CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON ME, I thought as I woke up that morning. The Ilvermorny sky was a patterned canvas dipped in the brightening hues of the deepest oranges and pinks. I had woken up just before the sun—for the latter had not graced a glimpse yet, let alone dominate the sky.

I knew he wouldn't. I knew God's mercy was restricted to the privileged alone, ones who were not connected to dark, bloodthirsty wizards terrorizing the very land God would have created. He would look at me—if he even existed—and laugh in the face of my request.

Mercy? Dominique Marie Grindelwald, you can have none of that.

The cool air washed through my skin, seeping into my bones as I made my way to shower. It was until I had stripped, and the scalding hot water hit my skin, did I realize how stiff my body was. I had slept the little hours of last night, the hours that Agilbert Fontaine had spared us by cutting his impromptu announcement session short. The hours that felt like mere minutes now, making me ask if I had even slept.

Nurmengard was today. I would be paying the visit to my great uncle today, and nobody knew it but me. I wished again then, that Gregorovitch knew. He had asked me to in the first place, hadn't he? If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been setting my sights to the Austrian Alps and the prison castle wedged amongst its snowy mountains. I wished he knew, just for the small consolation of having somebody know the trials in your head—albeit if only a single one.

He had known, and he still might if I hadn't tampered with his head. I just needed to repeat that fact in my mind and force myself to believe it and rely on the truth of it. Somebody would know then, that I was going to face my great uncle after not having seen him since I was ten. I would face him now, the consequences of all his actions a veil in front of his withered form, where a ten year old child had been blind to them before.

I wanted somebody to know, but I didn't want anybody to know. A dilemma I couldn't place, one layered with so many skins of iron, that I couldn't peel back each one despite how hard I tried.

Bridgette, Harry Potter, Zubair Dimitrova, and Viktor Krum. I didn't want any of them to know, and for the first time I analyzed why. It wasn't because I was ashamed to be related to Grindelwald, and that fact struck me like an arrow coursing through my chest.

A great, but evil wizard, Madame Maxime had declared.

How could one be ashamed of someone such as Gellert Grindelwald? One could be terrified, yes, haunted, yes, but ashamed? That wasn't possible, and it sure as the sky wasn't true for me.

I feared for my own life, and that of my mother's, were our connection to him be revealed. And that was all. With the danger of my life would come our demeaning status in the wizarding world, and once I was in that, it would be better to die by my own hands than live a life shrouded like that.

I feared him as well, I realized, though knowing very well that bound in chains as he was, and captive, he posed no threat. But it was his mind that was terrifying. You defeat a dark wizard, you bind him in chains, take away his wand and his followers, and throw him in a secluded cell in a castle in the Austrian Alps. But his mind and heart would remain as long as his life does. Those two things were far more terrorizing than the wizard's hands, because those were the two organs that had carried the most of his wrath in life.

So yes, I feared him, though I wouldn't admit it to the world. I feared him just the same.

Turning the shower off, I dried myself. The hot water had reddened my skin at some points, but it didn't matter. I dressed myself in my Beauxbatons uniform, making sure my extension pouch, with every necessity I had packed earlier for when I had decided to depart for Nurmengard alone, was still in my suitcase. I would be needing it for sure this time. There will be no detours this time.

I glanced at Bridgette, snoring softly in her bed. I didn't want her to come. Merlin, I didn't want her to come. She was safer here, but I knew she wouldn't give up, I knew she would come regardless of what I said. I didn't want Viktor Krum to come too, or his sidekick, Dimitrova. But those were fruitless worries, for I had a plan, the workings of which I had deciphered last night, pinning them to my memory before my eyes had drifted close.

It would be only me entering Gellert Grindelwald's cell in Nurmengard. My face would be the only one he would see after eight years of his captivity. I would make sure it wasn't any other way.

Brushing my hair and making sure my raven locks were done in loose curls, I put on my blue uniform hat and tucked my failing wand into my garter underneath my skirts. It wouldn't do for anyone to see my wand after having clearly announced that I had broken it, but where I was going at present, my new associates wouldn't dare speak a word regardless.

Quickly, I cast a rune in the air and with a last glance thrown at Bridgette's sleeping form, I shut my eyes just as the dorm around me started hurtling and the floor disappeared from beneath my feet.

