The afternoon corridors of Hogwarts were always a little loud, a little chaotic, a little unpredictable—especially when the Gryffindors had a plan.
And today?
They had the plan.
“A singing spell,” James whispered, eyes glinting with the thrill of potential disaster. “Not just any singing spell—truth-telling, emotion-pouring, soul-baring singing spell.”
Remus raised a brow. “Sounds cruel.”
Peter grinned. “Exactly.”
Sirius, slouched against the archway leading to the Charms corridor, arms crossed and boots scuffed from restless pacing, tilted his head. “It’s not cruel. It’s educational. We’ve all been dying to know what Regulus keeps locked up in that pretty little porcelain head of his. And now?”
He smirked.
“We’re gonna find out.”
They weren’t alone, obviously. Behind them, half of Gryffindor House had gathered like wolves to a scent. Lily Evans was there, arms folded and eyes sharp, clearly ready to pretend this wasn’t mean just so long as it was entertaining. Mary and Marlene were whispering excitedly beside her, passing a Skiving Snackbox back and forth like popcorn. Fabian and Gideon were leaning far too dramatically on either side of the corridor, Fabian whispering bets while Gideon scouted for teachers. Frank and Alice stood together near the back, clearly debating the morality of this whole thing and deciding they were okay with it if it meant Regulus got a bit embarrassed for once.
Because Regulus Black?
Was untouchable.
Regulus Black never flinched. Never cracked. Never stumbled.
Regulus Black walked through the world like a prince born of velvet and poison, quiet confidence stitched into every elegant line of his body.
And now, there he was.
Walking straight into their trap.
The hallway dipped in volume for half a second—half a breath—when Regulus and his little entourage appeared. The air practically shivered.
Barty Crouch Jr. sauntered ahead of him, grinning like he knew something awful and delightful. Evan Rosier, a mess of lazy curls and daydreaming eyes, was tossing an apple up and down with casual rhythm. Dorcas Meadowes—cool, deadly, with lips that always looked like they’d just finished saying something sharp—stayed close to Pandora Rosier, who was looking at the ceiling like she was communing with the ghosts of drama queens past.
And in the center of them all: Regulus.
He was dressed stupid pretty. Not the usual pristine uniform but something casual—deliberate. Tight, dark trousers tucked into laced boots. A loose jumper that hung off one shoulder in a way that felt somehow accidental and also cruelly calculated. His hair was soft, wind-mussed. His lips were pink. And in his hand—oddly enough—was a small wooden carving.
He wasn’t even looking at them. He wasn’t aware. He was frowning slightly at the carving like it held a secret only he could understand, thumb tracing the edge with reverence. The softest look any of them had ever seen on him.
“Now,” Sirius whispered.
James didn’t even need to respond. He lifted his wand, murmured the incantation, and the spell hit Regulus clean in the chest.
The change was instant.
Regulus’s eyes went wide, then… blank. Glassy. His arms dropped to his sides, the wooden carving dangling from limp fingers. His lips parted, soft and dazed, and then—
He smiled.
Just a little.
And began to sing.
“You were a substandard brother…”
Silence. The air stopped. Every single person in the hallway froze—eyes locked on Regulus, wide and stunned.
“But the only one I've had…”
Pandora turned slowly to stare at him, lips parted. Barty blinked. Evan dropped his apple. Dorcas's jaw actually dropped.
Sirius frowned. “Wait—what—?”
“I grew up hearing your scheming down the hall…”
Sirius jolted like he’d been slapped. His mouth opened, then closed.
Regulus swayed, soft on his feet, eyes still glassy, still far away.
“But when I look at this thing…”
He lifted the carving in his hand, holding it up gently, like it was a holy relic.
“It makes me wanna sing…”
“Maybe you're not so bad a brother after all…”
Everyone turned to Sirius.
His face was white. His body was stock-still. Then—
“No,” Sirius whispered. “No fucking way.”
Lily blinked. “What is that in his hand?”
“I don’t know,” Marlene said. “Looks like a wooden—duck? Dog? Dolphin?”
Mary leaned forward. “It’s ugly.”
“At my first-ever swim meet…”
Regulus kept going, voice soft, melodic, eerily clear. The smile on his lips was too real now. Not glassy—genuine. Sweet.
