Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit.
Acknowledgments: Zaion Indulias for the beta work on this chapter. Also this idea stems from ideas kicked around by Zaion and myself. So he also gets credit there, as well as helping with the title and summary.
"Potter swerves around Lynch and dives down toward the loose Quaffle. The Catapults seeker ignores him. Potter punches the quaffle back up toward a mob of chasers. There's a midair scrum and the Catapults gain possession as Potter speeds off after Lynch," Reginald Dickerson, the voice of British Quidditch for nearly thirty years, announced in his famous staccato.
He hadn't been scheduled to broadcast this game. In fact, it wasn't even going to be announced locally up until a few days earlier. But the network decided it was too good of an opportunity to pass up, despite being a competition between the two worst teams in the British and Irish Quidditch League.
Neither Harry Potter or Aidan Lynch were listening to Dickerson, they were each too busy looking for the snitch. But there were others listening. Derrick Lunfrey, for one, sat in his box and watched the team he'd constructed play. His eyes lingered on the Cheery Owls cereal advertisement that was on the wall in front of him. He hoped his team could live up to the expectations, and turn everything around.
The general consensus from media and fans was the one of the teams wouldn't be terrible for much longer.
Most fans of the Falmouth Falcons thought the press release was a joke when they'd read it. After all, it had been twenty years since they'd even sniffed the playoffs, and thirty since their last title. In that time their team had transformed from a hard-nosed, tough but clean perennial contender, to a mismanaged mess that often lost twice as many games as they won.
Naturally, attendance and interest dwindled. For a time, Falcons weren't even recognized in Falmouth. There was talk of the owner selling the team, or attempting to move. But none of that ever turned out to be much more than talk. They settled into a routine of ineptness. And the fans had to content themselves with simply beating Chudley year in and year out and hoping that a hot shot draft pick would change their fortune.
But their fortunes changed. Their old owner, Edward Lunfrey, head of the Lunfrey Food Company, died. He'd left the Falmouth Falcons to his youngest son, Derrick. Derrick Lunfrey had loved the team for his entire life, and since his graduation from Hogwarts had striven to run the team and bring a championship back to Falmouth.
And for a while, things looked promising. Derrick Lunfrey shed payroll and built his teams through the draft. For a moment it looked like they would make the playoffs. But then they ran into the Ballycastle Bats in the final match of the season. The final score, seven hundred and sixty to forty, made the game sound closer than it actually was. The Bats would go on to start their dynasty that year, winning their first of two titles, while the Falcons would falls back into obscurity.
Derrick Lunfrey would spend money on every top free agent that offseason. Thinking that perhaps they were simply a piece or two away. But the team got worse and Derrick started thinking that perhaps his father had been right, and that the best solution was simply to cut their losses and sell the Falcons.
Derrick hadn't even been paying attention to the legal trouble that started around Norm Wilder. He was too busy worried about how to put a competent team on the pitch. Fortunately, the old contracts had all expired, and he had plenty of salary cap room to try to maneuver. And he had a solid young keeper. But he didn't have anything else.
Fortunately for him, all Norm Wilder had was a quidditch dynasty. Derrick never bothered to figure out just how the man had ruined his finances. He ignored those stories leading up to the start of the quidditch season. But just about the halfway point, he heard news that startled him.
The front office was having a meeting, discussing player development and just how to get out of the cellar for that season. Their seeker was playing better than expected, and they were thinking about trading her to a contender for a king's ransom. Derrick didn't remember the entire conversation, but when one of his advisers commented that there were rumors Wilder couldn't make payroll for the Bats because of his legal troubles, Derrick fled to his office and got onto the floo.
Somehow, the news of what they traded came out well before the trade was finalized, and the rumors returned. The fans knew that the Falcons had traded their next four first round draft picks, a conditional second round draft pick, their seeker, one of their chasers, one of their beaters, and a great deal of cash. He spent a week being lambasted in the local media while the league approved the deal, as no one believed he could get any sort of return worth what he'd sacrificed.
But then the news broke. At first, everyone thought it was just another rumor. But then the British and Irish Quidditch League approved it. Eva Larson, a youthful center-chaser who'd improved every year she'd spent in the league was heading to Falmouth. And she was to be joined by two of her teammates, former league most valuable player Titus Button, who was considered the best beater in the league, and reigning two-time league most valuable player Harry Potter.
