The Art of Trying

First Year

Sirius’s words, like a mantra, stuck to James.

They struck him like lightning, woke him up from a dream he had never realized he had fallen into. Because James Potter, unlike Sirius, was not settling for Hogwarts; he had dreamt about it. James had idolized the school, romanticized its opportunities. For as long as he could remember he had banked on the prospect of Hogwarts to reach and sustain his happiness. But that, right then, was not a possibility, nor a dream anymore, it was reality.

And reality worked differently than dreams.

It was harder to work with – or around. It required effort and dedication to mold. It did not like to be told what to do and wouldn’t budge unless done with brute force. Hogwarts was not a dream, and his contentment had to stop being one too.

It had to

It had to.

It had to.

It had to, or then all his effort was for nothing. And James would mold reality. He would become a constructor and build from scratch, from the ashes of his burnt-out city, a new reality where he was happy, where he was everything he was supposed to be. And he would make sure there was space for his friends, would drown himself in the vastness of his universe just to assure those he loved would not get lost too.

He would draw stars for Sirius to feel adequate within.

He would make them into a family.

He would clear out every obstacle – including himself -- so that Peter could fly.

He would leave parts of himself empty black so that Remus would draw himself into their universe.

He would create a universe of himself so versatile that could accommodate any dream.

He would make sure Remus was a part of it, Remus who was a whole planet by himself.

Remus who most days didn’t even acknowledge his presence, or even spare him a second glance. Remus who, James was certain, hated him.

h

 a

  t

   e

    d

h

 i

  m

hated

 hated

  hated

him

 him

  him

It had to.

James would become a cartographer of their tiny little universe and turn into a fact that, just as all routes lead to Rome, every route led to happiness, to family.

All routes would lead to perfection.

James would reach perfection, one brick at a time, one constellation at a time. He would, someday, stand back and admire the reality he had constructed for themselves, but, for then, he had to start somewhere.

“We should do a prank” James proposes one afternoon, after they’d just come out of their last transfiguration exam before their break.

“A prank?” Peter repeated, perplexed.

“Yes, a prank!” James beamed. “It’s exactly what we need, to raise our spirits.”

“Okay, I support the motion, after this week I am in desperate need of a good laugh.”

“And what would we even do?  Damp someone with a bucket with water over a door, that is childish and scarcely a laugh.”

“You are thinking small, Pete. We are wizards, think bigger!”

“Something tells me you already have a plan.”

“Oh, I do!” Sirius smiled, brightly, excitement brimming out of him with the carbon that left his body. It was exactly the reaction James was seeking for, because, ultimately, this was for Sirius, to cheer him up. “We are going to play with colors”

Peter deflects, “Okay?”

“We are going to paint the walls!” Sirius guessed

“No”

“Dye a teacher's hair pink”

“No”

“Dye Norris’ hair!”

“That is actually a great idea, but no”

“Dye the lake another color”

“What do you have with dyeing things?” Peter interrupted,

“At least I am offering up ideas, unlike you.”

“No one asked for your ideas”

“Good, because I am out of them”

They turned to James, staring at him eagerly.

James snickered, “No, no. It is a surprise.”

“What? No, you can’t leave us with the suspense!” Sirius, and immediately after,

“How are we supposed to help if we don’t even know what we are doing?” Peter.

“You two just have to figure out how to get into the kitchens afterhours”

“Us?”

“Yes, the two of you, together, and you also got to find out how to get there without getting caught, the rest leave it to me”

James could have figured it out himself, with no one’s help, had he just dedicated himself to an afternoon in the library, but this was about so much more than a prank, it was about the bang before the creation of a universe. So James, against every nerve in his body, approached Remus and asked for his help.

It was a mediocre charm. A one of the mild charms, anyone could have thought of it. And it had only taken some mild alterations to make it work as a potion. It was straightforward work, yet, still, James was proud. A part of him, a more selfish, vicious one – the one that was almost sorted into Slytherin– would have wanted to figure the other half himself, the half that would turn his work from a childish charm play to an uproarious prank. But his other half, the one he had tamed, knew this was his one breakthrough to get to Remus, and he would take it. 

His ego be damned. 

