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Chapter 32: But I Wouldn’t Want to Stay

On the night of 29 December, Albus Dumbledore received a rather petite letter, only about four inches long and two high. Minerva McGonagall, who was with him when it arrived, noticed a look of regret on his face as he took it from the owl.

"What’s wrong, Albus?"

"Oh, nothing. I was merely hoping for some photographs, and I see they have not yet come."

"From our... mutual friends?"

"Indeed. And I must say, Minerva, while we are on the subject, that was quite the loaded speech you gave Severus at our end-of-term staff meeting."

Minerva sighed. "I suppose I couldn’t resist. I’ve been wanting for so long to catch him on something — him with his attitude of Slytherin perfection. He just irritates me. It was not that long ago that he was my student, and now, he calls me by my first name, he never misses an opportunity to point out what I or my students have done wrong — at least he’s had no complaints as of yet about the newest Weasley boy, I thought it would be inevitable considering his attitude about the rest of the family..."

Dumbledore smiled reflectively, opening his letter. "Percy Weasley does seem the type to get along with Severus, if such a thing is possible. A rule-follower to the extreme. His brothers, now — ah."


"Enclosures. One for you." He handed her a small folded piece of air-mail paper. "And one for Hagrid. I think I will save that for the day after tomorrow..."

Dumbledore and Hagrid had a New Year’s Eve tradition which they had observed for quite a long time. They had lunch together in Dumbledore’s office, followed by tea at Hagrid’s house. During the meals, and in the time between, they discussed the year past and the year to come.

"And, surprisingly enough, one for Severus. I do hope it doesn’t contain taunts."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "And you know perfectly well it probably does."


Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Merry Christmas, as they say State-side. Sorry this letter’s late, but mail is heavy this time of year. Also sorry that it’s not as bulky as you probably wanted, but it is air-mail, and that’s expensive. Not to mention risky.

But not to worry — we took loads of photographs, and you can get them easily. They’re waiting for you at the New Orleans School of Magic. Principal West says she’d love to have you drop in for a cup of tea any time.

We are all well, and hope you are the same. We’ll see you when we see you.

With wishes for a pleasant New Year,



Dear Professor McGonagall,

Professor Hunkele of the Vancouver Magical Academy sends his greetings. So do we, of course, but I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t forget about the good Professor.

Anyway, a Merry Christmas to you, and a Happy New Year. Just think — only three and three-quarter years left before you get to start teaching our wonderful children! Doesn’t that make you want to beam with pride? Or possibly run away screaming?

Well, whichever it is, do it in health, and with our best wishes.

Happy Holidays,



Severus Snape looked with distaste at his letter. Knowing who sent this to me does not make it easier to take.

He was tempted simply to throw it away unread. But they will probably have placed some sort of spell on it similar to that thrice-damned plaque, so I might as well get it over with now...

He tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents.

Dear Professor Snape,

Merry Christmas. We hope you are feeling well. We would like to thank you for making our trip to America possible. Please don’t do it again. Have a Happy New Year.

There was no signature.

Snape read it over twice, then tossed it into his fire and went to get himself a drink.

"Please don’t do it again" indeed. If I never see any of them again, it will be too soon.


Dumbledore Apparated to New Orleans the next day (he was one of the few living wizards who could, and did, treat Apparating across oceans as an everyday occurrence) and visited with Joanna West, the principal of the New Orleans School of Magic.

"Very nice young people Hogwarts is turning out these days, Albus," she said over tea. "So polite. And so nice to see them happily married and having children — you need some population boost over there, with that war having scared everyone out of the baby business..."

Dumbledore sighed. "I agree. Hogwarts is sadly diminished from what it once was."

"Only in size," Joanna said. "Not in quality of teaching, I’m sure. My last exchange student said she learned more about potions in two weeks with your Potions Master than she did in a whole semester here." She frowned. "But she also mentioned a bit of a personality clash..."

"Nearly everyone’s personalities clash with Severus Snape’s," Dumbledore said lightly. "I have a feeling that is the way he prefers it."

"Oh, well, you get some people like that," Joanna said sagely. "Have a cookie? Made them myself..."


The package was small, but filled literally to the brim with photographs. The Pack must have taken ten rolls of film in the six months they had been gone, Dumbledore thought, browsing through the pictures. They were Muggle-style, of course, in color with no movement, but he could still see the faces he loved. With a few minor changes, and one great one.

