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The Prisoner

Closing the door behind him, Captain Shoemaker took a sip of his coffee very quickly, and came to his desk. Joe was already there talking on the phone with someone who—by the manner of his responses—was not too happy.

‘Did you see it?’ Joe asked the Captain.

‘Yes, as did millions of other unfortunate Britons.’

‘You know already Stewart that the government is going charge us with finding this “V” fellow?’ Joe stated worriedly.

‘Oh com’on, he’s a terrorist. He’s not in our jurisdiction. The government will come down hard on the anti-terrorist department, not ours. Our job is to find this Granger girl’ Stewart insisted.

Stewart honestly hoped that the government would not place this “V” case on him. The Lord was already unhappy at his department’s lack of leads. The Markers supposedly found someone with connections to Granger, but Stewart was barred to meet with this person and ask questions.

But this “V” case would just cause a lot of troubles. Having already put his message on the television, overriding the broadcasts, the Lord would demand quick and drastic action, something that would be expected more from Markers. Stewart liked to investigate and understand the situation before taking action—something that the Lord was not pleased with in the last while.

‘Still, the Lord might want us to ditch the Granger case and focus on this V one. It has everyone up in a muck, plus we haven’t gotten far with Granger’ Joe explained, starting some work on the computer.

‘Yes, well, it doesn’t help that we haven’t been able to see that suspect.’

‘Perhaps you should try to ask the Markers again’ Joe suggested, as he had many times before. Stewart gave a sigh.

‘You know as I do that they won’t change. God knows whether the suspect is even alive anymore. Probably put away in a black bag never to be seen again.’

Just then, Stewart’s phone rang, and Joe stopped typing. Stewart gave him an apprehensive look, then picked up the phone slowly.

‘Captain Stewart, this is Conall Proccult from the Council. The Dark Lord has summoned a meeting to begin in twenty minutes, and you are to attend’ the voice on the phone said.

‘Twenty minutes! But I’m on the other side of town!’ Stewart bellowed to the Director of the Broadband Network.

‘I know Stewart, I know. Just hurry over, and for Pete’s sake don’t be late!’ Conall replied, hanging up.

Stewart immediately got up, grabbed his coat, and ran for the door. Joe was pleading with him to say what was going on, but Stewart just kept running. He tried the lift, however it was up on the tenth floor, and he was on the fourth. He waited to see if it was coming down, but annoyingly the number went to eleven, and he resolved to run down the stairs.

His brow was sweaty, and his hands slipped on the railing as he bolted down the stairs. He liked the old Metro Headquarters on Victoria Street and his old office, as it was on the second floor and easy to get to. Since the merger of the Metro and City police, the new headquarters—nicknamed the Vault, as all the walls were made of metal siding—he never really liked his new office. He liked having his own office, with window and near the ground. Not to say he did not like Joe, he was a good partner, but there was some calm in having your own place to work alone.

As he stumbled down the last stairs, he finally made it to the underground garage. He gave an angry groan when he opened the door, seeing the lift that was up on eleven now emptying several people in front of him in the garage, and he pushed his way through the tiny throng of people who were lazily leaving said lift. He received many angry comments from the people about learning some manners and watching where he was going, but he let them fuel his rage at the elevator and having already wasted five of his precious twenty minutes.

He got in his car, and floored the accelerator. He prayed that traffic would not be terrible, but just getting out of the garage took another five minutes, with cars slowly exiting. One woman continued to talk to the attendant after showing her parking badge, and Stewart resolved to wail on his horn and shout. Of course the woman cursed at him to show more respect, and he delightfully responded with several hand gestures and more shouting. Needless to say that the attendant told him much the same words as the woman and the people from the lift did about manners.

Checking the clock and dodging as much traffic that he could, he finally arrived at the government buildings. He was, of course, ten minutes late. It was a miracle he wasn’t thirty, but he quickly parked his car, and ran out towards the front entrance. He was in such a hurry, he did not even bother to make sure the doors were locked, which was part of his routine, since it was a department car. Fear of being punished by the Dark Lord was making him forget.

Running up and getting the lift to the upper levels, he tried desperately to fix his hair and his tie as the lift rose. He wished there was a mirror, but there was not, so he resolved to try and use the semi-reflective surface of the number console.

