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SD: CH141 - Chains Of The Hollow
🕑 Added 2024-12-10 04:27:01 +0000 UTC“Biognosis,” Narcissa whispered. It was a basic diagnostic charm that identified what was wrong with the victim’s body. Instantly, ghostly symbols appeared floating in the air over Harry’s body.
“Hmm… according to this, unconscious, yes, but he’s fine physically… except for the part where he’s dying.”
“WHAT?” Several of them erupted all at once.
“Exactly what I said,” said the woman, taking a little too much glee at his discomfort. “There’s nothing physically wrong with him. But his vitals are fading for no reason. It’s like… his life is draining out of him. Events from the afternoon, I assume,” she said, giving Amelia Bones a sharp look.
“This afternoon,” said the DMLE Director, looking distinctly uncomfortable with all eyes on her. “Harry, Emmeline and I went to hunt the Dark Lord.”
“You WHAT?” demanded Granger, who had just come in.
Hestia fisted her hands.
Emmeline Vance fidgeted.
Narcissa’s lips curled. “And?”
“And… we took care of him. He’s trapped away, for good measure. I don’t foresee a situation where he’ll be able to free himself any time soon.”
“You’re tempting fate, Director,” murmured Vance.
“Either way,” said Amelia Bones sternly. “Point is, things went out of proportion. All three of us should’ve been dead, but then Harry did his… thing.”
“His thing?” repeated Narcissa.
“He saved us,” said Vance. “I’m not exactly certain how, but he used Necromancy or something like that against the Dark Lord, and absorbed all that dense energy into him. Of course, how he’s able to perform necromancy is another question but —”
“Merlin!” whispered Hestia Jones, her eyes going wide. “It’s like how it was back again.” She looked at Emmeline in shock. “Remember that night —”
“You can’t possibly mean,” said the Obliviator, catching on quickly. “All that power is….”
“For those of us that aren’t privy to what might have happened before, a little clarification might be better,” drawled Narcissa. “It might just help in, oh I don’t know, saving his life?”
“Harry is connected to the Dark Lord through his scar,” said Hestia. “Just before he went to the Greengrasses, his scar showed him visions of what the Dark Lord was doing.”
“So that’s how he knew Lucius was involved,” Narcissa murmured.
“His scar went out of control, and it started exuding tremendous amounts of necromantic energy. Hermione bore the direct brunt of it.”
“Yet she’s perfectly alive. And functioning.” And uppity.
“Yes,” said Jones. “Because Harry pulled it out of her. He was able to summon all that power out and… channel it elsewhere. But if he’s absorbed all that energy from the Dark Lord then…”
“It’s reacting,” said Narcissa. “If it’s the Dark Lord’s power, and the man himself is sealed away as you say, he might as well be using the power to corrupt Harry through the scar.”
“Is that even possible?” asked Anastasia.
“Quite,” said Narcissa. “I’m assuming that time-travelling, dark-lord defeating hero or not, Potter is no necromancer. He’s too… soft to have what it takes to be a true necromancer. The necromantic powers belong to the Dark Lord, and Potter is somehow channeling them through this scar of his.”
Narcissa paused, and cast several more spells at the scar, but to no avail.
“The Dark Lord can use the principles of Contagion to form a link between himself and the power that is definitely his, and use this scar as a medium to influence the energy’s current host. You-Know-Who has always been a gifted practitioner of the Dark Arts. I wouldn’t put it beyond him to attempt a long-distance possession if he was at the peak of his power, but as he is now, he could very well attempt to devour Potter’s power from inside.”
“Killing him by proxy,” Anastasia concluded.
“Precisely.”
“What are we doing about this?” asked Vance.
Narcissa looked at her, a sneer already forming in her features at the idea of working with someone so… puritanical in taste. Then she remembered that the woman was married and yet fucking a boy her Draco’s age, and she felt a little better.
Pausing, she cast several more spells at him. If he wasn’t her liege Lord, she’d have definitely considered her actions as a suitable life-debt to hold over him for the near future.
“Hmm, yes. I was right. His body is consuming itself, and there is little we can do to help him.”
