I either want less corruption, or more chance to participate in it.

- Ashleigh Brilliant

8

Ginny looked down at the cloak stashed innocently in the middle of her bundle of clothes. Charles had a slightly smaller pile, but was wearing a vibrant turquoise scarf wrapped around her head like a babushka. The pink one she had on already was clashing horribly with her newest addition. She hadn't shown the cloak to the Canadian girl, and a part of her told her she shouldn't--at least not yet. For now it would be a secret. Ginny wasn't sure what she'd do with an invisibility cloak, but with her innate Weasley desire for mischief coupled with her own slightly distrustful nature it would almost certainly see some use. At the very least she could use it when she returned to Hogwarts in a year; she'd always envied Ron the ability to sneak down to the kitchens in Harry's cloak.

Ginny loaded the things that were soon to be hers onto the counter, and waited for the woman behind the counter to ring them in. Despite growing up in the wizarding world and having survived an encounter with Death Eaters only a few months previously, Ginny had to admit that she found the woman slightly more than intimidating. Ginny supposed she was a Muggle, and resolved to stop thinking about eccentric fashion as a trademark of the Wizarding world, because the woman in question could out-do Dumbledore on a good day. She had blond hair that was cut into a bob and more eye make-up than Ginny would ever wear in her life. Her limbs were heavy with jewelry and she wore a slashed black shirt that concealed very little, not including her crimson bra. Her eyes were icy blue and entirely uninviting. A thick layer of purple lipstick completed the ensemble and it wasn't without trepidation that Ginny said a quiet 'hello'.

Charles however, plunked her things on the counter and dove over it, engulfing the cold woman in a toppling bear hug.

'Agnes! Darling!'

The woman's hands left her hips to wrap loosely around Charles' bare shoulders, her bangles jingling. A surprising smile graced her lips. Ginny noticed then that under the scarves the long blond hair and round face--Charles' 'new' features--had reverted to the familiar purple spiky hair and angular face of yesterday.

'Charlotte, dear, how are you?'

The frosty woman had a surprisingly warm and gentle voice.

'Fine, fine. I didn't expect you to be here; I thought you and Jared were out at the beach.'

'We were, but his sister, you know, Marjee, she went into labor on our second day out. He's always been really close to her. I don't mind; I was all set to spend the next week baby-minding while Marjee caught up on sleep, but the woman who was supposed to work this shift called in sick. Since I was in town, I figured I'd take it.'

Agnes' hands automatically began sorting through the two piles while she and Charles chatted.

'You're kidding me,' Charles exclaimed, bouncing in delight, 'I had no idea she was so near her due date. Is it a boy or a girl?'

'Girl. A real sweetheart, I'll tell you. She's got the entire McTavish clan wrapped around her littlest finger. Sleeps most of the time, but that's to be expected at two weeks premature. Tiniest baby I've ever seen.'

'Aw, she sounds adorable. I think I may have to drop by sometime soon to see her for myself; what's her name?'

Ginny held her breath as Agnes reached the middle of her pile, lifted the invisibility cloak, gave it a once over, and rang it up as two dollars. Folding it and placing it in the large paper bag she'd started for all Ginny's things, Agnes didn't even glance down before moving onto a burgundy blouse that Ginny had chosen.

'Patricia,' Agnes said, continuing their conversation without lapse, 'but I think they're going to shorten it. Trici would be cute, don't you think?'

'It so would. I think a little bit of intervention is going to be necessary here.' Charles had steepled her fingers and was wearing a mock-scheming expression.

'Oh come on, Charlotte, you know Jared's never going to allow anyone to call her Trici.'

Charles smiled. 'What he doesn't know won't hurt him.'

'I'm sure, well, that's it; you two are good to go.' Agnes handed Ginny her bag.

'I'm Agnes, by the way.' She gave Ginny a half-smile.

'Ginny. Nice to meet you.' She gripped the twisted handle of the huge bag firmly with both hands.

'I probably won't see you before school,' Charles started to explain, shifting her grip on her own bag, but Agnes waved it off.

'You and your disappearances. Just give me a hug and come visit me at Christmas.'

The two embraced, and Ginny looked over her shoulder for the twins, but the wicker bench that they'd been sitting on was empty.

Charles fell into step beside Ginny, called a last farewell over her shoulder, and they walked out into the sunlit street.