Reaching level twenty-one, he came out and briskly walked towards the council room. He had to go through numerous security checks by both law enforcement and Markers, which slowed him down more, but he finally got into the council chambers. By this time however, the Dark Lord was already hearing from members of the council. Trying to make a quiet entrance would be impossible.

‘Then, my Lord, he was able to override the signal and broadcast. Our best signal specialists are trying to resolve the error and pinpoint the signal’s whereabouts, however the shortness of the transmission will make it difficult’ Conall spoke quietly, hoping not to incur the Lord’s wrath. Lucky for him, Stewart was just taking his seat.

‘Shhhhhoemaker’ the Dark Lord spoke from the screen, hissing menacingly.

‘Apologies, My Lord. I was detained by traffic’ he explained.

Traffic is no excuse Shoemaker. Neither is incompetence. You are already failing me with this Granger girl, do not make me any more disappointed’ the Dark Lord warned. Stewart knew that this was a warning that he was on his last chance. Normally, this would be his first chance, but with the Dark Lord, your first was always your last.

‘I won’t My Lord. The Markers have a suspect who may have information that can help our case, however I have been unable to contact this suspect’ Stewart voiced carefully. He wanted the Dark Lord to understand that he was being impeded by the Markers, but at the same time, not make an enemy of Mr. Malfoy, Head of Markman for London Proper.

Unfortunately, it was not that easy for Stewart. The Dark Lord seemed to think for a moment on the point, while Mr. Malfoy gave an evil sneer at Stewart. He was clearly not pleased by what he said.

‘Isss . . . this true Malfoy?’ the dark figure asked, his red eyes looking towards the pale-faced man from the large screen.

‘Longbottom is being questioned, yes. We will soon know everything. I don’t want any . . . Muggle, traipsing around’ he answered, giving a look of what Stewart could only call disgust towards him. Stewart heard some of the council call people “Muggles” before. It didn’t sound as bad as being a “Mudblood” like they called the Granger woman, but “Muggles,” whatever they were, did not command much respect to most of the council. Having Mr. Malfoy call him one, Stewart was done with trying to keep Mr. Malfoy on his good side.

‘My Lord’ Stewart spoke up, not caring how Mr. Malfoy responded, ‘this witness has information on Granger. He is our only lead on where she may be, and I must be allowed to see him.’

‘Be silent Shoemaker, before I make you silent’ the Dark Lord ordered harshly. Stewart tried to not even breathe, not wishing to enrage the Lord more than he already was.

The Dark Lord took a long, hissing breath, whispering something in some foul sounding language, before opening his red eyes again.

‘Malfoy, you will allow Shoemaker to speak to Longbottom. Keep a close eye on both, and if Longbottom lets anything slip, silence him . . . permanently.’

‘Yes, My Lord’ Malfoy responded obediently.

‘And Shoemaker’ the Dark Lord added, Stewart looking up. ‘Since you seem so eager to prove yourself, you will find this “V”, and bring him to me. Understood?’ At this, Malfoy spoke up in defiance.

‘My Lord, with all respect, Markers should look-‘

Suddenly, Malfoy became silent. Stewart looked over, and found Malfoy trying to mouth the words, but nothing coming out. It was as if someone hit the mute button on the man. Stewart did not mind it actually.

‘You are already behind in trying to find who killed Dolohov. Unless you wish never to speak again, you will do what I say and not question my plans’ the Dark Lord insisted, waving his hand, finally some sound emanating from Malfoy. Stewart could not explain what happened, but did not bother to try to understand. His job told him enough not to question odd things like that, especially in this room.

‘Yes, My Lord’ Malfoy answered quietly, taking his seat slowly.

‘Wormtail’ the Dark Lord summoned, a rat-like man with dirty clothes looking up from his end of the table. ‘You will accompany Shoemaker to the Marker Offices. Make sure he arrives, and understands the situation.’

‘Yes, My Lord. Whatever you command’ he groveled, Stewart giving a grimace over the news. Stewart never thought this Wormtail fellow deserved to be on the council. He looked terrible, he gave the strangest looks at people, and he smelled like a garbage dump. Not exactly the company you would desire.

‘Proccult’ the Dark Lord then addressed. ‘Broadcast about this man and the need to combat against such acts and messages. Connect this “V” to murders and crime. I want him hated by Muggles by the end of the week.’ Stewart knew this would be a daunting task, considering it was already Thursday. Many times the Dark Lord called the general public as “Muggles,” which again made it difficult for Stewart to define who “Muggles” actually were.

