A/N: This is a somewhat revised version of this fanfiction from when I first posted all these chapters (up to 38) from 2005 onward, reposted 9/10/11, and now chapters 1-3 revised again as of April 2014. (This time I'm done, I promise. I'm just going to work on new chapters, really. [←Lying])

Long, long ago, back in 2005, I began this fanfiction, having little experience with writing anything other than a few months practice writing another fanfiction, Intruder. I discovered writing to be a mentally grueling activity, and churning out the 2,700 words of the first chapter was laborious. And that was just the writing itself, not including the necessary research of the HP and YGO worlds to make the descriptions as accurate as possible, trying desperately to understand how they worked enough to write about them but in my own words, and many times I had misunderstood something in those descriptions, or wrote in some other plot inconsistency or logical fallacy.

Now, almost nine years later in 2014, I still find writing grueling and laborious, but not quite so much as before, and I have no trouble writing 2700-word chapters, or 4000, or 6000, or possibly 12000, if I'm feeling particularly vindictive. (Now the issue is cutting out the fat that inevitably dominates everything.) And here I am, still trying to finish this fanfiction.

I admit, it's been a long time, and my focus has shifted somewhat from the Yugioh fandom to that of Artemis Fowl, but I still intend to finish what I started here. To those of you who read this fanfiction a long time ago, and to those who stumbled across this just recently, thank you so much for reading, I appreciate all your thoughts, and I'll do my best.

Well then, onward!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh or Harry Potter, I just love writing fanfiction. There are also quotes at the end of the chapters that serve as dividers, which I don't own either.

Note: This is set right after Battle City and at the beginning of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Also, even though it's mostly Yami Bakura's pov for the first few chapters, this will be mainly Ryou-centric.

Rated T mainly to be safe for now, but the story may get more violent as the plot progresses. Also, there will be spoilers for HP book 7, and basically the entire Yugioh manga series (Duelist Kingdom, Battle City, Memory World, etc.).

Chapter 1: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

King's Cross train station stood, its interior colorful, bright, and bustling with activity as usual. Ordinary people waited for their trains, chattering on cell phones, talking with their friends standing nearby, or reading the newspaper. A few would check their watches from time to time, then glance nervously over at the giant clock at the very end of the station which read a quarter-after-ten.

Standing apart from them was one teenage boy, leaning casually against one of the walls between the platforms. However, what led most all who passed him to tread carefully and walk as far from where he stood as possible without getting hit by oncoming trains, was likely not the hard glare etched on his face or his dark, muddy-crimson eye narrowed in an expression of irritation.

Pale, ghostly white skin and wild white hair contrasted sharply against the midnight black of his long trench coat. Everything about his appearance exuded an aura of a commanding confidence, as though he wanted to make a challenge. The very image of a troublemaker.

However, the most striking factor of his intimidating presence was the object that obscured almost half his face. The black silken scarf that had been tied tightly around the boy's head, so as to make certain there could be no chance of its slipping. The dark, high quality material kept the boy's left eye completely hidden.

The one visible eye flickered to one of those passing by him. A middle-aged woman. The boy slowly bowed his head forward until his long white bangs fell over his vision. When he lifted his head again, his lip was curled in a derisive sneer.

Of course, the spirit of the Millennium Ring had always known how pathetic and stupid mortals in general were. But he'd never anticipated that gaining the power to read their minds could possibly reaffirm it to this extent.

The spirit's eye flickered to the crowd before him once again, and a young man with a baseball cap came into his line of sight. The man was wandering by a little closer to the spirit than the majority of the others, paying more attention to the map clutched tightly in his hands than his surroundings. This one was as good as any.

The spirit closed his visible eye and bowed his head, just as before, as he concentrated. Then, slowly, the spirit felt his other eye come into focus. This eye of gold, its bright glow concealed beneath the scarf, could not have seen the crowd standing before them, even if the spirit had removed the dark material from his face. Yet it did see. It saw things more clearly than his right eye ever had.

'Huh...' thought the man with the map. 'No, this isn't right. I already tried this way...Am I even at the right station?'

The spirit pulled abruptly out of his mind. These foolish mortals, he thought. If they had to think at all, why not think about something of interest? But he supposed it was fitting—dull thoughts for dull existences.

