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So far... The reborn Hermione launched the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption and Crest at Hogwarts where she is now in her second year. With her friends, Hermione was discussing why Draco went into the dome of thorns when she became very upset and asked to speak to Ron privately. Now read on...

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Chapter 62

Bringing Out The Inner Ron


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A Charmed Life

Once their friends had filtered reluctantly out of Class 4J, Ron looked expectantly at Hermione, wondering what ordeal lay ahead of him. Only when the door was closed after Harry's final backward glance, did Hermione caution Ron to brace himself in preparation for what she was about to tell him.

They sat down. Slowly.

Out from her bag she withdrew Rita Skeeter's handbag and examined it carefully. "The Black Arc bribed Rita Skeeter with this gift so the Daily Prophet would play down the attacks at Hyde Park. Snape heard her ask if the skin of which it was made might be still living."

"What!" gasped Ron. "You mean, like that Grump Grouse skin?"

"Yes, except the crafting of this handbag would take much longer so how could it remain alive all that time? I have one theory..."

Ron waited.

"In the middle ages there was a warlock who could literally poke his nose into other people's business."

"Ah yeah, Quirentus Gamp – his ears to the ground as well. Wasn't that just a story? I mean, the bits about thumb in pies and foot in doors? I mean, how'd he fit them back on himself?"

"Well some of it was probably embellished, but the Gamp family were renowned for their extensive theoretical research and spell creation, so there's definitely some truth behind the tales. If that dark knowledge was passed down the family line then–"

"–I don't think there are any Gamps surviving, that I've heard of anyway."

"Well, not in name, but down the maternal line someone might have learnt the secret of keeping skin tissue–"

"–The pig skin!" cried Ron. "That's how he did it! How they kept it alive so he could take it into the dome. I bet the Malfoys are related to the Gamps – all the pure-blood families are distant cousins anyway."

Hermione stared at him without speaking.

His eyes drifted down to the handbag she was clutching on her lap, and his unspoken question rose between them.

Hermione said, "I now believe this was merely a test to prove the charm works. Perhaps one of several experiments. Oh, it didn't need to be anything so exotic as a sea dragon handbag. And probably not relevant that they gave it to Rita as a bribe."

The tension in Ron's shoulders eased a little, but his grin was forced. "Unlikely they just happened to have the odd sea dragon hanging around though?"

Hermione nodded without smiling. "I know of only one dark wizard who is expert enough at... tailoring something as snug as Draco's leggings. ... Were they more like a short unitard? – oh, you probably don't know what that is."

Ron shook his head. "They were like elastic waders high over the waist so anglers can get nearer the best fish."

Hermione watched him relax and smile even more as he remembered his brother Charlie casting flies for trout in the river near their home. That wasn't how she remembered the man.

She waited.

The smile on Ron's face faded away. "You want me to go back, don't you? Into the dome. Try to find those leggings." His voice had dropped lower and lower.

She barely shook her head as she lifted up the handbag. "I believe the sea dragon was still alive when this was made."

But Ron was too deep in thought to pay full attention. "They'll be – no, they won't be spewed up by the mud like the Grouse skin because that died. If the pig skin is still living then–"

"No, Ron. It's not about the leggings. They'll be lost deep in the blue sludge." She was still holding up the handbag.

"What then? Oh, what were you saying about the sea dragon?" He jerked to attention suddenly as it sank in what she'd told him previously. "Still alive!" He shuddered. "That means... not just the skin but the pig itself...?" He pulled a face. "That is plain... sick. Why would they?"

"Remember, Quirentus Gamp was still alive when he earwigged on people? His living was necessary to keep the ear alive and functioning. The spell bound living to living. As long as he lived, then the ear would."

She lowered the handbag. "But I'm fairly sure this must be truly dead by now. The sea dragon would have died within days from massive infections and trauma."

Hermione put the handbag away in her own bag then went over to the potions cupboard where she kept ingredients and equipment for her lessons. She took out three bottles.

"That's the–!" Ron gasped. "The Unnoticeable Potion?"

"And antidotes. They're clearly labelled. Put them in your bag and don't mix them up."

"Why two counter-potions?"