'Have you seen—,' but Izzie and Dominic were sitting one of the benches outside the store, each clutching a beaten-up paperback and leaning backwards into the wind.

They looked up as the door jangled behind Ginny. 'You two finished? We had to get novels next door, you were taking so long. What did you buy?' Dom stood up and brushed himself off, straightening his toque.

'Do you really want a list?' Ginny asked half-seriously.

Dom held up a finger. "Good point. Not really. My good manners only extend so far."

Charles turned to Ginny. 'Although that was the best one,' she started, 'there are some more—'

'C'mon, Charles,' Dominic said soothingly, 'give the girl a break, she's been shopping for more than four hours.'

Ginny, surprised, looked at her watch and realized that it was indeed after five o'clock.

'You know,' Izzie said thoughtfully, 'I have a craving for a banana lychee smoothie.'

Charles looked at her. 'Well it is suppertime."

'Sound like a plan; Ginny?' Dominic asked her, raising his eyebrows.

'Erm. All right. Where are we going?' Hoping that she was agreeing to go for finner, she realized that she had yet to try any signature Canadian dishes, and she was sure that Hermione would require nothing less than a full report in the first letter Ginny sent her. If it that involved bananas and lychees, whatever they were, then so be it.

'Oh, just a little place back down 13th. It's delightful and delicious, you'll see."

8

Walking around Mrs. Weasley's kitchen, Frank hummed softly to herself, opening and closing cupboards. Hermione sat at the head of the round kitchen table reading, and Harry had gone upstairs to get changed. Finally finding what she'd been looking for, Frank gave a triumphant hum, and plucked a teabag from the jar. Placing it on the mat beside the already-hot kettle, she took down the teapot from its hook above the stove, filled it with boiling water, and dropped the teabag in. She placed it on a waiting hot-mat, and went back to find cups, sugar, and milk.

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading at the teapot now sitting on the table in front of her and noted Frank's happy demeanor.

'The sugar is in the second cupboard to your left,' she said helpfully.

'Oh! Thanks.' Frank went back to humming.

'What were you two really doing outside?'

'Hm?' Frank hummed inquisitively.

'Somehow I doubt you were picking flowers at fourteen minutes after seven. AM.'

'Well, no, I suppose not.' Frank finished setting the table for three and sat down across from Hermione.

'So, what were you doing?'

Frank hooked her feet around the table legs and tipped her chair back a bit, thinking. 'Eh. He kind of caught me practicing my Tai Chi.'

'What do you mean, kind of?'

Frank focused unconsciously on the steeping tea. 'Mm. Not kind of, I guess. He did. It's not my fault the front door slams, or that the porch creaks.'

'I see,' Hermione said quietly, obviously making an effort not to wake the rest of the household. 'So you two haven't...discussed anything?'

Frank smiled suddenly and looked towards the doorway.

'Really subtle, Hermione. No. Despite your best efforts, Frank and I are not 'together'.'

Harry stood in the door looking amused. Hermione looked shocked, and as if she hadn't thought that Harry knew what subtle meant.

'That's not what I meant—' she began, but Harry laughed and waved it aside.

'Of course it's what you meant. It was the way you said 'discussed' that gave it away. It's what Ron would call your 'let me know all your secrets so I can store them all in my large and impressive brain' voice.'

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She tried again. 'He says that?'

Harry shrugged. 'Not in so many words, no, but he's said about as much. Why? Is that a problem? I'd be kind of flattered if someone called my brain large and impressive.' He left the doorway and pulled out the chair between the two girls.

Frank laughed and said in a mocking voice, 'Harry, I think your brain is large and impressive.' She fluttered her eyelashes and Harry gave her a crooked grin.

'Thank-you, Frank. I've always considered it among my better assets. Along with my devastatingly manly eyebrows."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

Harry waggled his eyebrows at her. "You should know that your brain is also very impressive. In fact, it's so impressive that it inspires me to pour this tea you've so thoughtfully made, before all your dillydallying lets it get cold.'

Frank laughed again and poked him in the side. 'Oh, you think you're so clever. One day soon you will find out first hand what it's like to get on the wrong side of Francis W. Brooks.'

'Oh, I don't know. I'm growing quite fond of your wrong side.'

