A Study in Magic: The Application
by Books of Change
Warning/Notes: This is the sequel to A Study in Magic, which is a BBC Sherlock and Harry Potter crossover AU posted here. The HP timeline and BBC Sherlock's timeline were shifted forward and backward to match up. One major BBC Sherlock character's gender was changed for the sake of the plot. Readers beware!
Chapter Thirteen: Secrets Unsaid
"Cheers!"
Ron clinked tankards with everyone seated around his table at the otherwise vacant Three Broomsticks. To his left sat his siblings, Ginny and Fred and George. They were laughing and joking and taking up most of the space. Further down sat Dean and Seamus, competing who could drain their tankard first.
To his right sat his best friends: Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Julia. The latter two looked happy but far quieter about it than his family, as usual. For once, Harry was grinning ear-to-ear (Ron's not going to lie, he missed seeing him happy).
Hermione looked glorious, flushed with joy and victory.
To his opposite sat people he'd never imagined sharing a drink with before: Harry's Hufflepuff mates, Ernie and Hannah; Cedric Diggory and his girlfriend, Cho Chang; the prat Ginny was dating, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot; finally, Luna Lovegood.
It was mad, how they came to this point. Stuff that should make the news but no one would believe. Like, the world may never know when the blood shortage was at its worst, Professor Lupin and several other cured werewolves donated their blood. Those who received this blood gained remission, but at the cost of the donors losing theirs. Luckily, Dr Robert made all participants take the Wolfsbane potion until the trials were over, so Lupin and the others didn't have to suffer the worst effects of their dormant werewolf curses returning in full force that month.
"On the bright side, Nat, Luke, and Ben are in full remission," Lupin had said, referring to the children who received his blood while looking ill and exhausted.
"And we learned an important lesson," Dr Robert had mused. "Remission is not a once and done thing. You can lose it if you give it away." Then he looked at Lupin and his fellow donors sternly. "No more blood donations from you."
More nuances appeared as the tials continued. Cho Chang donated three times, but only her second sample worked. Marietta Edgecomb, Cho's friend who accompanied her the Hospital Wing on her first trip and then got talked into donating, her blood didn't work at all. Out of the pool of hundred odd blood donors, only sixteen students besides Ron had blood that put werewolves in full remission at least once.
Those sixteen students were with Ron today, celebrating.
"When is Dr Ju going to present the results?" Cho asked, after two rounds of Butterbeer.
"Next Tuesday," Julia answered. "He's flying to Zurek with Belby and Denmark and whats-her-face, Cixin."
"What about you?" Ron asked.
Julia shook her head. "Head researchers only."
"Will we get to see the presentation on the news?" Cedric asked.
"Yeah, but as a five-minute headline with a twenty-second soundbite from the panel of experts, starting with Dr Robert. Not everyone's keen on a ninety-minute lecture heavy on medical magic," Ron said.
"That's too bad," said Hermione. "Ron, maybe you can push the Wizarding News Broadcast to do a special feature? Muggles have these things call documentaries. They pick a topic, like what it's like to suffer from an incurable disease, and show what it's like to have it, the current state of research and—"
"I know what documentaries are, Hermione." Ron watched a lot of Muggle Telly for inspiration. Now he could talk about the latest football scores with Dean and not come off as stupid, and curse out the makers of Doctor Who. Hell, he should call himself an expert!
"Do you reckon the Prophet will interview us?" asked Seamus. He looked equal parts hopeful and fearful. "We were on the front lines, you know? And we did that ad. You know me mum sent me that howler afterward…"
Everyone winced a little. Mrs Finnigan had a lot of choice words to say to her son for publically declaring himself pro-werewolf. "Do ye want You-Know-Who to go after you and the rest of the family, you bloody stupid barmpot?!" was among the tamest.
"I don't think the Aurors will let reporters into Hogwarts, not without prior authorization," said Hermione seriously. "Speaking of, I've been talking to Professor McGonagall. She said we should declare ourselves an official club. That way we can reserve classrooms and get a bit of funding for activities."
"What do we have to do?" Cho asked.
"Well, we should have a name to call ourselves," Hermione said. "We also have to elect a leader and a secretary who takes the minutes for our meetings. Oh, we need a teacher who'd act as our advisor."
"Lupin," said Harry immediately.