The ground materialized underneath my feet and I opened my eyes to the stark greens and contrasting browns of the forest. The air smelled of wet pine and dingy moss. The trees all around me were lush in their growth, no winter had touched them yet. Miscellaneous softs filled the air, a collection of broken hawks and rustles one could only associate with a forest such as this one. Here, the sun was already high in the sky, marking it just past afternoon.

I took in a deep breath, oxygen marred with all the scents my nose had detected. My chest swirled with the freshness of it before I slowly exhaled. I felt calmer now.

Closing my eyes tight, I then summoned the German dwarf witch, Flora Fischer. The mark I had made on her was easy to find in my memory, since the guilt of it hadn't let me push it back to my crevices. Finding the mark, I pressed on it—focusing all my anger and frustration onto it so that the witch felt it all seep through her skin and into her bones.

I shouldn't have. A single strong press should've been enough, but once I started putting my fury somewhere, I wanted to let it all out so that my soul was left dry of it—however temporarily.

A sudden rustle sounded behind me, someone dropping to their knees. I swallowed a lump in my throat before steeling myself and slowly turning around to face the kneeling form of Flora Fisher, where no one had been before. The dwarf witch, wearing a tight household dress, heaved, holding her marked arm. I saw the blood seeping out from between the fingers of her good hand as she held her upper arm. Her dark green dress had darkened at the side, drenched in the blood bathing her entire left arm. Her knees, bare and muddy were tinted with the blue of her veins as leaves and sticks stuck to her perspiring skin.

"Get up," I let out, my jaw twitching as I forced my eyes away from the sight of her blood.

She looked up at me, with disbelief and mild fear swimming in her irises. I hadn't seen an expression like that when I had marked her. Perhaps she hadn't realized what that had fully entailed until now. Guilt swelled up inside me at the realization that I had gone too far with her mark, but I pushed it away. I had no space for guilt left at present.

With some difficulty, the dwarf witch hoisted herself on her fleshy legs, and I saw her knees shake slightly before she regained her composure.

"Where are the acolytes?" I asked, my tone firm, eyes bearing into hers.

"All in hiding, my lady," The witch stammered, her tone shaky. "In Liechtenstein."

My eyes dropped to her feet, she wore stark green pristine heeled pumps—unlike something someone would wear while in hiding.

"Where were you?"

The dwarf woman blinked, hesitation breaking through her little resolve. "I was there too, before I went back to Germany yesterday. I intended to return today."

"C'est incroyable," I hissed, "What business did you have back in Germany when I commanded you to be elsewhere?"

"The acolytes, my lady," Flora Fischer swallowed through her dry throat as she met my eyes again. "Barebone came back and started causing unrest. I had to meet him in Germany, away from our hiding place."

I stilled. The name sent waves of familiarity down my spine, the kind I couldn't place both positively or negatively. The visceral confusion that felt like I was grasping at threads so faint I could miss them if I blink. Just like when I had first heard the Fischer name.

"Barebone?"

"Credence Barebone, my lady," The dwarf witch rushed to answer. "He used to lead the acolytes in Grindelwald's name, and make sure we carried out our lord's wishes."

Credence Barebone. Aurelius Dumbledore. The one and the same. I remember him now, the one given full name was enough to flood the dam that had shut tight in my mind, the dam that had contained the knowledge I had acquired on him as a girl of nine going on ten. My great uncle's leading man, the head acolyte of Grindelwald's empire, before he renounced his allegiance and left.

"I know who he is," I uttered. "I remember."

My eyes fixed themselves on a nearby bush, its leaves rustled with the wind as a soft sound emerged from somewhere inside. An animal waking up perhaps.

"What does he want?" I asked after a pause. If Aurelius Dumbledore knew about me, if he knew that I had claimed my leadership over the acolytes, he might expose me—given that he was no longer loyal.

"He heard that I was leading the acolytes into hiding," Flora Fischer started, perspiration dotting on her forehead as she glanced at her wound. It was still freely bleeding down her arm, drenching the leaves and sticks under her stubby feet. "He heard that you had claimed leadership."

