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ʏ/ɴ'ꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ
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I sat in the common room, Hermione sitting beside me on the couch. Hermione was, of course, informed on the news that the first task would be dragons—I told her before Harry could. But, because she knew, she was doing extreme research on Dragons and their weaknesses. And I was helping her, reading some of the books on topic and then taking many breaks reading my own cheesy romance books.
Hermione tossed away yet another useless Dragon book to the side of her, and now it sat in a small stack on the cushion. I let out a sigh at the last page of the Dragon Facts for Fun, another waste of reading time; I tossed it to my side like Hermione.
"I should've known the stupid book wouldn't be any help," I grumbled, tilting my head back.
"We'll find something soon—"
Hermione was cut off as someone made a rather noisy entrance into the common room; that person was Harry Potter. He tripped on his way in, but got up quick and practically sprinted toward Hermione and I. Hermione looked at him wide-eyed when he reached the front of the couch and I struggled to hold in a giggle.
"Y/n/n, remember when Professor Moody told me to come to his office?" Harry asked me breathlessly.
My internal laughter stopped.
"What happened?" I asked quickly. "Are you alright?"
"What?" Harry looked at her, taken aback. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"He's just a bit cuckoo," I shrugged, then placed my hands on my crossed legs. "You know the thing with Quirell, Moody seems a bit sussy, you know what I mean?"
"No, I don't..." Harry had his brows furrowed as he looked at me—honestly, I think he was wondering what the word "sussy" means, but whatever. "Well, I went to Moody's office and he started talking about the task... Do you guys know anything about a summoning charm?"
I did not, and Hermione obviously did because she perked up excitedly.
"I do!" She clapped her hands together. "We were supposed to learn it later in the year but I read about it and had to try it out, it took awhile for me to get it right but I've got the hang of it now!"
Hermione was breathless from the fast paced talking, the way she usually is when she's excited. I've picked up on little things my friends do that make them, well, them over the years. Hermione takes a quick breath each time she laughs, Harry re-adjusts his glasses constantly when he's stuck on a question in a test, and Ron stress eats before quizzes, exams, and tests—but he hardly eats before a Quidditch game, scared Gryffindor is going to loose.
"Alright, so what are you supposed to use the summoning charm for?" I asked.
"I'm gonna fly," Harry said confidently, tilting his chin up ever so slightly.
"You're gonna fly...." I repeated, nodding my head slowly. "So, like, Peter Pan? Like, pixie dust? You're gonna summon pixie dust?"
"Who's Peter and what the bloody hell is pixie dust?" Harry looked clueless. You would think being raised in a home of muggles, you would know who Peter Pan is.
"Honestly, Harry, he's only in a classic Disney movie," Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew who that was, hashtag raised-with-muggle-movies, I guess.
"Well I'm sorry my uncle didn't let me watch movies for fun because he's a arse," Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "As I was saying, I'm gonna fly.... On my broom."
There was a pause.
"Harry, I'm not sure you're allowed to bring a broom," Hermione said in a quiet voice.
I looked at her and looked back at Harry. She's right, he probably wasn't.
"That's what I need the summoning charm for!" Harry explained, grinning wide.
"Uh-huh," I nodded slowly, crossing my arms. "And you think you're gonna be able to perform that spell? I think your ego is too big."
"And I think your forehead is too big," Harry crossed his arms, as well.
"My forehead is not big!" I placed a hand on my normal sized forehead.
"Neither is my ego, you poophead!"
"Did you just call me a poophead?!"
"Yes!"
"I'm about to put some poop on your head in a second, Harry James Potter!"
"Guys!" Hermione interrupted. "You both are getting distracted."
"I tend to do that a lot," I leaned back onto the couch, sighing.
Hermione nodded at me then looked at Harry. "I'm sure with enough practice Harry will have mastered it, Y/n/n."
"It'll take a lot of practice then," I smirked at Harry, he simply rolled his eyes.
"Alright," Hermione said with a breath. "The charm is Accio, repeat it."
"Accio," Harry and I repeated.
"Y/n, you don't have to say it too, you know," Hermione said.