But despite these snide musings, the spirit's breath had started to come a little faster during the exercise, a bead of sweat forming on his cheek. As he reached up to wipe the sweat away, his sneer melted into a grimace as his thoughts returned to other matters.

Only a short time ago, all his goals had come within his grasp. During the Battle City tournament, he had come so close to destroying the pharaoh and obtaining two more of the seven Millennium items he desired. However, not only had he failed to obtain either Malik's Millennium Rod or the Millennium Necklace, but Malik's dark side had managed to nearly crush him into submission.

Of course, he could never be completely destroyed. He was indestructible. But the loss of the items, in conjunction with the fact that the pharaoh had been the one to end up with both of them, was a blow indeed. He could not deny the large, gaping disadvantage he now had in relation to the pharaoh. The spirit could not hope to win against three Millennium Items with his one Millennium Ring...

But sitting depressed in Bakura's neat little apartment, surrounded by the evidence of the boy's obsession with RPG games and the occult stacked and arranged on shelves, wallowing in self-pity while wishing things had come out differently, was something for a pathetic half-wit mortal such as those this station was full of. Ones who truly wished for triumph never stopped moving forward, never ceased in constantly planning ways to reemerge from the depths of defeat, victorious. To come back, ever more powerful and vicious than before.

That's when it had come to him. The fact that, although he had lost at Battle City, he'd had another victory. Had he not already annihilated Pegasus at Duelist Kingdom? And when it was over, he had taken the spoils, achieving the right to the great power Pegasus had used. A power even greater, perhaps, than the powers the pharaoh himself had gained...

So the spirit took the same path as Pegasus, making the bloody sacrifice of his own—or, more accurately, his host's—left eye in order to gain access to that power. Though he had been hoping to avoid this course of action from the start, since he would inevitably have to remove it again anyway when he went to place the seven items in the sacred tablet, those who truly desired victory had to accept that, in games of strategy, sacrifice was often necessary. What was a little pain and suffering, if it meant a second chance at the total defeat of your enemies?

Unfortunately, the spirit had soon come to find out it was not as simple as placing the Eye in his head and putting all its vast powers to use. Apparently, Pegasus had spent a great deal of time learning how to manipulate the eye to bring out all it could do. The creator of Duel Monsters most likely hadn't mastered all its power overnight. When the spirit had first put the Eye in, it took a great exertion on his part to use the power and he could only read the thoughts currently passing though the mortals' heads at that. So many new and enticing abilities within his grasp...yet he could not use them.

He'd been frustrated to no end by this revelation, though it mollified him a little when he'd found that the more he used the eye to read minds, the easier it became. So he'd made up his mind to 'practice,' for lack of a better word, with the eye until it became easy to use and he had enough control over the new powers to resume his pursuit of the Millennium Items.

At first, he spent many hours practicing with it in Bakura's home during summer break, since once he allowed his host control again, the naïve boy would probably begin to notice hours and even days of his life he'd totally missed. Not to mention the fact he now only had use of one of his eyes.

Even with this precaution of remaining at home however, Yugi and his annoying friends had quickly made this difficult as well. All during the break, they would come over to Bakura's house, knocking loudly on the door, asking if he was feeling okay or if Bakura wanted to go hang out with them some place, among other nonsense.

The spirit preferred they not see Bakura's face right then, though he doubted they would ever guess the real truth. It would only lead to many more annoying questions. He only ever spoke to them through the door and even that small communication was just to keep the fools Jonouchi and Honda from knocking it down. He supposed Yugi's motley crew made good subjects to practice his power on, if nothing else.

At first it was just irritating, but then the spirit began to think that, if this kept up, the Pharaoh might somehow learn of his endeavors. The pharaoh may already suspect something was amiss. It would be even worse when school started up again in the fall, with not only Yugi and his friends bugging him, but Bakura's school would also be calling once he started missing day after day of school.

So the spirit resolved to leave Domino for a while on the pretense Bakura was taking time to visit some English relatives. Of course, the spirit could have gone anywhere in the world, but he chose to come to Bakura's old hometown of London after all as it would be easier to navigate a place Bakura had already lived at one time. Plus, Yugi and his friends could not speak English, at least not fluently. This way, it would be difficult to for them to follow Bakura, should some moronic sense of friendship or loyalty compel them to do so.