Derrick hadn't believed that Wilder agreed to the deal. But he took three large contracts off the Bats's books, and gave up a fortune in both cash and draft picks.
During the ensuing media event Derrick Lunfrey looked like a kid on Christmas. He spoke jovially to reporters about how with a single trade he was sure he'd turned around the franchise.
The cover shot of the Daily Prophet the next day showed a jovial Derrick Lunfrey with an arm loosely around an uncomfortable looking Eva in a too-large Falcon jersey. She appeared to be standing as far away from him as possible. Harry Potter and Titus Button stood in the corner of the picture and looked bored. Their agent appeared to be talking to them, but it didn't look like either of the superstars were listening. Neither of them wore a new jersey.
The three of them also didn't show up for the first team practice. But Derrick thought that was simply because of a bit of miscommunication. The coach had wanted to yell at them, but he'd intervened. After all, they'd have a busy few days. They'd needed to get their uniforms fitted, which Titus complained about, because Falmouth used the standard numbering system. But he'd decided to let them pick their own. The rest of the team could pick their own numbers next year.
And after that they had to find some place to live. The team had offered to help but the three just went off into town on their own. He'd learn later that Potter and Button split a rather large house overlooking the harbor.
After all of that, Derrick's focus shifted to his newly bought team. He'd spent at least ten minutes in the team shop looking at the three new jerseys on the wall. The sixteen of Larson was the slowest seller, but the seventeen of Potter and the eighteen of Button were selling faster than any jersey they'd ever had.
And the ensuing game with the Catapults had been their first sellout that wasn't a promotional give-away day in years.
He'd been in his box for hours before the match. And now he simply watched the game, smiling to himself. The coach had debated not starting them. But Larson had six goals, and Button was breaking up plays left and right, and Potter seemed to be everywhere. It didn't bother him too much that the three ex-Bats were almost ignoring the four Falcons on the pitch. But the chemistry would come with more games played.
"And we have a stoppage!" Dickerson announced. The Catapults had called a time out. All of the players flew to their benches except for Harry Potter and Titus Button.
"I hate grey," Titus complained as he flew up next to Harry. "I feel like I'm wearing a fucking road uniform."
"You'll get used to it," Harry commented idly. He was gazing around the pitch. While he couldn't catch the snitch in a stoppage, he could still find it and track it if play resumed. Although, most snitches tended to hide out of play during stoppages.
"I hate the broom too," Titus commented, he twitched left and right on his new Comet and frowned. Harry shrugged. The Comet Falcon Mark Nine seemed pretty identical to his old Cleansweep Bat so he wasn't complaining.
"It was your idea to waive the no-trade clauses," Harry laughed. Titus just shrugged.
"Well we weren't going to get paid in Ballycastle," Titus commented.
"Not all of us care about money," Harry commented.
"Pretty sure we signed identical five year, forty-five mil contracts," Titus said.
"Nope, mine had a bonus-clause for snitch catches," Harry commented.
"Really? My bonuses were just for championships and awards," Titus said.
"Well play a more important position," Harry commented. They broke apart as play resumed. Harry may have had to dodge an extra bludger or two for the duration of the match, but it was all good-natured fun.
Harry kept his focus on the snitch. But he knew most of his mind was elsewhere. He never thought he'd be traded from the Ballycastle Bats. It seemed absurd to even think about it. He'd been happy enough there. He liked his teammates, he liked the city, he liked everything about it.
And now he wasn't sure how he felt. His new home in Falmouth had a nice view. But he wasn't sure how long he'd stay there. He wasn't sold on living with Titus and Eva. But they had more than enough space.
He was fairly sure that Titus felt exactly the same way. At least they weren't alone. Harry could hardly believe that the beater had bothered him tremendously his rookie year. But that had changed relatively quickly. They just got along, and they really enjoyed heading out to bars after matches.
Really, Harry just appreciated that Titus has never once seemed to be in awe of him. He never mentioned the war, and he never asked Harry about anything in his past. They talked about alcohol, girls, and quidditch, and it was wonderful, and refreshing.
He swerved around Lynch, mostly just to make the Irish seeker remember he was still there. Neither of them had seen the snitch yet, but Harry suspected it would show up soon. Which would probably be a good thing.