"Ugh, fine," I rolled my eyes. She knew I was just playing.
Harry repeated the charm several times, and I just watched. Soon, he pulled the wand from his back pocket.
"Okay, just point at a small object you want to summon, alright?"
Harry nodded and pointed his wand at my book, and, before I could protest, flicked his wand and murmured the word "Accio". My poor cheesy romance book, bound with a leather cover, flew towards me at a high speed, wobbling in the air dangerously. I shrieked and jumped off the couch before it could hit my head. A crash was heard, and when I got up, a vase was shattered and some of the pages of my book were scattered with the broken shards of glass.
"What the hell, Harry!" I yelled, climbing over the glass to reach my book.
"Shhh!" Hermione held her finger to her lips, shushing me. "There are people sleeping!"
"Well, maybe if Harry got here faster it would still be late afternoon!" I was furious as I spoke loudly.
I crouched down and picked up the book tenderly, as though it were an frail, injured being and not an inanimate object. My black painted fingertips ran across the brown leather cover, over the gold decorative lines. Remus gave me this book; I treasured it, and now its pages were torn. Now, I missed Remus, and yearned to speak with him. The Hogwarts drama and everything going on had distracted me so much I forgot of writing Remus, how stupid. The feeling of guilt arose.
Harry looked sheepish standing there by the fireplace, his wand still in his hand, Hermione was now by my side, wand waving at the broken vase, repairing it. Just as I was about to wave my own wand at my book, footsteps were heard coming from the stairs.
"Now who did we wake up with all the noise?" Hermione sighed, standing up from her crouching position next to me.
"Your mom," I murmured. Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head at my lame attempt to be funny.
It was, in fact, not Hermione's mom, but the Weasley twins. As they walked down the last few steps, they looked wide awake in their pajamas- and, I noticed a black smudge was on Freds cheek.
"What's with all the ruckus?" George asked, a hand on his hip.
"Oh, just Harry destroying my book like the great brother he is," I smiled sarcastically as I held up my poor book.
"I didn't mean to!" Harry defended.
"Sure, you didn't," I rolled my eyes at him.
The twins looked at eachother, seemingly amused.
"You're lucky we were already awake, or else you lot would be in a whole lot of hurt," Fred grinned, rubbing his cheek where the black mark was, rubbing it off.
"Harry'll be hurting in a second," I threatened him, jokingly, of course.
Fred smiled at me. That perfect smile that, in all honesty, makes my heart flutter so I feel like I, Y/n Black, were in my own cheesy romance novel. His hair was messy, but it was away from his face, except for a tiny piece that fell right on his forehead. I think I'm a sucker for that long hair of his.
"Wanna come see the stuff we're testing, Y/n?" George asked. "Lee's awake too."
Hermione nudged me forward, obviously taking the opportunity to push me to hang out with Fred. Harry, on the other hand, didn't look as happy to let me in Fred's dorm room, even though George and Lee would be there too. It's payback time, my dear, sweet brother.
"Really, Hermione?" Fred looked at my best friend curiously. "You're not gonna tell her about getting in trouble or anything?"
Hermione flushed. "No, I trust Y/n won't drink any of your potions—or stuff like that." Her words came out fast. She was nervous about the sudden interrogation.
I gave my brother a sickly sweet smile as I followed the twins up to the stairs, trying to keep up with their long legs as best as I could—when I mean best, I mean my best. Fred noticed my lack of speed and stopped, grinning at me.
"You're too short," Fred was still grinning, and I couldn't help but not take offense to his comment because of how much that grin affected me.
George stopped too, now, looking at Fred; almost like he was urging Fred to do something. Fred looked back at him, confused.
"Well, too bad there isn't anyone to help her go up the stairs faster," He sighed, shrugging as he cast a pitiful look at me. His act was ruined as he winked at me, continuing to walk up the stairs, two steps at a time.
Fred looked nervous, like, nervous. He took a look at his brother, who now was farther up the steps, then back at me before taking a breath; picking at his long sleeved, black shirt. He seemed like he was contemplating for a second—then, he suddenly took my hand and began walking up the stairs.
