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ミGUIDEBOOK » CLAIMS & RESERVES » REQUESTS » DISCORD 彡

On the darkest night of April, when the moon had turned her face from the earth below, a fire burned, its crackling and spittle the colour of bruises. Resting upon the flames like a burnished crown was a cauldron, so large that it might fit a man if he contorted himself into the smallest of shapes. Voldemort has returned.

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