I bit back a furious curse. What might this look like to a man like Aurelius Dumbledore? An uprising? A revolt? A rebirth of the movement my great uncle had once centered? All wrong perceptions, all fucking falsehoods. I was keeping the acolytes close so that they could get closer to no one else but me. You take a pack of wolves, you lock them in a cage, then you swallow the key. Same strategy, but different wolves. If Grindelwald was planning something, he would have no acolytes to use—I would make them all such so that he won't recognize them anymore.

These acolytes needed a leader like they needed oxygen, and I would be that leader before anyone else can. I would rather it be me, than someone who would use them to cause more havoc than the wizarding world needs.

"What does he say?" I spoke, my tone plain, mind reeling.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

A third voice articulated from behind me and I heard the slot footsteps rustle on the forest ground, crunching leaves and twigs underneath a shiny polished boot.

Credence Barebone. Aurelius Dumbledore.

"Wow," I managed a smile, eyes fixed on Flora as she glanced behind me with eyes full of distaste at the unwanted guest.

"Never thought I would see Barebone acting on his own will," I continued, folding my arms across my chest and turning around slowly to face him. He was striking now, possibly taller than I remembered. Dark long hair, dark eyes and brows, a sharp jaw, the canvas of a slick pale skin wrapped around his muscle and bones.

"Did you miss being told what to do?" I tilted my head slightly, engaged in my observation of him.

The gullibility about him was no longer to be sensed now, perhaps it had killed itself with age. Though he looked not much older than the eighteen he had been when I had last seen him, being of age ten myself. Of course, it had been eight years since then. I was now the age he was when I last saw him, the age he had been when Grindelwald was so trusting of him that he would not hesitate to leave everything in his charge for however long he had to. 

"I am Aurelius Dumbledore," The man spoke, his jaw tightening as he neared me, stopping three feet away. "I've been so for eight years now."

"You didn't die then?" I inquired, amusement in my voice. "The Obscurus didn't kill you."

A deadly parasitic force, Obscurus enveloped and infected the unfortunate of those in the wizarding world, and when it went, it took their lives along. At the age of ten, I had heard of the illness for the first time. An eighteen year old inflicted with this terrible disease. It was supposed to explain why my great uncle lost his head acolyte's allegiance when he had needed it the most. My grandfather had tried to explain it to me, but he was never much good at playing the roles he was intended to.

"Yet," Aurelius let out, glancing at the dwarf witch, who had now dragged herself over to my side, still clutching her bleeding arm tight.

"I'm a miracle," He continued, resting his gaze back on me again. "My life is a testament to my power. Obscurus is no match for me."

I straightened, biting back an urge to scoff. "Do you need applause? Because I fear me and the dwarf make for a terrible audience."

I shouldn't be riling him up, I shouldn't be engaging in this devious banter—giving him reason to suspect outrageous things about me, but I couldn't help it. For all I knew, he must've already come to his own conclusions now, as wrong as they were. And my fury at that alone was what drove my temper by a leash.

"You resemble him, you know," The former Credence Barebone's tone was speculative, observing, as his dark eyes replicated the same essence, orbs pinned on my form, mind detached.

"Though not his silver hair, or those vastly different eyes," The wizard spoke, his voice polished, so much so that his confidence irked me in ways I couldn't decipher. What was his purpose? What did he want, reappearing amidst the acolytes after eight years?

"But those cheekbones, that jaw," The Obscurus wizard trailed, taking a small step forward as I stood unflinching, unmoving, eyes fixed steadily on him.

"That essence—it's all his likeness. You are his great niece."

I realized then that he must've doubted it before. Whatever conversation Flora Fischer had had with him, she had mentioned me and my connection to the dark wizard, and Barebone had refused to believe it. Now, he could see that he had been wrong, and I didn't have to prove anything to him for the conclusion to be made. The prospect was.. satisfying?

"Did you come all this way, tagging behind Fischer, to confirm merely this theory?" I asked, keeping my voice leveled.

The dwarf witch shifted uncomfortably beside me, twigs and leaves underneath her stubby feet. She had been careless, terribly so, to have led someone here unknowingly when I had called only for her, and she knew that.

"I may have," Albus Dumbledore's nephew spoke, his physique firm and his eyes moved slowly, contemplatively.

Affirming the connection in my mind, suddenly struck realization inside of me. It had been no secret, at least for me, that Grindelwald's head acolyte had been none other than one of the Dumbledores, a disregarded nephew, an unwanted son. Grindelwald knew the fact, it was why he had collected Barebone's loyalty in the first place. A young boy wizard eager to please a mighty one. My entire family knew, and when he had broken his allegiance to my great uncle, his destination and intentions following the act had been clear to us all. He had resumed the role of being a Dumbledore once again.