From her beaded bag she retrieved another small vial and the Zabini knife with its fine leather holster. "Put this potion with the others in your bag, Ron."

He glanced at the label. "Draught of–" Ron gasped. "Merlin! This is Living Death!"

"Hold this knife and your wand and repeat after me..."

Ron's jaw had dropped. He fumbled the Living Death vial into his bag and took the the knife with a shaking hand.

"Careful! There's an everlasting razor edge on that – along with other bewitchments. ... Hold it up ... and your wand – like so ... that's it."

"Hermione..."

"Repeat after me: This night I swear to serve the Granger line."

Ron could barely speak at first, but he recovered to make the declaration clearly. As he did so, his face flashed with an iridescence reflected from the blade.

Hermione smiled grimly. "Now it cannot be used against you. You won't even be able to cut yourself."

"What am I supposed to do with it, Hermione?"

"Attach it to your belt."

He rolled his eyes as he did so. "T'uh, no, I meant..."

"Hopefully, nothing, but be prepared to defend yourself and me – don't stun or disarm; use a fast blasting, cutting, or Reducto curse in the first instance. If your wand is taken, then cry "For the Grangers!" or somesuch and use the knife. The exact words are not important, only the intent; it's bewitchment will carry it straight and true. You'll be meeting your first Death Ea– I should say, Arcanist, tonight. One who will not hesitate to–"

"–The Black Arc! Oh, come on, Hermione! I'm not–"

"You're thirteen years old, Ronald! Harry had faced Voldemort several times by–"

"–But he's Harry Potter!"

"And you're a Weasley!"

"No. I can't just–"

She slapped him in the face. "The man you'll meet gutted your brother Charlie, and even as he was still screaming, neatly sliced the intestines so he could hang them up to spell Blood Traitor – while I shook with fright in a cupboard. Charlie saved me that day, Ron – will you avenge him by trying to do the same?"

Ron sank down onto the nearest chair, face pale as a ghost except for a faint red mark where Hermione's hand had struck him.

"They're not human, Ron. They're less than animals. I plan to put him in prison but I'll kill him in a heartbeat if I need to."

He nodded dumbly. "Is this why you chose me and not Olive? I saw you looking at us."

"That and other reasons such as trust."

"You can trust Olive!"

"I believe I can, but with you, I KNOW for certain. You've proven yourself again and again. No one I'd rather have by my side backing me up than you."

Ron gulped, eyes wide and mouth agape. "I'm not that Ron Weasley."

"No, you're better."

There was a sound at the door. Ron was quickly on his feet, wand drawn.

Hermione sighed, "You can come in now, Harry."

The door opened and Harry glared at them both. "Aren't I good enough then? I want to come too!"

Hermione said, "Ron, how long did it take you to get fully used to the effects of the Unnoticeable potion?"

"Wh–? Days – no, weeks really."

"Harry, I need someone to act quickly and instinctively in a very strange situation. That's why I can't do it myself."

"I don't need to sneak!" sneered Harry.

"THAT'S NOT WHAT IT'S FOR!" cried Hermione.

Harry's startled expression was matched by Ron's.

Hermione said, "It's not about either of you two, but someone who desperately, desperately needs the best help we can give him."

"Who?" said Ron and Harry together.

She drew a quick breath but then hesitated, a confused expression on her face.

"Who, Hermione?" said Ron. "Who is he?"

She bit her lip, feeling lost. As ever, she pulled the organiser out of her bag, but this time it didn't help. "There's a page missing. ... Did I... destroy it?"

There was a wicker waste basket over by her desk, and she ran to it. It was empty.

"What, Hermione? Destroy what? You mean your list of names?" said Harry.

Hermione stared mournfully at the torn planner, and muttered her thoughts half-aloud, What was I thinking? Did I make notes about... someone?

Harry said, "It was me, Hermione. I sent Hedwig to Mum to say you were coming. You found out something really terrible was going to happen to me at home and you're trying to stop it before I return there. You don't need to protect me all the time, Hermione."

"Something terrible?"

"You were sick, remember? Ginny said you'd been sick."

"That's right... but about what? Who? You?"

