eyes that remained covered by round glasses that were too big for him, which had eventually become more of a hindrance when his eyesight had started to get worse, his low height and small body that was caused by malnutrition which his blood relatives had had a hand in. Lastly, his pale skin, which had been caused by the little time he was able to spend outside. His relatives believed that if he was kept inside during the day when no one would notice him, with the only exceptions being to take the garbage out and early in the morning when he cared for the garden. His body mostly hidden by the horrible second-hand clothes that seemed to practically fall off due to the huge size difference between his cousin and himself.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

School was an interesting topic of discussion. He really would have enjoyed it if hed been the only one attending, but of course, fate was dead set against him to let that happen. The main problem was that he found the subject's far to easy. One look around him and it was obvious that it was because he was the only one that actually applied himself to his studies. Then there was the fact that Dudley also attended the same school with his group of bullies, not much more was really necessary for that description.

Lastly was the fact that he was different, and as such, didn't quite fit in anywhere. There were the boys that were obnoxious to the point that it was terrifying, not to mention never paid attention and made a mess of everything that was a meter radius to them. Then there were the girls, that only thought about making fun of people and straight out painting targets on people they didn't like, usually turning on another and humiliating yesterdays friend.

No, Harry didn't fit in at all. His effeminate characteristics were an immediate rejection of both groups, and on the small chance that they did try talking to him...well, Dudley made sure they didn't make the same mistake twice.

Which brought him back to his current situation, or rather, to the people that were approaching him a little too excitedly.

''Hey freak!'' Harry didn't have to turn around to know who was talking, he had partly expected them to chase him today seeing how the teacher left slightly early on Wednesday's.

''No teacher to hide behind today, you know what that means right coward?'' One of his gang members said with a disturbing grin.

I really doubt I need protecting from either of you oversized idiots, thought getting into a fight wouldn't be the best of ideas. Now as to how to get out of this predicament...

''Come on big D, we haven't had a chance to show him who's boss yet, this is our chance.'' Another of the idiot's idiot said.

One of the things Harry was proud of was his developed agility, that had allowed him to avoid them or the idea of fun ever since they had attended school. The teachers really didn't seem to care that much, but by usually staying nearby one, it allowed him to keep Dudley's gang in check as even they weren't stupid enough to do anything in front of a teacher. At least not yet. He thought some what in amusement. Who knows, I wouldn't have been surprised if someone told me that they could grow to become more stupid.

Without a second thought, he started to run towards the street, knowing full well that he could outrun all of them and easily lose them in the vast town. As he turned to his left he quickly hid in a huge building that was almost the same size as his own school.

However, this time Dudley's gang was more persistent than usual and had staid in front of the building more than what he had expected. For quite some few minutes he could see them through the door searching for him like whiled vultures starved in hunger. Maybe I shouldn't insult the avian species.

Eventually, they started running in a hurry towards the school they had left, and Harry knew why. One look at the clock and he knew that the bus would be leaving any minute, maybe even had already left, with it his only means of getting back to private drive, even if it had never been a place he could call home.

Sighing as he stopped his train of thoughts towards how they would react when he did get back, he decided to look around at his refuge for the first time. To his everlasting joy, which isn't usually a long period, his refuged had turned out to be a library, a look through the sing and his joy doubled, a library that stayed open all night.

The books were much bigger, much more complex and in much greater number than those in the school that he attended. Mesmerized by the sight, he almost instinctively got the first book on the left shelf and immediately started reading. After all, it was best to read in order if you wanted to know which books were left to read.

Before he knew it, he started reading the second book on the shelf, then third, fourth, fifth, the process continuing until he had fallen asleep on top of the book he was at, lying next to the growing pile at his left. Somewhere around twelve. He mused to himself before closing his eyes.

Sure, the Dursleys where livid. His uncle shouted at him, hit and locked him in the cupboard without dinner when he returned to private drive the next day, but the books that were hidden in his second-hand bag from Dudley made more than up for it. He was glad that he had managed to convince the old librarian to make him a library card, luck, for once, had been on his side that the old man seemed to barely pay attention or any form of awareness to reality.

Hiding the books had been a simple matter, removing the parts on the floors plank and hiding them under it. Once done he simply put on the bloodstained carpet and no one was the wisher, after all. Petunia would never touch the floor, and neither of the other males fitted in the cupboard.

Eventually, he stopped attending school, taking the school bus and heading directly to the library when arriving, giving back the books he had borrowed and then looking for more complex ones, reading them before taking them out and heading back to the bus stop to head back to Private Drive. There he would hide them under the floor behind the boxes in the cupboard, before doing his chores, eating the little leftovers that his pig-like uncle and Cousin left him before he was locked in the cupboard, where he would continue to read.