I see they have given Harry darker skin, so that he will appear to be Aletha’s son, I have no doubt. He nodded. A wise choice. Two children in each family is far less likely to be remarked upon.

There was, though, no note with the pictures, and that bothered Dumbledore. I do hope they plan to return soon...


As he did every year, Hagrid arrived at Dumbledore’s office around noon on New Year’s Eve, ready for lunch and their usual talk. This year, however, there was one topic in particular on both their minds that neither of them wanted to bring up. So they talked around it all through lunch and the hours afterwards. It was just as they were getting ready to go outdoors that Dumbledore said, casually, "Hagrid, I believe I have something here for you. It must have reached me by mistake."

He handed the gamekeeper an envelope and turned away. In a small mirror mounted behind his desk, he saw Hagrid beam as he recognized the handwriting on the envelope, and carefully tuck it away in a pocket of his overcoat.

"Sent ‘em all t’gether, then," Hagrid said as if to himself as the two went down the stairs. "Tha’s smart, that is. Keep ‘em from gettin’ lost."

"Or intercepted," Dumbledore said quietly. Hagrid nodded, and they were silent for a few moments as they descended the marble staircase and crossed the entrance hall.

Hagrid spoke again as they emerged into the bright light of a sunny winter day. "Wouldn’ happen t’know... if they’re comin’ back any time soon, would yeh, sir?"

"Sadly, my correspondent was silent on that issue, I suspect deliberately so. I have a feeling your letter will be similarly uncommunicative. But one can hardly blame them, given the events of July, for wishing to keep their affairs a bit more secret than they previously have."

Hagrid sighed. "True... true."

"You miss them." It was not a question.

"I do. I miss talkin’ with ‘em, an’ watchin’ the little’uns playin’ an’ roughhousin’ like they do... yeh’ve seen ‘em, sir, yeh know how they get..." Hagrid shook his head. "It’s jus’ hard, not knowin’."

"I agree. But we must remember, Hagrid, that although they seem young to us, our friends are adults and free to make their own choices. Those choices might even include staying where they currently are for some time, as difficult as that is for us to think of."

"They wouldn’ stay over there," Hagrid said in shock. "Not them. They wouldn’ keep little — er — their boy off in a foreign place tha’ way."

"It is only a possibility, Hagrid, and one I tend to discount. The general tenor of their letters leads me to believe that they will, in fact, be returning at some point."

Hagrid nodded. "Hope it’s soon." He mounted his front steps, sweeping the snow from them, and pulled open his front door. Fang lifted his head sleepily, then flopped back down in his basket.

"Has Fang gained weight?" Dumbledore asked, pulling back the curtains with a wave of his wand. How odd. I wonder why they were drawn?

"Don’ think so. Why?"

Dumbledore got a better look at the large black mass of fur in the basket. "Ah, never mind. A trick of the light." And that would be why. Casually, he lit the lamps and closed the curtains again. Better safe than sorry.

Hagrid poked up the fire and added some small sticks. Once they had caught, he added a Magical Fire-Log ("Catches instantly, burns for hours!") and hung the teakettle on the hob. Dumbledore took the opportunity to scan the room.

As I expected. That closet is not entirely closed. Ah, and the bureau is farther from the wall than I remember... and the bed looks rather interesting...

"Tell me, Hagrid, was there not once a rumor that you kept werewolf cubs under your bed?"

Hagrid laughed. "Ah, now, Professor, yeh know tha’ wasn’ true."

"Really?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. "Have you checked?"

"Checked?" Hagrid straightened up, looking confused. "Checked where?"

"Under your bed."

"Fer... werewolf cubs?"

"Yes. I think you ought to check now."

Hagrid looked bewildered for one more second, then his eyes lit with understanding. "Per’aps I oughta," he said with a grin, and was across the cabin and reaching under the bed almost faster than Dumbledore could follow.

I always forget that Hagrid’s bulk is deceptive — he can move quite quickly when he wishes to.

There was a shriek from under the bed, followed by giggles. Hagrid pulled his arm back out with Hermione Granger clinging to his hand, squealing happily. Harry Potter and Draco and Meghan Black exploded out from the other sides of the bed and mobbed Hagrid, hugging every part of him they could reach.