She looked forlornly once more at her organiser. "I have to start again. We need to start again. We were talking about...?"

"Draco," said Ron. "His pig skin leggings."

Hermione stared at him for a few moments, then her eyes widened. In a frenzy she began scribbling again in her organiser.

"You were writing down my name," said Harry.

"Your name, Harry? Are you sure?"

"Yes, in a list you'd reached–"

"I reached your name..." She closed her eyes, thinking once more of students as she'd known them in her former life. Remembrance flooded in again. "My God!"

Choking with emotion, she wrote down one name along with a few reminder notes. "It's not you, Harry."

"Who is he then?"

"I have to keep their situation secret. You wouldn't want me to betray their privacy, would you?"

Harry's shoulders slumped. "I guess not." He glanced at Ron then back at Hermione. "So I can't come?"

She shook her head.

He turned reluctantly away and headed for the door, pausing only once to look back. "Take care of her, Ron."

"I will."

Then he was gone.

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The Absentee

After a few seconds, Ron walked to the door but before he could reach for the handle, Hermione said, "It's okay, he's really gone this time."

Ron nodded and started to come back, grunting, "He shouldn't have listened in the first time."

"He was worried about me."

"Oh yeah? What about me? Aren't I–?"

"I mean he was worried about me like you worry about Olive."

He froze in mid-stride, ears pinking a little, then continued skirting chairs and desks more slowly in his approach.

She waited until Ron was stood before her, then said, "Sit down and prepare yourself for what I'm about to tell you."

Lips firmed with anxiety, Ron did so, all the while watching Hermione's worried expression as she consulted the notes in her organiser. There was no easy way to inform him.

"It wasn't pig skin used for Draco's waders."

"What then?"

"It was human skin."

Ron frowned momentarily, then his eyes whitened with horror. "Human?"

She nodded. "And a young girl at that."

Ron gasped. "Who was she?"

"Pa–" A sob caught in Hermione's throat, and for a while she could not answer. Finally, she whispered, "Padma Patil," and lapsed into silence once more.

Ron's mixture of shock and confusion was no surprise. "You mean Parvati? They hurt Parvati! But she was here–"

"–No, her twin sister."

"Aah... that's sickening!" groaned Ron. "Poor Parvati, no wonder she was upset when..." Ron hesitated.

Hermione waited, knowing the outcome.

Ron tried to understand. "You mean you knew her... sister, did you say? That's why you felt ill?"

Again Hermione looked down at her Organiser and focused on the memories of Padma from her former life. "Yes, she's the one we must reach before–"

"–Who?"

"It's someone you knew, Ron, but she was made to drink the same corrupted Stultitia that you later fully absorbed accidentally – the potion that made you non-interactive and unnoticeable."

A flash of anger caused Ron to half-rise from his seat before lowering himself back again. "Snape? Snape! You mean Snape did do that on purpose?"

"It was bungled in class so – you remember someone broke into The Burrow last summer?"

"That was Snape?" Ron was on his feet now. "You mean that slime bag actually burgled our home? Wait till–"

"–No, Ron, you can't tell anyone yet, and certainly not your dad. You don't want to put him at risk, do you? I'll deal with Snape at the right time."

"But we can't let him–!"

"–Ron!"

"Okay! Okay! I got it. But why'd he break into our house anyway?"

"He intended to kidnap you and deliver you to the Black Arc."

Ron's legs sagged him down onto his chair again. He began shaking. "The Black Arc? Me? Why'd they want me?"

"Don't worry, Ron, it wasn't you specifically they wanted – they don't even know about you."

"Who then? Who did they want?"

"Anyone, well not an adult. It had to be someone nearer... "

"Someone nearer what?"

"Someone nearer Draco's size. Any second-year would probably do."

His sharp intake of breath told Hermione that Ron had grasped it at last.

"Merlin's bones! Snape intended to kill and skin me like that Grouse you did? Just to protect Draco so he could–? What was so important that he–?"

"–Not Snape. I'm sure he knew nothing. I believe he was used only to deliver any suitable person and the potion to a common address with a Floo – I suspect a decorator's shop I know of at the far end of Knockturn Alley. I've had the place watched, but not twenty-four hours every day. Snape wouldn't be told the ultimate destination, nor why, nor to whom. I know only one dark wizard skilled enough with a knife to do this job."