Everyone murmured their agreement. Professor Lupin was the most fitting.
"Okay, I'll put that down. I suppose I can volunteer as interim secretary," Hermione pulled out some parchment and a quill. "Any ideas on our club's name? Werewolf Student Advocates?"
"Boring. Society for Full Moon enjoyment," said Fred.
"Werewolves Are Us," George chimed.
Hermione scowled while everyone laughed. "Be serious."
Terry and Cho and Cedric threw in a few more sensible sounding names, Seamus tried to one-up Fred and George's ridiculous ones, and Luna watched them all with vague interest. At last Harry said:
"All these are good. But … I don't know how long we'd need a werewolf advocate club. If things keep going the way they do, there might not be any were-people, you know?"
"There still needs to be awareness," Hermione pointed out.
"That's true," Harry granted. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… werewolves aren't the only people who need help. Take Muggle-born firsties."
"They don't get a lot of support," Julia agreed. "I always wanted someone I could go to who could explain things to me."
"Anyone mixed, or doesn't follow standard wizard magic," Hermione added.
"House-elves," said Ron, looking at Hermione.
"Point is, they need a voice," said Harry, while Hermione stared at Ron, opened mouthed. "And there are stories I want people to know. Like all the things that happened in the werewolf clinic. What happened to the patients before they got there. Their life stories."
There was a solemn beat.
"So we're advocates, not just for werewolves," said Ginny. "I like that. Needs do change over time, and we should be flexible. And I like the idea of telling the stories that go untold."
"Like a special interest newspaper!" Ernie piped.
"That could be one of the things we can do, yeah," said Harry, smiling softly. "But Advocates, that's what I'm thinking. Oh, and another thing: I think we did a good job because we focused on the one thing we could do. That is, collecting blood donations."
He looked at them all solemnly.
"We can't do everything. That's all right. But the one thing we can do, let's do that really well."
Ron and the others murmured their agreement. Harry was good at this, the making inspirational speeches thing. Sign of a good leader, Mr Jeremy would say.
Yet at the same time, Ron couldn't help but feel there was something terribly loaded in that last thing Harry said.
-oo00oo-
Celebrations ended with everyone going their separate ways, but not before Hermione pulled Ron aside for a blinding kiss (until that moment, Ron did not know this phrase could be literal). Back at the tower, Ron had a good night sleep and excellent dreams. Only for the latter to get got rudely interrupted at an ungodly hour.
"Oh, hell, Harry, why," Ron groaned.
The ghostly silhouette of Harry turned to gaze at him. Ron didn't know why, but the sight made him feel like he bit down on an abscessed tooth while facing a giant spider.
"Go back to sleep, Ron."
"Oh, I will, trust me," Ron grouched, covering his face with his arm.
Ron kept his eyes closed as he listened to Harry putter around to prepare for his morning training. When the door closed, Ron got up, shrugged off his pyjama top, washed his face a little, and put on a good shirt. Then he went downstairs to the common room, to join Hermione by the table closest to the fire.
He took a moment to admire Hermione's getup. The blue blouse looked amazing on her as always.
"Morning," said Hermione briskly. "It's time."
Ron shook himself a little and turned on his phone to conference mode. The projected hologram displayed a small group of wizards and witches, all hard-eyed or sleazy to a person.
"Alright, gimme."
The problem with You-Know-Who's soul jars (Ron honestly liked this term better than Horcrux) wasn't that they didn't know what they were. That was easy enough to figure out, thanks to the prior hard work of Dumbledore and some sound reasoning on their part. Seeing as You-Know-Who got hold of Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup, they reasoned, he likely sought after a Ravenclaw relic to desecrate and add to his soul jar collection. A quick word with their Ravenclaw friends and a little research from Hermione made them conclude the relic they were looking for was Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem … an enchanted piece of tat that looked like a crown and made you smarter, or so the rumour went.
So far so good. Except they didn't know where to find the bloody locket or the bloody diadem.
Harry did what he did best; go mute and investigate away. Neville opted to tag along, to make sure he showed up to his classes if nothing else. Hermione consulted the library and Julia used her weird blood magic to gain intel from God knew what (and how was it not Dark Magic, Ron wanted to know).
Ron put an award for anyone who could bring him Ravenclaw's Diadem.