It was worrying that no one had raised the alarm that he stopped attending the school after the first week, much less after the first month, however Dudley was too simple-minded to actually realize and he doubted the two adults, and he used the term incredibly loosely, would actually care as long as he either wasn't spending time under the roof or meet a less fortunate The End. His Aunt may have noticed something was off, but again, she didn't seem to care as long as he didn't spend time in her house.

This process would continue some few months until both the strangest and best day of his life had happened. It started as the usual day, just after they had left the bus, with one main difference. Dudley's gang had been playing the not honourable sport of Harry-Hunting. Unlike the usual situation this time he was unprepared for them, caught of guard that they would openly do so in front of a teacher. I suppose they really can grow stupid. The most disturbing part had been that the teacher hadn't even cared, or perhaps hadn't wanted to get into trouble with his blood relatives, whichever it was, allowed them to chase him much closer than with his usual head start.

Fearing for his life he turned into a small ally and jumped over the rubbish bin and closed his eyes, knowing what they had in store for him. He never had screamed so loudly. Opening his eyes, he found himself on top of one of the roofs of the flat.

Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself down as he sat down, his mind spinning ever so slightly, clearly hearing his heartbeat pulse through his body as he tried reaching some degree of understanding what had just happened. It helped when he looked down to find Dudley's gang in complete confusion as to where he had gone, resisting the childlike temptation to shout at them to provoke them, he slowly laid down on his back, trying to figure out what had happened.

He let his mind wander as he questioned the possibility of doing whatever had happened a second time. After all, it wasn't the first time that something that he couldn't explain had happened that was in some way related to him.

He tried recalling on what he had felt just before closing his eyes. The had been a stressful feeling that now that he thought about it hadn't been caused by the running. It had been an incredibly uncomfortable feeling that had come from the centre oh his body, possible closer to the lower part of his stomach.

Concentration very carefully on the feeling he had held just before he had opened his eyes, he tried visualizing the same situation. He had wanted to go somewhere safe when he had jumped and had momentarily felt his stomach twist around before finding himself on the roof.

As he closed his eyes again, he focused on that feeling, picturing the nearby library that he had spent hours in, of which he had dedication on reading anything and everything. The picture of the bookshelf nearby the corner he usually read at away from any attentive eyes came to his mind with the same incredibly uncomfortable feling spreading through his body. Listening to the fainted of pops, he opened his eyes to find himself in the library, at the very place that he had been concentrating on, a small smile gracing his face.

Curious as to what he had just done, he started looking at books that may give him some sort of clue as to what had just happened. After some few hours, he discovered that what he had done was called teletransportation. An ability that was only known in the form of mathematical or physical theory, present in the form of fiction. None the less he researched the rest of the day, be it in fictional nature or theoretical, trying to come up with an answer to his new found gift.

He eventually discovered that this ability was something that he was more than capable to use his ability by will, practicing at night when the Dursleys where asleep, discovering what he could do and where he could go with his new found gift. Making sure to move to the furthest place possible from the Dursleys was more than a successful motivation. As he could move anywhere that was within his sight, or that he knew well enough, he soon could instantly be kilometres from his blood relatives if the situation ever required it. Brilliant, was the only word that was in his mind.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

As the year progress, he started remembering everything that had happened in his life and tried imitating them. The first was the small fire that he had eventually produced in his hand. It was no smaller than a pebble, but it was present in front of him and feel his body with warmth. Next was a small breeze that could clean up the garden leaves whenever his relatives weren't in the house, allowing him some rest and peace to try out new ideas. Levitating pebbles came next, allowing him to make them float and move like Telequinesis, or at least a much weaker form of it.

He felt as if some God had taken pity on him and given him his gift as a 'take care' or a 'happy late birthday' gift. However, the little bit of satisfaction and pride that he held in his life was destroyed when his Uncle had caught him levitating a small pebble. He had feared what would happen if he was ever caught, and it was with good reason. His body both frozen and trembling as his Uncle stamped towards him.

''How dare you use you freakishness in my house'' He heard his uncle roared as he felt an immense pain as he was thrown some meters in the garden, registering the punch, a small hint of gratefulness that he had not been allowed to eat anything during the day.

Without even thinking about it, he curled up in a ball like shape, protecting his head with his hands while he received one blow after another. Needless to say, it hardly made a difference.

''You should be grateful that we gave you a roof to stay in'' He heard his uncle shout as he received another kick.

''And this is how you repay us? Using you freakishness under my roof?'' He continued to shout.

''As incompetent as your parents, always special with their hocus pocus'' He said with one last kick in the stomach before being dragged and then thrown into the cupboard.

''Well, we'll see about that in a weeks time, won't we boy?'' He said before slamming the door shut.