'Shush you, you're making Hermione uncomfortable.' She laughed at the scared look on the British girl's face.

'All right,' Hermione said in a voice that was much more high-pitched than her own, 'that was weird.'

Harry stifled a snicker and ladled two teaspoons of milk into Hermione's cup. Passing it to her, he asked Frank what she took in her tea.

'Just black, thanks.' Passing it to her and pouring a generous helping of sugar into his own, he turned to Hermione.

'So, what's up with Ron? He seemed a bit off last night. Didn't talk to me all through supper and kept sending you weird looks across the table. You didn't have another fight or anything, did you?'

Hermione fought down a blush, and answered, 'Kind of. No. Not really.'

There was silence, and she knew he was prompting her for more information.

'I don't know,' she said in a rush, 'ask him.'

'All right; it's no big deal, I was just wondering.' But he gave her a funny look anyway.

Frank yawned. Harry smirked at her.

'What,' he said innocently, 'late night?'

But she smirked right back and leveled her gaze. 'I was with this really dashing guy who turned out to be quite handy with an Engorgio spell, if you know what I mean.'

'I do indeed.' He waggled his eyebrows at her again.

'Stop,' Hermione commanded them, and they both turned to look at her.

Feeling the need to be in control of the conversation once again, she asked, 'What were you and Frank were doing at all hours of the morning with an Engorgio spell?!'

Harry's grin widened. 'Picking flowers.'

Looking uncertainly between the two, Hermione said in an awed voice, 'Congratulations, Frank, you've managed to corrupt Harry.'

Frank laughed. 'I wouldn't call it corruption ... I'd say ... improvement. Practically a public service.'

Then she tilted her chair back on its back legs and started humming contentedly once again.

8

As Ginny walked through the hedge, she saw a hand-painted sign reading 'Heliotrope'.

'Is this it?' she asked Dominic.

'Sure is. Best vegan restaurant in the city.'

'Vegan...you mean like no milk and such?'

'Yeah, their food is a little strange if you're not used to it, but they make the best drinks. Beats anything hands down.' Izzie swooned and made a mumbled noise that sounded like 'lychee...'.

A woman wearing ripped jeans and a knitted tank-top approached them with menus and led them to an out-door table set with pale yellow plates and surrounded by four twisted iron chairs.

Dominic took out a small blue plastic device and pressed a button, lifting it to his ear. He angled himself away from the girls and waiting a few moments before saying, 'Mum. We're at the Heliotrope eating supper. Expect us back before seven; call if it's urgent. Bye.'

Conversation between the three girls had stopped and Ginny was staring at the small blue contraption in his hand.

'What?' he asked, self-consciously.

'What is that?' Ginny said in slight confusion, 'One of those, telephones? Is that how you say it?'

'Erm,' he said nonplussed, 'well, actually it's a cell phone. Which is like a telephone, but smaller, and doesn't have a cord. Of course, this one's not quite just a cell phone any more; Pascale's made some improvements.'

'Improvements?'

'Well, yes. Like modifying the—'

'C'mon Dom, as much as we know you'd love to talk about Pascale all day, we've got supper to order, or at the very least drinks.' Izzie had her menu open and was gazing hungrily at it.

'What do you think about the Cucumber-Carrot-Lemon Zinger? That sounds good. I could even add lychees.'

Charles looked up from her menu. 'Yeah, it is. Very refreshing. Especially after a day like today. Of course, whether or not you like it depends on how strong your love of carrot is.'

'Well, it's not bad in juice. I liked the Carrot-Spinach.'

Ginny started. 'In juice?'

Izzie raised her eyebrows. 'Is there something wrong with spinach in juice? The beet is good too, if only because it turns everything red. Bit of a strong after-taste with beet, though, and I'd recommend you stay far, far away from parsley,' she added as an afterthought.

Charles harrumphed. 'I think parsley tastes great. Especially with lime.'

'Well?' Dominic asked impatiently. 'You ready to order yet?'

'Yes, I think so, Ginny, are you going to have one?'

'I don't know...they sound rather...outlandish.' This was not what she'd imagined she'd be eating as her introduction to Canadian food.

Charles laughed. 'They are. After all, who drinks beet juice? No, really, they're good. Why don't you try the Apple-Carrot-Ginger? It's nice and safe, and delicious to boot.'