His hand was warm, like a heating pad in my hand, his hand was slightly calloused—I guess from working out to keep his body fit for Quidditch next year—but it just felt right; holding it against my soft palms. Fred made sure I stayed close to him as he walked—no, strode—up the stairs.
I was nervous beyond measure. What if my hands got clammy? Do I have sweaty hands? I loosened my grip out of fear—fear of my hands getting clamming, of him finding out how nervous I was. His grip only tightened, he looked at me, smiling reassuringly.
God, I could go on describing him forever. I could try so hard to describe how he made me feel on paper for a long time, and it would never bring justice to how it feels actually being in his presence. Now, of all times, I wonder if he read all of my short stories, slightly blushing thinking about it.
We were at his dorm door too soon. I felt like it was too soon to see George look at us mischievously as he stood at the door, too soon to let go of his large, comforting hand.
"Can't keep Lee waiting anymore, can we?" Without response, George opened the door, no knocking.
My hand felt empty and cold as I walked behind George, into the room, without Fred's holding mine.
"Oi!" I heard the familiar voice of Lee Jordan fill the room, delighting me. "There's my favorite gal!"
He was smiling brightly, he walked over to me, taking me into a hug. I smelt the familiar smell of caramel, an autumn breeze, and coconut as he wrapped his arms around me. Lee let go and put his hands on his hips, looking at me up and down.
"Have you been avoiding me?" He raised a brow, then he looked scandalized. "Is it because you don't want to lend me that dress?"
"What?" I asked.
"The Beauxbatons dress," George shook his head at Lee, though I saw the look in his eye, the adorning type.
"Oh!" I laughed. Fred stood oddly still as he looked at me, I suddenly felt very exposed. "That dress? You can have it, love. I have no need for it."
Lee smiled even brighter, whipping his head at George, his curls swaying slightly. George smiled, a smile I have never seen appear on his face before. This was when I realized that George Weasley might just be in love with Lee Jordan—real love.
I felt a smile of my own spread across my lips as I watched Lee drag George by the hand to a place on the small red carpet on the wooden floor, they sat next to each other and I finally noticed the stuff scattered on the floor. I had no time to ask my question before Fred grabbed my hand and led me to a spot in front of George and Lee. There was a space between us, a space that there wasn't with George and Lee, and I wished nothing more than for that space—that distance—to be gone. It wasn't a real distance, we were sitting quite close enough to each other, but it was an emotional distance of some sort.
"What's all this stuff for?" I asked, scanning the floor of, what looked to be toys and candy, with my eyes.
"Wouldn't you love to know?" Fred smirked at m, nudging my arm. A poor effort at breaking the space, which he probably didn't even notice.
George grinned mischievously, and without having to look, I knew Fred was as well.
"These are our little inventions, you've seen some before, haven't you?" George had asked the question, but didn't seem to need an answer as he moved on to point at a little glass bottle, the cork closing the liquid inside; it was a shocking pink color. "That's what we used on your hair. Lee helped a lot, but we were the masterminds behind the plan of pranking you, right, Fred?"
I looked at Fred. The gleam in his eyes as he grinned at me, nodding. I rolled my eyes, smiling a little myself.
"How did you guys even do it?" I asked.
"Ah, it was a simple thing, no doubt," Fred looked at me, smirking as he explained the plan they followed. "We snuck in, through the window—" As my eyes widened, he rushed to finish his sentence, "On brooms, none of us got hurt." He smiled at me, probably at the worry that washed away from my face.
"Then, we just opened your mouth a little and poured some in!" George smiled, looking proud.
I pondered for a second, re-playing their plan. "Maybe I should fear my safety."
"Oh, don't worry," Fred shrugged. "I don't think any other handsome, tall gingers are willing to fly up to your window and pour a potion down your throat."
My next sentence wasn't planned well, but it still slipped out. "I'm sure there are plenty of other guys who would be willing to fly up to my window—asking me on a date, of course, not poisoning me."
I said it so casually, and when I glanced at Fred, I saw his smile falter a little. George looked at me, grinned, then turned to his brother.