James was determined to make Remus like them, like him. To turn those eyes, mesmerizing brown eyes, that glimmered with fear, quite like Sirius did, into ones that adored a home of their own creation. Remus detestes him, and James observed; Remus was paralyzed by everything that Hogwarts entailed, however, despite his clear state of panic, he fought teeth and nails to keep his spot in it, he needed Hogwarts to work as much as Sirius did, as much as James did. 

James understood that, related to that, respected that. And he would make sure it worked for him, for everyone; for Peter, and Sirius. And if Remus hated him, well that was just a step back. A minor inconvenience, and it wasn’t as if James was losing sleep over that fact. 

He wasn't. 

He was already not sleeping, so what did it matter either way?  

“Remus” James tentatively called, entering their room. His hands trembled by his side, he felt restless, his feets begged to volt. James was, suddenly, hyper aware of every tiny little aspect of his being. 

Remus looked up from his paper, lifting the pen from the paper, and turning, slightly, to look as him, “James”

“Hi, I- You know Sirius, right? What am I even saying, of course you do–” he didn’t know what to do with his hands: Remus hated him “You live with him, and you actually do talk to him” Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? How did one breathe?: Remus hated him,  “That sounded harsh, I promise I didn’t mean anything by it” he was rambling, again. 

Remus hated him.

“James, as much as I would love to sit here wasting my time hearing you ramble, again, I am actually busy. Is there anything I can help you with or can I go back to my homework?” 

Pull yourself together!

James took a deep breath, taking a seat on the edge of Remus’ bed, leveling eye contact, “I- yeah, sorry. I was meaning to ask for your help”

“That much I could gather” 

“I’ve noticed you draw,” Remus blushed, and James smiled: that, embarrassment, at the very least was better than loathe, “I think it is amazing by the way, anyhow, I was playing around with this charm, the color changing one, if you’ve heard of it, I am trying to get it to work as a potion” that peaked Remus’s attention, who now, was giving James his undivided attention, “It took me some time but I managed to mold the magic properties to allow its functionality as a potion, and then I actually also tweaked it a bit more to narrow its effects, I mean, it can actually only change the color of the object you want it to, even when multiples have been exposed to it, this potion has the directional intent a charm would have, it is almost identical. But I am stuck, because for all the messing I have done I can’t get it to be predictable, it won’t ever project the color I want it to. I’ve tried many thing but I think it has something to do with the way colors mix, unlike how they would work in charms, where light keeps them mostly separated until hit with an opaque something, in water, the colors are forced to interact, I am not an expert but for what I have been reading that is what I think is happening. I could keep it this way, but for what I need the potion for, I need the outcome color to be premeditated. And I was wondering if you would help me with this last part? I thought that maybe you’d know more about the arts of this all than I do” 

Remus, for maybe the first time ever, was looking at James with something other that resentment in his eyes, and James could tell, he was fighting a smile, “I could definitely help you,” James began to broad, “But you will have to tell me what is we are working towards”

“A prank!”

“A prank?” Remus’ tone went back in time, it slipped back, like a tradition, without effort, into its icy tone again. His eyes were harsh again. “Of course, I don’t know what I expected. Forget about it, count me out” 

It was never a good sign when his chest shrunk, it was a warning. James liked to think that he was a self aware person, and he knew, understood the signs his body gave him, learnt to read his signs like a  language and right then, all knocked up, his body screamed: 

Fix it.

  Fixit. 

     Fix it.

He hates you! 

Fix it.

    Fix it. 

       Fix it. 

And it was becoming an all too recurring sensation to not know its meaning by heart. To not know it had an effect in his heart, and then too, in his vowel. 

“Remus, hear me out, it's just a silly funny joke, no one will get hurt” the words burnt in his throat, “Sirius, he- I- I want him to have one last good memory before break, and I thought this would cheer him, not any prank, but this one. I promise you no harm will come from it” 

“You can’t promise me that, James” 

“I can, I am”

“You just don’t get it, you don’t see it”

“What don’t I get, Remus? What don’t I see? Because I know you hate me, believe me I do, but at the very least I thought you’d know I am not a liar” 

“I don’t hate you, and I am not saying you are a liar” 

‘I don’t hate you’

“You don't hate me?”