'Um, sure?' Ginny felt much less than sure, but Izzie had already waved over the waiter.

Taken aback by his lip-ring and pink hair, Ginny graciously allowed her Canadian associates to order first. Was it her imagination or did all the young people in and around Cathedral look like they'd blend in seamlessly at a Weird Sisters concert? Even the muggles! Pink hair was fine if you were named Tonks and were simultaneously sporting a pig's snout, but on a daily basis? Permanently? The bloke in question flourished a notepad.

'Hi, I'll have the Pineapple-Celery-Soy Latte,' Dominic said over the top of his menu.

'Cucumber-Carrot-Lemon Zinger with lychees, thanks.'

'Parsley, lime and avocado please.' Charles looked expectantly at Ginny.

'I—uh.' She looked desperately back.

'Mélange Apple-Carrot-Ginger, and could you also bring four waters?' Charles finished smoothly.

'Sure thing.' The waiter scribbled down their orders, and left to go back inside.

'Thanks,' Ginny said sincerely once he was gone, 'I completely forgot what it was called.'

'No problem,' Charles shrugged, then did a double take, 'Hey! You're red.'

Ginny reached up to touch her hair self-consciously; 'I—'

'No,' Charles said impatiently, 'red!' In the fading light of the sunset, she had to lean closer to see Ginny's shoulders properly.

Izzie made an exclamation of surprise. 'You're right. Gods, Ginny, are you ever burnt! That's got to hurt.' She leaned over and poked the unfortunate girl's pink arm.

'Ouch! If you knew it was going to hurt, why did you poke me?' There was a white mark showing where Izzie had poked her that was fading back into pink.

'Well I'll be,' Charles said scratching her head, 'how on earth did you get burnt today of all days? There wasn't even that much sun! Of course, you are a redhead. And you weren't wearing any sun potion,' she said, answering her own question.

'What does her having red hair have to do with anything?' Dominic looked flummoxed.

'You know, with the pale skin...just never mind.' Izzie rolled her eyes.

Ginny cleared her throat. 'When you're all done gawking at my shoulders, you might notice that the drinks have arrived.'

Sunburn forgotten, Charles and Izzie became immediately engrossed in the drinks placed in front of them. For a moment, everything was silent as they all enjoyed their drinks. Ginny thought that she would have tried carrot juice ages ago if she knew it tasted this good. The ginger made it all the better, giving it a sharp aroma and leaving a tingly feeling in her mouth.

The waiter had appeared again, and was watching them while poking his lip ring with his pen.

'So, you want food?'

Izzie finished a long draught, and replied. 'Oh, yes,' she looked at her fellow diners, 'what shall it be? Same as usual?'

Charles nodded, and Dominic voiced her opinion. 'Sure.'

'All right, in that case, we'll have four fresh rolls, one bean salad, mixed vegetables with herbs, two sliced avocados and lime, one plate of pita and hummus, two orders of pineapple rice in coconut milk, and four plates.'

Ginny raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. She was beginning to think that after living with these three for a while, nothing would surprise her.

8

FUNCTION Journal Entry

SELECT August 22

OVERLAY SCRAMBLE FILTER

RECORD

It's me again. Hey. I'm in England. I arrived a few days ago and am staying at the Burrow with the Weasleys. It's really strange, actually. In more ways than one, but most apparent, is that...well, you'd think that the field would be the same, spanning the globe as it is reputed to do, but I would swear that there's something off around here. Either the frequency is whacked, or there's been a huge variance in the flow. I've no idea what would have caused something like this, but it makes finding and manipulating the field so much easier.

Speaking of manipulating, I've been spending quite a bit of time with Harry. At first he wanted to know the basics of Jo'Ouqye, but I kind of got carried away, and we spent eight and a half hours fooling around with basic Jo'Ouqye techniques and a primary introduction to field work. Something that, for him, ought to be much more difficult than it was. It may be something to do with whatever makes the field here so much more accessible. He's learning really fast, though, and now he's got intent pretty much down pat. We're moving on to wandless, but that's not what I want to talk about.