"Yes, yes, we know how much the boys—and the gals, too—love you," George rolled his eyes. "But the important thing here is our lovely creations; our little toy babies—our little babies that we created—"
"Okay, move on," I laughed a little. George rolled his eyes at me rushing him.
"Anyway," Fred cut George off before he could speak. "We were wondering if you would test out our new one—it dyes sections of your hair, of your choosing."
I looked at Fred, then George, then Fred again—I looked back and forth before turning to Lee.
"Lee, spare me," I pleaded, jokingly—but also, please Lee.
"Sorry, bestie," Lee shook his head, his smile unwavering. "It's a sacrifice for a brighter, temporary-hair-dye world, Y/n. A good cause."
I groaned, turning to look at Fred, only to see him giving me puppy eyes. Fred's hands were together, puppy eyes and all, he was pleading; and so was George.
"What's in it for me?" If I was doing this, I wanted to know what I would get in return.
Fred grinned, his classic grin. "You get to look as pretty as you do now, just with blue hair."
He just called me pretty—and yes, many people have said it to me before. But Fred Weasley called me pretty. That boldness he possessed captivated me, and always will—and it made things feel all the more special when he's nervous. I think I love anything he does, to be honest.
"I don't think blue hair fits me," I blushed. Now my head was tilting down, George knew Fred was my weak spot.
"Anything suits you, darling," Freds compliments were weakening me faster than anticipated.
"Yeah, what he said," George said. I cast a glare at him.
"If you drink the potion, I'll take you to Hogsmeade and get you some candy, how about that?" Fred suggested.
I don't think Fred knew how much that made me want to scream, a giddy, girlish scream. I screamed internally, but it wasn't enough to keep my cheeks from heating up.
"You've got yourself a deal, boys," I sat up straighter, extending both of my hands to them. They shook it- -my hand tingled as Fred's touched mine.
I turned to Lee. "Lee, if this turns out to be a disaster, please take me to the hospital wing. If it does, I'll want to kill these two ginger nerds too much."
Fred and George scoffed at their nickname. I knew they weren't nerds, they knew how popular they were too.
"Will do, buckaroo," Lee swung his arm in imitation of a pirate, talking in a terrible Australian accent.
Soon enough, the small, shot glass sized bottle was in my hands. The liquid was an electric blue, the bottle was labeled 'blue sections'. If I ruin my hair, I will cry.
I will cry.
"Alright, think of the section of hair you want, okay?" Fred's voice soothed my nerves in the slightest way.
I'll just do one streak, one streak, I thought.
I uncorked the bottle, looking in at the potion. Before I lost my nerve, I pressed the cool glass on my lips, letting the liquid pass my lips as I tilted my head back. I swallowed the potion, it made my throat feel cold.
One strand. One strand.
Suddenly, my scalp began to tingle, like sparkles. I watched as Fred, George, and Lee looked at my hair with wide eyes. I grabbed a small section of my hair and I saw blue running down like paint over my dark brown hair, maybe even over my bright blonde underlayer.
The tingling stopped. I slowly stood up and ran to the bathroom to see my hair, the boys followed close behind.
Oh. My. God.
I looked in their mirror, a girl with electric blue hair looked back at me. The only part of my hair that wasn't colored was my blonde under layer, it looked surprisingly good with the blue. I touched my hair; it felt the same, but it looked so different.
"I told you it would look good on you!" Fred placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. I felt like shivering.
"You look amazing, Y/n/n. Really, you do."
I fought the blush rising on my face, it won. As I looked in the mirror at Fred, I noticed a pink flush on his cheeks.
"It didn't work as we planned but it looks great," George said, looking at me in awe.
"Still want me to take you to the hospital wing?" Lee asked, grinning from ear-to-ear.
"No, I think I like it."
It was a while before I told everyone I was going to bed; it was two in the morning, we still had classes in the morning. I wasn't sure whether Harry and Hermione were up, since I left them around one, so I decided I would head to the dorm.