"An’ wha’ were yeh doin’ under there?" Hagrid mock-angrily demanded of the cubs, standing up and putting his hands on his hips.

"Hiding," Harry said with his insouciant smile.

"Where’s yer parents?"

"Hiding," Draco said, relinquishing his hold on Hagrid’s arm and dropping to the floor. "Hi, Professor Dumbledore."

"Hi, Professor," the other cubs chorused.

"Hello, children," Dumbledore said, looking them over. They seemed much the same as ever, with one noticeable exception — Harry was wearing glasses, round-lensed with black plastic frames. I would imagine they have been charmed to be Unbreakable, considering his penchant for flying and climbing things.

"Yes, hello, Professor, hello, Hagrid," said Aletha, coming out from behind the bureau. Dumbledore noticed as usual the woman’s signature style, a seemingly impossible combination of dignity and playfulness, so that everything she did appeared both sophisticated and unrehearsed. "Hermione Granger, get down this instant — Hagrid is not a tree."

"Aw, she kin climb on me if she wants ta," Hagrid said, beaming proudly at Neenie, who was perched on his shoulder. "Where’s ev’ryone else?"

Someone sneezed in the closet.

"They’ll be out as soon as they finish playing guitar," Aletha said with a straight face.

Hagrid looked confused. "Playin’ guitar?"

"That’s what they call it in Arizona," said a bearded man, standing up in Fang’s corner. It took Dumbledore a moment to recognize Sirius. "And that’s where we left from, Phoenix, Arizona. Didn’t take you long, Headmaster. I win for once," he called toward the closet.

"I should have known better than to bet against you, Professor," said Remus, opening the closet door from inside. "And for your information, Letha, we were not ‘playing guitar’ in there."

"We weren’t?" Danger said dreamily from behind him. "Can we not do it again, then?"

Hagrid laughed at this. "Yeh hid in Fang’s basket," he said to Sirius. "Tha’s why Professor Dumbledore asked if he gained weight."

"That I did. I have to admit, Hagrid, we were hoping you’d come back alone and we could surprise you."

"Trus’ me, yeh surprised me plenty," Hagrid said, lifting Hermione down from his shoulder. "I gotta get ter the tea, sweetie, yeh go on now..."

"When did you get back?" Dumbledore asked Remus.

"Last night. We got rooms in London and Flooed into Hogsmeade this morning."

"And oh, do we ever have stories," Danger said, her eyes dancing. "I hope neither of you have anywhere to be."

"Nowhere but here," Dumbledore said with a smile.

I had forgotten how invigorating the presence of the Pack is. They take such obvious delight in life that it is difficult venturing on impossible not to join them in their joy.

And since there is no reason not to...

He sat back in his chair, a signal to the cubs that his lap was available for sitting on. Harry got there first, but Meghan was a close second. Neenie was busy petting Fang, and Draco was under the table, doing heaven only knew what.

"Well, for one thing, my family appears to have been more secretive than I ever knew," Aletha said with a rueful smile. "You know that we went to visit my aunt, Professor. She was my father’s older sister by quite a few years, she’s in her early sixties. Apparently, she and her parents managed to keep secret from my father the exact nature of the boarding school she attended. The all-girls boarding school in Massachusetts."

"Your father’s sister... not the Amy Freeman who is influential at Noxet Bank?" Dumbledore asked.

"The same. And she caught us out — luckily, all she wanted to know was the truth, and she was willing to believe it."

"We were careless," Remus said, glancing at Harry. "We won’t make that mistake again."

"On that subject," Dumbledore said, "where are you planning to live now — and under what names, if I may ask such an indiscreet question?"

"We’re all Blacks now," Aletha said. "Patrick and Carrie with Harry and Meghan, and John and Gertrude with Drake and Hermione. Pat and John are fraternal twins, born in England but raised in Canada, alumni of VMA in British Columbia, and such loving brothers that they never did anything apart, not even get married. And since their wives happened to be best friends, it suited them, and their paychecks, all just fine to share a house."

"It was a happy coincidence that both ladies became pregnant at the same time," Danger added. "The twins were born just a few days before Harry, and they’ve done everything together ever since."