I actually wanted to muse about Harry. First of all, he's a great guy. I know I've only known him for a few days, but he so...unique. He's got this big, bad guy coming after him, and somehow he's still a thoughtful and funny human being. He's got a wicked sense of humour, once you get past his intense shy streak. He mumbles at first, but when he's got something to say, he'll say it, sometimes without thinking, which is both incredibly funny and potentially worrisome. Not, of course, that he's dumb or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. He thinks on his feet and, with a bit of practice, could argue your socks off. Although, he might have to get past this penchant for truthfulness he's got. Can't lie worth a damn.

Anyway. I asked him out the other day. Well, I kind of asked. All right; I kissed him first, but he wasn't very enthusiastic. So now we've decided that he's head over heels for Ginny, who I met briefly, but would love to get a chance to talk to. Especially about Harry. Maybe later. She's staying at the Inglenook, and I hope for her sake that Charles has gone easy on her, but I wouldn't be surprised if poor Ginny Weasley ended up with blue hair before the end of the week.

But I'm going off topic. Last night, Harry and I talked about a lot of stuff. We talked about the potential us and about the potential him and Ginny. Honestly, the latter is beginning to seem more likely, and they're not even in the same country. He kissed me again –yes, he initiated it this time— but I think it was more to prove a point than anything else. Surprisingly, I still feel really comfortable around him, something I'm not sure I can really explain. Normal Frank would be totally weirded out by now, and would probably never speak to Harry again, but... I don't know. There's something about him, I just wish I knew what it was.

I've got a sneaking suspicion that he's, if not responsible, then somehow connected to the disturbance in the field. I've just got to think of a way to either ask him, or find out on my own.

Wish me luck.

END SESSION

FUNCTION Close Program

8

Ginny spent the next few days in a haze of pain. She'd spent thirteen hours sleeping off the delicious vegan food on Thursday, but now it was Saturday, and she was only just able to make it without generous quantities of green goop called 'aloe' supplied by Charles' mother. Thankfully, it had been grey and threatening rain during her sunburned incident, and she hadn't felt too bad about having to stay indoors.

Charles and Izzie were being really good about it, after they'd got over their initial teasing. Dominic had helped Ginny brew a Sun-Filtering Potion, something that blocked what he called 'UV rays', even though she hadn't gotten a chance to use it. The three Canadians spent most of their time with Ginny, although that morning Charles and Izzie had had to go on an 'emergency' shopping trip, leaving the two to play game after game of Slap: a highly addictive and competitive card game. By the time the girls returned and the ominous clouds had lessened, permitting thin and feeble rays of sunlight to shine through, both Ginny and Dominic were nursing battered knuckles, and looking as if they had enjoyed themselves immensely. All in all, Ginny was feeling much more comfortable in her temporary home at the Inglenook and looking forward to leaving for Pascale's on the following day. They'd stay with Pascale's grandmother (who the twins and Frank called Gramme), for a week, leaving Saturday morning for one last night at the Inglenook before they'd make their way to Opasquia on the morning of the first.

'So, who won?' Charles asked, sending odd glances between the two.

'I did!' Ginny pronounced firmly.

'You did not, you cheated; you can't hold your hand so close to the pile!' Dominic protested.

'I never! You were too far away is all.' Ginny smiled innocently and stood up, careful not to brush her still tender shoulders on the arm of the sofa.

Dominic looked unappeased, but didn't protest, and followed her into the kitchen, where Ginny poured herself a glass of milk and downed it in one swallow. Charles and Izzie stood in the doorway.

'So, are we agreed then?' Izzie asked. 'We leave tomorrow morning at eleven?'

'I suppose so,' Dominic acceded, throwing a pointed glare at Ginny. 'We'd arrive at about six, with stops.'

They'd been discussing it since Dom received a message from Pascale the day before, and Ginny was now unsurprised at the length of the trip.

She looked at her watch.

'What are we doing tonight? It's almost seven, shouldn't your mum be home soon?' Ginny looked questioningly between Dominic and Charles.

As if summoned, Alison Brooks hurried into the room, discarding her woven purse on the counter, and opening the cupboard to take out plates and utensils. Alison was always doing something, Ginny had noticed. She was always busy, and seemed unhappy when she had to wait, but had a hypocritical tendency never to be on time.

'Bonfire tonight,' she said with her back towards the teens, as she pulled paper napkins out of a drawer, 'I thought we'd celebrate your last night home. I've sent Jason to Marc's house, and Christina is coming over.' She looked at the twins when mentioning their mother.