In Ballycastle, they'd never bothered much with Falmouth. The Falcons had been considerably inferior to the Bats. They'd scouted them, sure, but it wasn't with as much interest as they often did the Magpies or the Harpies.
But they'd traded the only talent they had. The keeper was okay. But Button couldn't be the entire defense. And while Harry thought Eva was very talented, she wasn't a defensively minded chaser. And it didn't help that Button's defensive partner was barely good enough to be playing professionally, or that the other two chasers focused entirely on goals.
Harry shook his head a bit as he watched the Catapults stretch their lead. He distracted a bludger, getting it to focus on him, before bringing it back around toward Titus. His friend intercepted it expertly and used the iron ball to break up the next Catapults rush.
Harry grabbed the stray quaffle without really looking at it. He flipped back around and took the quaffle into the offensive zone. He debated flying straight to the hoops and taking a shot, but decided against it. His new team had a problem with defense, it would be silly if he did something that would be a hindrance to that. And he hadn't seen Lynch for at least fifteen seconds, and that concerned him.
So instead he blindly tossed it back toward where he hoped the chasers followed him into the offensive zone. He then dived immediately, intending to take himself out of the play and hopefully get a scoring chance for his team, while he looked for Lynch.
His counterpart was flying high above the hoops, looking for the little golden ball. Harry skimmed the grass of the pitch and looked as well.
Eventually, he saw it, floating around the middle of the pitch. He pulled his broom up and started to corkscrew around to gain momentum. He saw Lynch diving toward him, but he didn't care. He knew he'd get there first, the snitch was diving toward him anyway.
And moments later it was in his hand. He corkscrewed around Lynch as the Irish seeker passed in his dive and flew straight toward an official as the crowd erupted.
"Harry Potter has the snitch! Derrick Lunfrey's mega-trade has at least paid dividends tonight. But only time will tell if the Ballycastle trio can turn around this team in half a season. But for now, they've snapped the losing streak and revitalized the fan base. I know I'll be eager to see just what they can do!" Dickerson announced, effectively ending the radio feed. Harry only caught the last bit of it as Titus flew up into him, hugging him as he did after every win. The rest of the team joined them shortly.
They all looked at Titus. The beater just shrugged. He'd been the captain of the Bats, but the Falcons didn't have a captain. So after an awkward moment they all just congratulated each other on the match and proceeded back to the locker room.
The Falcons's locker room was a bit roomier than the Bats's. But it was set up far more formally. Harry suspected because of the large turnaround of players the Falcons typically had. So Titus slotted into the number two locker, while Eva slotted into six and Harry slotted into seven. The reserve players sat to Harry's left.
He looked to his right, meaning to make a comment to Titus about something or other as he pulled off his jersey. But once it was off he just found himself staring at Eva in her sports bra. So he looked away and finished changing, using magic to clean himself off, before dressing casually.
"So, victory party?" Titus asked. Harry wasn't sure when he'd walked over toward the other two. But he was standing there, looking bored in jeans and a Falcons t-shirt. Harry noticed a similar one had been put into his locker. Eva pulled one on as well, but she charmed her locker into a mirror, frowned, and then shrunk the shirt a bit and made it pink before returning her locker to normal. Harry just grabbed the shirt he'd brought out of his locker and put it on.
"I can't," he said. "I promised if the game ended soon enough I'd join everyone for the wedding."
"Bah," Titus laughed. "Don't they know you just got traded. You need to get situated," Titus commented.
"And drunk," Eva added.
"And we certainly need to do some sort of team building!" Titus joked, his eyes shifting briefly to the other beater, who just sat quietly in his locker.
"That we do," Eva added, looking at her fellow chasers, who were talking quietly, but still seemed a little shell shocked.
"I mean it's sad," Titus said, looking around a bit, and not seeming to care that the other players could probably hear him. "It's like they don't know how to win."
"Well they are now ten and eighteen," Harry commented. He didn't add that the Bats hadn't lost eighteen in the last two seasons combined.
"So playoffs might be a stretch," Eva laughed.
"Depends on how much the Bats tank," Titus frowned.
"They're still a solid team, even without us," Harry commented.
"Solid yes, but they're not elite," Eva commented.
"Anyway, where are we going to go drinking?" Titus asked.
"I've got a portkey to catch," Harry laughed.