“No”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” 

“Not everyone has to like you, James”

‘No one likes me. Not really’ he thought. One sentence, seven words, said so inconsequentially, and it was enough to drag James back to the dark alleys of his mind he worked every day so hard to steer clear from. Meant so incosequiantial, yet so consequential. The sharp intake that was forced from his chest was a punch that brought back a sense of deja vu that broke James. Because Hogwarts was supposed to be an escape, not a rebranding. 

James had been burnt by someone else’sacid, one time too many. Words that melted into his skin, like tattoos, comments that destroyed him, lonely breaks that hunted him. The burning sensation made him want to crawl out of his skin and die. 

Not everyone has to like you, James

Not everyone has to like you, James

Not. everyone. has. to. like. you. James.

No one ever likes me. 

Why won't anyone ever like me? 

What is wrong-

What is wrong-

You know what

You know what

You know what is wrong with you

You 

 You know

   You know what is

    You know what is wrong 

  Wrong

Wrong wrong wrong

  W

    R

      O

        N

          G…

You

Too much 

‘You are too much’ 

Too weird. 

Too nice. 

Too much to handle. 

Too much to like, too much to love. 

The voices of the children from his childhood, girls and boys he will never see again but that like memories — but more similar to nightmare— stuck with him every day, stuck in his mind, their whisper comments commanders of James’ self worth, and then, they resonated in Remus’ words. 

Too much 

‘You are too much’ 

Too weird. 

Too nice. 

Too much to handle. 

Too much to like, too much to love. 

“I- Why don’t you like me?” Oh, James sounded so pathetic, so small. 

“Because” 

“Because…”

Remus stared at James. He stared at him, as if he was supposed to know the answer already. He stared and said nothing. He kept staring, as if that was enough of an answer. James wished it were, he desired nothing more than to stop that conversation. And then, when the silence grew heavy and prolonged, when Remus realized that James would not leave it alone, would not leave, uterred:

“Because looking at you is like being mocked at by life” Remus’ tone was vicious, harsh, and indignant, all at the same time, and, for the first time, James had the feeling he was not mad at him, but at the world “Because looking at you is like being constantly reminded of someone I could have been but that I will never be. Because you, and Sirius, and hell, even Peter, are so lucky, but don’t even know it. Don’t even appreciate it” 

“Oh? I am sorry if I ever did something to make you feel that way, Remus, I—“

“Don’t apologize, James” 

“But—“

“You did nothing wrong to be apologizing for, so don’t”

“But, you still hate me. And my mom has taught me the first step to letting go of anger is forgiveness, so”

“I don't hate you!” Remus sounded tired, sighted, “I don’t hate you, James” 

“But you resent me?”

A beat. A silense.

“Yes”

“Why?”

“Why are you so goddamn adamant on making me like you?

Because I can't have you being another rummining voice in my head— Sometimes, James thought, he was fucking selfish.

“Because I think you are great, and I want to be your friend”

“I don't’ want to be your friend”

A beat. Several beats, his heart ache too much to stay still. A silence. 

James’s mind was wrecked, damaged and broken all over, too far gone to be repaired. James desired for it, his brain, to be gone, begged for it. His head was too much to live with most of the time, but then, right then, it was too overwhelming to bear, James wanted to lie down on the cold floor and stop. 

Stop feeling. Stop thinking. Stop trying. Stop living. 

But he couldn’t. James could escape very many things, but not himself. 

“Okay” James whispered, at last, and then, “Why do you resent me?” 

“Because you have everything! And you don’t even have to work for it, you don’t even have to try” 

The art of trying, that was something James could understand. A conversation he could follow. A branch of art he was trying to master: to reach perfection. Trying, that was something James knew. 

“Remus, I get it,” James struggled to force his vowel, because it was a confession he was not ready to make, “I do have to try, all the time, and it’s so exhausting. I get it, I—“

Remus didn't even let James finish his sentence, he interrupted, he was fuming, and James, who felt like a de inflated balloon, who had lost all its air, was glad for it. Remus’s hatred he knew, he could endure, but the shame that was creeping up his throat as he spoke was too much, James didn’t think he would have been able to speak his truth. 

James was thrilled by the interruption. James was a coward. 