‘Of course My Lord’ Proccult responded confidently. ‘News on the Broadband is already on about his terrorist activities, and possible links to the King’s Cross Massacre last year.’

‘Good, good. You are doing me well Proccult’ the Dark Lord praised, which Stewart knew was rare. Proccult knew how to handle it, and merely nodded.

‘Bellatrix, stay. The rest of you, leave us.’

Everyone got up, and left the room quietly. Such a short meeting, Stewart was upset about rushing so much. However he got what he wanted, even if it was chaperoned by a disgusting man.

The door closing, Bella cast a Silencing Charm on the room, and looked back at the Dark Lord.

‘Yes, My Lord?’ she asked devotedly.

‘What do you make of this Muggle, Shoemaker?’ Voldemort asked. Bella was suddenly overwhelmed at the Dark Lord asking for her opinion, but she tried to sound normal.

‘He is digging. He knows something, and if needed, he may need to be killed’ Bella stated, looking up carefully at the Dark Lord for a response. Voldemort waited for a moment, before speaking.

‘He knows we are not filthy Muggles. He does not know exactly what we are, but he must not be allowed to find out. You will follow him, see what he is doing. Kill him if he learns too much.’

‘Of course, My Lord’ Bella responded.

Meanwhile outside, Stewart was trying to keep Wormtail behind him so he would not have to walk into his smell. The closest thing he could attribute Wormtail’s smell to was that of an unclean hamster cage.

‘So what do you know of Granger so far?’ Wormtail asked as they exited the building.

‘Not much, unfortunately. Not much information on the computer databases’ Stewart spoke quickly. He did not want to get into a conversation with this “Wormtail” fellow.

‘Date basics?’ Wormtail asked, Stewart rolling his eyes. Not only was he fat, dirty, and smelly; he was also stupid.

‘No, databases. You know, computers?’ Stewart tried to reason. Wormtail looked like he was either a little confused or totally confused.

‘Never mind’ Stewart added, reaching his car.

He put his key into the lock, but found it was already open. He must have forgotten to lock it in his rush. Worry entered his mind when he realized police records and information about Granger was in the car. He immediately opened the car door, and began checking all the files and information.

Stewart sighed in relief; everything was there, and nothing had been stolen. Wormtail meanwhile took a seat on the other side of the car, adjusting his rump and making the car sway.

‘Here, sat on this’ he mentioned, handing over a file. Stewart closed the car door, and took hold of the file. He looked at it, and realized this was not his—at least not before. He opened it up, and a note was inside.

All the world is a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and entrances;
Each man in his time plays many parts.*

Your entrance comes soon my dear friend,
Into a world you do not know.
Ask dear Neville where Hermione is;
Tell him V has sent you.

Ask quickly and do not tell anyone his answer,
You must fight for freedom and truth.
You are on Granger’s side;
Beware of Voldemort.


Stewart quickly snapped the file shut, and was mouthing the words of the sentences. This letter was from V, which means he was right there, in front of the government buildings themselves!

But how did this terrorist know all this information? He knew who Granger was, which meant they were connected. This was something that did not make Stewart happy, but it did explain why the Dark Lord put him on both cases. He must think that they are working against the government together in some way.

Also, who is this Neville? Is he this Longbottom fellow he was about to go meet? And what is this Voldemort that he has to watch out for? It sounded like a type of French cheese, but was it a building, a place, a person?

‘Detective?’ Wormtail questioned, looking at him with a queer look.

‘Oh, yes, sorry. Thank you for my file. Let’s get going’ Stewart insisted, stowing the file underneath his seat. He did not want Wormtail to read that note, as it could make it look like he was in league with this V fellow. Not something he needed at the moment.

Driving off, the two quickly made it to the Marker Offices. They were rather obscure buildings, nestled in the middle of a market. It was as if they were placed there so they would not be noticed by most people. It worked to, as market goers simply walked past the buildings as if they were not there. It was peculiar, but again, Stewart was used to strangeness.

Wormtail led the way, and Stewart quickly followed. He had never been into the Marker Offices, and he hoped not to be in for too much of a surprise.