"Oh just go in the morning. The wedding isn't until the weekend anyway," Titus laughed.
"So where do you guys all drink?" Eva asked, loudly, looking around the locker room. The other players looked startled.
"You want us to come?" one of the chasers asked. Eva tilted her head to the side and looked at the chaser.
"Well it wouldn't be much of a victory party if it was just the three of us," Titus laughed. The rest of the players looked a little shocked. Granted, it was pretty much the first time the three new players even acknowledged the old members of the team while they weren't on the pitch. Harry took a moment to really look at all of the Falcons. The reserve beater and one reserve chaser were older league veterans, but the rest of the team looked very fresh. They all had to be first or second year players. He was secretly amazed by how long and green they still looked. Titus, at twenty-five looked as ancient as Harry felt at twenty-two. Even the twenty year old Larson looked older.
He couldn't help but think that perhaps they really did just need something to form them as a coherent team. And he frowned a bit. He'd promised Ron and Hermione to meet them for the Portkey trip to Romania. But he could show up tomorrow. They'd understand.
"Sweeps is good," the reserve keeper said. "It's down by the harbor, has a private bar in the back if we want to keep it small."
"Works for me!" Titus said as he walked over toward the floo.
"Wait!" one of the chasers said. "Mr. Lunfrey always talks to us after matches and then we have media availability."
"That's nice," Titus said. He'd handled most of the post-game rituals in Ballycastle as he'd been captain. But Harry couldn't help but smirk at his lack of interest here. "Potter will do it. He's got a portkey to catch."
"Yeah, not a chance," Harry laughed. "Just tell him we're a bad influence."
"And it's tradition to celebrate the end of losing streaks with massive alcohol binges," Titus added.
"It's your tradition to celebrate everything with massive alcohol binges," Eva commented.
"Well we're not about to stand in the way of tradition," the reserve keeper said and stood. He walked over toward the floo and threw some powder in, stepping through it before anyone else. Moments later the entire team was at the bar.
Needless to say Derrick Lunfrey was not happy when he returned, with the media, to a completely empty locker room.
Sweeps turned out to be a large magical establishment with plenty of loud music and a very large bar. The Falcons, well, at least three of them, were recognized when they showed up. So they simply migrated toward the back of the bar and enjoyed the music and free flowing beer.
Harry took the time to familiarize himself with his teammates. Granted, he knew them by name and scouting report. But it was time to get to know them a bit better.
Sarah Foster was the twenty-one year old keeper. He was rather surprised to learn she was older than Eva, as she looked like she should have been in school still. She'd matured in the Australian junior leagues before moving to England for her final two years in school. She was a solid keeper on a team not known for playing defense.
She'd learned a fair amount from Russell Jones, the older veteran keeper. He'd been an amazing player in his twenties, and had led the Pride to a title years and years ago. But now, in his forties, he was more of a player coach than anything, his primary duties being to help out Foster and fill a required roster spot.
Jordan Wall was the other starting beater. He was a rookie out of Hogwarts who looked completely overmatched at the professional level. But he was a nice kid, a bit quiet as he just sat at the corner of the bar and looked around throughout the party. But Titus made sure to spend some time with him. Harry hoped his friend would be able to help the younger player develop.
He also wondered if it would affect Titus's game at all. As he was more accustomed to playing with the Irish superstar beater Finbar Quigley. But only time would tell, and Titus had been a force by himself in tonight's match.
Cora Toivanen was their left wing chaser. She appeared to be hitting it off with Eva. She was another rookie, but she came out of Finland. Most scouts were a bit surprised when she signed with Falmouth rather than a European league team. All Harry really knew about her was that she was exceptionally pretty with long blonde hair. She'd been injured to start the season and had only played in five games so far.
Harry spent most of his evening though, with the other wing-side chaser. Ben Neal. He was in his second year and actually had decent numbers the season before. But he tended to try to make too much happen and wasn't known for using his teammates much. Which simply caused opposing teams to focus on him during matches.
Harry wouldn't admit it, but he was rather worried about their scoring line. Eva tended to like to make plays more than shoot. Although she'd scored some very nice goals that match. But she'd been left alone for a large portion of it because the Catapults had focused on Neal. And he'd given the chasers way more support than he would like to, or be able to, when they played against better teams.