It was a low-brow strategy. Everyone and his Great Aunt Muriel told Ron it was a stupid idea and that it would never work. Ron acknowledged his chances of success were slim to nothing, and likely just bring every crackpot in the world to his door. But he couldn't just sit there and do nothing until Harry or Hermione caught another brainwave. Besides, when he floated the idea to Sherlock, the man shrugged and said it wouldn't hurt. He then proceeded to set a lot of hard limits on what Ron could do with his idea.
1) He should say the award was for a relic belonging to a Hogwarts Founder, and it should not exceed half the probable market value of such a relic
2) He was not to see any claimants in person (Ron wasn't planning on it; he wasn't stupid)
3) He must not touch a maybe relic (again, Ron wasn't stupid, he wasn't gonna)
4) He must reject all first-time claims (yeah, probably wise)
5) He should limit the window of time to make a claim to exactly ten minutes a day ("huh?" was Ron's immediate reaction)
6) He must keep track of anyone who pushed back when he refused with "I can take it to someone else" and make sure he knew who that someone else was. (Again, "huh?")
Ron wasn't sure if he understood the reason for the last two stipulations, but he followed them nevertheless. He also used his secret weapon to weed out frauds: Hermione Granger, who, over the course of a week, gained extensive knowledge on eleventh-century jewellery designs.
So here they were, Ron sitting to the side while Hermione examined the wares the award hunters were offering.
Hermione shook her head at the dirty and tarnished silver headband Mundungus Fletcher brought.
"No," said Ron.
"It's a true relic!" Dung protested.
"First of all," said Hermione, all kinds of smart and imperious, which did things to Ron's heart rate, "I can see it's made of sterling silver. Second, the design belongs to the eighteenth century, not eleventh. Finally, that's a tiara, not a diadem."
Dung put on his stubborn face. "If you don't want it, I can take it to someone else."
"Oh yeah? Like who?"
"Name's going to cost you."
"I'm telling dad to raid your shack," Ron threatened. "I know where it is, Sirius told me."
Dung went red. "You won't tell Dumbledore?"
"I swear I won't tell Dumbledore," Ron promised. Sherlock and Harry on the other hand…
Mundungus sighed. "The Malfoys."
Okay, that was news. Ron and Hermione shared a brief look.
"You're consorting with the enemy?" said Ron.
"I just heard he'll give a Galleon to anyone who brings in something that looks promising, no questions asked!" cried Dung. "'Sides, you ain't got proof he's the enemy!"
"I wonder if you'd say the same if Galleons weren't on the line. Speaking of which, I doubt even Malfoy would pay a knut for your thing. Try harder next time."
"I think that was our lucky break!" said Hermione in rush, after their daily ten-minute session in a$$-o-clock in the morning, designed to bring only the most desperate and motivated.
"How?" Ron asked.
"Malfoy's on a secret mission, remember?" Hermione said. "Say that Dung was telling the truth. I don't think Malfoy is expecting a genuine article any more than we do. But he's still on the lookout. Why? Because he can't afford not to. And the only reason why he can't afford not to is if he's secret mission to find the Diadem."
Ron let out a long breath. "Damn."
"It's obvious when you think about it," Hermione continued. "We know LV would want to protect his Horcruxes and that he'd want to punish Lucius Malfoy for using one for his own benefit.
"We know besides the Cup and Dairy, LV hid his other Horcruxes somewhere. These, I'm sure LV feels confident he'd kept them so well hidden, no one could possibly discover. So if Malfoy's mission to discover his hidden Horcrux, then LV must think he's doomed to fail! But even if Malfoy does find it, then no loss for LV. It just means he needs to hide it better."
"Yeah, I get that," said Ron. "But what does this mean?"
"Malfoy hasn't left the castle," said Hermione impatiently. "Sirius and Snape have been keeping track of his activities, so we're sure of this. If he had reasons to believe it's out of Hogwarts, then he'd be sneaking out. But he hasn't. Therefore…"
"...The diadem is in Hogwarts!" Ron and Hermione finished in unison.
-oo00oo-
They didn't go looking for the diadem immediately after telling the others about their epiphany. Hermione insisted they update Sherlock and John before they rushed out.