"And because Harry Black will have the same skin tone as his sister and his mother," Sirius finished, "why would anyone have reason to suspect he’s actually Harry Potter?"

Hagrid chuckled, bringing the teapot to the table. "Hidin’ in plain sight — usin’ yer real last name an’ all!"

"We’re hoping the Aurors think we’d never be that stupid," Remus said. "As to where, we haven’t decided yet — suggestions are welcome, Professor. But we would like a small town or village, if we can. The cubs need some space to run in. And if there happened to be a magical family around with children near their age..."

"They could use some friends," Danger said. "Other than themselves. They’re very close to each other, of course, but new friends would be good for them." She made a face. "We had a very interesting conversation one full moon night."


Den-nights, by definition, were times to be Pack. Part of being Pack was knowing the Pack stories, knowing how the Pack had come to be and what had made its members who they were, the good things and the bad both. The adults all knew the stories, of course, having lived them. But the cubs needed to be told. Den-nights had become the time for telling them.

Many of the stories were troubling. Normal families might have balked at telling their children such things. But the adults were in agreement — the cubs had to know. It was better for them to hear and learn about frightening things while they were safe in their Den, with their Pack around them, than for them to be surprised by those same frightening things in real life, when there might be no one there to help them.

So the cubs all knew the story of Wormtail and his betrayal, and how Hermione and Danger’s parents had died. They knew that they would someday meet a boy named Neville, the same age as the older three, whose parents did not know him because of Death Eaters. And they knew the name of Voldemort, and did not fear to speak it.

Telling the stories had another advantage — stories about the bad times the cubs themselves had experienced brought old fears to the surface, letting the cubs remember the fear, recognize it, and make a choice to fight against it. Harry still shivered when the story of the night he was rescued was told, but it no longer paralyzed him as it had done on its first telling, and it had taken Draco five den-nights, but he had finally been able to keep from diving under the blankets whenever someone mentioned his birth-father’s name.

The occurrences with Snape and Neenie were still too recent to have become a story yet, for which Danger was privately thankful. She knew what was likely to happen when it did.

Just when we’d got her to stop, too. She hasn’t sucked her thumb in months. Not since it actually happened.

Oh well. At least it’s not dangerous, destructive, or overly disgusting.

On this particular den-night, one of the stories being told was about what Lucius Malfoy had said to the Pack while he had them imprisoned. They had just reached the part about the Imperius Curse not being illegal on non-humans, when Draco had a question.

"What’s a humans?"

This should be interesting.

Shut up.

Temper, temper...

"Human is the word for people who look like us, Draco. People with two legs and two arms, who don’t have wings or tails or fur all the time. Wizards and Muggles are human, and men and women and boys and girls are all human. Understand?"

Draco nodded.

"Are we human?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course we are," Danger said, confused. What else would he think we were?

I have a feeling...

Harry shook his head. "Uh-uh. We’re Pack."

What did I tell you? Remus said, lightly, but with a slight edge.

You knew. You knew this was coming.

No, but I suspected. It’s not as bad as it sounds, love. They don’t think they’re any better or worse than the rest of the world, just different, and they’ve grown up knowing that — don’t get too worked up about terminology.

Well, I’m not letting them get away with thinking they’re not human. "Yes, Harry, we’re Pack. But we’re human too."

"Even Moony?" Neenie asked.

"Even Moony," Sirius said. "Except very early in the morning, before he has his tea."

The werewolf growled lightly at Sirius.

"Then Lucius was wrong," Draco said with an air of relief.

"In the real world, yes, he was wrong," Danger said. "But I’m not so sure about legality. Letha, do you know?"

"The law’s complicated," Aletha said with a sigh. "Supposedly, except on full-moon nights, werewolves are considered human — otherwise, Remus could never have gone to school or even bought a wand. But there is a deep-set prejudice against them in the magical world, and some rights are denied to them — they can’t vote, and they can’t legally adopt, not magically, anyway."

"Good thing we did it the Muggle way, then," Danger said, rubbing Remus’ head just behind his ears.

"Did what?" Sirius asked.

"When we got married, I transferred Neenie’s custody to the two of us, jointly. Since Muggle law doesn’t even know there is such a thing as lycanthropy, it wasn’t a problem."

Remus laughed wolf-style, a sound like a cross between a cough and a bark. And since you were supposedly still a Muggle at the time, it should hold up in court, if we ever have to take it there.