I wanted to snicker. Why should anyone trust a Dumbledore when they were flitting, unloyal wizards? Why, when they cast their own mercilessly aside in the first place? Hadn't Barebone suffered the same neglect, why then would he go back, turning away from the arm that had gathered him under a new wing?

I couldn't believe I had resorted to confiding in a Dumbledore myself, back at Ilvermorny. I hadn't, but I had made up my mind to do just the same. I had no options then, to find answers to my questions. And now I did. I did have options. I had the option of confronting my great uncle, the infamous Grindelwald myself.

"But I must admit, my curiosity as to your intentions had been greater," Aurelius Dumbledore's voice brought me back out of my reverie. "For what care have I as to who you are, I only find my curiosity lying under what you are doing."

I managed a plastic smile. "By all means, construct your questions and I shall see if I can answer."

Credence Barebone, Aurelius Dumbledore. He was not my enemy. The realization had taken a long time to come, but in the end, it had. This man—this wizard—was not my enemy. He may be Grindelwald's, following his betrayal, but he was not mine. But regardless, I must have his discretion, at least for a while.

"The acolytes," He spat out, his face hardening.

With features tightening like that, he could look menacing, But not to me, never to me. For some reason, no wizard was menacing to me once I knew they had a history in Grindelwald's periphery. Their history's were overshadowed by my great uncle's hard viscosity, his aura was heavy and darkening, effectively concealing everyone else's in his midst.

"Why are you gathering them?" Barebone continued. "They should be in Nurmengard or in Azkaban. Wherever the hell they were being kept. Did you break them out?"

I exhaled slowly, my eyes deepening into his gaze. How much can I hide from him? Should I hide anything at all? He had been my great uncle's confidant once, if there was someone walking on this earth who knew more about Grindelwald than the dark wizard himself, it was the former Credence Barebone. It was him. Perhaps, I needed his confidence. Perhaps acquiring it could aid me.

I turned to Flora Fischer, to find her large almond shaped eyes peering up at me in shock.

"Aller à la cachette," I let out, eyes firm into hers. "Stay low. The plan I informed you of last night is still to be done forth with."

Sending her back to the hiding place of the acolytes had clearly been a blow to her as her facial features twisted.

"But, my lady—," She insisted, letting go of her bleeding arm. The blood had dried somewhat crusting against her skin, and she no longer cared about the pain as it didn't overshadow the dilemma the dwarf witch was presently buried in. "You cannot trust Barebone to lead the acolytes! Une terrible erreur! Your great uncle made the same mistake—"

"Barebone will lead no acolyte for me," I glared at her.

The witch stumbled a step back, and then with a satisfied nod and her head hanging low, she pulled out a wand with her good hand, performed a quick spell and vanished, leaving the marks of her dripping blood on the twigs and leaves she had been standing upon.

I turned to look at the wizard in front of me. He had his arms folded now, across his chest. His dark clothing—suit—looked like mourning garb against his sickly pale skin.

"Why should I trust you?" I decided finally, my heart hammering inside my chest. I wanted to. Merlin, I wanted to trust someone with all that I was carrying, but why him?

"You have no choice," The wizard spoke. "If you don't, you return back to Ilvermorny and you are captured by Dementors, thrown into Nurmengard yourself. The risk is there."

My stomach tightened. Threats. How many more could I hear before they altogether stop affecting me?

"And if you don't return alive yourself to wherever you have to be, after this meeting," I forced my tone to become plain. "You'll find that the risk is here as well."

The man's jaw tightened.

"Did Fischer not tell you?" I inquired, relaxing slightly as he didn't respond. "I'm heuristic. I can take your Obscurus, and I can tug at it—tighten it. I can make it consume you, Aurelius Dumbledore. You will die on the spot. You will die the kind of death you brag to have overcome."

The former acolyte's lips parted, eyes swimming in intense intrigue and disbelief as he gaped at me. I could sense him trying to rein in his composure, and I could sense him failing at it. A pause ensued, as I waited. I waited for him to ask me, to prove what I had said somehow. But he didn't. His expression had morphed into that of resolve, and he had believed what I had said. Perhaps, he remembered a time years ago when Grindelwald himself might've confided in him about his great niece's heuristics. Barebone had been the dark wizard's confidant, he must have remembered that fleeting detail now. 