As Yami Bakura had vowed to learn to use the power of the Millennium Eye to its full extent before he returned to Japan to face the Pharaoh again, he'd gone to accustoming himself to the power by using it on random people at the crowded train station. Bakura had come to this station several times when he really had been visiting his relatives at different places around the country, so the spirit had no trouble finding his way around, though he found he didn't need to use the knowledge for the most part.

So that was why he currently stood in a crowded London train station, scanning the thoughts of whiny, pathetic mortals on that cool, September morning. And no, it did not bother him in the least that he was using time his host would have been spending in school for his own. Bakura shouldn't complain either—at least the spirit had notified the school that Bakura would be gone for some time.

The spirit's mind returned to the matter at hand. He looked for another victim to use his power on, hoping for something of slightly more interest than what he'd seen so far. He turned his head just in time for his dark eye to fall on another young person, more a boy than a man this time, pushing a cart with a caged owl on it. There was something odd about him besides the owl though, even if the spirit couldn't quite put his finger on it. Once again, he allowed the Millennium Eye to move in, invading the privacy of the boy's thoughts.

'Platform four...platform five...Just a little bit more down the way. I've got plenty of time to get to platform nine and three-quarters.'

Yami Bakura stopped for about three seconds, then swung around to put his full attention on the bizarre stranger walking by. His eye narrowed. Then, as though shrugging it off, the spirit looked away, shaking his head slightly.

An eccentric mortal, that one. Perhaps even insane, to keep an owl as a pet and think about train platforms that didn't exist.

Despite his condescending thoughts, the spirit could not stop himself from looking up again, and his gaze followed the boy's progress until he was lost in the crowd. The spirit shook his head again and resolved to pretend he hadn't seen the kid at all. Although, he had to admit, the eccentricity had made his thoughts slightly more interesting than the other mortals.

The spirit shifted his attention back to the throngs of people and resumed his practicing. Not ten minutes after this, however, he saw another boy. This one looked to be about ten years old and was carrying yet another owl. He was accompanied by a nervous, jittery man and a frowning woman who the spirit could only take to be the boy's father and mother.

The spirit, curious of the second owl, eyed the group as they passed.

"What platform did it say again?" the man asked, the slight tremor in his tone reflected in his anxious expression.

"Platform nine and three-quarters, dear," the woman answered with a tad of impatience, as if it were something she'd said a million times before.

"Oh. Er, you sure that one exists?" the man asked. He shot a glance down at his son, who bounced in excitement as he walked.

"Yes," the woman answered. "I told you, this is my old school."

However, the family moved out of hearing range and the spirit couldn't make out anything more they were saying.

The spirit frowned slightly in thought as he considered the oddness of this group and the boy he'd seen earlier. He didn't know which was stranger or more of a coincidence: two people who both had owls for pets, or both talking about a platform with a fractional number.

Although the spirit doubted that whatever this meant would help him gain more power, he could not deny that his interest had been piqued. Anything was better than just continuing to stand here, fatigued from utter boredom.

Pushing himself up from the wall, he took off after the family. Several people who had happened to be passing by him jumped a little, startled by the spirit's sudden movement. By some of their reactions, scurrying frantically to get out of the teen with the trench coat's way, one might think that perhaps they were afraid he'd been making a move to mug them.

He ignored the frightened mortals however and, keeping his gaze riveted to their owl which was now screeching angrily, watched the family as they passed platform five...six...eight...

Keeping himself hidden amongst the crowd, he watched carefully as they passed platform nine. They seemed to have come to a stop.

Without closing his regular eye, he attempted to activate the power of the Millennium Eye. He would target the woman, he decided—she seemed to be the one in charge.

'—be perfectly fine. I wish Alder wouldn't be so paranoid. It would be a disaster if he did something to set the Aurors off, they're tense enough these days without skittish muggles making a scene. But I suppose—'

The spirit broke contact unexpectedly, his concentration disturbed. As he'd been looking on, it had suddenly hit him that the boy and his owl were gone. His eye flickered over the nearby area, trying to find an explanation. When his gaze returned to the barrier between platforms nine and ten a moment later, to his dismay, he found the parents also gone.

Again, he carefully scanned the crowd around him. Surely the strange group had just gone on past platform ten, or somehow gotten behind it. The spirit walked around the barrier and looked down the length of both walls on either side. However, he saw no sign of the mysterious family anywhere and he cursed under his breath.