Doesn’t matter. She’s mine, end of story, and the court has no say over whom we share our lives with.

Well, it might have something to say about the fact that technically, we’re all criminals. Kidnapping, both Harry and Draco — aiding and abetting a fugitive — actually helping him escape, in my case. If they abide by the letter of the law, even if Sirius’ name is cleared, we could all be sent to Azkaban.

Danger shivered. And isn’t that a pleasant thought. How did this conversation get so cheerful, anyway?

It’s all your fault.

How do you figure?

Everything’s your fault. You know that.

Danger growled and punched her husband on the shoulder. Jerk.

And don’t you forget it.


"America is similar to England in a lot of ways," Aletha recalled. "We speak the same language, more or less. People are a little more relaxed there, and you have to remember to look the other way when you’re crossing the street — we almost got run over more than once before we got that down."

"But it’s people trying to make their way in life, just like anywhere else," Remus said. "We fit right in. Just another bunch of tourists, stay a few days here, a few days there, pay our bills and go."

"We spent a week or so in New York City," Sirius said. "Exciting place. Wouldn’t want to live there, though. But they do have some good pizza."

"Is food all you ever think about?" asked Aletha jokingly.

"No. I think about you a lot."

"What do you think about me?"

"That no matter what side of the ocean we’re on, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen."

"Nice recovery," Danger said approvingly.

"They also have good theater in New York," Aletha said. "We went to a couple of matinees. Musicals, things the cubs would enjoy."

"And we visited a few places your average tourist wouldn’t get to see," said Remus. "I think we saw most of the magical schools in North America, at least to the point of walking around their campuses."

"We spent three days studying the Vancouver Magical Academy," Danger said. "To make sure we know enough about it to be able to say we went there."

"Yes, how is Muggle travel across the US/Canada border these days?" Dumbledore asked.

"Very easy," Sirius said. "We showed them our passports, all legally stamped and signed, and they let us across with no trouble at all."

"Having no idea, of course, that said passports were absolutely and totally fake," Aletha said with a grin. "Muggles are so easy to fool. If you have the right piece of paper, they’ll let you do anything."

"Wizards don’t even need a piece of paper," Sirius said, the laughter dying out of his face. "Just a story."

Aletha winced. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Danger broke it. "And then, of course, there was the time Sirius decided he needed something new to wear. Something warm, since it was chilly. So he walked into a store and said..."

"Oh, do you have to bring this up?" Sirius groaned.

"Whose fault is it that you didn’t bother to find out if the word means something different in America than it does here?" asked Remus. "The look on that saleslady’s face was wonderful."

"And you might look cute in an American jumper," Aletha said, grinning. "I’ll keep it in mind for future April Fool’s Days."

"I am so dead," Sirius said to the ceiling. "Why couldn’t I have had the sense to fall in love with someone who didn’t prank?"

"You wouldn’t be able to stand anyone who didn’t prank," Aletha countered. "And she wouldn’t be able to stand you."

"So wha’s ‘jumper’ mean in America?" Hagrid asked.

"A dress," Remus said. "A dress without sleeves, to be worn over a shirt."

"And usually worn only by girls Neenie’s age and under," Danger finished.

Hagrid guffawed. Sirius flushed and dropped his teaspoon, disappearing under the table to get it.


When Danger next stood up, an hour or so later, she yelped and sat quickly back down. "Someone," she said with a glare at Sirius, "has tied my shoelaces to the table leg."

"Not me," Sirius said, raising his hands.

Danger scanned the cubs’ faces. "Draco," she said after a moment. "You did it, didn’t you?"

The boy flushed ever so slightly and nodded.

"Very neatly done," Danger said. "I never even felt you do it. Good work. Fix it now, and don’t do it again."

Draco crawled under the table. "All done," he called a moment later. Danger rose, carefully, and stepped away from the table.

Remus stood up — and fell down, landing with a crash on the floor.

"Now that, I did," Sirius said triumphantly.

"I’d hurt you if I could reach you," Remus growled. "Help me up here, Danger?"

"Why? You seem to be doing so well on your own."


Minerva McGonagall was enjoying her holiday. It wasn’t often she gave herself an entire day off. With a glass of white wine in one hand, the latest issue of Transfiguration Today in the other, and her feet up, she was not expecting, and did not at all care for, the knock on her door.