Thank Merlin, they did. John reminded Harry if they went searching that evening, he'd miss Slughorn's Halloween party, which would look suspicious. Plus, Sherlock had several questions.
"Are you sure Ravenclaw had a diadem?"
"Quite sure. All the statues and portraits of her show her wearing one, and they all look the same," Hermione replied.
"Does it look like something from the era she lived?"
Hermione thrust out a sheaf of papers. "These are the diadem designs typical of England from one thousand years ago." She raised her phone and projected an image of an oil portrait of a beautiful dark-haired woman wearing midnight blue robes so dark it looked black. On the crown of her head was a silver diadem shaped like an eagle with its wings spread. In its centre was an oval sapphire pendant. "And this is a portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw."
Sherlock scrutinized her report and the hologram for a beat.
"Consistent. Historically accurate. Excellent. This will do. Go."
"Why is he questioning us about the diadem now, I thought he agreed the Ravenclaw relic was a diadem?" Ron wondered as Harry disconnected the call.
"He's checking our evidence and thinking," Harry said. "See if Malfoy has access to the same resources. I'm not sure if Malfoy knows what he's looking for. Dumbledore's comment on the wiki suggested not."
"LV really wanted him to fail," Julia remarked. "Poor bastard."
"Stop sympathising, he deserves it," Ron said.
"I'm pitying, so in case he learns, it'll make him angrier," Julia replied.
Ron swore Harry's smile had a fond-sappy sheen.
"If you're LV, where would you hide Ravenclaw's diadem?" Harry asked, all serious again.
"Depends on when he turned it into a Horcrux, right?" Hermione said. "If during student years, he would've put in the Chamber of Secrets. If after, he could've put it somewhere else when he came for an interview."
"How long was he on the grounds?" Neville asked.
"Not sure," said Harry. "But he walked up to the headmaster's office without an escort and left without one. He wasn't barred from entry, obviously. I don't know if Dumbledore put out an announcement for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position."
"But safe to say he had a significant amount of time to wander about and take care of business," Julia noted.
Harry threaded his fingers at the tips. Ron recognised the thinking pose.
"Let's check the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said finally. "LV had good reasons to believe no one but a Slytherin descendent could find it and enter it. We can ask Myrtle if she remembers seeing adult LV entering her toilet. Check the Basilisk while at it. And if it not there, it's not. Process of elimination."
So it was settled: Hermione and Julia would attend Slughorn's party, Neville would monitor the castle using the Marauders map, and Ron and Harry would search the Chamber of Secrets.
-oo00oo-
Unlike his mates, Ron didn't get to see the Chamber of Secrets. He had been petrified weeks before Harry, Neville, and Julia braved it to save Hermione from Tom Riddle's memory. So it was with fearful curiosity and excitement Ron hurried along with Harry with their broomsticks to visit the girl's bathroom on the second floor.
The old "Out of Order" sign was still there. No spiders were in sight, thank Merlin. They entered and saw Myrtle hovering above her stall.
"Oh, it's you," she said. "How come you never visit me anymore? You used to all the time."
"We got told off," Harry replied without blinking. "Once we solved the mystery, we had no business trespassing a girls' bathroom."
"Oh, alright, then," Myrtle sniffled. "So why are you back?"
"Got another mystery, it turns out," said Harry. "And I think you're vital to solving it. Just like last time."
Man, did Harry know how to butter up a ghost, Ron thought as he watched Myrtle swell importantly and her transparent face started to glow.
"Oooh, really? Go on, what do you want to know? Tell me," she crooned.
Harry pulled out his MMN phone and projected an image of You-Know-Who from sixty years past. Ron couldn't help but shiver at the sight. Red eyes, pallid snake-like skin stretched over a skeleton.
"Do you remember seeing this person about sixty years ago in this bathroom?"
Myrtle squinted at the hologram.
"I'd think I'd remember seeing someone that evil looking," she decided.
"No kidding," Harry agreed.
"But I might not have been paying attention," Myrtle heaved a dramatic sigh. "You know my death has been one stretch of misery after another! You know what people do when they think I'm not listening! You saw how Peeves makes fun of me all the time!"
"Yes, I know," said Harry patiently. "It's awful and terrible and you don't deserve it."
Myrtle smiled at Harry. "You're the only one who understands."
"I try. Thank you for answering," said Harry, straight-faced.