"Why are you gathering the acolytes?" He asked then, his tone sucked of any impending threat.

"To keep them away from his use—from anyone's use," I swallowed, choosing to respond honestly.

"His use?" The former Barebone caught on, eyes narrowing. "You believe Grindelwald may rise again to deem control on the acolytes?"

"I believe Grindelwald does have something akin to a plan, yes," My eyes fell to a drifting leaf nearby. "I'm just not confident on what it is."

"And you thought keeping the acolytes at Nurmengard in their cells was no longer beneficial?"

My eyes jerked towards him, frustrated at the change in his tone. "I did not break them out. It was him. Which is why I took them all under my control before he had a chance to."

And my great uncle wanted me to do just that, I continued in my head.

"Grindelwald is still at Nurmengard," Aurelius Dumbledore let out after a pause. "You believe he wanted his acolytes to break him out?"

You believe. You believe. The wizard's way of interrogation sounded like a play to challenge one's whole idea about oneself. It was as though he constructed laboratories in his head, putting each belief presented to him on a silver tray and dissected them.

"I believe so," I responded firmly, playing into his game.

He didn't let his own thinking betray through his expressions. Whether he had believed everything I had said and would say, was a mystery to me.

"I'm sure you are aware that not only acolytes have been broken out of their cells."

I tilted my head. "I am aware. And I believe that was Grindelwald's doing too—though I'm not sure why."

The former Credence Barebone looked at me, observing me, before he made a gesture with his hand. A calculated gesture that looked as though it was the most common thing in the world.

"Walk with me, Dominique Marie Grindelwald."

And so we walked. The forest was bustling with sounds of the afternoon. The pine scented air, damp with that of the smell of wet mold and thriving mushrooms lining the bases of tree trunks like fey circles. The trees—sharp smelling and fresh, burst through the air around me, and I felt as though each intake of breath cleansed me more each time.

"You are seeking The Elder Wand," The wizard's words were plain, as though he were merely suggesting his weather preference.

"Oui," I managed, keeping my eyes fixed ahead as we walked. "My great uncle knows where it is."

"Which is why you are heading to Nurmengard."

I glanced at him, the side of his face was marked with a sharp cheekbone, and his pale skin speckled pink at some spots. I didn't answer, trying my gaze away, for I knew he knew my answer very well.

"Noble deed indeed," The wizard started again. "To acquire The Elder Wand so that another cannot have it."

"Do not doubt my purpose when you do not know the reason," I snapped, my fists tightening at my side.

"Oh, to be sure," Aurelius Dumbledore tied his hands behind his back. "I know the reason, for I know someone else who seeks the very thing. And I would much rather you acquire it before he does."

"Voldemort," I exhaled sharply, dismissively. Frustrated by the same thing again.

The former Barebone nodded, a piece of his sleek hair brushing against his pale cheek as he grinned forcefully.

"You better believe it, kin of Grindelwald. For this dark wizard seeks to overthrow everything before him."

I glanced at him, confused, as he met my eyes. My lips parted, and before I could speak anything, the wizard touched a dark wand to my forehead.

My eyes enveloped in darkness and I found myself looking at the scene I had lived and then seen through the culprit's eyes, but this time through a third person's perspective. From outside a window. My feet were deep in a pile of snow as I looked through the dirty cottage glass. The scene was just as I had remembered it, but vastly different because this time, I saw one more face.

Gregorovitch was on his knees, his face contorted into agony as a wizard stood in front of him. Skin a dirty pale, stretched thin over the skull of his head, eyes green and sharp, a blank pale canvas in place of a nose and robes dark and grim blowing around the tall menacing skeleton form. The wizard's hands were sleek, knuckly, thin fingers extended around a sleeker wand, fingernails long and dark as he held his wand accusingly, viciously.

My hands, not my own, pressed up against the glass obviously. And the glass softly caved an inch, a small sound that made the vicious wizard's head spin towards me. I felt a fear envelope through me before everything went black.