"Who is he?" growled Ron, and his hand was on the hilt of the Zabini blade at his belt.

"The butcher who cut up Charlie so despicably. ... Walden Macnair."

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The Method

"Macnair... Macnair..." Ron snarled repeatedly to himself in a low voice. "My dad's mentioned him. Doesn't he work for the Ministry?"

"Yes, he performs executions and other dirty jobs for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures – they were the department that investigated the demon last year."

"Then we've got him!" Ron said excitedly. "Dad might be able to find out his address."

Hermione shook her head. "It's too dangerous, and your dad is too visible. He'd have to search through the personnel department records. Anyway, I already have an inside man tracking down the comings and goings of suspected dark agents, and Macnair is on his list."

"What!" Ron was astounded. "Who?"

"Remember I told you all about the Cathesis League I set up?"

"Aah... one of them?"

"Yes."

Her wand swung, and from it leapt her graceful otter Patronus. After murmuring to it, the luminescent creature sped away through the stone wall.

"You never cease to amaze me, Hermione," said Ron, shaking his head in disbelief at everything he'd heard and seen.

"I'll teach you all that spell one day, maybe next year. It's difficult but just takes practice. It's all in here." She tapped the side of her head. "And you've already done it so I know you can."

Ron muttered softly under his breath, "whoa..."

For the next few minutes Hermione explained what lay ahead of them and his part in the endeavour. She wasn't easy on him. The lad bit his lip and his face looked rather like Hermione's had just before she'd vomited. "Merlin! So this kid's had the skin of his legs removed, right up above his waist?"

"She. It's a girl, Ron. Her name's Padma. She's Parvati's sister."

"A girl?" echoed Ron. "Total bastards!" His grimace was tight as he battled the torments of imagination. "How's it possible? How can anyone survive the–" He stopped as the answer hit him. "That's why they used the potion? To slow down the body rhythms so she'd take weeks to die? And so the skin wouldn't die like you said using old Gamp's spell to bind living to living. How repulsive is that?"

"Months. Years. Padma was kidnapped eight or nine months ago during the summer. They were just waiting for Draco to find an opportunity to visit the dome of thorns."

"The cowardly git! He's probably been shaking in his boots all year, putting it off as long as he could. Not caring that–"

"–He wouldn't know anything about her, Ron. He'd have been told to not arouse suspicion. That's how the Black Arc works. Only when – omigod!"

"What?"

"Draco was probably only ever instructed to report anything unusual that Harry is involved with – including his friends. It was not until you started telling everyone about your experience with the potion and discovering the thorns that they were triggered into action. My Goodness, they really are cellular. One event kickstarts one of their cells to inform another to act, then another, then another – even if it takes longer to carry out the whole operation. Slow but sure. They're virtually untraceable, unknowable!"

"What are you on about?"

"The Black Arc. One cell – Draco – sent his report to another cell – that is, an anonymous person we'll probably never know. That cell then contacted another cell – Macnair – to have the skin sent to another cell – maybe from there to Malfoy Manor – and from there to Draco with that eagle owl, remember? Probably only then did he get his orders and he wouldn't know what he was doing or why. He wouldn't even know what the skin was! And he was definitely Obliviated afterwards because he was ready to take Veritaserum. Remember how puzzled he was when you said he went through the gates? He wouldn't even remember that part, only that he'd gone to the clearing. I think Dumbledore saw that, you know, but couldn't do anything about it. He isn't stupid. I think he believed us."

"P'uh! Yet gave us detentions!"

"Best he could without arousing Lucius Malfoy's suspicion. We were expecting expulsion, remember?"

"I suppose so. Now what?"

"We have to–" she hesitated, then looked closely at her organiser. "Padma is likely driven quite mad by now."

"Who?"

Hermione pulled a face as she fought away frustration. "The one who was forced to take the Notice-me-not Potion. That must have been done that same night – within an hour or so of her being abducted – so nobody would notice she was missing, and..." She groaned. "The... erm... surgery would have to be done first else Macnair would forget all about her, wouldn't be able to see her."

"Ugh!" winced Ron. "I hope he stunned her before he... you know."

Hermione gaped at Ron at this new idea took root, then she burst out, "Ron! You've got it! Snape would have had to silence her somehow! There is hope! Listen, if Snape stunned her. Left her at a certain location. Macnair took her and operated then–"

"–then she's been unconscious all this time!" cried Ron. "She'd never wake up, not while she was slowed down by the potion. Olive had fifty-year-old bruises that didn't darken or even hurt until she took your antidote."

"Except you can't easily force that much Potion down the throat of a completely unconscious person. It was a whole beakerful, remember?"

Hermione thought about it for a while longer, then her face brightened. "Of course! That's why he kept the other ingredients separate!"

"What, like he did with me?"

"Yes. Snape first used a silencing charm then forced her to drink harmless Stultitia. Then he would have stunned and delivered her with a poultice of the extra ingredients – same as on your wooden pestle – that Macnair could then easily apply to her arm to transform Stultitia into the slow-down Potion."

"After the soandso first removed..." Ron groaned and cringed but there was no way to smother the images that raced through his mind. "And you want me to see that?"

A long slow breath brought Hermione down to earth, and she nodded. "You'd cope with the potion's effect better and more quickly than I could, Ron. Also, if I drank it myself, you'd forget about me in two minutes flat, whereas I have my old memories of you and Padma, and they are not affected so long as I'm dwelling on my former life – with my organiser as well, of course. If you take the potion and help Padma, I'll be there for you when you both reappear.

"Padma who?"

"Parvati's sister, remember?"

"Ah, yeah. But how exactly am I to give her the cure if she's unconscious?" said Ron.

Hermione frowned. "That's right... how?"

For several minutes she fretted. "Show me one of the antidotes."

Ron pulled out a vial and held it up. "Tasted faintly sweet when me and Olive used it before – we had to snuffle it down like pigs. Olive had some stuck on the tip of her nose and..." He tailed off lamely, looking embarrassed.

Hermione smiled at the image and Ron's obvious preoccupation with the memory.

"Yes, the mistletoe berries make it into a thin jam..."

She took the bottle and scurried over to the ingredients cupboard. "This salve should draw out most of the excess liquid. We'll use their own method against them..."

Hermione busied herself while Ron looked on. Soon the jam was thickened enough to be made into a couple of poultices.

"That won't work," said Ron. "I won't be able to even pick them up." He took the dressings, face up, in his hand. "Maybe if I'm already carrying them like this when I drink the potion or quickly after before it takes effect... yes, that should do it."

He closed them up and placed them carefully in his bag. His hand touched the vial of Living Death. "And what's this for?"

Hermione stiffened noticeably. "That's for ... when she starts screaming."

Quickly she added, "Which reminds me, come on, let's go up to see if my owl's returned yet."

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Love Will Find a Way

They met Harry coming out of the owlery door.

"I... I wasn't sure whether..." He held out a small package and a sealed envelope "Farrimond came back with these for you Hermione. I wasn't sure whether to bring it to you erm... two or..." He glanced briefly at Ron.

"Thanks, Harry," said Hermione, taking them and, with Harry following hesitantly, walked briskly to one of the ever-open windows. "Are you there, Aculus?"

"So, is that...?" said Harry, pointing at the slim packet.

"Private. Sorry, Harry."

The flutter of invisible wings reassured her that the raven was alighting on the sill, and she murmured something to him before noting the envelope was addressed to 'Rosie'. After carefully reading the message it contained, disappointment creased her brow, and she spoke softly to Aculus once more.

Harry's receding voice mumbled quietly to her from behind. "R–Right then. Right. I'll be uuh... going then..."

He sounded so dismal as he edged uncertainly towards the door, that Hermione turned and rushed to him, acutely aware that being fixated on Padma's plight had obscured from her the depth of Harry's hurt feelings. The girl's extended hug took him by surprise. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I need you desperately. Just not possible this trip, okay?"

The warm softness of her body against his dispelled the doubts he'd suffered and lifted up his poor heart; the first true kiss she offered caused his spirits to soar.