Although it was probably nothing worth bothering about, the spirit's curiosity was piqued now, and he was loathe to give up on any secret he had a mind to uncover, no matter how mundane. He circled the barrier like a prowling lion several more times. He even pressed his palms against the brick wall, looking for a secret entrance or switch of some kind, but found none.

Just as his fraying patience was beginning to turn to outright frustration, his eye fell on a gang of people headed in his direction. A stroke of good fortune, as he saw, to his delight, that the group was toting yet another caged owl.

The spirit was determined not to lose them again. Slipping behind the barrier out of sight, he moved fluidly through the crowd, circling around until he was directly behind the new group, a bunch of rowdy teenagers. He decided this time not to distract himself by attempting to read any minds, and instead just kept his sharp thief's eye trained hard on the kid with the owl. The group came to a stop in front of the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

The group was mostly composed of boys, but one older girl, probably about his host's age, made her way to the front.

"All right, stop pushing already," she shouted. "Just pretend you're civilized beings for a minute and take turns. We've got plenty of time." Rubbing her forehead she added under her breath, "I'm going to need a spell for this headache if I'm going to make it through to the Sorting, right enough. I can't believe Mum and Dad stuck me with this job..."

One of the boys gave one last shove before they all reluctantly backed up.

"Me first," said one with dark hair and a freckled face. Then, to the spirit's surprise, took off running straight for the wall like a lunatic.

Mortals get stranger every day, the spirit mused. As the boy had just about reached the wall, though the spirit didn't flinch, he felt his body tense slightly in preparation for the sound of the forthcoming crash.

However, it didn't come. As the front of the boy's cart reached the brick barrier, instead of the screeching of metal on stone and an explosion of chaos of startled passersby, the boy simply disappeared.

It took every bit of the spirit's concentration to see it happen—even the slightest distraction, as before when he had been trying to read the woman's mind, made him miss the event and make it seem almost natural. Like they'd simply disappeared into a crowd, rather than into a wall.

The spirit definitely didn't have time to read any minds here. Another second, and they'd all be gone like the parents and the other owl-kid. If he wanted his curiosity satisfied, he had to act quickly.

The teenage girl, apparently acting as a kind of escort to the rest, was hanging back to go last. Her eyes moved from each boy as he took his turn to scanning the train station, perhaps looking for anything unusual or out of place. Businessmen and tourists walked right past her without so much as glancing at her group, or at the boys making mad dashes at the barrier.

Her gaze fell on the spirit, and their eyes met. She looked suddenly nervous, as she realized he was watching them, and she fingered something in her pocket.

The secret to obtaining information is to assuage anxiety, he thought, and wanted to smile. It was time to take action.

Putting on a nervous face of his own, a look his timid host did very well, he shot a look to his right, as though looking to see if he was being watched, then approached the girl.

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "I don't suppose you could help me. You see, I'm...supposed to get on this particular train platform, a strange one, but I think I must be doing something wrong. Is there a trick to it?"

The spirit was taking a gamble. If this mysterious 'platform nine and three-quarters' was set to carry a limited number of passengers, and all the passengers knew one another's faces and names, or this was a kind of paranoid secret society accustomed to attempts at outside penetration by enemies, then she would instantly know him to be an outsider, and likely tell him nothing. However, if, as he suspected, this society was a large one, too large for every individual in on the secret to know every other member of the society, and the society was used to relying on whatever magic seemed to be repelling the surrounding ordinary people from taking notice of them to keep their existence a secret, the girl would feel no need to be suspicious of someone who seemed to be a part of her little world.

The girl blinked, looking taken a back for a moment. Then a look of relief swept over her features. "Oh, I get it. Yeah, I guess there is. Let me show you." When she saw one of the boys hanging back, looking at the spirit curiously, she waved insistently for him to go on.

This was a good first reception; however, the spirit wasn't yet fully satisfied that this wasn't just an act, put on by an ultra-paranoid society member attempting to put him at ease before she led him into a trap, so he gathered his concentration for a quick mind-read.

...but a Death Eater who doesn't know how to get onto Platform nine and three-quarters? Get real, girl, and stop acting like some petrified first year. But honestly, that getup is going to get him into trouble. He's pretty enough to be a member of a boy band, but what's with all that black?

The spirit had heard more than enough, and he cut the read short. The girl was no threat. Her suspicions had been checked for the time being, but he had to play his part just right to soothe her unease enough so that she would freely tell him what he most wanted to know. It was unfortunate he still had not unlocked the full power of the Millennium Eye, which would allow him to delve into any mind and dig out whatever information he desired. He looked forward to the day he would be able to avoid these tedious conversations.

"Is something wrong?" he said, injecting a nervous note into his voice as the girl continued to stare at him. "It's the coat, isn't it? I told my cousin it doesn't suit me, but he swore that it's the in-thing here, and the only way to make a good impression."

"It certainly does make an impression," she said, and although her voice was still polite, there was a dry quality about it.

When her eyes flickered to the scarf covering his eye, the spirit put a hand to his face and said, "Yeah, it's an old injury. I'm sorry, no one's been able to fix it. And my cousin said this was better than a patch."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't need to apologize." She shrugged then and turned toward the barrier. "Well then, let's go. All you need to do really is run and don't be afraid of crashing. Confidence is the key."

However, she shot a glance back at the spirit and looked him up and down, as though already suspecting this might be a problem. In imitating his host, the spirit knew confidence was not one thing he was exuding right now.

"Go ahead," she said. "Try it."

"I get it," said the spirit, giving her a smile. "Thank you so much, I appreciate the help. I think I can manage on my own now. You should go, your band is probably wondering where you are."

"You sure?" she said. "Maybe I should stay here a minute, just in case." Apparently despite her tough-girl demeanor, she had a motherly side she couldn't quite suppress.

"You go on," he said, "I still have one last thing I need to do." He did understand her instructions, and he thought it unlikely he would have any problem this time, but he still had no intention of humiliating himself in front of some mortal if success took a bit of tinkering.

"Okay," she said. "Maybe I'll see you on the other side, then." She turned back toward the barrier. However, she stopped a second and looked back. "Hey," she said. "I'm curious. Not knowing how to get onto the platform, you're obviously a transfer student from one of the other schools. Durmstrang, maybe? Why'd you leave? They chuck you out?"

Transfer student. There was a wealth of information in this statement. Unfortunately, this was also precisely the type of question where any possible answer he might give may reveal his ignorance and reignite her initial suspicions. The spirit hesitated.

However, the spirit was saved the trouble of coming up with a response as she said, "Sorry, I know, none of my business." She added as she turned toward the barrier again, "Before I go, I've got a word of a advice: if you don't want every self-appointed macho tough guy picking a fight with you at school, get into your robes as soon as possible, and don't ever let your cousin give you fashion advice again."

And with that, she had turned and strode briskly toward the barrier, where she disappeared from sight, vanishing without a trace.

The spirit did not follow immediately. Instead, he walked up to the wall and pressed his hand up against the cool surface. It felt real, perfectly solid, right down to the gritty texture of the bricks. Perhaps this was all some kind of elaborate prank, and all the people who had appeared to go right through the barrier were simply ghosts looking for a laugh. After all, what sort of magic would make him have to run at the wall as opposed to simply walking through it?

'It could be some sort of specialized illusion,' a part of him thought. 'A new kind of hologram.' There was only one way to discover the secret. And all the other secrets dancing beyond the tips of his fingers.

The spirit backed up and breathed deeply. He felt no fear, but a hard frustration began to well up within him. He preferred to be the one in control, knowing all there was to know of a situation as he manipulated his blindfolded enemies into his cleverly laid traps. Being the one in the dark, unsure of the rules and consequences of his own actions was...kind of irritating.

He readied himself, as he prepared to charge the solid-looking brick wall before him.

The spirit's stomach felt suddenly hard as iron. After all the bits and pieces of thought he had heard, the strange terms, the references to things so far outside his knowledge, his gut was telling him that there was much more behind this barrier than a simple 'hidden platform'.

'Fate must be in the mood to play,' a voice in his head that was not his host's commented coolly.

'Who cares?' a second voice argued savagely back. 'Let Fate do as he pleases—I will not be thwarted in my aims.'

'Indeed,' the spirit thought, agreeing with both of these thoughts. When dealing with such slippery concepts as 'fate' and 'destiny,' only two options existed. One could use 'fate' to fight and destroy those who opposed him. The spirit wasn't one to reject bits of good luck when they came his way. But, when fate seemed determined to work against him, he had a responsibility. He had to take control of his fate, manipulate the world around him until all was to his advantage once more.