Opening the front door, the building inside looked nothing like that of the outside. The outside looked drab, fairly normal compared to the rest of the block. On the inside however, the walls were made of aged stone, and the floor of polished black marble. Chandeliers lit the hallway through which they walked, which looked much wider than the width of the building from the outside. The ceiling was vaulted, and all along the sides, of all things, dozens of fireplaces stood. Stewart guessed it was an old building built before furnaces were invented.

Reaching a sort of entrance desk, a gloomy looking man looked over Wormtail with disgust, and then over Stewart with a slight oddness.

‘Name and’ he added with another look over Wormtail, ‘purpose.’

‘The Dark Lord has ordered us from the Council, to see Longbottom’ Wormtail told the hallow-faced man. He looked down at a sheet, and nodded, waving the two of them forward with a grunt. Wormtail ushered Stewart forward, and the two began towards a lift.

So many strange looking people were walking through the halls, Stewart kept stopping to see if his eyes were working properly. He was used to seeing strange things—like Malfoy suddenly put on mute, or that Granger woman vanishing—but some things he glanced at along this trip were beyond those. Getting a tug from Wormtail—who seemed to know his way around this labyrinth—Stewart swore he saw a man emerge from a green flame in a fireplace without catching fire. Men and woman, all looking quite pale and unhealthy, were walking around in dark robes like those worn at graduation ceremonies. He wondered for a moment if the building was a school for zombies.

Finally going on one more lift ride, Stewart standing out in his white shirt and blue tie from all the black cloaks of the other passengers, he was pulled from the lift by Wormtail. He found himself in a very dark chamber, with at least a dozen doors leading off in all directions. One man sat behind a desk with only two very ancient candles lighting all the masses of paperwork on top. Clearly, to Stewart, they needed to upgrade this department. Having lights and a computer would definitely improve the working conditions.

‘Name’ the man behind the desk asked gruffly.

‘Peter Pettigrew, Council Advisor’ Wormtail spoke. Now Stewart realized that “Wormtail” was not his actually name. It surprised him a bit.

‘Name’ the man asked again, giving a glance at Stewart.

‘Oh, um, Stewart Shoemaker, Captain, London Police.’

Just then one of the side doors opened, and the dull grey eyes of Mr. Malfoy came upon Stewart. He smirked in his usual snide manner, and closed the door behind him.

‘These . . . people, are with me Driscoll’ Malfoy informed the man behind the desk. He did not reply, but rather continued with his stacks of paper work.

‘The Dark Lord wants you to see Longbottom, or what’s left of him anyway. This way’ Malfoy said, motioning towards the door he just came out of. Mr. Malfoy gave a look of disgust at Wormtail, and Stewart followed him.

Having Mr. Malfoy behind him did not improve his confidence in this strange building. It reminded him of old horror movies, the ones where the characters were stuck in a haunted house. They all looked the same: dark, menacing, and full of the strangest sounds and echoes.

Wormtail turned down a corridor, but just as Stewart was going to turn, Malfoy brushed him aside callously.

‘Where are you going you idiot?’ he questioned Wormtail, who turned around in a curious rat-like manner.

‘I thought-‘

‘Yes, well, your thinking isn’t your strong point now is it Wormtail?’ Malfoy remarked snidely, turning and continuing down the hall. ‘Now being a worthless piece of half-blood filth, you perform admirably, don’t you Wormtail?’

Stewart looked to Wormtail behind him, but he remained silent. Though again Stewart had no idea what Malfoy called Wormtail, he knew well enough to know it was not something pleasant.

Malfoy seemed unhappy with the lack of response, and stopped as they moved down a right corridor, and turned. The darkness of the hallway, only lit by the odd torch light, and the darkness of Malfoy’s robes made it difficult to notice he stopped.

‘Well Wormtail?’ Malfoy asked.

‘I am only to lead Shoemaker to-‘

‘I don’t care Wormtail, answer my question’ Malfoy put maliciously. Wormtail looked to his feet with some distain and anger, and looked up again.

‘I . . . am’ he whispered, still looking away.

‘What was that Wormtail?’ Malfoy asked, Stewart getting impatient.

‘Are we going to-‘

‘Be silent you Muggle filth! You are in my world now, and you will obey me or else’ Malfoy threatened, brandishing what appeared to be a wooden stick, something like a magician’s wand. Stewart was going to laugh for a moment, wondering how a stick could intimidate him, but he had to remember he was in the Marker Offices, and that he was powerless here. He only had one thing to work with.

