PREVIEW
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The drapes on the windows of Darcie's room were half closed, preventing the moonlight of a crescent moon from seeping in unwantedly.
On the bed, a tiny figure was sleeping, a soft blanket covering her from head to toe. Only the soft noise of her breathing, undulating the cotton over her face, could be heard in this silence. On her left, between the bed and the windows, was another figure lying on the floor. It was even tinier than the one on the bed.
Dobby had learned to ...
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