But he didn't worry about that. Ben seemed thrilled to be at a victory party. Harry bought him another beer and continued their conversation. He didn't focus much on the reserve players. Sure, he talked to them, but he knew them a bit better than the starters. So he spend the majority of the time trying to learn everything about his new teammates.
But after a few beers he stopped focusing on that. Instead the conversation between he, Titus, and Ben turned into which player in the European leagues they would most like to sleep with. And really, the rest of the night simply went downhill from there. At some point, some media found them, and snapped a few photos of players with drinks. But nothing was going out of hand enough to really be any sort of big news.
Not too long after, more locals started to filter into the bar. Harry and Titus found themselves signing napkins and things of that nature simply to be nice. It seemed too early in the honeymoon phase of a new team to start annoying the fans for annoying them.
Harry bought a few rounds for some of the locals in the bar too, and they spent a good majority of the evening just drinking, talking, being accessible and wondering if it was possible to revive quidditch in Falmouth.
Eventually, though, the victory party came to an end. Cora and Eva left first. They left together, giggling about some sort of already established private joke. Titus elbowed Harry in the ribs with a grin as the two girls left. Harry just shook his head and laughed quietly, before informing Titus that he thought he was nuts.
After that, though, people started to trickle out of the bar at a relatively steady pace. Harry and Titus stayed to close. Although they stopped drinking a bit before then. Once they were the last two in the establishment they split the bill. The owner had been a little surprised, Harry suspected he thought that he'd have to attempt to bill the Quidditch team if he wanted any sort of payment. But the two superstars paid without question and left a very generous tip before they wandered back into the streets of Falmouth.
They walked back to their new home, mostly to attempt to get a feel for the city. While they'd probably do most of their traveling by magical means, they liked to scout out areas where they were. On the road, they often wandered around the cities if they had a day off. So they really just attempted to get their bearings, talking about the evening and looking for other bars and restaurants to visit as they did.
When they arrived home there was a glowing note in the fireplace telling them they had practice the next morning, and to make sure they were on time. But neither of them paid more than a passing glance at it.
Eva had claimed the first floor bedroom of their three story home in the docks. She'd wanted her own bathroom. Titus and Harry weren't about to bother. Her door was closed and no light filtered out from under it. Harry summoned a bottle of water and immediately started upstairs, wondering how he'd feel about having roommates again.
He suspected he wouldn't care as he stepped into his own room and found it was set up identically to his small apartment in Ballycastle. He'd have to thank the team elves for that, he suspected. He knew they'd be under orders to make the transition easier. And it had been so much easier for the three of them to just split a large house with plenty of room. Especially since the teams forced players to have a residence in their city. Harry would spend most of the off season in London. Titus had a place there too, but they didn't spend much time together in the off months. Often only being thrown together for promotional events.
The offseason was when Harry preferred to not think about quidditch, and to catch up with his friends and generally relax. It made life easier. He also typically took at least a week to go somewhere warm and just hang out. It was nice to not have any requirements for those months.
He set his alarm with his wand and crawled into bed, wondering if he should bother to go to practice the next morning, or just make his way to Romania for the wedding. From what he remembered, most of the portkeys heading there were in the afternoon to evening, so he really had no legitimate excuse to miss practice, but he'd check the paper in the morning.
Harry was exhausted when his alarm went off, waking him rather promptly with loud banging firework spells. He sat up and yawned before getting out of bed. He magically cleaned himself, and found he still felt a little bit grimy. But he figured he could just take a shower after practice and be on his way.
He dressed and wandered down stairs. There was no sign of Titus but Eva was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter in a Ballycastle Bats tank top and shorts.
"I don't think the Falcons are going to like those," He laughed.
"I'm not charming my entire wardrobe," Eva laughed. "I'm sure they'll supply more clothing eventually."
"Probably, you seen the paper?" Harry asked.
"Table," Eva said. Harry walked over to the kitchen table and grabbed it. He caught the main headline out of the corner of his eye as he flipped to the Portkey schedules. It was something or other about a missing shopkeeper. He'd read the article after practice. But it didn't seem that important for now.
"Tea?" Eva asked as he scanned the timetables.
"No thanks. Titus up yet?" Harry asked.
"He went for a run," Eva said, sipping her tea. "He said he'd meet us at the stadium."
"Ten says he's late," Harry laughed.