"How about I walk you there?" Fred asked abruptly, taking me by surprise as I stood in front of the door, my hand on the knob. He spoke quickly, like he was afraid of stumbling over his words.
I saw George squirm, holding onto Lee's shoulder tight; Lee looked excited too. George sent me a smile, an encouraging smile. If one day Fred and I get together, I think my friends would be happy knowing they helped.
"Oh—um, yeah, sounds great," It was like my voice was stuck in my throat, hard to get the words out.
George reached over to nudge Fred, who stood up fast. I smiled as Fred rushed to get some slippers on, pulling them on, stumbling on one foot over to me. He finally stood up, wobbling a little at first, both shoes on, smiling down at me. Oh, how he makes my heart melt.
He reached behind me, brushing my arm in the process, twisting the knob. The cold air in the hallway made me shiver.
"Ladies first," He gestured to the door. I went out first.
Fred came out after me, shutting the door behind me; as soon as the door shut I heard muffled whooping sounds. Maybe they're too supportive of Fred and I.
I was turned away from the door waiting for Fred, but he just stood in front of the door, seemingly waiting for me to turn to face him. When I did face him, he had his hand out, a charming smile on his lips.
"M'lady?" He bowed low, his hand extended to me.
I felt like my heart just did a somersault. I placed my hand in his with the tenderest care, he closed his hand around mine. As he stood back straight, he looked me in the eye with a wide grin as he stood up slowly.
"How is your hand so soft?" He rubbed his thumb across the top of my hand, then across my knuckles.
I felt like giggling, that's how I felt.
"Um, lotion," I struggled to speak, blushing as hard as I was.
The tower made the hallway only big enough for a window and a small space in between the door and the entry of the spiral staircase. Moonlight came flooding in from the window, it was perfect beyond imaginable. My hand is his, the way he smiled at me.
"Your hair looks even better in the moonlight," He whispered, his voice ran through my ears like a beautiful song, one I'd play over and over again.
His other hand went onto my hair, taking a piece and twirling it around his finger. He smiled, his eyes were focused on the blue hair around his index finger, placing it back down. My hair was wavy from curling it with my wand the other day, and it stayed in the little curl he made, and I wished to keep it like that forever. But everything moves so quickly...It drifts away until it is nothing but a echoing memory.
"You owe me chocolate," My voice was quiet, so quiet it was barely a whisper.
"That I do, princess," I hadn't had enough time to enjoy the sound of that nickname rolling off his tongue, as he twirled me around with the hand that still had mine, then placing one hand behind my knees and on my lower back; he lifted me and I gasped.
"Fred!" I whispered, a shout hidden beneath my quiet tone.
"Yes?" He looked at me, right into my eyes, and I protested no further.
Maybe time wasn't a prickly curse, for all moments are special because of it. Each happy moment is savored if you choose to do so, if you appreciate the moment, fully aware that time will move you along. If every moment never moved and only stayed as still as a beautiful painting, some of the best things will never happen, you would never experience the next big thing- something that could happen only a second after. Fred made me realize the most amazing things, and maybe one day he would know—maybe one day I'd tell him how great he is to his very face I adored all too much.
I leaned my head against his chest, taking slow breaths, taking in his aroma. I haven't yet figured out exactly what it was he smelled like, I thought I did once, but It's fresh and new and exciting every time—perhaps that's what he smells like, maybe he smells just like his personality; fresh and new and exciting every single time I'm around him.
I closed my eyes the entire time, enjoying this soon-to-be memory, hoping I'd still feel the way I felt in this exact second when I look back on it—maybe years from now. But, all too soon, it was the end of my joyride. Fred had carried me to my dorm room door, only pausing for a second to readjust me in his arms, then moving forward.
As Fred let me down, my arm falling from around his neck to my side, I felt happy. Truly and wonderfully happy.
"How do you do that?" I asked, knowing full well how in awe I sounded.
"Do what?" He asked, looking at me with a raised brow.
"Carry me all that way!" I rolled my eyes, giggling in the slightest bit, though it was tied with my sentence, almost like jewelry to an outfit.