“You stepped on the other team's feet…”
Sirius flinched again. “Oh my God.”
Remus turned slowly. “You remember that?”
“At my ballet recital, you clapped louder than you should…”
Peter snorted. “Sirius. You went to a ballet recital?”
“I was six! Mum said I had to. He wore little pink shoes—he was cute! I didn’t know he remembered that—I didn’t remember that—”
“But when you taught me how to drive the bike…”
Sirius choked. “No. No, no, no—”
“We actually made it home alive…”
Barty’s jaw dropped. “Wait. He let you touch his bike?”
Pandora whispered, “He’s never even looked at me that soft.”
“I guess it's possible…”
“Not every part of you isn't good…”
A horrible, keening noise escaped Sirius’s throat.
“Is he crying?” Mary asked.
“Sobbing,” Remus confirmed.
Sirius had gone red in the face, mouth trembling. “That was—that was my fault! I forgot—I forgot all of this—”
“I know at times I would cringe…”
“Like when you wore all that fringe…”
Fabian wheezed. “You did wear that fringe, oh my god—”
Gideon elbowed him. “Shut up, he’s having a breakdown.”
“And when you went out of your way…”
“To catch that foul ball…”
Sirius was shaking now. “It knocked my tooth out. He cried more than I did.”
“But this piece of wood in my hand…”
Regulus’s fingers tightened around it. Sirius’s breath caught.
“Makes me finally understand…”
Sirius stared at the carving.
The memory hit him like a tidal wave.
He’d carved it. Sloppy, uneven, when he was five. Regulus had been four. Their parents had thrown out Reggie’s little stuffed wolf, said it was childish, said he was too attached. Regulus had sobbed for hours. So Sirius carved him a replacement—something else to hold. It was hideous. Unrecognizable. But Regulus had clutched it to his chest like treasure.
Sirius had forgotten.
He had blocked out so much. The screaming. The fights. The punishments. In trying to erase his parents—
He’d erased Regulus too.
“Maybe you're not so bad a brother…”
Sirius stepped forward, shaking. His voice was hoarse.
“Reggie…”
“Not so bad a brother after all…”
And with that final line, Regulus’s eyes fluttered, glassy sheen fading. He blinked. Looked around.
And blinked again at the sea of frozen faces staring back.
“…What.”
Then he saw Sirius.
And Sirius, cheeks wet, throat clogged, whispered—
“That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
The hallway erupted.
Pandora screamed. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.”
Barty had dropped to his knees, hands over his face. “Regulus cares? This changes everything—”
Evan had picked up the apple again and was throwing it at the ceiling in pure, stunned hysteria.
Dorcas was staring at Regulus like he’d sprouted wings.
Lily covered her mouth with both hands. “I think I just saw a soul.”
Mary was sobbing. Marlene was recording. Fabian and Gideon were wailing dramatically into each other’s arms.
And Sirius?
Sirius had walked straight to his brother and pulled him into a bone-breaking hug.
Regulus froze in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered. “I forgot. I forgot all of it. I forgot you. I’m so sorry.”
Regulus didn’t say anything for a long moment.
Then he lifted the wooden carving and tucked it into Sirius’s hand.
“Don’t forget again.”
Sirius nodded, trembling.
Everyone else just watched in stunned silence.
“Well,” Frank said finally. “That backfired.”
Alice sniffled. “That was so sweet.”
James cleared his throat. “Okay, technically—it worked.”
Remus clapped him on the shoulder. “You tried to embarrass him and ended up giving Sirius emotional closure.”
Peter was sobbing. “That was so beautiful—”
Sirius held the carving tight to his chest, arms wrapped around his brother.
Regulus stayed silent, but he didn’t pull away.
Not even a little.
Sirius was sobbing.
Not just the sniffly, embarrassed kind of crying that you could pretend was from laughter or a breeze—no, no. This was real, full-body, trembling, choking, nose-running, feral sobbing. And it was happening in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor.
With an audience.
Sirius didn’t care.
He was curled around his little brother like a starved animal clinging to warmth, burying his face in Regulus’s soft hair, inhaling deep like he could memorize his baby brother all over again through scent alone.