The faint light coming from under the door told him that he wasn't dead, at least not yet. He couldn't move his left arm, and the rest of his body wasn't much better. He wouldn't be surprised if some of his bones had been cracked, or even broken.

Harry remained there drifting between awareness and unconsciousness, in pure fear that closing his eyes may determine if he would ever be able to open them again, wishing that whatever gift that he had would allow him to heal. Feeling a slight pan of exhaustion, his mind drifted into pitch black, forcing him into a deep sleep.

Someday...Someday...I hope that my emptiness...becomes something more beautiful...

That was the last thought of the existent Harry Potter as he died.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

When he woke up the next day his body was mostly healed. He mused at the thought at what else his gift could do as he moved his body as he making sure that nothing was broken. To his astonishment he was sitting on a puddle of blood, though he had a faint idea as to where it came from, however, he had no wish to check if his theory was true out of fear of what his uncle had done.

When his uncle found his body healed, he took it as a threat. And it was much worse than the day before. From dislocated joints and brushes to slightly cracked bones and some blood, to seriously broken bones and both internal and external bleeding.

He seemed to enjoy using physical and verbal force for his own satisfaction, with the worse days being those when his uncle came back drunk, incapable of caring that he supposedly had school the next day. Eventually, he started to lock him in the cupboard for days without end, only being taken out to be put back in a similar state and the locked back in.

It was on his eighth birthday that he decided that anything was safer than what he was putting up with, knowing that one day there would be too much damage for him to heal from if he didn't run from the cursed place. It had been almost a week since he had been feed, and he had only gotten through with the small scraps he had taken at night with his ability to levitate. However, he was careful to never take to much or to avoid any food that could be noticeable, out of fear that it would get him killed.

At midnight he appeared in Dudley's toy room, careful not to make any sound as he looked for the camping bag that Dudley had received for his previous birthday, though it had never seen daylight, much less actually been used. Once he found it, he appeared back downstairs in the kitchen, using the light from the moon to start looking for anything that wouldn't be missed.

He took any food that would be edible in some few weeks, some fruit and bread that he could eat the next few days and some bottles of water. Deciding that taking any more may alert his blood relatives that he had taken some of their food when he left, he decided that he had enough food before he appeared in the attic, where many unopened or old boxes were kept.

Unsure of what he was even looking for, or even why, he quietly left the bag on the floor as he started opening each box unsure of what to find. It was the same feeling as the one he felt whenever he found that he could do something unnatural. Though he wasn't sure as to why he was up in the attic, he had wasn't sure as to why he was up in the attic, he had learned to trust and follow his instincts.

After dozens of boxes, he found one that had written on it 'Do not open'.

He let out a small giggle when he read the words on the box, shaking his head as he carefully opened the top of the box, moving the cushioning before taking a deep breath and looking inside. There were only two items that he could find inside. The first item that he picked up was an unopened letter that seemed to have been sent years ago. He knew that he shouldn't open someone else's letter, but his instincts were saying that this letter was more for him than for the other people in this house, overtaken by curiosity, Harry opened the letter, and read the contents that were written inside.

Harry carefully opened the top of the box, moving the cushioning before taking a deep breath and looking inside. There were only two items that he could find inside. The first item that he picked up was an unopened letter that seemed to have been sent years ago. He knew that he shouldn't open someone else's letter, but he couldn't help but feel the curiosity overtake him, almost as if it was calling him, he gently opened it as he started to read what was written in it.

Dear Petunia

How have you been doing Pet? I heard that you a mother now, I'm so happy for you. Guess who else is a mother? That's right, I've just had a son. We decided to name him Harry James Potter and he's the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

I know that you dislike magic, but I really wish you'd at least send me a response through letters, I've missed you, Pet. I want you to be part of my family again, I want my son to have his aunt in his life and with there being a chance of me and James not surviving this war, I want him to at least know he has some family.

I'm terrified of having to leave Harry before my turn comes, terrified that he won't know how much both I and James love him. But the war's getting worse and worse, and there have been too many close calls for me to ignore that possibility. I've left our house address inside of the envelope, I doubt we will ever be able to be the sisters we once were, but I hope that you'll visit. I want you to be part of his life, maybe even for us to be a family again.

Love,

Lilly Potter

He felt tears fall down his face as he read the letter again and again. His parents had loved him, been happy when he was born, they'd wanted him. Ignoring the bitter and outraged feelings that were building up in his stomach at his aunt, who hadn't even bothered to open the letter, he looked at the address of the house as a very small smile adorned his face. 'This was it' He thought to himself as he stood up carefully placing the letter in his bag.