The spirit closed his eye, then, giving himself over to his instincts, sprinted at the wall. This platform had more to it than just being hidden from the average mortal. Not just something more, but something that could ultimately serve him in his quest. Something that could make his power more immense than he ever could have imagined. 'Let me get through. Let me find the power to beat the Pharaoh at last...'

He suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Slowly, he allowed his single eye to slide open. The bright light almost blinded him for a moment before everything began to come into focus, large blurry shapes sharpening into recognizable objects. He stood there for a moment, just staring, before a broad grin crawled its way across his face.

A shiny, old-fashioned steam engine stood on its tracks. Bustling activity was all around him, many people flooding onto the train, trying to give hugs of goodbye and simultaneously juggle luggage half as big as they were. Scenes not so unlike that of the other platforms—but there was something different here.

Many wore various colors of robes that reminded him of the cloaks that Malik's ghouls used to have, and some wore tall, pointy hats, like those of witches from children's fairy tales. Posters with moving pictures hung all over the walls, bags floated above the ground trailing after their owners, among many other inextricable things happening all around him.

The spirit leaned over one man's shoulder to get a better look at a newspaper with moving pictures. 'Fascinating,' the spirit thought. Pictures that could move were not of particular interest to him, but he had to admit, it seemed to be real magic. It took him a moment to shift his focus from the images to what the paper actually reported, and his eyes narrowed.

War—Death Eaters—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—he had heard at least one of the terms before, but now that he saw it all in context, the true meaning began to dawn on him. The words aroused him, building up a mild curiosity until it grew into frenzied excitement. Those words were the proof he needed—if this magic could be used to terrorize, then it couldn't be all just about making pictures move and carrying luggage. Most certainly this magic was up to his standards. His eyes flickered back to the various terms and words of the newspaper. Yes...he would have this wizard magic.

The spirit grinned broadly, and laughed coarsely under his breath. "I'll have your head yet, Pharaoh," he said softly. "And it will start here..." He lifted his head to examine the sign above him, its large number gleaming in the late morning light. "...at platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"Don't you know I am the darkness?"

A/N: Some notes:

—School in England begins in the fall, school in Japan begins in the Spring, so I changed a comment from the original version of this chapter so it no longer implies/outright states Bakura's school begins in the fall. Way, way back in 2005, whether school years begin at different times during the year or not wasn't even a question I would have thought to ask.

—Jonouchi is Joey's Japanese name, and Honda is Tristan's.

Anyway, over the course of this editing process, I've tried my best to eliminate discrepancies and such, but if anyone notices anything, please be sure to point them out to me! (: I've only had time to read through this fic and edit one time, so there is likely, unfortunate as it is, countless errors.

10/20/13: Oh, and I edited this chapter yet again. When I went through and read YB's conversation with the random witch girl, I thought it felt flat, and their interaction sort of lacked believability, so for fun I went in and wrote something a little different. But when I went to edit it, somehow she went from random-fangirl-esque character to Ms. Personality...

So, while I've been getting back into working on this fanfiction again, I've substantially edited the first three chapters here. I would like to go back and revise or rewrite everything like I did before, but I know that time would be better spent finally getting to the new chapters of this story, working over the rough drafts I've already finished, and finally getting to the brand new material. So if you're reading through this and find the first three chapters readable, while those that come after are not, or seem to deteriorate, that's probably why.

Also, although last time I reposted chapters I said that I wouldn't, this time I went back and cut out a lot of the clutter from the chapters, including some old author's notes (some of them I just edited; I know, what's the point of going back and changing what I said back then? I don't know, I just felt like it. Likely no one will ever fathom the way my mind works, even I don't.), and replies to reviews. I read that ffnet now forbids you to reply to reviews this way, even if the rule doesn't seem to be strictly enforced. I don't think I said very much of value anyway, haha, I think most of the time I was just being silly. XD (Though it seems now I've added a lot of new clutter anyway.)

Well then, thank you all so much for reading, and putting up with my nostalgia about the past. I really appreciate you being here, whether it's through the entire thing, or only through the first few chapters. Thanks again, and if you like, leave me a comment and make my day! :J

Posted 11/6/05, reposted 4/8/14