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... Shadows melt and stretch across the benches, swallowing up the anxious fidgeting and whispered nerves of four hundred first years. The tension of the room is palpable, everyone's gaze drawn toward the proctors as if they're the only source of light left in the world.
With another wave of her hand, flags unfurl around the chamber blooming out of nowhere, catching a breathless draft that seemingly came out of nowhere. For a heartbeat, I can't help but stare. The precision of it, the sheer ...
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