"Trust me?" she said, when their lips finally parted.

Dazed, Harry could only murmur, "All–always..."

"Oy," smirked Ron. "Am I, like, going to face deathly horrors on my own or what?"

"Summon two brooms, Ron," laughed Hermione as she hustled Harry out through the doorway and closed the door on him with a wink and a whispered "Talk later..."

Ron strode to the window and raised his wand. Frowned. "Uuh... how am I supposed to unlock from here?"

He turned when Hermione didn't answer. Her ear was pressed to the door listening to Harry's footsteps skipping downstairs. Satisfied, she came back to Ron. "You didn't really think I was going to ride a broomstick all the way to London, did you?"

"But..."

She seized his arm tightly, pulling him in, and, as they vanished through the wall, murmured, "I just didn't want Harry to see us this close."

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The Loophole

"What is this place?" whispered Ron after they rematerialised.

"An interior decorator's shop in Knockturn Alley – but I'm fairly certain it's just a front for Black Arc covert exchanges.

"And this is where Macnair hangs out?" snarled Ron. "The one who gutted Charlie?"

"No. I received a – here, you may as well read it." She handed him the message that Harry had given her.

"Rosie? That's you? Macnair's address with Ministry false. Just one-room flat. Doesn't live there nor even go there. That's why we've not been able to disappear him quietly so far. Signed B? Who's B?"

"Your next Minister for Magic hopefully," replied Hermione, watching Ron's face, but he was only half listening.

"So now we don't even know where he is!" Ron raised his voice in agitation, gripping the hilt of the Zabini knife. "But I wanna–!"

"–Steady, remember he never got to Charlie in this lifetime, and if we do our job right, he never will. This is a rescue not an assassination, but he will pay the price for his savagery."

"But we'll get him tonight?" Ron strode to the window and looked out.

"Yes, if Fate permits."

She turned her head to the bird on her shoulder. "Aculus, you stay with Ron." The raven flew dutifully over to the boy.

Ron cried, "Eh? you're leaving me here? Where you going, Hermione?"

She strode through into the backroom and approached the fireplace there with Ron hurrying after her.

"This is Floo-connected but it's rarely active. I'm hoping Macnair was the last to use it to send the skin to an anonymous Black Arc cell just before Easter. From there it would be sent to Malfoy Manor, then by their eagle owl to Draco."

"Cripes! They really don't want anyone to trace them, do they! They've covered every loophole, every trace."

"Except they don't know I am aware of this place. Also, for Macnair to have left no trace, he should have walked here, sent the package, then walked away, but I know him, and I bet he didn't. Deep down he's a lazy, arrogant, worthless dung heap and a spineless yellow-belly when he's alone or feels threatened. He compensates for and satiates his cowardice by first dominating, humiliating, and tormenting helpless captives before killing them. Knockturn Alley at night? I think he'd take the easy way and simply Floo home from here."

"But what use is that to us? You can't tell where this Floo last went without a special spell and Dad told me that an Auror has to also cast the spell at the Ministry's master Floo sinker riskily."

"Synchronistically," smiled Hermione. "You're right, Ron. That's where I'll be while you cast the spell here."

Ron spluttered, "Me! But I can't–"

"–I'll show you the spell, Ron."

"You know it? And where the Master Floo Registry is? How do you know all this stuff? Don't tell me you were an Auror?"

"No, Ron, you were – and a good one too. It was you that told me how Aurors work and you that taught me the spell. Now it's my chance to return the favour."

Ron took several deep breaths and blew them out slowly one by one. He'd needed to absorb a great deal this evening, but now he stood a little straighter. "Then let's do it!"

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Late posting – so much for my 10.5-day plan which lasted about 10.5 minutes. Also left this chapter cliff-hanging a bit but if I'd continued then it would have been another week or two before posting.

20 House points to DarkHeart81, Dr Stranger, and alyjay3 for working out it was Padma.

Thanks, Captain Shoulah, for pointing out my error in the last chapter. I've now changed 'extract revenge' to 'get revenge'. It should have been 'exact' not 'extract' but after thinking about it, I prefer the more common word: 'get'. Now fixed.

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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