Oh, now what. "Come in," she called brusquely without bothering to turn around.

"Happy New Year, Professor," chorused four small voices.

Minerva was on her feet and across the room in a flash, overjoyed to see the children and amazed at the strength of her own reaction. "Good heavens, look at you! You’ve grown!"

"They never stop," said Remus Lupin with a smile as he entered the room behind his children. "Hello, Professor."

"Heavens, Remus, if Severus Snape can call me Minerva, you certainly may." She shook hands with him, with Sirius (whom she almost didn’t recognize, with his beard — and that is the point, after all), with Aletha and Danger, and exclaimed over the children. "Harry, you have glasses. And what’s happened to your skin?"

"It’s my new out-of-den face, Professor," Harry said proudly. "We all have them. See?"

Minerva nodded, looking the children over. "I do see." She tapped her finger against her lips, aware she was being tested by these fascinating, unusual children. "Hermione, your hair is lighter than it was, and straighter too."

Neenie nodded, smiling shyly.

"Draco, yours is darker, with a hint of red — quite handsome, I must say."

The boy’s face lit up with the smile that was his best disguise, as it completely obliterated all resemblance to his father, who would never have countenanced such a display of vulgar emotion.

"And Meghan — such pretty braids. Just like your mother’s."

Meghan giggled and rubbed her head, obviously not quite used to the feeling of her hair in the tight braids yet.

"As observant as ever, Pro — er — Minerva," Aletha said. "How have you been?"

They talked for a short time, catching up, until Sirius had to physically remove Harry from the small table in the corner, which he had been about to jump off. "We should go," he said, setting the boy on the floor. "Before they move on to destroying things."

"That would be nice," Minerva said with a touch of acridity which she didn’t really mean. In truth, she owned very little that she was greatly attached to, and she valued the friendships she had made with the Pack far more than her things.

But, still, repairing things or buying new ones was a bit of a nuisance.

"We’ll write you when we get settled," Danger promised. "We have a few houses we’re looking at already, so it shouldn’t be long."

"My door is always open to you," Minerva said, and meant it. I came to know them through my own rash actions. The least I can do is offer them help if they should ever need it.

Unlike certain others I could name...


Severus Snape was perfectly well aware of who was in the castle. He simply chose not to acknowledge the fact.

It would serve no rational purpose to face them now. I must wait until I have more strength, more knowledge. And until I have recovered from that most humiliating defeat.

But he had to admit that it was possible he would never recover, that the Marauders had won...

No. I do not have to admit anything of the kind. They won that round, that is all. I must win the next.

I wonder how, and when, and where it will be played?


On 13 January, a small village in Devon grew by eight people, all with the surname Black.

On 14 January, the new residents received a visit from Mrs. Edith Miller, the town gossip.

"... and it’s just more than human flesh can bear," she said for the tenth time in her visit, "the way these young people behave these days..."

Danger and Aletha nodded sympathetically. Remus and Sirius, probably wisely, had made their excuses and escaped the kitchen. The cubs were also absent — the older three had gone outdoors to explore the neighborhood, and Meghan was upstairs playing in the large bedroom they still insisted on sharing — though, thank heaven, we talked them into separate beds. All we’d need is one hint of "boys and girls sharing beds" for our names to be toast.

"... and then that strange family who live just south of town, with all their funny noises, and that strange black ball that little Eddie Keaton said he saw flying around all by itself, though goodness knows he’s only ten and children that age lie like rugs..."

A black ball that flies around by itself? Keep her talking about that.

Not a problem.

"... all those boys, good heavens, and I don’t know where she buys food for them all, it’s certainly not in town here, but really, that whole family, and all with the red hair so you can see them coming a mile away..."

Hmm, a large, red-haired family, with a reputation for being isolated and unusual... I wonder...

Danger blinked suddenly. Remus — which way did the cubs go?

I’m not sure — Hermione saw a grove of trees up on a hill, she wanted to see if any of them were good for climbing, and Harry and Draco went with her...

"... in that old orchard on the hill, well after all they do own it, but they’re up there all the time in the summer, doing heaven knows what, yelling and screaming like maniacs..."

Danger smiled to herself.

I have a good feeling about this.

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