“You’re my baby,” Sirius whispered, voice breaking. “My baby. My baby brother. My perfect little baby brother. I forgot—I forgot so much—”
Regulus made a startled noise. “Sirius, stop—”
“No! No, you don’t get it, Reg.” Sirius pulled him even closer, arms a vice grip, completely oblivious to the fact that Regulus’s feet were barely touching the ground anymore. “I used to do everything for you. I never let you do your own shoelaces—I did them, every morning. I’d carry you everywhere—you hated walking. You were so little. You’re still little.”
“Put me down—”
“You couldn’t do anything yourself, and I liked that. You were too cute. I’d do your homework, and make your bed, and brush your hair, and you’d just sit there babbling about clouds or frogs or whatever you were obsessed with that week—”
“I was four!”
“Exactly! Four!” Sirius hiccupped through a sob. “And everyone in primary school thought I was the cool one, but they didn’t know—I bragged about you all the time. I made my friends come watch you do your little dance routines during lunch—”
Regulus made a sound like a dying kettle.
“—you’d be there in the playground, spinning in circles and giggling and stumbling, and they’d all have to clap or I’d punch them—I made them clap, Reg!”
“Oh my God,” Regulus moaned, covering his face. “Stop talking—”
“You wore my clothes all the time—do you remember? I'd roll up the sleeves and tie a belt around you and pretend you were a prince, and you'd just pose dramatically until you fell over!”
“I hate you.”
“And you were scared of birds!” Sirius cried. “Pigeons made you scream! You'd cry and run and grab my legs if you saw one—”
Regulus flinched. Visibly.
“Still do,” he muttered, with the weight of someone who had survived multiple pigeon-related traumas. “They’re fucking evil.”
Sirius gasped, pulling back like he was staring at a miracle. “You still do ballet.”
“NO.”
“You do!”
“I don’t—”
Sirius raised a single finger. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m cold!”
“You’re pink and twitchy, which means you’re lying—*oh my god, you do ballet, don’t you? Still? Like, actual ballet? Pointe shoes and everything?”
Regulus looked like he wanted to melt through the floor. “…I’m in an academy.”
Sirius shrieked.
“I KNEW IT!”
“I’m in the highest grade now, shut up!”
“Danseur noble?”
“Ballerino, technically—”
“You're sixteen! That means you're—” Sirius’s eyes widened in horror as a new thought slammed into him. “That means you’re pretty.”
Regulus blinked. “...Thanks?”
“No, no, no, no.” Sirius shook his head violently. “Pretty means others think that too. Others with hands. Others with ulterior motives.”
He scooped Regulus up bridal-style like a fireman rescuing a damsel and whirled on the crowd, voice booming.
“NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO LOOK AT HIM. BACK OFF.”
“I—Sirius—put me DOWN—!”
Sirius tucked Regulus into his chest like he was shielding the crown jewels.
“I SAID BACK OFF.”
The hallway exploded.
Pandora Rosier stepped forward first, head tilted, smirking like a cat. “Actually,” she purred, “Regulus is mine, so if you could return my boyfriend, that’d be great.”
Sirius’s entire face twisted. “What?!”
Evan Rosier lazily threw an arm around Pandora’s shoulder. “Hate to break it to you, Pads, but Reg’s been with me for months. I do all the pirouette-watching now.”
“Lies,” Barty hissed, stepping forward like a dramatic opera villain. “Regulus and I are soulmates. Star-crossed. You didn’t notice the bracelet he’s wearing, I made it. He only moans my name.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?” Sirius barked.
Dorcas Meadowes stepped out with a grin that could cut glass. “Sorry, boys. He and I have been sneaking into the Astronomy Tower for study sessions.”
Sirius's brain short-circuited.
“WHAT STUDY SESSIONS?!”
“He’s mine,” all four of them said at once.
Sirius looked at Regulus, horrified. Regulus, beet-red and clinging to Sirius’s jacket now, shook his head frantically.
“I’m single, you morons—”
But it was too late.
The chaos had begun.
Fabian Prewett stepped forward, hand over his heart. “Actually, Reg and I eloped last weekend. It was a tasteful ceremony. Evan cried.”