"Oh, it's easy when you're enjoying it," It was apparent to me he hadn't realized what he said, because a second later his eyes went wide and he blurted out, "You're as light as a feather, it's easy."
She knew that she wasn't that light, because she had a normal human body, but it made it better.
I smiled. Then I remembered, from a trail of thoughts that led me to remember this one, possibly embarrassing thing, starting off with me admiring his eyes... Had he read the stories?
"Um, did you read the stories yet?" I blurted out. Get it over with.
Fred smiled, a small smile—one far from his usual grin. It was like he was adoring me as I did to him.
"I did," Fred's smile grinned wider, then turning into a smirk. "Where'd you think I learned the twirl-and-pickup move from?"
Oh. My. Merlin.
My cheeks went hot, my heart did gymnastics like a damn olympian, and the butterflies—oh, my, the butterflies were beyond the number of a thousand.
Fred Gideon Weasley remembered the smallest detail of one of my short stories, when I hadn't even remembered until now. I felt so much more than simply liking him, I felt—I felt as though I loved him. Like, really love him.
She didn't wait for the fear to set it, but she just held onto that hopeful adoring feeling filling her entire body as she looked at him.
"How did you remember that?" I nearly stammered over my words. Thank Merlin for the moon being on the other side of the tower, and not exposing my red cheeks or the smile tugging at the one corner of my lip.
"It's my favorite," He whispered. He leaned closer, tipping my chin up with his finger. "Are you blushing?"
Damn it. The torch near the door frame exposed me.
"I'm flattered, that's all," I pulled my chin away from his finger.
Fred frowned at me, and I began to turn around to face my door, hoping to save myself from further embarrassment by climbing into my bed. But, Fred grabbed my wrist. I turned to face him again.
"I was wondering if you would maybe wanna go to the Halloween party with me?"
The words came out so fast, so quick and so abrupt. I coughed, eyes wide, my neck feeling hot now too. This was so many feelings for one night.
I wished I reacted better. I wish I didn't look so shocked.
Fred's eyes went extremely wide, he looked frantic as he added as fast as he could, "As friends."
I stood still. My cheeks and neck were still hot, but the butterflies in my stomach turned into a sick feeling, I wanted to throw up. My heart wasn't jumping or doing ecstatic gymnastics, it just felt like it stopped beating. I wish it did stop beating, for a second. This is far too embarrassing.
"Um—yeah—yeah, of course," I stuttered. My eyes stung.
"Great," It didn't look great. He looked—he looked.... Disappointed.
Had Fred hoped I would say no, so he could go with Angelina instead? Did he ask just to be nice? My heart hurt, my chest ached.
There was a silence, a silence where I blinked tears away and attempted to keep calm breaths.
"Goodnight, Fred," That was all I said before I slipped into my dorm, closing the door behind me. And, like all the romance-movie girls did, I slid down the door with my back to it until I sat with my knees to my chest. Thank Merlin I changed into my pajamas as soon as I got into my dorm room before Hermione and I searched for the perfect Dragon book
I dug my head into the little tunnel between my legs and my chest, breathing slowly while a single tear plopped onto my pajamas. I was glad it was dark in the dorm—thankful, even. But, my hope vanished as I saw the light turned on.
Peering over my knees, I saw my dorm mates, Sienna, and my little sister huddled into a little group, Hermione in the middle holding a lamp, looking at me intently. They were near the end of my bed.
"We were waiting for you," Hermione was frowning at me. "It didn't seem to go as well as we thought did, did it?"
I had one question on my mind. One.
"Can you be in love with someone if you aren't in a relationship with them—romantically wise?"
It was stupid, because I knew the answer. I knew about romance more than any of them did.
Hermione looked at Carrie, who sat beside her, then back at me.
"You can."
I knew it, and they confirmed it. If whatever I was feeling was love—I needed to stop it. He was my friend, he thought so and so did I, but...my feelings were different.
There's a chance I love him, and that also means there's a chance of loosing him.
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𝙰/𝙽:
𝚒 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝟹𝚔 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. :(
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𝟺𝟾𝟹𝟿 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 (𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗)