Chapter Thirty Seven – Psychotic Bludger

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. Me, I'm just a PR professional. I don't profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world. However, its her sandbox and she's left the gate unlatched so we can go in and play a bit. Which, I've done.

Chapter Thirty Seven – Psychotic Bludger

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Five days later, on the Sunday, they had their second attack. This time, young Colin Creevey was petrified. Harry and Daphne were getting in their, possibly, last snowless day to have a walk along the edge of the Black Lake.

Entering, he found out from the others about the attack. He also found out he was supposedly the attacker.

Entering the Great Hall for dinner that night the Seven made their way to the Hufflepuff table. As they were sitting, quite a few of the 'Puffs quickly got up and moved away.

"What on earth is wrong with those people?" Harry asked Susan.

"They think you're the one who petrified the young First Year Gryff' and Filch's cat," said Susan.

"Why the bloody hell would they think I'd do such a thing?" he asked, frowning, and loud enough for those around him to hear.

"They think you're the Heir of Slytherin," said Hannah, also louder than normal.

"Me?" asked Harry. "I'm a Potter, for Merlin's sake! I doubt very much anyone could be so utterly stupid as to believe such nonsense!

"Well, maybe some muggleborn or -raised might think that. But, anyone who has even the slightest clue of recent history knows that's just plain daft thinking."

"It's also stupid because I was with Harry for the whole time walking along the edge of the Black Lake," said Daphne, also in a clear voice. "He couldn't have been in both places at once."

As they'd planned, quite a few people around them began to whisper to their friends and other seat mates. It didn't take long for the whispering to pass to the other tables and for the whole Hall to start thinking about what Harry had said.

After dinner the Seven made their way up to the seventh floor and Hermione called for the Room.

Inside, they all took seats when Daphne said, "As I was with Harry, and we didn't know what happened, can someone fill us in?"

Neville sighed and said, "Young Colin was found down on the second floor, not far from where Mrs Norris was found. Apparently, he had his camera with him and appeared to be in the process of taking a photograph of someone, or something."

"That's why people are somewhat convinced it's you, Harry," said Hermione. "Everyone knows he wants to keep taking photographs of you. And, after the way you glared at him that night when we pranked Lockhart in the Great Hall, it just adds to that."

Harry fell against the backrest of the couch he was on and sighed. "My problem, of course, is that I cannot prove a negative."

"Pardon?" asked Susan.

"I cannot prove I'm not the one doing it other than - wait a minute," he said suddenly sitting forward.

"I can prove it," he said. "I can give a Wizard's Oath it wasn't me."

"No!" snapped Daphne, horrified. "You will not do such a thing!"

A little hurt, Harry asked, "Why ever not?"

Clearly upset, Daphne replied, "A Wizard's Oath is not something to take so lightly. It has long term implications that can cause you to lose your magic, that's why."

Sighing, Harry said, "Alright. No Wizard's Oath. But there has to be something I can do."

"Research time!" said Hermione.

"A pensieve would work," mused Harry. "But I can only show a limited number of people at a time. It would take forever to show everyone. And I'm worried Dumbledore will try and take it from me again."

"What do you mean Dumbledore will try and take it from you again?" asked Susan, frowning.

Harry was trying to figure out how to respond when Daphne replied instead. "Dumbledore had the Potter family pensieve. He claimed Harry's father loaned it to him and had hold of it right up until just after Christmas Day."

Clearly not happy, Susan said, "A family pensieve is not something anyone would ever loan out. They're priceless. And it doesn't take that much to break one."

"Well, Dumbledore had the Potter family pensieve and claimed my father loaned it to him before he died," said Harry. "The trouble is, we cannot prove that didn't happen."

"Well, I hope he returned it in good condition," huffed Susan.

"Errr - he didn't return it," said Harry. "The goblins went in and got it because he wouldn't return it. He then tried to claim my father would be very disappointed in me because I sent the goblins in after it."

Susan snorted and said, "He should think himself lucky Aunt Amelia and Gran haven't found out; or, Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Isabel for that matter." Looking up, she asked, "They don't know, do they?"

Harry shook his head and said, "No. It was something I resolved by myself; with the goblins' help, of course. He no longer has any property that rightfully belongs to me, specifically, or House Potter, generally. At least, there's no evidence or knowledge of anything else he might have."

"But you're not sure?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "But, after the goblins went after him for what they had recorded as him having, I sent the Potter house elves in. They knew of a few books he'd taken from Potter Manor and recovered them from Dumbledore's possession."

"Anyway," said Hermione. "Research?"

Nodding, Harry rose and walked over to one of the bookcases. He thought hard about wanting to find books on magic relating to memory and saw a half dozen books appear on the shelves of the case. Picking them up he carried them back to the occasional table between the seats and placed them on top.

Picking up the first one he started speed reading.

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Harry finally found a memory charm that could possibly help. However, it was considered quite an advanced charm. Though, when he read through it, he felt he was capable.

The charm required the caster to have advanced Occlumency skills in order to have clear memories. That was something not necessarily needed to use a pensieve. The memory also had to be entirely accurate almost to the smallest detail. And the witch or wizard casting the charm had to have sufficient power to maintain the charm, as they had to continue to pump magic into the cast for the entire duration of the memory.

That was three strict requirements that Harry felt he met. And, even if he didn't have sufficient magical power within himself, he felt he could use the trick of drawing in power to compensate.

It was another two days before he finally managed to successfully perform the charm up in the Come and Go Room.

The Charm was called the Show Memory Charm, the incantation was 'Memoriae Meae' and the wand movement started with the tip of the wand at the temple of the caster and flicking the wand forward with a swirl continuing into a thrust out to arm's reach. The width of the twirl indicated how wide an area the memory would then display in the air above and away from the caster in the direction of the point of the wand.

Then the caster had to hold their wand steady while the memory played and continue to pump magic through the wand for the duration of the playing of the memory.

Harry started on a short memory covering a small area and slowly enlarged the area of air covered, and length of the time the memory took to play. He was playing the memory of Christmas Day when Astoria came in to wake him up.

"This is just like watching a 'three-dee' movie without the glasses," said Hermione from where she was watching on the couch once Harry felt he mastered the charm.

"A what?" asked Neville, thoroughly confused.

"Muggle entertainment medium," said Hermione. "They used to be called 'moving picture shows'. Now they've shortened that name to just 'movie'. At the moment, movies are just in 'two-dee' - meaning two dimensional - like a wizarding photograph. However, the muggle world is now trying to make the movies 'three-dee' - meaning three dimensional."

"In other words," said Harry. "Just like what I'm doing here."

"With sound, too," said Tracey, a little awed.

"A harpy?" exclaimed Hannah, when the memory played through. "You called your future sister-in-law a harpy?"

"Hey! I had just woken up and this brunette-haired screeching beast attacked me in my own bed!" he replied. "What would you have done?"

Neville was grinning. "The look on your face when she used your stomach muscles to launch herself back off the bed..." And was chuckling away.

"Well, at least we know it works for you," said Daphne.

"And it leaves me feeling quite pooped," said Harry.

"The book says you're not supposed to attempt this until you've gained sufficient power. In other words, as an adult," said Hermione.

Harry looked to see Hermione reading the book and quietly laughed.

When she looked up, he said, "We can 'pull' magic in now, remember? They didn't know they could do that, back then. And I have both an eidetic memory and advanced Occlumency skills. Clearly, I'm capable."

Hermione blushed and said, "I keep forgetting the rules of magic seem to be 'guides only' when it comes to you."

Harry laughed much louder and said, "I like that. It's a good way of putting it."

"But why have this spell when pensieves are available and require very little power?" asked Hannah.

"This spell was what they used before pensieves were developed," said Hermione from where she was reading.

"Plus, you can't send a memory strand to someone else and have them use the spell like you can with a pensieve," said Harry.

"However," said Daphne. "Do you really want to use this spell now?"

"Huh?" asked Harry.

"There's my Harry," smirked Daphne. "Loquacious, as per usual."

"Hey!" he whined.

Laughing a little she lightly brushed her fingers down his cheek before she said, "What I meant was, the charm is quite advanced. Dumbledore will probably recognise it and know it takes someone of considerable power to cast it. It will demonstrate to him just how powerful you actually are."

"But I'm not actually all that powerful," said Harry. "It's just a neat little trick I learned and have passed on to you lot."

"Oh, no, my future husband," she said. "You really are powerful. At least, more powerful than the average witch or wizard. You're just able to enhance that power by pulling more power into yourself."

"Plus, there's all that extra training you do - we do," said Hermione. "It was you who reminded us magic is like a muscle and needs to be exercised."

"Nevertheless," said Daphne, getting things back on track. "It's still a very advanced charm. If Harry uses it for something as mediocre as slapping down rumours he's the Heir of Slytherin, it gives away knowledge he might not want known."

Harry sighed and said, "She's right. And the only reason I tried the Show Memory Charm is because it was our only choice."

"So, you're just going to have to put up with it, then," said Neville.

"I guess," replied Harry.

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A week later was the Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff Quidditch game; and Harry was, of course, starting seeker. The sky was threatening rain. With his new Ravenclaw Quidditch robes with the large yellow number seven on his lower back and the name Potter spelled out just above it, he met with the rest of the team in the locker rooms.

"Alright, Harry," said Martin. "You know what you need to do. Just try not to show just how good you actually are. I want you to save that for when we play Slytherin. However, Diggory is almost as good as you are on a broom and he rides a Cleansweep Seven, so don't think you'll just out pace him."

"So, be a good seeker; just not a great seeker?" he asked.

"Pretty much," replied Martin. Turning to the rest of the team he said, "Beaters, keep the bludgers off the chasers; but, keep an eye on Potter. If he gets injured because you two weren't doing your jobs I'll have your guts for garters!

"Chasers, watch for the bludgers and make sure you're being covered by the beaters. I want full pitch presses if the opposing chasers get the quaffle. In tight on the inside, always. No letting the opposition's chasers get a free run down the pitch. Press them the whole way. Remember; it only takes a little mistake on their part for us to get the quaffle back. And, if they make that mistake early, it won't give them a chance to set up a defence in front of the goal rings.

"Keeps, watch for the fake. We know Blenkinsop, at least, favours the right hand hoop but often fakes to the left; and I think that new girl, Bobbins, might do the same without the fake.

"Alright, then. Are we ready?" And put his hand out palm down in the huddle. The others all put their hands in on top, and Harry's went last.

"Rrrrrrrrrravenclaw!" they all called out as they threw their hands into the air.

Harry was so excited to actually play he almost charged straight out onto the field. Martin held him back and said, "You'll be called last, Harry. Listen to the announcer call your name and fly out, alright?"

Harry nodded back and drifted to the back of the formation.

As the names of the players were called, they flew out. The Keeper, first; then the three chasers with Martin in the middle; then the two beaters. Finally, the announcer called, "And, finally - Ravenclaw's new raven-haired, green-eyed seeker - making his debut - Ravenclaw's Raven - Harry Potter!"

While he was being announced, Harry ran as far back into the tent as he could and still maintain a straight line exit out the opening and mounted his broom. As soon as his name started to be called he accelerated the broom as fast as he could and shot out of the opening like a rocket.

He immediately angled the broom upwards at about thirty degrees and performed three quick barrel rolls before pointing the broom straight up. He climbed a further fifty feet and braked.

Just before he stopped he hopped off the broom and splayed himself out like a starfish facing up while holding the broom in his right hand. He then allowed himself to fall for about twenty feet before pulling his hands in and letting his flapping robes slow his legs down enough for him to then be heading straight down head first.

As his feet arced up and over his head, he pulled the handle of the broom hard up against his chest and jammed his feet back into the stirrups performing a slow complete twist as he fell.

Looking down he could see all the other players were on the ground around a box in the middle of the field.

'Oops!' he thought. 'No one told me I had to go there first.'

He pulled out of his dive at the last moment and, as soon as he was flying parallel to the ground, popped up and threw the broom into a heel skid.

He came to a stop only a foot away from Martin with a big grin on his face.

Martin, who first looked like he was going to jump aside in fear, stood his ground and, when Harry stepped off his broom, rolled his eyes and said, "What did I tell you?"

"What, that?" asked Harry pointing back to where he just came from. "No one told me I had to meet with everyone else down here, first. That was just warming up a bit."

"If you're quite done, Mister Potter," said Madam Hooch, their referee for the day. "I'd like to get the game underway."

"Sorry, Ma'am," said Harry, a little chagrined.

"Alright," she said in her no nonsense voice. "Keep it clean and within the rules. If I see a beater's bat anywhere near another player, I'll personally use it to paddle your behind - repeatedly." Looking straight at Harry she said, "As for you, Mister Potter; if I see you pull another manoeuvre like that inverted starfish you just pulled, you won't need to find the snitch. I'll be jamming the thing so far up your - behind you'll feel it's wings tickling your throat. Have I make myself perfectly clear?"

Harry gulped and replied, Yes, Ma'am!"

"Good," she nodded before turning to all the players. "Hufflepuff won the toss, so which goals do you want to defend, Mister Blenkinsop?"

"Those ones, thank you, Ma'am," replied the boy indicating the end into the wind.

"Very well," nodded Hooch. "Everyone up in the air. The game starts on my whistle."