"You're going back down there?" Myrtle asked as Harry stood before the sink in front of her stall. Ron noted it had a tiny snake carved on one of the copper taps.
"Yeah, unfinished business," said Harry, staring at the tap.
"Is it dangerous?"
"Could be."
"You might die?"
"I hope not."
"Oh, well, if you do," Myrtle flushed silver. "You're welcome to share my toilet."
"UGH!" Ron shouted as he and Harry flew on their brooms down the large pipe that revealed itself after Harry spoke Parseltongue to the sink, which sank out of sight. "Harry, I think Myrtle's grown fond of you!"
"Shut up, Ron. Just shut up," Harry muttered.
They flew down the large pipe, lying flat against their broomsticks, with Harry leading the way. Down and down they went, ignoring any branches. And as he followed after Harry, Ron felt his mind wander…
As long as he'd known them both, Ron wondered about Harry and Julia. It was hard to tell; Harry kept his deeper thoughts close to the chest and Julia had a resting poker face. It was when they got upset Ron caught a glimpse of what went under the surface.
Like around the time they started running around asking people to donate blood; Julia kept showing up sporting plaster on her right forefinger and thumb. Whatever the injury was, it was severe enough for blood to seep through the bandages.
Harry was first to notice this.
"What's going on?" he asked, pointing at her bandaged fingers.
"I've been practicing paper charm making," Julia replied.
"Why?"
"I promised you I'd figure out if the ghost absorbing charm is the basis of the memory harvesting charm, didn't I? This is me trying to figure it out."
Harry frowned but didn't press her further. A few days later, Grandmaster Shin and Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts and took over Harry's morning (torture) sessions.
The next day Harry returned exhausted and in towering rage.
"Practice making paper charms, my ass!" He shouted, rounding at Julia. "You're bloodletting!"
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalized and fearful. Ron was no less astonished. The only time Harry ever got this angry at one of them was their second year when Hermione told Lockhart the fruits of their investigation without telling them first.
Julia sighed. "Damn it, grandpa."
"What were you thinking?!" Harry ranted. "What if you damaged a nerve!? What if you got an infection!?"
"I disinfect my needles!"
"Oh yeah? Is that it? Disinfecting your needles makes bloodletting A-Okay?"
Now Julia looked angry. "I'm not bloodletting!" she yelled.
Harry lunged and grabbed her hand—the one with a bandaged forefinger and thumb. The one where the plaster sported spots of dark brownish-red.
"Then what is this?" Harry demanded, holding the hand up. His eyes were blazing.
"I broke a vein. A tiny one," Julia sighed again. "It was an accident. Dr Robert gave me a lecture and patched me up. By the way, I had supervision. Now calm the f*** down."
"No, I won't. I will not calm down!" Harry sucked in several unsteady breaths before asking: "Why, Julia, why?"
Julia's mouth formed a thin line. Time ticked by, tick-tock, tick-tock, and no one spoke a word. Harry did not waver his gaze and Julia didn't avert hers.
At last something in Julia seemed to bend—relent.
"…You asked me to learn how grandpa detects Horcruxes," Julia said. "Using blood magic … makes you sensitive. To the presence of magic. Dark stuff, in particular, starts to smell like rot." She shrugged one shoulder. "So I kept using it."
Another tense silence followed. The air felt so heavy, so dense, words could not formulate. Ron watched breathlessly as Harry cradled Julia's hand in his. For that moment, his best friend looked … fragile. Breakable. All those adjectives that described a thing that could shatter with the lightest touch.
"I can't … I can't make you do this," Harry finally muttered.
Julia looked at him for a moment. Kept quiet. Then she shook her head lightly, a sad smile on her lips.
"But I want to."
The two didn't say anything after that. Harry tightened his grip on Julia's hand. Then, slowly, the two broke apart.
Ron, who couldn't have articulated what he was expecting, wanted to shout to anyone who'd listen that this wasn't it. It was so frustrating. The whatever between the two felt like parallel lines, glowing brighter and brighter, but never meeting.
"We're here."
Ron blinked. The pipe levelled out and ended. They entered a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. Harry swished his wand, and a ball of light appeared at the tip. It floated away and hovered overhead, illuminating their surroundings with a pale, golden light.
"This way," said Harry, now pointing at the other end of the cave.
They flew down the tunnel, which twisted and turned without forks. They encountered some dried up and flaking snakeskin along the way. Harry did not pause to look at them but kept going forward.
At last, they reached a stone wall that had two carved snakes with emerald eyes. When they approached, it divided in two and revealed a long, dimly lit chamber. Harry slowed down. Stopped, for a moment, to take in their surroundings. Then he moved ahead. Ron followed.
They drifted past the towering stone pillars entwined with carved serpents. Ron looked up, to see if there were more snake motives on the ceiling, but he could see nothing through the darkness that swallowed it up.
"Creepy," Ron decided as he took in the green gloom that filled the place.
They reached the end of the chamber. A large statue stood front and centre. The face was that of an old man, ancient and monkeyish, who had a long, thin beard that fell almost to its two enormous grey feet. Before the statue was the dead basilisk— shrunken, but still vivid, poisonous green. Ron wet his lips as he took in its punctured eyes crusted with dried blood, the open jaw and the sword like fangs.
"Poke around, see if there's anything that looks like a silver crown?" Ron said.
"Yeah, let's…" Without warning, Harry punched his forehead. Hard. "Stupid… Stupid! There's an easier way to go about this."
He raised his wand.
"Accio Ravenclaw's Diadem!"
They waited. Ron checked his watch— again, and again and again. After five minutes, it was clear the diadem wasn't going to come.
"Well, at least we know it's not here," said Ron.
"But it doesn't make sense!" Harry growled. "The summoning charm should've worked! How can something be in Hogwarts but not be in Hogwarts at the same time?"
"Maybe it's locked up? Anti-summoning charms?"
"Overkill, in my opinion, but possible." Harry sighed. "Nothing else to do here. Let's go."
Harry took flight. Ron followed, but not before he took a Basilisk fang.
Just in case.
-oo00oo-
The five of them reconvened inside Professor Lupin's office, per agreement. Harry reported they returned empty-handed. Neville said no one followed them on their way to Myrtle's bathroom and back.
"How was the party?" Ron asked.
"Not terrible," said Hermione. "We got to meet a lot of people. Celebrities and politicians and the like. They were interesting. Well, I think Gwenog Jones was a bit full of herself…"
"Don't let Ginny hear you say that, she loves her," said Julia mildly.
Aaah, that reminded him. Ginny. His sister. Who may or may not still harbour strong feelings for Harry, her decision to date Michael Corner notwithstanding. Ron wasn't blind, he knew Ginny still followed Harry from the corner of her eye. Ever watchful.
"Slughorn asked about you," said Hermione. "Both of you. He looked disappointed."
"What was our excuse?"
"You had an important business meeting with Mrs. Jacqueline," Hermione said to Ron.
"And you," said Julia, looking at Harry, "had family time you dare not miss."
Harry smiled. "Despite the curfew?"
"You have your secrets," Julia smiled back. "Speaking of which, it's time."
Unlike last year, students couldn't call or visit the Muggle world on a whim over a weekend. The enhanced security around Hogwarts wouldn't allow for such a thing. And the anti-Muggle protection charms around Hogwarts made Muggle visits to the school virtually impossible.
None of this stopped Harry from spending time with his family. For starters, Harry had a very powerful phone, magic didn't work on John, and Sherlock positively delighted in flaunting the Statute of Secrecy.
"Hi, Benedict," said Harry, as soon as his call connected. "Hi, John. Sherlock."
On Harry's Muggle phone screen, Benedict giggled and squeaked and made grabbing motions. John waved, too. Sherlock nodded once.
"I'm going to read a new book for you today," Harry continued. "You'll like it. It's one of my favourite books."
Grinning, Harry pulled out his worn copy of Tales of Adrianna, book one, and opened it to the first chapter.
"In a tiny town called Godric's Hollow, there was a little girl named Adrianna. She lived in a small cottage, with her mother and father and older brother Albert…"
Final Notes: I think I'm getting better at estimating chapters. ASIM:TA reached the midpoint at the end of chapter twelve, so this leaves eleven more to go! It's very motiving. I'll do my best to return to a more weekly update schedule. If you have any prompts or questions head over to my site!
For next chapter, I have two words: Felix Felicis. This is going to be so much fun.
Yours, BOC
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