‘The Dark Lord will be quite displeased to hear if you did not cooperate with my investigation’ Stewart threatened. He had no power himself, but the Dark Lord wanted his investigation to succeed. To hear that Malfoy disobeyed the Dark Lord’s orders after already getting him mad, might just cause Mr. Malfoy to be posted to the front desk.

Malfoy glared at Stewart with his dull grey eyes, glanced at Wormtail, and grunted as he turned and continued down the hallway at a quick pace. Stewart did not bother to look at Wormtail, and merely followed.

Turning down a final corridor, where several heavy wooden doors went off, Malfoy stopped in front of the last one, and waved his wooden stick in front. Somehow there was a click of a lock, and he opened the heavy door slowly.

The stench from the cell hit Stewart like a wall. He was almost overpowered by the repulsive smell, and came close to being sick to his stomach. Luckily, he was able to take a moment to gain his bearings, and looked inside.

There was a small cell, lined with stone. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high, and from the one torch bracketed on the far wall, Stewart could make a crumpled form in one of the corners.

‘Rennervate’ Malfoy spoke, pointing his stick at the corner. Stewart wondered if that was a command or something. He was beginning to question Malfoy’s sanity, when suddenly the pile in the corner began to move. It was then he realized that the pile was actually a person. The face of a man looked up from the corner, and Stewart stepped back.

‘My God’ Stewart mumbled.

The man in the corner had gashes all across his face. Most were still bleeding, telling Stewart he had just been tortured. His hair was matted in blood, and he looked up at them with only one eye. Stewart did not know if it was because the other was injured, the blood coming from his head bothered it, or he only had one eye.

‘Ask your questions Shoemaker’ Malfoy demanded. Stewart continued to stare at the horribly disfigured man in front of him on the floor, until he suddenly heard Malfoy’s words. He looked at Malfoy with utter disbelief.

‘What have you done to this man? What in God’s name have you done!’

‘Oh shut up Shoemaker! If you will not ask your questions, then get out’ Malfoy argued, pointing to the door.

Stewart looked at Malfoy, then at the man on the floor—who’s expression, if readable, was far off and distant—and then to Wormtail, who was staring at the man on the floor. Stewart knew he had to ask his questions, but the letter V had left for him was now coming back to him. He had to ask him about Granger and where she could be, and he had to do it alone.

‘Alright, out, both of you!’ Malfoy ordered.

‘No, I will ask my questions, and you will leave me alone with this man’ Stewart told Malfoy, his expression growing mad.

‘You will not order me!’

‘You will leave me with this man, or suffer the consequences from the Dark Lord!’ Stewart shouted, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Malfoy looked appalled by such words. He looked at the man on the floor, then Wormtail, and realized he had no choice. He did not fear Stewart, but he did the Dark Lord.

‘Five minutes, then you are finished!’ Malfoy bellowed. He turned, his cloak swaying behind him as he walked out the doorway. Wormtail looked at Stewart questioningly, and Stewart told him to leave as well. He gave a glance at the man in the corner, frowned, and left quietly, shutting the door behind him.

Stewart turned, and looked at the man in the corner for a moment. One eye looked up at him faintly, and he took a step forward. The man cringed, and Stewart tried to reassure him.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. My name is Captain Shoemak-‘ he started, noticing the eye of the man flickering up at him.

‘My name is Stewart. I need to find Miss Granger, can you tell me where she is?’

The man looked at him for a moment, then turned his glance away off to the stones. Stewart could not fathom what his mind was going through. He could have been tortured for days, weeks even.

Stewart sighed, then remembered more of what the letter said. He took a guess, and hoped he was correct.

‘Neville’ he whispered, the eye snapping to him. This broken man was indeed Neville Longbottom. ‘V sent me. He left me note, telling me to come and meet you. He said you would know where Hermione is. Please, tell me.’

Neville looked at Stewart for moment, before closing his eye and breathing.

‘vuh- . . .vuh- . . . V sent you?’ he murmured with a scratchy voice. Stewart looked behind him to be reassured the door was closed, and he nodded.

‘Th- . . . thank . . . Merlin’ he whispered, Stewart not understanding. ‘She . . . she’s at . . . ‘

‘Yes? Please tell me Neville.’ Neville’s breathing was shallow, and Stewart leaned forward to try and hear.