“Only because I planned it,” Gideon snapped, shoving his twin. “You bastard, he’s mine! I asked him to the Yule Ball in fourth year!”
Peter popped up next to them, looking smug as hell. “Funny. Because he spends every Saturday in my bed—playing Wizard’s Chess, of course.”
“Oh my God,” Regulus said weakly.
Lily sauntered forward, arms crossed. “I thought we weren’t going public yet, darling,” she said sweetly.
James gasped. “Lils?!”
“Oh, you knew, Potter,” she smirked.
“I thought it was just a phase!”
Marlene appeared beside them, hair bouncing as she grinned. “We’re in an open thing,” she chirped. “Don’t be jealous, Potter.”
Remus pushed forward last, smirking like a smug bastard. “You’re all wrong. Regulus is obviously mine. He actually likes books.”
Sirius screamed.
Frank and Alice were collapsed against the wall, howling.
Mary was on the floor, crying with laughter.
“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Sirius howled, still holding Regulus, who was now trying to disappear inside Sirius’s coat. “SOMEONE TELL ME WHO THE REAL ONE IS!”
They all answered at once.
“ME!”
“IT’S ME!”
“HE ONLY KISSES ME THAT WAY!”
“HE CALLS ME KITTEN!”
Sirius spun in place like a paranoid whirlwind, absolutely unhinged. “WHICH ONE IS IT?! WHICH ONE DO I MURDER FIRST?!”
Regulus, defeated, buried his face into his brother’s chest.
“I hate all of you,” he muttered.
Sirius clutched him tighter. “Don’t worry, baby brother. I’ll kill them all for you.”
“I’m not dating any of them—”
“Exactly! I’ll keep it that way.”
The hallway was still a warzone of shrieking laughter, mock fights, declarations of love, and chaotic howling.
Sirius, wild-eyed and trembling, marched off with Regulus still in his arms like a knight protecting the royal heir.
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Spells for good singing? Idk. And/Or confidence WHEN singing? (SO that way even if I fail at singing, I will feel at least confident singing xD )
🎼Harmony🎼A singing charm
You will need: 🎼amethyst 🎼a cup of your favorite warm beverage 🎼a necklace or piece of string long enough to be worn as one
1. Brew your favorite warm beverage. Hold your amethyst in one hand, and Your necklace/string in the other. Close your eyes and breathe deeply the steam from your cup.
2. Place your necklace around the cup in a circle, and set the amethyst next to it. Hold your hands over the cup and say:
”Clarity and strength of voice With this brew I shall rejoice!”
3. Drink your brew, and feel the warmth strengthening you.
4. The day of the performance, wear the necklace and keep the amethyst in your pocket for strength.
An original spell from the grimoire of Amanda Wren
Spell for coming to terms with your mental Illness /depression/traumatic experiences/what ever you think fits and finally realizing there is someone out there who can help you or to let yourself get/be helped.
****This spell is suppose to be a stepping stone to recovery NOT a substitute for help from a professional. In fact it’s suppose to help you be able to talk to friends, family and professionals and accept/get help.****
Based on the song You Will Be Found from the musical Dear Evan Hansen.
What you’ll need:
Bowl of water
*something to play music on
Yourself and intent
*You don’t have to have something to play the music on. But I suggest playing the song and singing along. Though you could just sing the part of the song I italicized in this post.
1. While singing/listening to the song, take the bowl of water and imagine all the hardships/pain/loneliness you have felt is now in the water. When you feel ready, pour out that water- showing you are moving on from feeling like that.
2. While the song continues on, imagine yourself being surrounded in light- you can imagine people hugging you or holding out their hand to you if you feel that works better.
3. At the part of the song where it says You will be found x 5. Shout it out still thinking about the visualization from step 2. You can even change the words to “I will be found” for more power.
Recommended part of the song I think works best for this:
Well, let that lonely feeling wash away
Maybe there's a reason to believe you'll be okay
Cause when you don't feel strong enough to stand
You can reach, reach out your hand
And oh, someone will come running
And I know they'll take you home
Even when the dark comes crashing through
When you need a friend to carry you
And when you're broken on the ground
You will be found
So let the sun come streaming in
Cause you'll reach up and you'll rise again
Lift your head and look around
You will be found x5
ALSO I want to remind everyone that no matter how terrible life looks right now, someone somewhere cares about you. If anyone ever needs to talk to someone, my inbox is open- I may take some time to answer but I will eventually answer. I hope you have a good week- and if not remember there’s always next week.