“Surely that’s an exaggeration?” demanded Amelia Bones. “If it’s magical exhaustion, we can just infuse more magic and —”
“Wouldn’t help,” said Narcissa, shooting her plan down. “Supplying him with foreign magic will only exacerbate the situation. Even if his body somehow accepts the foreign magic in this situation, the necromantic power will just guzzle through it. It wouldn’t make a pint of difference.”
“What about potions?” offered Granger. “I think we still have Potent Exstimulo Potion leftover.”
Narcissa was caught between sneering at the mudblood for thinking she could contribute to anything constructive when she herself couldn’t, and being awestruck at the information she had just thrown at her face.
“Potent Exstimulo Potion?” she repeated.
“It’s a potion that —”
“Don’t try to teach me what potions are, girl!” she snapped. “Now just answer what I asked. Are you certain it’s Potent Exstimulo Potion?”
“Yes,” it was Anastasia that answered, meeting her gaze. “I would know. I brewed it.”
She —
No, Narcissa told herself furiously. She could get to the bottom of things later! Addressing the mudblood werewolf, she said, “Can you get me blood replenishers? And restorative draughts?”
“We have them,” said Granger and Jones together.
“Good,” drawled Narcissa, pointing her wand at Potter’s body. “Vitalis Arrestum.”
She looked at the others. “This is what’s going to happen. I’ll attempt a blood transfusion, and hope that between the potion and the blood-replenishers, his body will be able to produce some blood quickly. It should clear his blood from the residual necromantic taint, but it will also push him into a coma until he’s acquired enough brain function. It’s really the best I can think of at this point. So if there’s anyone with any brilliant alternatives, I’m open to ideas.”
“You’re ignoring one tiny thing,” said Jones.
Narcissa’s right eye twitched. “And what, pray tell?”
“The necromantic energy’s trying to activate whatever’s inside the scar, that is true. But Incubi and necromancers are opposites, aren’t they? It means that by boosting his incubus side we can also keep boosting him while we all prepare for the transfusion.”
“Wait,” said Anastasia. “Potter’s an Incubus? But I thought Wizarding Britain doesn’t have any incubi lineage left.”
“Yes. I suppose there’s more to Lily Potter than what meets the eye.”
“Evans!” Bones snapped, looking oddly annoyed for some reason.
“Same difference,” said Narcissa. “I was eventually planning on researching her lineage, but other issues rose up my to-do list. Assuming Potter lives the night and actually goes to Hogwarts for the next ten months, I’ll put it on my schedule.”
“I already have,” said Amelia. “She doesn’t have a trace of incubi blood in her veins. Not in her last five generations.”
“I… see,” said Narcissa, eyeing the Director, wondering the reason behind her sudden interest in Potter's mother. The woman was proving to be quite the study in contrasts. On one hand, Harry had supposedly resurrected her from death, and there was no doubt that she would stand with him if push came to pull. On the other hand, she had openly challenged his words and provoked him in front of the others when she should have put up a more agreeable mask.
At least for the time being.
Agree in public, disagree in private — that was the motto of Slytherin House.
Guess her Hufflepuff sorting existed for a reason, Narcissa thought, sneering.
Still, it was weird. Maybe she should look into Bones’s own history with the Potters and the how-and-why behind her ending on Potter’s dick.
Something for later.
“Either way, I think it’s for the best if we attempt to… well, boost his incubus form.”
“And… How do you plan on doing that?” asked Anastasia.
“Sex, obviously,” said Narcissa. “I am assuming if both sides are co-existing within him, an impossibility that needs research later…. But I suppose if the Dark Lord is influencing one half, then bolstering the other might help restore the balance.”
She eyed the young secretary. “You plan on doing what? Hopping on Potter’s dick and hope he’ll fuck you while unconscious?”
“Hasn’t stopped him before,” murmured Emmeline Vance.
“What was that?” asked Narcissa.
“Vance?” Bones asked, curious..
“It’s… it’s a long story,” she said. “Complicated.”
The Director sighed. “I suppose when it comes to Harry Potter, we all have our long and complicated stories. But I don’t agree. Already his lifeforce is plummeting. The last thing we want is him exerting himself even further. Perhaps sticking to the transfusion is a better idea.”
“I agree,” said the mudblood werewolf. “Who knows what kind of effects that might have on him.”
“Do I need to remind you he’s already being devoured by the necromantic energy?” Hestia Jones challenged. “Even if — and that’s a big if — we successfully transfuse his blood, his two parts need to be in balance.”
“No,” said Granger, and for the first time, Narcissa noticed something feral in her eyes. A sliver of something shiny, like a predator growling at you. One that wasn’t leaping at you because it was afraid, but because it wanted to avoid a confrontation and end up killing you.
“Um,” said Anastasia, raising her hand like a student in the classroom. “How about we work on all three ends at the same time?” At the surprised look on everybody’s faces, she said. “The Director is an expert on runes, isn’t she? How about she attempt a spiritual cleansing on his body? That should at least halt, if not cleanse the necromantic energy from taking over, right?”
“Meanwhile we can boost his incubus side,” said Hestia excitedly. “Yes, while Miss Black here can work on getting things ready for the blood transfusion. Yes, that would most definitely work.”
“I’m a runesmith, not a shaman,” Bones snapped, and Narcissa noticed an oddly hostile demeanor in her. And by the looks of it, Jones and Vance had noticed it too.
“And even if that might have worked,” said Granger, nodding at Bones agreeably. “Harry’s from the future, and he claimed that he was infected while killing demons. There’s no saying what a half-arsed effort could do to him, especially in this state.”
“News flash, Hermione,” Jones all but snapped. “He’s already dying.”
“Which is why we need to work on the transfusion,” growled the mudblood. “The risk is still too great. Maybe we should take him to St. Mungo’s and see what real certified healers have to say, instead of half-arsing our way through this. I… I think we should contact St. Mungo’s.”
She turned around towards the Floo, but Hestia grabbed her hand, shaking her head.
“If you do that, and they find traces of necromantic activity within him, it will raise all sorts of flags.”
“I think the girl has a valid point, Jones,” said Amelia, staring intently at Potter’s unconscious form. “I mean, other than him already being on a quickly exhausting time-limit, we have very little idea on his exact magical constitution. Even Malfoy —”
“Black!” snapped Narcissa.
“Whatever,” said the Director. “Even you claimed that his situation is unprecedented, did you not? A magical impossibility! Maybe we should at least and see if things change. Harry might be an Incubus, but the Necromancer is too a side of him. Perhaps he might… oh, I don’t know, morph is signature to the other side and things might go normal. He has done so multiple times in the past, hasn’t he?”
“I cannot articulate how stupid an idea it is to actually wait and see if he can shift magical constitutions to save himself while already dying,” Narcissa spat out.
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Bones growled angrily. “You were the one that put him on the path to killing Lucius Malfoy and everything else spiralled from there.”
At this point, everyone in the room was beginning to argue about what and what not to do with Harry, only Narcissa was distracted by the feeling of someone staring at her. She turned to her right, and found Emmeline Vance looking at her with a laser-sharp focus. Catching on, she observed the crowd around her, noting exactly who stood on either side of this increasingly angry debate. If they did nothing, it would devolve further into a spellfight, and nobody knew how that would turn out.
“ALL RIGHT, ENOUGH!” she yelled, a wandless sonorous ensuring that every single person got the message loud and clear. “Fine. I agree, we’ll just do the transfusion.”
“But —” Hestia began.
“Silence, Hestia,” said Emmeline, meeting the girl’s eyes intently. “We know what we’re doing.”
That halted the halfblood in her tracks.
“Now,’ said Narcissa, grabbing her wand. “I’ll begin the transfusion, so I need everyone to give me some space right NOW!”
“STUPEFY!” rang two voices, as streaks of crimson rushed out from her and Vance’s wand, hitting the Director and the mudblood werewolf.
Both of them dropped like a stone, while the others were immediately taken by surprise. It probably said something about Jones that she didn’t display anything apart from the slightest flinch, while Anastasia fumbled with her wand in shock.
“Don’t worry,” said Narcissa to the Greengrass matriarch. “There’s nothing to fear!”
“Nothing to fear?” the woman sputtered. “You just attacked the DMLE Director! What the bloody hell is going on? If you didn’t agree, you could just have —”
“Wouldn’t have worked,” said Narcissa. “Out of all of us, only Bones and the werewolf were vocal about the dangers of attempting anything to do with boosting Harry’s incubus powers.”
“Which is right,” said Anastasia, nodding vigorously, shaken by the sudden turn of events. “None of us are experts on incubi, not to mention —”
“Yes, and that would be very interesting,” said Vance. “Except that out of all of us, only the Director and Granger,” she sent a scowl at Narcissa which was easily ignored. “—were also affected by Harry’s necromancy. The director, when Harry resurrected her at the World Cup after the explosion killed her, and Granger — who was exposed to a shockingly potent degree of necromantic energy herself back when the scar first reacted.”
“You’re telling me…” murmured Hestia, white with fear. “That because both were exposed and corrupted by Necromancy, so infecting Harry would automatically infect them too?”
“Duh,” said Narcissa. “I did mention Contagion, did I not? The power Harry uses to perform Necromancy, the power he infected the girl and used to resurrect the Director… they all came from one source.”
“The scar,” said Hestia. “And thus, the Dark Lord himself.”
“Precisely,”said Narcissa.
A chill descended over the room as the remaining women realized to their horror the subtlety of the Dark Lord’s insidious powers. That Amelia Bones, the Director of the DMLE and the most powerful woman of the country, and Hermione Granger, a werewolf and the most physically powerful member of their reluctant group were being influenced courtesy of the power flowing through them sent a shudder down everyone’s spine.
“But…” Vance murmured. “The Director is a seventh-level Occlumens. Granger, I understand, but the Director…”
“She was resurrected using Necromancy,” said Hestia. “It’s part of her.”
“The one thing you can’t protect yourself from is yourself,” said Narcissa. “Same goes for the werewolf, I suppose.”
“The werewolf has a name!” snapped Vance.
Narcissa shrugged her off.
“Well,” said Anastasia. “That’s bloody creepy. That’s what it is.”
“Indeed,” said Narcissa. “But on the bright side. We managed to stop it from devolving into a spellfight. Now then, girl, with those two out of the picture, can we return to that earlier suggestion you made?”
....
....
....
For the longest time, I just floated aimlessly in a sea of darkness, unchained by physical restraints. Yet somehow, my limbs were paralysed and I couldn’t move. I struggled against the invisible, immaterial bonds until futility dawned and I sagged back into them.
What was going on?
What happened?
Who was I?
Harry.
That was my name, wasn’t it? Yes. Harry. Harry Potter.
There was a slight suspicion in the back of my mind that whispered that I was wrong. That I was someone else. Someone other than Harry Potter. Someone that had worn the flesh mask of Harry Potter so much that I was forgetting who I actually was. I was —
I was —
Who was I? I couldn’t remember.
As the rest of my memories oozed back in, my mind felt clearer than before. The cracks in my mind vanished, and everything booted back into focus.
And I stared.
And stared.
And stared in apprehension and wonder.
This was…. I don’t know, surreal, fast-paced? Hyper-real? I couldn’t find the right word to describe the futuristic landscape before my eyes. From the people, to the casinos, to the nightclubs and the blaring vehicles travelling at extreme speeds, there was something very familiar about it, a sharp contrast compared to the Victorian civilization that Wizarding Britain was intent on stagnating forever at.
But that wasn’t all there was.
I looked up and saw it.
A cloud, no, a sea of darkness. I had almost missed it with the bright lights and magnificence, but now that I saw it, I couldn't help but see anything else but it. A wall of shadows. Titanic would be a good way to describe it. And the worst part? There was this eerie feeling that this was only a part of it.
Its eyes were crimson. Its flesh, the darkness itself. A maddening, primordial light was glaring out of its sunken sockets for eyes. Dozens of little mouths lined with serrated teeth opened along its extended flanks, gasping at the world. Shadowy tentacles protruding out of its outer form were undulating in weird unison, the motion becoming more and more energetic, as the nasty thing moaned with a sound that felt both loud yet incomprehensible at the same time. An ocean of twisted protrusions were constantly branching off from its endless form, spreading into the grand city below. Malignant growths, like the diseased skin of a plague victim, they kept falling down to the unsuspecting nightlife below.
The noises it made… it was something no human should ever have to hear.
I realised what I was witnessing.
Armageddon. An Apocalypse. The end of the world. Whatever that thing was, it was feeding upon the city. Tearing it apart. Corrupting it to its very core.
“I wouldn’t exactly say it’s tearing it,” said a very familiar voice from behind me. I turned around and saw….
Myself?
“It’s like looking in a mirror, isn’t it?” It said, “Oh well, almost.”
I stared, slack jawed at my doppelganger as he —it? — whatever gazed back at me, with not an ounce of hostility in his features. No displays of power, no evidence of rage or any negative emotions. Yet, something about the exuded calmness invoked a primal feeling within me.
Fear.
“You are…. You are….”
“Greetings,” it said, smiling at the utter, utter silence pervading my mind. “I am the Incubus Lord, Master of Lecherous Shrine. And you are the bacteria that wears the name of Harry James Potter. It is about time we had a talk.”
....
....
....
“You know, part of me feels that I’m being way over my head, but another part of me is whispering in my ears that if a time-travelling halfblood half my age with some silly abilities can kill Lucius, take over his mantle, and turn Wizarding Britain’s economy upon itself, all in a summer vacation, then I should at least be able to do a magical blood transfusion successfully, right? Or else, I might just kill myself out of shame,” chatted Narcissa as she mixed multiple draughts and added complex incantations to prepare for her magical surgery. “I mean it would really suck if I failed.”
“Perhaps… there’s something you’re — ugh, uhm — missing?” suggested Anastasia.
“Could be, I mean, given the entire unprecedented case of dual incarnation of magical opposites inside the same body, but hey, I am an expert on the Dark Arts for nothing, right? So I suppose you are right. I can’t really blame myself, And even if things go horribly wrong… well, Harry would never know.”
Hestia’s right eye twitched.
“I’m telling you. It just doesn’t happen. Necromancers and Incubi have as much in common as thestrals and abraxans. I’d bet on Salazar Slytherin waking up from his grave, dancing, wearing a tutu that claims ‘Gryffindor is the Greatest’ than believe that it’s possible that Incubi magic and Necromancy can abide in the same being. It’s like expecting water to catch fire. Not only are they different, they are exact opposites!”
“But Potter is — ugh! Both! Oh! Oh! Oh! Shake that! Shake that vial!” Anastasia whimpered as she pushed herself up and down on Harry’s cock. And no, no amount of unconsciousness could keep it down from standing up in salute the moment a woman’s hands began fondling it.
Even when unconscious.
Truly a mystery greater than the Fidelius charm.
“We need a 0.6M solution, I know,” said Narcissa offhandedly. “I’ll manage. I’m not a Potions Mistress like you, but I am a dab hand at healing, and the Dark Arts. And this requires both. You just keep jumping on that cock, and maintain steady speed, will you?”
“I — I can’t — I don’t know how longer I can — ugh! Merlin! He’s so thick!”
“Not Merlin, Harry,” Narcissa corrected. “Though I can’t fault you for that comparison. As far as cocks go, his definitely qualifies for the Merlin-standard.”
“There’s a Merlin-standard?” asked Emmeline.
Narcissa shrugged. “Should be. For cocks anyway. Not that he’s got anything to fear. Even when he was just a middling, he had enough stamina to last me for hours until I was full of cum.”
“And… where was that?” asked Vance.
“Twilfit & Tattings, if you really must know. I walked in to see Potter about to explode inside that mud— oh, sorry, the apparently muggleborn Tracey Davis. I already knew he was a Black, and I couldn’t just let him waste his cum on lesser borns, could I? Only a Black has rights to another Black’s cum. Quite naturally, I took it for myself.”
She noted the stupefied looks everyone was giving her.
“What?”
“Only a Black has the right to another Black’s cum?” Vance repeated.
“Why yes,” said Narcissa. “Aunt Walburga had plans for me to marry Sirius after all. Then he got himself sorted to Gryffindor and sought to become Potter’s minion. Still, I had little Reggie with me in Slytherin. He always was such a sweet cunnilingus. Nothing compared to Harry of course, but you know what I mean.”
More staring.
“You’re… you’re such a bitch.”
“And you work for the Ministry. Nobody’s perfect. And come on, Ana, clench your pussy harder. And make some bloody noise! I’m sitting next to you and even I’m forgetting you’re even present here.”
“Ugh!” exclaimed Anastasia, and put her hands on Potter’s chest and began riding his dick harder. She had already cum twice and was still going great. Narcissa wondered if she would be able to go for three or would fall apart, given all the heavy breathing.
“Why — ugh! Why did I get selected for this?”
“It’s called a team effort,” said Narcissa sagely. “I have to do the transfusion, and Vance here needs to legilimize Harry constantly. Jones here is playing errand girl. That just leaves you and the clueless ones on the floor.”
“They’re stunned,” said Hestia.
“And hence, clueless. Honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck about the were…” she paused, noting Vance’s glare, “the girl, but I’m most fascinated by Bones. I should probably put that on the backburner until Harry goes off to Hogwarts. Honestly, it’s a terrible shame he’s got to spend ten months in that castle, with nothing but silly girls with barely a fuck or two under their belt. He’ll be wasted there.”
“And what do you suggest?” asked the girl.
“Why, be home-schooled, of course. I’m a Charms Mistress, and the only reason I don’t have a mastery in the Dark Arts is because I’d be oath-bound to list down every bit of Dark Arts trivia I know. And no, the Magisterium Arcanum cares not if you learned something from the Master you’re apprenticing with, or your own family libraries. That and the stupid oaths about silly abuse of my skills.”
“That’s a singularly biased way of telling it,” scoffed Vance. “There are ways around those oaths.”
“Eh, too much trouble for the little old me. Not that Lucius would let me have a career or anything. I was to be his pretty little trophy housewife, never to touch, only to stay all dainty and fresh and fragile like a china doll.”
Then she realised she had probably spoken a little too much. The entire room had fallen silent except for Anastasia, who for some reason, was steadily increasing in volume and speed, pushing herself up and down with an almost trance-like fervor.
“Either way, Potter would be better off home-schooled. He’s a Potter, so transfiguration is in his blood. Between myself, Vance and perhaps… Bones, he would be well-rounded in Charms, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and the psychic Arts. And he’s already way more gifted in Defence than is needed for his OWLs.”
“Hogwarts education is important,” said Vance.
“Yes! Yes!” said Anastasia.
“See, even she agrees.”
“For first-time goers, perhaps,” scoffed Narcissa. “But he’s doing it twice this time round, remember? He has to stay in Dumbledore’s castle, under the geezer’s spying eyes, constantly having to look for potential enemies. That and more sex. He’d have a better time here. And more sex too. And we’d be able to find out what that blasted scar is. Maybe even find a way to end the Dark Lord for good. And did I mention the sex?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“She agrees too,” Narcissa quipped.
“Yes! Yes! Oh Merlin, Oh! Anastasia sighed, her thighs colliding with his loudly. Her body was glistening with perspiration from the intense fucking she was inflicting upon herself. “It’s coming! It’s coming! It’s CUMMMING!”
It came.
Only that wasn’t the only thing it did.
One moment Anastasia screamed out at the top of her lungs, her body practically thrumming, her legs kicking upwards, as if trying to push herself off and impale herself deeper with his cock at the same time, when the dynamite of power exploded out of Harry Potter’s body. A visceral, intoxicating surge of raw, unrestrained dominance and allure was blasted all across the room and probably beyond, a shockwave that altered the very fabric of the room, leaving no one untouched.
“Ugh! What the hell was — Merlin’s beard!” exclaimed Narcissa, who had fallen on her butt. Everything else on her mind vanished, replaced by the sudden surge of awe, lust and fear as she stared at Anastasia’s eyes — now turned a hot, bold scarlet with a glossy sheen. The woman was rapidly jumping on his cock at inhuman speeds, like it was the only thing keeping her alive and entrenched upon this world. Her face was saturated with ecstasy as she kept nailing herself up and down, over and over and over, on top of a glowing Harry Potter.
“Would you look at that?” She breathed. “She’s —”
“His,” said Emmeline Vance, her own eyes also replaced by the same smoldering orbs of liquid desire. “Just like I am. Entirely. Utterly. Forever.”
“He is Desire incarnate,” said Hestia Jones, her eyes just like the other two. “And we are blessed to be consumed by it.”
Their clothes vanished from their bodies, and they jumped at Harry Potter’s unconscious form, ready to serve him with their lust, their bodies and their everything.
“Huh,” said Narcissa. “Didn’t see that coming.”
Comments
frosty gamur
really well done- dialogue was very nice and realistic
Elton2K Dre
Pureblood Narcissa uttering phrases such as "Huh" and "Duh"...
doryn
Narcissa is hilarious
Heroville111
Caint wait to read the conversation between him and the incubus lord. Great chapter