He wasn't sure why, but the simple words that his mother had written of loving him made him feel so much more alive, so much more fulfilled. The Dursleys had never once said those words, no, they had raised him, if it could even be called raising, to believe that anything that occurred around him was his fault, that he was the freak out of the normal's and he should be ashamed about it. His Aunt's jealousy made sense as he joined the pieces of information, she was jealous and had tried to destroy him as a pet form of revenge against his mother.

He had long since given up on any chance of having a family, there was no father to praise him or mess up his hair when he got good grades, or any mother to tuck him in his bed or hug him when he was crying. And he had believed that he had deserved it, or at least had been supposed to. Unknown to them his magic had always been part of him, had always protected him. When he was five, bleeding under the cupboard because of them it had been magic that had saved him, made him live, allowed him to live.

Taking a deep breath he looked at the only other item that was inside the box. There was a small frame that, to both Harry's bewilderment and slight fascination, was moving. There was a young couple in their early twenties that Harry immediately recognized as his parents. Felling the tears start falling on his face again, he raised his hand as he wiped them off as he studied the frame.

He couldn't really see any distinct similarity between him and his father. James Potter, or so he assumed was his name, had a mischievous smile as he held onto his wife, looking between him and the photo of his mother.
A very small smile formed on his frame as he could immediately see where his appearance came from, the vibrant green eyes, the red hair that looked like fire when the breeze moved. He could feel pride build up in him as he remembered all the times he had been mistreated at school because he was different, but he was happy, happy that like his parents, he was different.

This also answered another part of the question as to why his aunt hated him, she was jealous and angry at his mother, and her only way that she could feel any sense of satisfaction was to pull him down, as revenge for her sister being different. She had always bad-mouthed his parents, though now that he looked back on it, he realized it had always been directed towards his mother. It had been in her voice, with the small number of times that she had spoken to him he now realized that.

Wiping away the last tears he opened his bag as he gently placed the photograph inside next to the letter, careful that he didn't damage either of them as he closed the bag. Knowing that he shouldn't bother thinking on the treatment the Dursleys had given him he appeared in the main and looked for the map Dursley kept in the main drawer under the television, something he had had to put away throughout the many times that he had cleaned the house.

He now had to do the most dangerous part of the packing, and he knew if he was caught he wouldn't be allowed to live. Slowly, he carefully walked up the stairs one by one before reaching the first floor. Silently, he opened the door at an incredibly slow speed as he pushed it with great care making sure that neither of the two people in there would wake up. Herring both of their snoring, he very slowly levitated both the wallet and the purse that were inside their bedroom into his hand as he carefully took the money out and placed it in his pocket as he gently stood up.

He slightly giggled when he thought how his blood relatives would react when they realized their purse and wallet were empty. With how they usually acted they may even never realize that the money was missing, God knew that there were dense enough for it to happen. Even if they did it most likely wouldn't be until Monday, which would give him enough time to be far enough from this place that he would never see them again.

he immediately stopped giggling when he realized that the snoring had suddenly stopped, dreading what would happen as he heard someone get up he immediately moved as silently possible towards the toy room which had the door open enough for him to pass through as he hid behind the door. He had never felt more terrified it his life, fully aware what would happen if he was found he prayed that they wouldn't fin him, silently repeating those thoughts in his head as he prayed that his uncle wouldn't realize he wasn't in his cupboard.

The thought of moving himself outside of the house was tempting, but there was a high risk that he would be heard, which would lead to the authorities being after him much before then what he wanted them to. He needed the head start to make sure that no one would be able to find him. He held his breath as someone walked past him back into the bedroom, each footstep sounding farther away, eventually having the whole house being filled by complete silence.

Harry had to wait some few minutes to calm down while taking deep breaths before he was sure that everyone in the house was asleep. Not being able to hear any noise from the bedroom, he carefully looked out of the door to make sure no one was there. When he was sure the coast was clear he carefully walked out of the room and walked towards their door as he slowly levitated both the wallet and purse, placing them back where he had found them before he walked back down the stairs.

Gently picking up his bag, he took a deep breath as he appeared outside of Private drive. Never looking back at the place he had never called home, his figure disappeared from the badly illuminated pathway of the normal place known as Private Drive.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Sup all, hope the prologue wasn't too long , the first few chapters will be more of developing skills than actual events, so Ill just leave that warning out there.

I have a basic outlined map of where this story will be heading, until somewhere around 5th year, after that, I'm still working on it. My updates are slow, so here's my warning.

Lastly, there are certain parts of this story that I'm still debating about, such as pairing (Not even sure if I will) or types of magic, who leaves or dies, etc. I will warn you when either I reach a decision or ask for your reader's opinion. The possible one I'm considering is Tonks and Harry, but that's still up to debate.

Lastly, Harry has an effeminate appearance from lack of food and sunlight, simply put he looks like a younger version of his mother when she was eight.

Thanks for taking your time to read and I hope to see you in the next chapter.