“You. Don’t. Get. It. You and me James, we are not the same. I don’t get to risk putting one toe out of line, to take anything for granted, you take so many things for granted; that people love you,” James wanted to scream, and cry, and crack up all at the same time— maybe he did not really know how to traverse Remus’s anger—, “that you have a spot at Hogwarts, that you should be here, your knowledge. For merlin’s sake, you don't even have to try, everything just comes so easy to you. Do you know how infuriating it is? To lose every part of yourself, to sell your soul to the devil just to scrape by while you are out there, doing better, reaching further, without even sweating a single tear. And you don’t even notice it, don’t even appreciate it.”

I do know. I know. I know, believe me, I do; I do it every night. James wanted to refute, but he didn’t: couldn’t

“It’s maddening, James. Because of course you don’t get it, everyone loves you, and everything comes easy to you, it always has, it always will, and it is not fair for me to resent you for it, but I do. And, unlike you, James, I don’t get to not notice, to not try. I don’t get to loosen off. I don’t get to have fun, to play a little prank just for fun, because if anything goes wrong, the worst that will happen to you is that you’ll have a funny little story to tell your grandchildren, but me? I would have my entire life ruined. 

I won't even have grandchildren to share the stories to. You have nothing to prove, James, but I do. Every day, I have to prove to everyone that I deserve to be here. And I don’t expect you to get it” 

There were tears brimming in Remus’s eyes, those that born without consent, tempered induced, and resentment to leave, those that gave away too much, even more than words. ANd James, against all Remus thought, understood it, all of it. He saw the stubborn tears that showed the anger, but the shame too, and felt he was looking at a mirror. Took Remus’s words and twisted them around his head, filtered them to adapt them to another meaning, one further away from James’s reality. But, ultimately, James got it, because he sold his souls to the devil, to the fires, he kept handing over piece after piece, night after night. 

Soulless as he was becoming, James felt for Remus. After all, only those that endured the ashing of an active fire to the skin could notice the sings, the marks on another soulless soul, like them. 

“Remus, I get it” 

I get it. I get it. I get it . I get it. 

Don't make me say it. 

“It’s like you don’t listen, James” 

“Remus,” James tried again, don’t make me say it, “I get it” 

“Merlin, I don’t even know why I tried at all” 

Doooonntt. Dont. Please, dont. Make me. 

Make. Me. 

 Make 

  Make. 

    Make. Me 

Say it. 

“Remus, I get it, believe me, I do” sometimes James felt as if his chest was being compressed, as if there were a stack of books onto of it, and then the whole world sat atop, those times, James was claustrophobic, James wanted to escape but found himself stuck in his own place, the whole world on top of his chest, and he couldn’t breath, and then, worse, James felt his vowel be forced out, because with all that weight there was no space in him for something as insignificant as thoughts, of words, or wasted breaths. James couldn’t stop it, at least not back then, the string of consequential confessions that sponged from his mouth. “Sometimes it feels like all I do is try. Like I waste every minute of every day trying; trying to get by, trying to live up to the expectations others have of me, trying to prove that I deserve to be here, in this room. 

All I do is try, and I am exhausted all the time, and all I want to do is stop trying, but I can’t, at this point I think I am so far gone that I don’t know how to live without burning myself out. And most of the time it feels like I am failing at everything, and everything is always so hard, even breathing.I am a fraud, a fraud student, a fraud friend, a fraud son. I am a fraud, but I don’t want to be, so I keep trying and trying and trying, hoping someday something gets easier to bear. 

And, Remus, I know I am privileged. That I shouldn’t be falling apart, but I am. I am, I have been for so long now, I just want to stop falling , but it feels like it is the only thing I know how to do. Sometimes, I think I am my worst enemy. I just want to stop. Stopfalling. Stop trying. 

But I won't, not yet anyhow. Because this, Hogwarts, has to work Remus. It has to. And I won’t stop trying until it does, it doesn’t matter that in the process I lose my soul selling it to the devil piece by piece. So, Remus, please, believe me, I get it, I do”

James was crying, he doesn’t know when it started, he didn’t really care. He didn’t really care. Not about that, or anything else. Not right then. And maybe that was for the better, that James felt so numb, so empty, that he did not process what he said, the sins he lighted. Remus looked at him, James couldn’t quite decipher how. 

