Anyone But Me

Chapter 5

Beautiful

Neville's big return from the Chamber became the thing of Hogwarts legend almost immediately. Of course, he reveled in the spotlight as long as he could, basking in the glory of answering questions from over-awed seventh years and nervous-looking first years. He sat at breakfast the next day all but glowing with self-righteous pomp. He told and retold the story of the daring adventure into the Chamber. He conveniently left out any details that might have glorified anyone else, even Dumbledore or the other professors.

But, as it always seemed to, Hogwarts would not let his be the only version of the story told. Oh no, there were rumors any and everywhere a person cared to check: portraits, clusters of Ravenclaws, and even (though maybe most importantly) Moaning Myrtle. There were theories that Neville had opened the Chamber himself, which harry had expected, and there were rumors that the professors had been trying to protect Naomi from something through this elaborate hoax.

Harry ignored it all, having heard worse before, and instead decided to focus on Hermione and the information she was willingly giving him throughout the meal.

"So you don't know anything about the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked, confused.

She shook her head. "I've never heard of it."

"So what? One day you were just able to visit the third floor corridor again?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded. Harry had told her his version of their first year and, to her credit, she had her own reservations about the tale.

"I still don't understand how three first years could bypass Hogwarts's greatest defenses," she said again. Harry couldn't explain that bit himself. The more years that passed since first year, the less Harry could really believe he and his friends had been so stupid. The first years looked so small to him now. The idea that three of them could take on those protection spells seemed absurd. But Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always been able to do extraordinary things together, hadn't they?

Harry glanced around the Great Hall, more out of habit than actual curiosity, only to see Snape considering him closely. Glaring, sure, but not with his normal level of hatred. Harry narrowed his eyes and looked further down the staff table, only to find many of them considering at him. But most disturbing was Remus Lupin's look.

"As soon as I'm done with breakfast, I'm talking to Professor Lupin and asking to be put in N.E.W.T. level Defense," Harry said, deciding that he needed to do something to rectify his relationship with Lupin.

"But you hate him!" Hermione said.

"I do not," Harry replied, looking at her. "He was one of my father's best friends."

The owls arrived then, delivering the morning mail. That strange not-Hedwig owl dropped three letters into Harry's lap, which he barely glanced at before the front page of Hermione's Daily Prophet caught his attention.

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing to the pictures on the front page. One was a woman who couldn't have been more than five years older than Harry. The other was a very old man.

Hermione flipped the paper closed so that she could see what Harry was pointing at. Then she shrugged and went back to her previous article. "Just the usual disappearances."

"What disappearances?" Harry asked.

"There are a couple each week. The Ministry says it's something to do with that massive breakout from Azkaban last winter," Hermione said, turning the page of the paper.

Before Harry could voice his confusion, Andy, Nadine, and Ginny sat down then across the table from Harry and Hermione, but Harry didn't give them a second thought as he continued talking to Hermione. It was only his friend's shifty looks toward them that caused him to look over and nod at them.

"Is it true?" Nadine asked, looking at Harry with shaken eyes.

"Is what true?" Harry asked.

"Was there something in the Chamber of Secrets that attacked Naomi? Did you know how to stop it?" she asked. Harry felt uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him, like she trusted him, like she knew him, like she wouldn't take any rumors seriously without his approval. She was looking at him as she might look at a good friend, and though it was still hard to realize, Harry recognized that she thought she had known Harry since they were born, basically.

"Neville's retelling the story now," Harry said, avoiding lying. "I'm sure he'll start again for you."

"I've heard his version," Nadine said quickly, leaning across the table and only narrowly avoiding putting an elbow in the bowl of jam. "I've heard Neville's self-congratulatory story so many times that I'm almost glad Nadia and Stephen charmed those eggs to crack over his head all day."

Andy smiled. "Ginny taught them that charm."

"My parents are coming in an hour or so," Nadine said, "and I just want them to know the truth. I want to know the truth and I heard that you a part of that."

Harry shrugged again. Ginny glared at him.

"Listen, don't get any crazy ideas about what happened," Harry cautioned, absentmindedly picking up his fork and tapping it against his water glass. "I didn't do anything. I just brought Neville to the professors basically."

"Still, when Naomi wakes up today or tomorrow, I'm sure she'll want to thank you," Andy said, putting an arm around Nadine, drawing her closer to him. She seemed to calm down a bit with the proximity.

"She's waking up so soon?" Harry asked, surprised. It had taken months to grow the Mandrakes in his own world.

Nadine looked at Harry. "I know you and she don't always get on, but she'll want the papers to know--"

"No, no," Harry said quickly. "No papers. Nothing like that."

Everyone within hearing distance looked startled and shot Harry decidedly odd looks that he chose to ignore in favor of the previous line of conversation.

"How is she waking up?" Harry asked. "Where's Pomfrey getting the Mandrake root from?"

"Dad's visiting this afternoon," Andy said, as if that answered Harry's questions. From the look on everyone's face, it apparently should have. Hermione seemed to understand Harry's confusion.

"It's a good thing Mr. McGrath owns the Eeylops Emporium chain and has so many business connections with international herbologists, isn't it?" Hermione said. The others all looked strangely at her, but Harry was infinitely grateful.

"Is Christine coming?" Harry asked, looking up interestedly at Andy. But before his blonde-haired friend could respond, Ginny slammed her spoon down and stormed out of the Great Hall. Harry looked after her, terribly confused. He looked back at Andy and Nadine, then finally Hermione.

"She's your best friend," Hermione whispered, trying to look inconspicuous. "You ought to chase after her and see what's wrong."

Harry wanted to tell Hermione that was ridiculous, but figured he wanted to know what was wrong with Ginny anyway. He got up, stuffed his letters in his pocket, and followed the pretty redhead into the hall, barely noticing Parvati's glare as he went.

Ginny hadn't gotten far: no more than a corridor and a half, where she was leaning against a wall in a semi-secluded corner. Harry walked up with measured steps.

"You all right?" he asked.

Ginny opened her eyes and glared at him. "Why aren't you telling them?"

Harry blinked. "Telling who what?"

"Telling everyone the truth!" Ginny exclaimed, pushing herself away from the wall and turning to face Harry completely. "Why are you just sitting there letting Neville tell his version?"

"I don't care whose version people hear as long as I'm not in it," Harry said truthfully.

"But he's acting like it was all him, like he saved Naomi and killed the basilisk and saved the school!" Ginny complained. "He's acting like--frick. All he did was ask that bloody sink to open."

"That was more than I could do," Harry said, feeling a sharp pang of something unpleasant as he realized that he would have been of no help to anyone facing a basilisk.

"He spoke Parseltongue! He's basically evil and--"

"Don't tell anyone that!" Harry cut her off, taking a step toward her. "Please, Ginny. Don't let--"

"Everyone already knows, Harry. This is Hogwarts. The people that don't know yet will know by the end of the day. That's why the Great Hall was so quiet and filled with whispers!"

Harry slammed his hand into the wall.

"He's their only hope and people are going to turn on him because he can speak to snakes! It's the dumbest, stupidest, most pigheaded--"

"You can't honestly feel sorry for Neville, can you?" Ginny yelled. "He's stealing your glory!"

"I don't want any glory!" Harry shouted back. "I just want normal! That's all I've ever wanted."

"What's wrong with you, Harry?" Ginny exclaimed. "You never let people just run you over. You never settle for the background."

"They aren't running me over," Harry returned hotly. The corridor was cold and dark despite the riding sun. "I want Neville to take the credit. I want teachers not to mention me. I don't want to be linked to the Chamber in any way except through my friendship with Naomi. And I certainly don't want you to be linked to it again."

Ginny stared at him, annoyed. "What do you mean again?"

"Nothing." Harry shook his head and looked out the high window, watching the morning brighten. "Nothing. Listen, I have to go talk to Professor Lupin before class starts. I'll talk to you after Christine and Matt arrive."

Ginny glared as he walked away, but Harry didn't notice. Instead, he found himself more interested with the swishing back of a black robe that turned the corner just ahead of him. He knew that cloak. It was Snape's. Had he been listening? Why would he bother? And why would he bother to leave?

Considering the question, Harry made his way toward the Defense classroom. He hoped to catch Professor Lupin before he began teaching. He hoped to get back into Defense after dropping N.E.W.T. Arithmancy, Ancient Ruins, and Divination. When he arrived at the professor's office, Harry knocked politely.

"Come in," Remus called out. The familiar sound of his voice made Harry feel both hopeful and anxious. Hopeful because this was the man he had trusted with his life for years. Anxious because this man had been looking at him during breakfast like he was a stranger.

Harry pushed open the door. "Hello, Professor Lupin."

Lupin looked slightly startled. "Hello, Mr. Potter." Harry sort of shuffled his feet. "Was there something you wanted?"

Well, let's see, Harry thought. "Do you remember an alternate timeline?"

"No," Lupin said.

Remus Lupin, Harry knew, would have made an ideal secret keeper. He had kept the fact that his three best friends were illegal animagi quiet for decades, not to mention his lycanthropy. Yet Harry also knew that Remus had fought his battles, lost his friends, and wasn't exactly comfortable around Harry. At least not in his world. He wouldn't have asked Remus to keep this secret, this burden.

"No, I don't suppose you would," Harry said. Up until this point he had counted on everyone he asked to believe it was a stupid, strange prank that Harry was pulling, asking them about an alternate timeline. Lupin's response initially worried Harry as he thought the professor might have taken him seriously. Luckily, Lupin quickly disproved that theory.

"Are you here to trivialize my ability as a professor again?" Remus asked, right hand gently lying on the desk.

"What?"

"Oh, it was all a joke. I know that now. I knew that then," Lupin said, picking up his cup of tea and taking a sip. "And when the students were laughing and I wasn't, were you having a good time?"

Who was this angry man? Who the hell was the Harry of this world?

"I want to join the Defense class," Harry said, deciding to ignore the hostility.

"You made it abundantly clear last year that you had no desire to participate in my class," Lupin said. "Or are you now suggesting that I be replaced?"

"No, I don't want you replaced," Harry said, irritated by the miscommunication. "I just want to take N.E.W.T. Defense classes."

Lupin looked at him for a long moment, eventually standing up and walking around the desk to lean against it as he continued to regard Harry. "Why?"

Harry kicked the ground. "It's the only class I'm really good at."

"Your other professors disagree, but I think you know that already." Lupin kept staring at him, and Harry hoped he could see that he was serious. "Now why do you really want to rejoin this class? Is it because you finally understand that it's necessary for the Auror training program? Is it because you can't bear the thought of being second in your year?"

The respectful yet tastefully snide tone with which Remus Lupin spoke was not something Harry had ever heard before.

"It's the only class I love," Harry said.

"Last year you said my class was one which you'd be glad to never see again," Lupin said, setting down his cup.

"Listen, if it's easier, I won't be in your class. I'd just like to work with you on Defense--"

"So you would like me to take time from my schedule to help you be--"

"Expecto Patronum," Harry said, pointing his wand toward the space directly in front of Lupin. The previously semi-dark office lit up. The tall, proud, bright form of the stag patronus stood in between them, turning to look at Harry and then Professor Lupin. The professor looked shocked and almost sick as he reached out a hand toward the stag without blinking. His hand passed right through. The stag bowed and disappeared.

The silence in the room felt like the worst kind of curse, cast with reluctance and causing the most pain because it brought back wonderful, dead memories.

"You can cast a corporeal Patronus?" Lupin finally asked.

Harry met his eye. "I had a good teacher."

"Why haven't you told anyone?"

"A lot's changed this summer," Harry said, still hoping that seeing the ghostly image of an almost-Prongs might help Harry's case for lessons.

"Who taught you how to perform that spell?"

Harry continued to look directly at his professor. "You."

Remus shook his head and looked at the ground, clearly writing Harry's comment off as a joke. Harry took this as a hint to leave but made no move.

"Meet me here tomorrow night at eight," Lupin said.

Harry would have smiled if Lupin hadn't sounded so defeated.

-----

"Well, have you considered who you'd pick?" Hermione asked Harry, setting her bag of books down on a table in the common room after lunch when both she and Harry had a break.

"Pick for what?" Harry asked, sitting down on a couch, flipping through Advanced Transfiguration. Hermione huffed and Harry knew it was time to look up. She wore a very exasperated look on her face.

"Pick to be the One Who Lived," Hermione said in that condescending tone which Harry hated. His Hermione hadn't sounded that pompous since first year. And maybe not even then.

"Oh, that," Harry said, looking down at his book again. "Not really. There's no point until I figure out the Secret Keeper."

"Well, that's a catch-22."

"A what?" Harry asked, looking up again. Resigned to the fact that they were going to have this conversation, Harry set down his book. Which was a shame because Transfiguration was one of the only classes in which Harry felt up to speed.

"It's a no-win situation. What good is finding the Secret Keeper if you don't know what sort of world you have to convince them to want?"

"What good is knowing who I want to be the One Who Lived if I can't make it happen?" Harry returned. Hermione shot him a look.

"That's a circular argument." Hermione took a moment to just revel in the absurdity of the situation. Harry reopened his book and tried to make sense of the paragraph about the theory of nose transfigurations in mammals. For a moment there was perfect silence.

"So you haven't made any progress with either person?" Hermione asked. Harry sighed and shut his book again, shaking his head at Hermione. She, in turn, leaned forward and began riffling through her bag.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

Hermione pulled out a quill, an inkbottle, and a piece of parchment. "We're making lists."

Harry smirked. It was nice to find a piece of home in this strange world. "All right."

"Let's start with possible replacements." Hermione looked imploringly at him, her quill poised above the page in eager anticipation. She was at her finest taking notes.

"Let's start with the Secret Keepers," Harry countered.

"No."

"No?"

"No," Hermione said. "You only want to start there because, though you won't tell me what, there's something that makes you uncomfortable about picking someone to replace you. It isn't that you don't want to someone else to take your place, it's that you don't want to force anyone else to do it and to have to endure what you and our Neville have faced. If we ignore that fact and focus on the idea that you have to choose someone, we'll do better. Just start listing people you'd feel comfortable facing what you've faced already."

That was difficult. Who would Harry have wanted to go down and protect the stone? Who would he have wanted to face the basilisk and save Ginny Weasley? Who would he trust to befriend and help Hagrid? To free Sirius Black and enter the Third Task?

"You know, I think I might have chosen Neville," Harry said, leaning back in his sofa and twirling his quill absentmindedly through his fingers. Hermione scribbled away. "I mean, if I hadn't come to this world and seen what a prat he would become, if that man Robert had actually made me choose someone, I think it'd have been Neville. But not anymore."

Hermione's quill stopped. "Why not anymore?"

Harry stopped twirling his quill, but continued to stare up at the ceiling. "My world's Neville--he's--well, all right, he has this frog," Harry turned his eyes to Hermione. "Trevor. The frog's a bloody nuisance. Always missing and jumping out of windows and things. But the frog's from his uncle and when Snape threatened to make Trevor drink the potion Neville made, Neville worked as desperately as I'd ever seen him. And when Trevor's missing, he freaks. I'd trust that Neville. But I think this world's Neville would throw Trevor into the lake and demand a unicorn for a pet."

It did not seem that Hermione really understood the purpose of the story, but she crossed out Neville's name anyway.

"All right. List some other people."

"Well, you, of course," Harry said, motioning toward her. Hermione's quill did not move.

"Me? Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"I'm a Muggleborn."

"But you're also the brightest witch in our year." Harry shook his head at her. Why would she think he wouldn't pick her?

There was a long pause, punctuated by Hermione's quill scraping on the page to title the parchments and then, almost haltingly, write her name on one of the lists.

"I'd also put you on the Secret Keeper list," Harry said, "but I think we both know that you don't remember the other world. Which is a problem, since I figured it'd be you or Ron, though you'd have told one another and me so you couldn't really be the one I trust to tell no one."

Harry had been thinking aloud without considering the words and he hadn't even realized how his bushy-haired friend might interpret them until she spoke up again.

"In your world," Hermione said hesitantly, "do we date?"

Harry looked at her, shocked. "What? No."

"Oh."

"Why?"

Hermione picked up her books and held them against her chest. "It's nothing--It's just that sometimes, you say my name a certain way, like you trust me."

"You're my best friend," Harry said without thinking. "You and Ron are, and you've saved me from detention and Death Eaters and even a giant plant that wanted to eat me."

"I did?" She didn't sound like she believed him.

"And more," Harry said. "You deciphered one of Snape's logic puzzles, identified the creature in the Chamber of Secrets, time-traveled to save a hippogriff and a convicted murderer, taught me the Accio charm--which later saved my life--and started a club to tutor Defense students. You even managed to out hex a Ministry official."

In Harry's mind the list went on and on. She knit scarves and stood in front of Harry when she thought Sirius was trying to kill him. And that, of course, made him remember the most recent thing his best friend had done for him: followed him against her better judgment to the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione fiddled with the edge of her pieces of parchment. "Do you miss her?"

"What? Who?" Harry asked, confused. Hermione shook her head briefly.

"You just sound so sad, talking about all of that," she said. "I was wondering if you were sad because you missed your friend. The other me."

"Oh, no," Harry said. "I'm just remembering something else you did."

She looked concerned. "What was that?"

"You came with me to try and save my godfather from Voldemort"--Hermione let out a little shriek, and clamped her hands to her mouth, but Harry tried to ignore it--"A Death Eater cursed you pretty badly and I--it was my fault."

She looked shaken and scared, but managed to mutter, "Oh."

"Yeah."

There was an uncomfortable pause. "Sounds like we do a lot of dangerous things."

"We do, you, me, and Ron. I trust you with--well--a lot," Harry said, finding it difficult to voice the amount of trust he put in this bushy haired girl that didn't quite know him.

There was another one of those awkward pauses.

"Well," Hermione said, business-like again as she tried to ignore her fear, "who else should we put on the lists?"

By the time their next class was about to start, there were almost no people on the lists, but that was mainly due to the fact that Harry would name someone and then quickly decide that he would never really trust that person: McGonagall, for example, was nixed as Secret Keeper because, though Harry trusted her with his life, he firmly believed she would report directly to Dumbledore. She had, however, been put on the replacement list.

Hermione was not satisfied. She told Harry that his assignment for that week was to make his own list and that they would go over it together that Friday and narrow it down then. Until then, he was only to add name without crossing anyone off. He nodded, put the two pieces of parchment in the back pages of his Transfiguration book and used them as book marks, occasionally taking them out and putting names on them throughout the next few days without thinking.

-----

"Ouch!" Neville said as Harry and Hermione passed him on their way out of the common room.

"You okay, Neville?" Harry asked, surprised to see Neville alone instead of surrounded by adoring fans.

"Nothing, just a headache," Neville said, rubbing his scar.

Harry looked more closely at him. "Is it a headache or is it your scar?"

"Don't be thick, Harry. Scars don't hurt," Neville said, walking past them and into the common room.

"Prick," Harry said, shaking his head at Neville's back. "And where's his constant group of followers and bodyguards?"

"His bodyguards don't come to school," Hermione said as the pair left to portrait hole.

"What?" Harry asked. "He really has bodyguards?"

Hermione nodded. "After the second attack on his family home, the Ministry stepped in and assigned two Aurors to be with him always. Dumbledore put his foot down, though, and said they weren't to come to school." Hermione readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Don't you have bodyguards in your world?"

"No," Harry said. "Well, sort of during the summer when there are people around my house, but not real bodyguards. Who attacked him?"

"Just some crazy people," Hermione said. "A couple that wanted to burn down his house because they thought it was where You-Know-Who fled to and a pair of aging Dark Wizards. But what can you expect when the papers publish your address?"

"His address?"

"Yes. For the fan mail," Hermione said. Noting his blank look, she asked, "You don't receive fan mail?"

"No," Harry said. "I barely receive any mail at all." But that made him think of Sirius and so he stopped talking about it.

She sensed his discomfort. "Oh, well, Neville receives loads."

"Sounds like he's pretty spoiled."

"Well," Hermione said. "He's been taken care of his entire life. Whenever there has been a problem, the Ministry has stepped in to fix it. And if they don't fix it fast enough, his grandmother gets after them. Needless to say, things get done quickly. His grandmother's very formidable. Like when she decided he was going to use his dad's wand and not get a new one, no one even thought to question her, though most people thought it was insane."

"You seem to know a lot about his life," Harry said.

"Everyone does. He used to give weekly press conferences to talk about his life, but when school started, he cut back a little."

Harry remembered his first year at school, knowing he was famous and having people literally follow him to class. Having people in the pub stop talking and stand to shake his eleven-year-old hand. He's been uncomfortable, but maybe that was just because he'd grown up with no attention and had only just learned why he was famous in the first place.

"That does shed some light on his personality."

"Doesn't it though?" Hermione asked.

Soon thereafter, the pair split up: Hermione to the library to study and Harry to find Professor McGonagall and drop the class he was supposed to be taking at that moment: Divination.

"Harry!" a voice called out. Harry pulled out his wand and spun around, trying to find the source.

"Christine?" Harry asked, seeing the tall woman smiling as she walked up to him. She briefly embraced him.

"You're wandering aimlessly," Christine said, walking with him.

"I'm searching for McGonagall, actually."

"I just left the professor to find some food," Christine said. She looked tired. "She's in the Infirmary with the Ryans and Matt. Severus Snape's brewing the potion now and it'll be administered in a few hours."

"For Naomi?" Harry asked, a strange tightness in his chest as he thought about what Naomi's parents must be going through. "Are Nadine and Nadia there?"

"No, they're in class, but after she's awake, they'll be brought in," Christine said. Harry looked up and noticed the Fat Lady and realized that they had been heading in the wrong direction if they'd wanted food. But then Christine made a sharp left and opened the wall, revealing a hidden staircase that Harry had never seen on the Marauder's Map.

"Do you have class now?" Christine asked. Harry shook his head.

"I'm dropping Divination," Harry said.

"Join me then," Christine said, stepping forward. Harry paused for a moment, then followed. "Matt and I are taking you, Andrew, and Stephen out to dinner in Hogsmeade if all of this is resolved early enough. We'd like the Ryans to join us, but they might want to be alone."

It turned out that the Ryans did not want to be alone after Naomi woke up. In fact, after waking up, the eldest Ryan girl insisted on going with the McGraths into town for dinner. They found themselves at a restaurant that Harry had never heard of before located on the third story of a building on the edge of town.

When they were seated at the table, the adults and children began having separate conversations. The Ryan parents had cried when they'd seen Naomi open her eyes and now they could not thank their friends enough for helping them procure Mandrake Root. The children, meanwhile, were talking about what had happened.

"Heard the real story yet, Naomi?" Andy asked.

"About Harry the Hero?" Nadine added, smiling.

Naomi looked at Harry with her big brown eyes. They were seated next to each other. "No. I haven't."

"He was the one that figured everything out about the Chamber and the basilisk," Nadia said.

"And he would have gone down to save you himself," Stevie added, "but Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to personally take care of everything."

Naomi remained quiet as everyone told the version of the story they heard. The ease of conversation reminded Harry of being back at the villa during the holiday. but when Nadia and Nadine started arguing about which one was exaggerating, Naomi turned to Harry and said, "Thank you."

He gripped his fork tightly. "I didn't do anything. Neville's the one that saved you. And Dumbledore and the professors. Maybe that's better."

Naomi looked uncertain. "Maybe."

The restaurant had bright light pouring from the multi-colored torches that encircled the room. The tablecloths were bright red, and there were many families eating. Harry couldn't exactly eat his food, so he settled for pushing it around his plate. Seeing that Andy, Stevie, Nadine, and Nadia were still occupied with their conversation, Harry couldn't help but focus on Naomi Ryan beside him.

She was really beautiful.

"I was on my way to the common room when I heard the noise behind me," Naomi said quietly for just Harry to hear. "I glanced in the window without thinking, to see what was behind me. And then I woke up gagging and freezing, my parents around me. Your parents right behind them, standing with the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. They kept asking me questions, and I just wanted more blankets."

Hermione had once told Harry that waking up from being Petrified was quite a lot like jumping into an iceberg, followed by a fire, while trying to swallow salt water.

"Sounds fun," Harry said, trying to avoid the twist in his stomach.

Naomi's face lightened. "The headmaster made it very clear that you were the reason I was revived so quickly."

The food on the plate looked less and less appetizing. "It was Neville and the professors."

Without drawing attention, Naomi reached over and took Harry's hand in hers. Beautiful and sincere, Naomi Ryan held Harry Potter's hand like a friend. A confidant. "You really don't want credit for it, do you?"

"For what?" He had led a spoiled child to a sink and watched as a group of people ran off to do a job Harry should have done himself. He felt useless.

Naomi held his hand firmly. "For being you."