A laugh. A bit of house rivalry taken just far enough to taste trouble on the tongue. The Gryffindor common room had been boiling with late-weekend boredom, thick with half-drunk Butterbeer bottles and loud, half-baked ideas. Sirius Black had started it, of course—feet kicked up on the table, a cigarette dangling from his lips, voice thick with mischief as he leaned back in his chair and went, “We should prank Reggie.”
“Merlin,” Lily groaned from her corner, book abandoned on her chest, “not again.”
James perked up immediately. “What kind of prank?”
Remus didn’t look up from his essay. “Can we not start another war this week?”
“Too late,” Fabian muttered, already grinning.
“I’m listening,” said Gideon with a glint in his eye.
Sirius blew smoke toward the ceiling and smirked. “Something poetic. Something theatrical. Something he’ll hate.” He spun the wand in his fingers. “Something to make our darling Reggie spill all his deepest, darkest thoughts.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Like Veritaserum?”
“No, no,” Sirius waved him off. “More dramatic. A Singing Spell. One of those old enchantments from the joke section in Curses & Curiosities. It makes you sing your thoughts instead of saying them. Only lasts a few minutes. He won’t even know what’s happening.”
Marlene’s snort could have rattled the walls. “You want to musical number your brother into embarrassment?”
“Yes,” Sirius said, dead serious. “Exactly that.”
The next day—Sunday, midday—the castle buzzed with its usual weekend chaos. The hallway outside the library had become a hotspot: warm light spilling from the stained-glass windows, enchanted leaves drifting through the air, students gathered in clusters around the benches and balustrades.
And in the middle of it all, perched like some royally untouchable court, sat Regulus Black and his entourage of beautiful, dangerous things.
Barty Crouch Jr. sprawled against a pillar, reading upside-down. Pandora Rosier braided Dorcas Meadows’s hair with tiny gold wire. Evan Rosier twirled his wand and flirted vaguely with a Hufflepuff boy too afraid to meet his eyes. They were radiant. They were terrifying. They were completely unaware that their quiet moment was about to become the moment.
“There he is,” James whispered from around the corner. “Target acquired.”
“He’s surrounded,” Peter whispered. “We’ll never get close.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Please. I’m a Black. I have aim.”
He peeked around the column again, waited for the exact moment when Regulus leaned back to sip from his tea, head tilted, long lashes lowered—and flicked his wand in a tight circle.
“Cantantem Verum.”
The spell hit.
Regulus froze.
The teacup slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor and shattering like glass rain. His body went limp for a breath, his spine curled slightly forward, and his eyes—
His eyes went glass-glossy and distant, like a puppet pulled offstage.
“Reg?” Barty asked, startled.
“Regulus?” Pandora’s hands hovered mid-braid.
Dorcas reached out but stopped short. “What the fuck did someone just do?”
Then—he inhaled. Softly.
And he began to sing.
A single note, clear and high and trembling like a violin string in winter air.
I know, I stand in line until you think you have the time
To spend an evening with me
The hallway fell silent. Entirely. The spell worked too well. Regulus’s voice wasn’t clumsy or embarrassing or off-key. It was angelic—high and breathy, fragile and aching, like porcelain cracking with grace.
“What the fuck,” Sirius whispered.
And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance
You won't be leaving with me
“Oh my god,” Lily gasped.
“Is he singing Sinatra?” Fabian blinked, stunned.
“No,” Mary whispered, “he’s confessing.”
Pandora looked between the lyrics and his empty gaze. “Who the hell is he talking about?”
Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
And have a drink or two
Barty stared like he was witnessing something sacred.
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid
Like, "I love you"
The words rang out in the corridor like stained glass shattering.
The girls in the hallway clutched each other’s arms. The Hufflepuff boy Evan had been flirting with audibly squealed. Dorcas looked like she’d been hit by lightning.
Evan raised a brow. “What the fuck.”
Regulus kept going. His eyes were unfocused, but his voice—his voice broke hearts.