“James,” Remus’ voice was soft, treating James like a dear in headlight. Like a wounded animal. James certainly felt like a wounded animal; he was never supposed to say any it it out loud. “‘I’m sorry, for everything… James, you have nothing to prove to anyone, specially assholes like me, whoever you are, whoever James Potter is, is enough, and that person can never be a fraud; I know that this doesn’t fix the way you feel, that it doesn’t make anything better, believe me, I do. But, if it means anything at all, with me you will never have to meet any expactations”

“I-“

“You are a little shit after all, and that I know comes easy to you” 

James couldn’t stop himself, he laughed, and Remus smiled. 

It was nice. 

They sat on the silence that followed, sinking into the revelations both of them had shared. James felt drained, and defeated. However, for all he was sure he would continue crying later, when he was alone, James felt relieved; freer. 

So when he spoke next, James didn’t feel like bolting, and his body didn’t shake in nervousness. “I won’t pretend to know exactly what you are going through, and I won't ask, but if you say you can’t be caught slacking off, then you won't. That much, I can promise you. It's me, it will always be me, Remus I promise. I will get my funny stories, and your life won’t be ruined, I promise.”

“I believe you, James.” Remus purses his lips, James could see the glint of a smile, hidden, “When do we start?”  

“Right now,” and then, “If anything goes wrong I will take the fall, always”

After that, the explosion that would settle the foundations of their happy ever after; of their universe, was easy enough to set into motion. 

 “It works!” James beamed, staring at the former Slytherin tie on his hand, that now shone brightly red. 

“I can’t believe we actually did it” 

James and Remus had been stuck in the library for nights in a row, studying charm and potion books as if it were their day job, testing, and failing miserably to turn a charm works into a potions one. And then, that night, they figured it out. It was not to say their work was not flawed, but, with gentle hands, gentle eyes, gentle criticism, it was a masterwork. One day they would perfect it, but for their present needs it was more than enough. Their charm had limitations, like the fact that it would only transform colors in a one way manner; only green to red, or red to green, and then, only blue to yellow, and yellow to blue. 

That had maybe not been their goal, but it worked to the intention of turning Slytherins’ onto Gryffindors. Every other chaos caused was just a mere complement to a good laugh. 

“This is going to be epic! I can’t wait to see the Slytherin’s faces” 

Remus suppressed a smile, “You do know this is gonna backfire on us too, right?”

“What? No”

“If you want to spread it through the drinks at breakfast, then it would be really suspicious if we were the only ones not affected” 

Peter had ingeniously proposed the idea of blending the potion discreetly into the drinks, under the theory that it was probably the only ingestion every Hogwarts student agreed on during breakfast. Of course, making the potion safe to drink had been another challenge, but ultimately, Peter was right and it was the most effective way to affect a wider reach of students . 

“I hate that you are right”

And then Remus and James joined Peter and Sirius, who had been doing the groundwork to their plans to sneak into the kitchens. 

“You got it, then?” Sirius query as they approached

“We do, you got the password?” Remus whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness.

Peter grinned mischievously, a glint of excitement in his eyes, “It took half my candy stash but a hufflepuff student folded and spilled” 

“Peter here is a great negotiator” Sirius praised, his excitement palpable. 

Past the witching hour, the corridors lay deserted, shrouded in an eerie silence. The quartet moved with calculated stealth, their hushed voices barely breaking the stillness. Yet, despite their precautions, Norris, the cat, caught them off guard. A heavy air descended as they locked eyes with the cat, tension thickening the air. 

"That's Norris," Remus hissed through gritted teeth, dread creeping into his voice. "Which means—" "Run!" Sirius's urgent command shattered the silence, igniting a spark of panic. 

The four boys sprang into action, their movements swift and silent as shadows. They darted towards the moving staircase, adrenaline coursing through their veins, as Filch, the caretaker, materialized behind the cat like a specter of doom.

 "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Filch's voice reverberated through the corridors, a chilling reminder of the consequences awaiting their discovery. Their hearts pounding in their chests, the boys raced towards the staircase, leaping onto it just as it began to ascend, leaving Filch's curses echoing in their wake. "Marauding students, marauding students, oh, they will be punished,"

 Filch's ominous words lingered in the air as they vanished from sight. Finally out of harm's way, the boys collapsed in a heap, the tension of their escape giving way to euphoric relief. Laughter bubbled up from deep within them, echoing off the stone walls of Hogwarts.

 "That was too close," Peter gasped between breaths. 