‘King’s Lynn’ Neville whispered, reaching up slowly and placing a frail hand on Stewart’s shoulder. Stewart looked at him, and could see the pain he was in from the act.

‘Help . . . help her. You must . . . fight Voldemort . . .’

‘Who is Voldy-more? Why should I help her?’ Stewart asked hastily. His time was running thin.

Behind them, Stewart could hear the door being unlocked, and at this Neville pulled him closer.

‘We are . . . wizards!’

He gave something to Stewart quickly, and Stewart put it in his pocket before realizing what it was. Malfoy came bounding into the cell, and pulled Stewart up from behind.

‘That is enough you Muggle filth! You have had your time, now get out while you can!’ Malfoy yelled. Stewart looked at Neville on the floor. He still could not believe the last statement he said, it had to be a joke. Unfortunately he did not have time to process the information.

‘Out!’ Malfoy fumed, reaching for his waist. Stewart feared he had a gun, and backed away. Wormtail ushered him out of the cell quickly. Stewart took one last glance at Neville on the floor, before being brought down the corridor.

He had so many questions to ask, but he had no choice. Wormtail was pushing him along, but stopped suddenly when a bright green light came from Neville’s cell. Wormtail stopped pushing, and both of them turned to see Malfoy exiting the cell with a smirk.

‘I said out Wormtail. Unless you want to end up like Longbottom . . .’ he threatened. Wormtail continued to push Stewart out, and the two exited the Marker Offices as fast as possible. Stewart was easily aware that Wormtail was more frightened of Malfoy than he was.

Once outside in the market place, they quickly walked to Stewart’s car, and sat down. Wormtail did not say a word, and Stewart looked at the dash in thought.

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Stewart asked, glancing at Wormtail. Wormtail was still looking down, but he nodded. He looked sad about what happened, which surprised Stewart a bit. Wormtail was a Council Member, and he was always sniveling and contriving, never really remorseful.

‘Shall I take you back to the Council Chambers?’ Stewart asked. Wormtail glanced at him for a moment, before shaking his head.

‘No, I will go myself’ he answered, getting out of the car without another word. Stewart accepted this, and watched him walk away into the market.

Stewart drove his car out of the market, and down a side street. He stopped, parked his car, and took out the file from underneath his seat. Rereading the note, he pondered on what it all meant.

Neville told him he had to fight Voldemort, so that made sense now with V’s warning. Stewart still had no idea what Voldemort was, but being a person or organization made the most sense now.

If V says that he’s on Granger’s side, is that why Neville asked him to help her? He still had no idea why the Marker’s really wanted Granger, except that she supposedly killed two Markers. This never really made sense to Stewart though, and it was becoming more and more unrealistic.

And what was this “we are wizards”? Did he actually mean magicians? Why did it matter? It looked like a magician’s school, though a bit darker than he expected. Most magicians he saw were, yes, corny, but pretty lively and bright. The people he saw, if they were magicians, where definitely not the life of the party.

But this made no sense. Markers were dark, they were mysterious, and they deadly. He had seen what looked like a magic wand that Malfoy had, but it was made of wood. Were magicians’ wands not made of plastic?

It was giving Stewart a headache trying to make heads or tails of it. He was glad at least he got a location for Granger: King’s Lynn. He had to keep the place a secret, not just because this V told him so. V was a terrorist, and he could not be trusted—even if his advice helped with Neville. He had to keep Granger’s location a secret so that the Markers would not take over and black bag her, and do what they did to Neville.

Remembering Neville’s last glance, he suddenly remembered that he had something in his pocket. He reached in, and took out what Neville had given him.

It was a cat collar, with the name “Crookshanks” on it.

A/N - So there you are folks! Another chapter, and this one starts off some new plotlines and twists. I hope you're enjoying it so far, 'cause it's going to get much more involved. And I do apologize that we did not see Hermione or V in this chapter, but they'll make appearances in the next one! In the meantime, please review and let me know your thoughts!

Spell/Name/Verse Meanings:
Conall Proccult - Conall = Gaelic: strong wolf, Proccult = Latin: prope: closely, occultus: hidden (Conall Proccult = A strong wolf closely hidden)
Driscoll - From Eirdirsceol may mean "messenger" in Gaelic
*Quote from As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII

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