I can see it in your eyes that you still despise the same old lies
You heard the night before
“Who hurt you?” Marlene muttered, stunned.
“Who is he singing to?” Alice hissed.
And though it's just a line to you, for me, it's true
And never seemed so right before
Sirius stumbled backwards a step.
“What?” Remus asked.
Sirius stared at his brother like he was seeing a ghost. “I know that look.”
“You don’t think—” James started.
“No. No, he can’t—”
I practice every day to find some clever lines to say
To make the meaning come true
But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late
And I'm alone with you
“Oh my god,” Lily whispered. “It’s a love song.”
“It’s not just a love song,” Gideon said slowly. “It’s a private one. Like—like he’s never said it out loud. To anyone.”
The time is right, your cologne fills my head, the stars get red
And, oh, the night's so blue
Dorcas turned sharply toward Barty.
“You’re the only one who uses cologne.”
“I swear on Merlin’s life it’s not me,” Barty said, flabbergasted.
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid
Like, "I love you"
Peter looked faintly ill.
“Who the fuck is he singing about?”
The time is right, your cologne fills my head, the stars get red
And, oh, the night's so blue
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid
Like, "I love you"
The silence was deafening.
Regulus stood still, trembling slightly, lips parted as the last line hovered in the air, caught like mist in sunlight.
I love you...
I love you...
I love you.
I love you~
The spell ended.
Regulus blinked once. His knees buckled slightly. Pandora and Evan both lunged forward to steady him.
He looked around. At his friends. At the dozens of staring students. At Sirius. At the dead silence.
And he frowned. “Why is everyone staring at me?”
Barty made a helpless noise. “You—you just—”
“You sang,” Dorcas choked. “You sang your soul out like a fucking ghost bride.”
“You sang Sinatra,” Pandora added, absolutely stunned. “Beautifully.”
Regulus blinked. “I don’t sing.”
“You do now,” Evan muttered.
Across the hallway, Sirius was ashen.
Lily glanced at him. “You okay?”
James stared at Sirius’s expression. “Padfoot?”
But Sirius didn’t answer. His jaw was locked, his eyes distant.
Because Sirius Black knew that voice. Knew the softness in it. Knew the nights that smelled like cologne and starlight and blue silence. Knew the fear of saying something stupid. Knew that he’d left the door open in the Astronomy Tower once too often.
It was getting on towards noon when Tabitha strode into the main room of the mansion,
her frazzled hair looking more frazzled than most days and an angry scowl marring her brow. She lifted her hand and gave an irritated flick of the wrist, causing the cupboard of her herbs to fly open, several of them shooting out and landing on the table near her cauldron. Another flick, and a cupboard on the other side of the room flew open, the doors banging loudly against the walls and several tightly stoppered bottles were flung towards the table, not breaking despite their fragile appearance. Lifting her palm slightly, the entire contents were raised into the air and followed after her obediently, bottles clanking together gently as she walked outside. With an annoyed glance towards the woodpile, a large number of logs walked themselves over to her makeshift fire pit, arranging themselves neatly there.
She spoke quietly in an unrecognizable language, unstoppering one of the bottles and walking around the fire pit in a clockwise direction, watching as flames started to appear and lick at the wood. With a quiet sigh, she spoke to herself, walking back towards the floating implements and grabbing them out of the air one by one, walking counterclockwise as she carefully tossed each one in, the flames shooting higher with each addition.
"It's far too..."
Dragon's Blood, Carnations...
"Quiet."
Vervain, Willow...
"I wish..."
Lavender, Yarrow...
"That song from every mouth would fill the air."
A drop of Thyme oil.
"Όπως και προηγουμένως, έτσι και κάτω."
Her voice, soft, almost singing as she chanted quietly in her native tongue.
"Αφήστε το τραγούδι γεμίζουν τον αέρα από τα στόματα των θνητών."
Watching as the flames climbed higher than even the trees and the mansion, though miraculously leaving the trees surrounding the fire pit unharmed, she giggled mischievously at the thought of all the mortals being forced to sing their words. Looking much happier and feeling very pleased with herself, she all but skipped back towards the mansion, intending to grab her broomstick and fly around to hear her handiwork, leaving the flames to douse themselves.
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