"Indeed, but isn't that the thrill of being a marauder?" Sirius declared, his voice buoyant with exhilaration. Amidst the laughter and camaraderie, a bond forged in the crucible of adventure, they realized that this daring escapade had not only united them in mischief but cemented their place in the annals of Hogwarts lore.

 "We are officially Marauders!" James proclaimed triumphantly, sealing their newfound alliance with a shared sense of rebellion and friendship that would endure for years to come.

From there they creeped into the kitchens, their mission following smoothly. And once the potion was miked into the drinks, they made their way back into their dorm, collapsing into their beds for an ealy wake, with little sleep. 

But sleep deprived still the adrenaline of their escapade, and the anticipation of their induced chaos energized like a coffee shot. The boys, first to the great hall, not wanting to miss any of the products of their hard work. 

They sat down on their table, poured themselves a drink and beamed. 

“Ready boys?” James posed,

“All we’ll ever be” 

“Cups up, boys!” Remus ordered, as the four of them emptied their glasses. 

Their ties, and robes, changed colors, slowly, periodically, until they stood as a bright green. The boys, the Marauders, feigned surprise and enjoyed the show as their peers, without discrimination of age, gender or house, suffered a change to their wardrobe. And they praised themselves for a work well done as students and teachers – who were also affected– alike attempted to undo their work, and failed. 

It was harmless, it was a fun laugh. So the attempts were scarce. Either way, it would go away the next morning. 

They ended the term on a grand note. 

James was going home with a Slytherin tie around his neck and wasn’t that just such a funny joke.

His perfect image cracked, and the world mocked him.

But at least he was not alone, his friends stood next to him, staring at each other in the mirror, their matching green ties, and they laughed.

“My mother will be so proud of me” Sirius managed out between chokes of a hysterical laugh, and then, when they calmed down, “Can’t wait to see you back next term.”

It was going to be alright.

The world laughed, and they laughed with it.

Some day they would laugh about it.  

… 

They came back, after, and like no time had passed, the friend group, unnamed for the time being, fell back into routine. The year strolled over and James continued the process of becoming, he adapted and compromised who he was in favor of who he favors, of who he loves.

He looked at Peter and made sure to always help him with his homework, giving him copies of his notes, hidden between a bunch of other papers so that no one would mock him for how much it cost him to catch up; especially in a group that seemed to get by so effortlessly. And then, James pretended not to understand Herbology just so that Peter would feel useful helping him out for once -- James never had the heart to tell him he knew the books like a recipe engraved in his veins.

He looked at the way Sirius Black admired Minerva McGonagall and decided that was more important than showing off, even when charms was his favorite subject, the one he was brewing a passion for. He, instead, worked tired nights, learning the ins and outs of the magic, going beyond the lines of first year magic in charms just to satisfy his curiosity, while, in class, he stood back, letting Sirius shine, because he saw the way Sirius Black never did homework, never even practiced, except when it came to Miner McGonagall and making her proud.

And who was James to stand in the middle of such a pure feeling?

And then, he saw the way Remus Lupin fell ill, month after month, connected the dots, but refused to tie them down in paper, drew a conclusion out of them, and understood that it was a truth that Remus Lupin was not ready to be known for. So, therefore, he took the most vicious notes, complete with every detail Remus would like to know, and then some more, and took it to him, witn no fail, month after month, and he never asked questions: never asked anything in return. And in the rougher months, when Remus Lupin missed deadlines, James Potter sat down, and hidden away, wrote down essay after essay, learning by heart Remus Lupin’s handwriting (someday he would learn a charm for it) and handed in his own essays in the name of Remus Lupin, just so that he wouldn’t be left behind, and then, he took the disappointment looks on his teachers eyes when they saw he didn’t do their homework. 

However for all James compromised, he did not compromise his education, he just took it into his own hands, restraining it to the down hours. And at the end of the year, when it mattered, James potter got top marks, and if some people were surprised, that was their deal. 

James Potter turned himself into a machine, perfectly programmed to meet everyone's needs, and he had never been happier. James Potter turned himself into a universe, perfectly fitted to carry any kind of line, constantly growing and adapting, changing for the better – or the worse, depending on how you choose to view it– and now, his solar system had stars, like Sirius, and planets, like Remus, and travelers, like Peter. And James was there, in the middle, pulling them together.