"Probably," Eva laughed. "He's always late."
"Falcons are going to love that," Harry laughed.
"Lunfrey does seem to be a bit of a pain in the ass," Eva nodded.
"That he does," Harry agreed. He saw that the next portkey to Romania was at four in the afternoon. He nodded a bit and tossed the paper back down on the table.
"They'll just have to get used to it," Eva laughed.
"They only will if we win," Harry commented.
"Oh we'll win," Eva smiled. She had an infectious, dimpled smile that lit up her face. She took a moment to pull her brown hair into a pony tail.
"I hope so," Harry laughed. He nodded toward the fire. "Shall we?"
"Sure," Eva laughed, walking over toward him and they both flood to the locker room. It was quiet at that point, but Harry didn't really notice. He pulled on the white falcon jersey with a grey falcon on the chest and wandered out to the pitch, doing some basic flying drills before the rest of the team joined him.
Eva was the first out. Harry played catch with her for a few moments before Cora joined them as well. After not too long the coach came out as well. He looked at Harry a little curiously, but didn't say anything.
Amazingly, Titus showed up on time, and practice commenced as normal. Practice went pretty well. The coach led it for the first half, which felt odd to Harry as Titus typically ran practices in Ballycastle. But he figured it was just something else he'd have to get used to.
After a while, though, their coach, Ralph Davis, insisted Harry call out plays and run drills. That felt even more odd. He'd made a mental note to tell the coach that he had no interest in being captain. Titus was better suited for the position, and certainly had far more experience with it.
Sensing he was uncomfortable with it, though, Titus essentially took over. When Coach Davis noticed that he called Button off and asked for Eva to start running the practice. She looked very startled but did a fairly decent job of it. Titus just shrugged and listened to her orders, rather than making a big deal out of it.
Toward the end of practice Harry noticed two people arguing with the coach on the pitch. He recognized them quickly enough. Daphne Greengrass was yelling at Derrick Lunfrey. Daphne represented Titus and Harry as part of the Smith, Smith, and Brave agency. She devoted a fair amount of time to her top tier clients. But it was still surprising that she showed up at the pitch. Typically if they had to meet they'd do it over lunch.
Harry couldn't help but notice that they were pointing at him, too, so he flew down and landed on the pitch next to them.
"What's up?" Harry asked.
"You haven't heard, have you?" Daphne asked, looking at him.
"Of course he's heard," Lunfrey spat. "And it's a testament to his devotion to Falcons quidditch that he's here today!"
"The what?" Harry asked, tilting his head to the side.
"You didn't see this morning's paper, did you, Potter?" Coach Davis asked.
"No. Slept in and came out to practice," Harry said. He didn't mention that he only slept in because he'd gone to bed hammered.
"I see," the coach said quietly.
"I didn't get traded again, did I?" Harry laughed. Daphne shook her head and held out a copy of the morning paper.
"No you didn't," she said, gesturing to it. "I think you should read that." Harry just looked at the Daily Prophet in her hand and shrugged.
"Okay fine," Harry took it from her and looked at the headline he'd saw in the morning. Had he bothered to read it, he knew he wouldn't be at practice.
The headline read 'Shopowner, War Hero, Families vanish in Portkey accident,' and the picture showed George and Ron arm in arm outside of the joke shop. Harry swallowed hard and stared at the picture, before his eyes slipped to the article.
The Portkey he was supposed to take. The one that Eva and Titus had talked him out of. Had vanished. There hadn't been a case of a vanished Portkey in over a hundred years. The last time it happened, no one was ever recovered. The Department of Transportations of both Romania and England were looking into it. As there were many high profile names involved, all of whom Harry assumed were heading to the wedding.
But as he read the names of those who were missing, his breath caught in his throat. He knew ten of them. They were practically family. He dropped the paper and just stared at it on the ground before Daphne and Derrick led him back to the locker room.
Author's Note: As stated, this came about late Friday evening when discussing random story ideas with Zaion. I planned it out on Friday and Saturday and I wrote it on Saturday and Sunday before posting it on Sunday. I'm probably going to juggle it and DiP for a while because I find myself uninterested with DiP and not quite ready to write Tenebrae.
As always thanks for reading and reviewing, I do appreciate it. And the best way to contact me is prolly by PM on this website. But I am also on twitter now and the tag is in my profile.