Dominic and Izzie raised their eyebrows, but said nothing. Ginny had also learned not to interrupt Alison when she was in one of her 'being busy' frenzies.

'Now, what would you kids prefer to eat? I bought hamburgers, hotdogs, and I think there are marshmallows and chocolate chips in the cupboard. Charlotte, did you pick up any bananas?'

'Yes, Mum—'

'Excellent, Izzie, hon', will you pass me the buns, they're one the counter beside your elbow.'

Izzie looked where she'd been leaning and tossed Alison the bag.

'Both, I'd say, wouldn't you? Of course, you're all still growing, that's for sure; do you think we'll need more food? I've got veggies and apples if anyone wants, but—oh! That must be— Christina, how have you been?'

Alison took two steps across a space that Ginny would have sworn to need four, and embraced the other woman warmly. Although Ginny had met the twins' mother before, she was always surprised at how attentive everyone in the room seemed to become as soon as Christina entered. She was always dressed in black, a colour that made her skin seem shockingly pale beneath her equally black hair. It was more than clear whom the twins had inherited their intense hair from. She also, unlike her children, had piercing pale-blue eyes that shone from beneath carefully curved brows. She was a woman who commanded respect, but had a mischievous quirk in her smile that surely had not come from fifteen years as a stern matriarch. No, Christina was a genuinely kind and friendly person despite her occasionally aloof attitude and formal attire.

She acknowledged her children with a nod and a fleeting smile before beginning an animated conversation with Alison and turning back the way she'd come. Alison's hand appeared, holding her wand briefly behind her back and, with a sharp flick, the plates, cutlery, napkins, and assorted items of food followed the two conversing women out of the house, the screen door swinging shut behind them.

'Well,' started Charles.

'Nice to see you, too,' Izzie finished.

'Do you suppose we should follow them?' Ginny asked curiously.

'I think they mean for us to,' Dominic replied lazily.

'Indeed,' Izzie put in, 'I don't think that's too much of a problem.'

'They are feeding us after all,' her brother agreed, offering his arm to Ginny. 'Come, Ms. Weasley, and pray you do not forget your sweater, lest you burn your shoulders anon and are unable to accompany us upon the morrow, as we embark on a journey to the north.'

Ginny glanced behind her before taking Dom's arm, but Izzie and Charles only rolled their eyes.

8

Headmaster Dumbledore was a very important man. Despite his recent ridicule and disparagement, he remained a prominent figure in the Wizarding world. People looked to him in times of uncertainty and crisis. It was, undeniably, a great responsibility.

Currently, the Headmaster was dealing with one of the additional benefits of said responsibility. Harry Potter.

He'd received an owl not five minutes previously from the Ministry of Magic about an act of underage magic committed by Mr. Potter himself. In light of the false criticism that had been liberally bestowed to Harry and himself, Dumbledore had made a few enquiries and subtle hints about his student's use of magic during the summer. It had not been hard to obtain a permit of sorts for the oblivious Mr. Potter, and to request that he be owled if and when Harry had need of his wand. Not, Dumbledore reflected, that the Ministry would notice the majority of underage magic at the Burrow, no, he was more worried about times when Harry would, undoubtedly, be leaving on some errand or other; a time when he would be much more vulnerable to attackers.

Nothing, he'd decided, was going to happen to Harry this summer. Albus had personally placed the wards around the Burrow, in hopes of ensuring Harry a happy vacation away from the War, the Prophecy, and even Voldemort. Surprisingly, the latter had been unpredictably mild, and his attacks few and dispersed since his revival and the public announcement informing all Wizardkind that the most feared dark wizard of the century was, to put it plainly, back.

Then, Ginevra and possibly Harry had been struck by what was widely assumed to be lightning, but even that had not disturbed the boy's summer too greatly. In fact, the Headmaster mused, it was possible that a friendship, or at the very least an alliance of sorts, had sprung up after such a trying ordeal. Something that could only be good for young Harry's future. The fact that Ms. Weasley was not, as it happened, in the country did not bother him in the least. Compared to his current dilemma and point of confusion, it was minor.

Why, in the name of all that's holy, would Harry feel the need to use an Engorgio charm at three AM?

It boggled the mind, and when the aforementioned mind did come up with an explanation, he quickly dismissed it as unlikely to the point of impossibility.

888

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8

Thoughts?