I opened my eyes to the form of Grindelwald's former acolyte, Aurelius Dumbledore. His expression was marred in intrigue as he waited for me to recover. My heart pounded in my chest, as though it might break through and seep onto the ground at my feet.

I had seen a monster through the former Barebone's eyes. No ordinary wizard alive could look like that. No ordinary wizard alive could look like he was brought back from the dead. And this was no ordinary evil wizard.

"Voldemort," I gasped, realization finally drawing inside me. "He's really back."

Then I glanced back up at Aurelius, blinking. "And he saw you watching."

The wizard didn't respond, his eyes reflecting something. It was no mystery to suspect that someone who had been caught spying, had some knowledge of the purpose the act was being done. A wizard like Voldemort wouldn't want to leave witnesses in any case. If either Aurelius, or Krum and myself—hidden amidst the rubble, would've been well and truly caught, we could've been erased.

"You were there that night," I grasped at words again.

Had he been there the entire time? Had he been looking for The Elder Wand long before Gregorovitch put the idea into my head? Had he meant to confront Gregorovitch himself, before I showed up?

Voldemort, according to Harry Potter's claims, suspected heuristics, and he had seen Aurelius. This meant that he assigned his select death eaters after someone who he didn't realize were two different people. Harry Potter's vision had failed to catch the latter part—Grindelwald's former head acolyte's presence.

"You see," The wizard spoke up again. "I will aid you in acquiring The Elder Wand. Grindelwald will willingly tell of it to no one but you."

I bit back a response. It seemed as though everyone's trust in Grindelwald revealing information to me was stronger than my own. First Gregorovitch, and now Aurelius.

"With Voldemort on the horizon, you must prepare yourself for two dark wizards," He looked at me, and I didn't realize we had stopped. "If your heuristics is revealed, The Elder Wand will have a new use for both of them. Both will try to garner your power, and there's no one way bridge better for it than The Elder Wand."

"W-what are you saying?" I blanched, terror seeping into my bones. It made sense for Voldemort to try and—but Grindelwald? Why would he even consider such a thing? He wanted me to master it, didn't he? He wanted me to—

"They will take your power, Dominique," Aurelius let out. "They will want to have it once they have The Elder Wand. One does not have it yet, and does not know of you, while the other is presumably hiding it and knows not that you have grown into your power like he had hoped."

Was that why Grindelwald was so desperate to have me learn it?

'He searched high and low for someone who could teach you,' Flora Fischer's words swerved in my head, and my heart constricted in my chest. 'Grindelwald would be so proud when he finds out.'

"So," I started, swallowing an empty lump in my throat. "Are you here out of concern for me?"

The forced amusement was evident in my tone, a coping mechanism for the sick feeling in my stomach.

"I am here out of concern for the godforsaken wizarding world," The former Barebone uttered, fixing his eyes on the horizon. "I'm going to help you get The Elder Wand, and make sure that you and it, fall into neither wizard's hands."

I exhaled. He hadn't said anything about what he wanted for the wand once I had gotten it. If he wanted it in the hands of the wizarding authorities, like Viktor Krum, then Barebone would've said it. If he wanted it for himself, he would've said that too. But it seemed to me that Aurelius Dumbledore was not sure yet of what came after, or perhaps, he didn't care of what came after. Perhaps, his vengeance with Grindelwald was rooted so deep, he'd rather deprive the dark wizard of everything before dwelling onto what he would be getting in return.

"Why are you involving the acolytes in your plan to Nurmengard?"

The question caught me by surprise. Either he had sensed the idea in my conversation with Flora Fischer, or the dwarf witch had let it slip of her own accord in Germany when she had been arguing with this wizard.

"As a distraction," I let out. "I have some—friends coming along."

I chose the word carefully. It was going to be just a distraction. I wanted neither of them irreparably hurt. I just wanted them so fully distracted, that my whereabouts mattered naught to them in the moment. 

"They know of The Elder Wand, and my heuristics," I added. "But nothing about my connection to Grindelwald."

"How many?" The wizard asked.

"Three."

He nodded.

"I'll assist," Then he turned towards me. "It is only going to be you, facing Grindelwald in that cell, Dominique. I will be nearby, but if you have any sense, that is how you will force it to be." 

***

A/N:
New chapter. <3 Gosh, I've been having a bit of a writer's block lately. I'm trying to work through it so I apologize for this late update.