Harry shot up into the air as quick as he could. Those gold cat's eyes on Madam Hooch do weird things to your insides where she glares at you with them.

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the snitch.

"Ready for a battle, Potter?" yelled Diggory, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom.

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" said Paul McCutcheon, the other beater, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the bludger back toward a Hufflepuff. Harry saw Paul give the bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Cedric Diggory, but then it changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and Paul managed to hit it hard toward Diggory again. Once again, the bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.

Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. He could hear the bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible.

Roger Davies was waiting for the bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Roger swung at the bludger with all his might; the bludger was knocked off course.

"Gotcha!" yelled Roger happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.

It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering into his eyes. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Hufflepuff lead, sixty points to zero!"

The two Ravenclaw beaters, trying to protect Harry, were clearly not able to do their proper jobs. Meanwhile, the mad bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Roger and Paul were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the snitch, let alone catch it.

"Someone's - tampered - with this - bludger..." Paul grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.

"We need a time out," said Roger, trying to signal to Martin and stop the bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time.

Martin had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry, Paul and Roger dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad bludger.

"What's going on?" called Martin as the Ravenclaw team huddled together. "We're being flattened. Paul, Roger, where were you when that bludger stopped Cho scoring?"

"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other bludger from murdering Harry, Simon," said Roger angrily. "Someone's fixed it. It won't leave Harry alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. Someone's done something to it."

"But the bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then..." said Martin, anxiously.

Madam Hooch was walking toward them.

"Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "With you two flying around me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."

"Don't be thick," said Paul. "It'll take your head off!"

Martin was looking from Harry to the two beaters.

"Simon, this is insane," said Eddie Carmichael angrily from the other side of the huddle. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry."

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry. "And we're not losing to Hufflepuff just because of a crazy bludger! Come on, Simon, tell them to leave me alone!"

Madam Hooch had joined them.

"Ready to resume play?" she asked Martin.

Martin looked at the determined look on Harry's face.

"All right," he said. "Paul, Roger, you heard Harry. Leave him alone and let him deal with the bludger on his own."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the bludger behind him. Higher and higher he climbed. He looped and swooped, spiralled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open, rain was getting in his eyes and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the bludger.

He could hear laughter from the crowd. He knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as he could. He began a kind of roller coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Ravenclaw goal posts, where a Hufflepuff chaser was trying to get past Carmichael.

A whistling in Harry's ear told him the bludger had just missed him again. He turned right over and sped in the opposite direction. "Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled the chaser as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the cursed thing. He fled with the bludger trailing a few feet behind him; and then, glaring back at the bludger in hatred, he saw it - the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above the chaser's left ear and she, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it.

For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in midair, not daring to speed toward her in case she looked up and saw the snitch.

WHAM.

He had stayed still a second too long. The bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his arm just above his elbow. He felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling useless at his side.

The bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time zooming at his face. Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get to the snitch.

Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering girl's face below him, and saw her eyes widen with fear. She thought Harry was attacking her.

"What the..." she gasped, careening out of Harry's way.

Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out.

With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle. Riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the snitch clutched in his good hand and held it aloft.

"Aha," he said vaguely. "We win!" And fainted.

He came around, rain falling on his face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.

"Oh, no, not you," he moaned.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Ravenclaw players pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."

"No!" said Harry. "You're not a bloody trained healer!"

He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible.

"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times..."

"No, I said!" said Harry through clenched teeth. "Get Madam Pomfrey!"

"She's coming, Professor," said a muddy Martin, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular."

Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Roger Davies and Paul McCutcheon, wrestling the rogue bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight.

"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

"No! Don't!" said Harry weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry's arm.

Harry just managed to roll out of the way. "Arrgh!" he screamed, as he rolled over the injured arm.

"Naff off, you moron!" he screamed out. "Point that naffing wand at me again and I'll shove it up your arse!"

"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, it appears the pain he's feeling is making him a little nonsensical. Best to leave it to Madam Pomfrey then. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing. Ah, it appears your friends are now here. Would you escort him? Madam Pomfrey will be able to - errr - tidy him up a bit."

As Harry was assisted to a standing position by a clearly puffed Neville pulling on his left arm, he felt a bit wobbly on his feet. Taking a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again.

It looked like he had two elbows. He tried to move his fingers but very little happened and the pain almost made him pass out again.

Neville quickly looped Harry's left arm over his shoulders and took hold of him by a fistful of belt on his right hip.

Harry could see Daphne was in tears. He said to her, "I'm okay, love. It's just a broken arm."

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In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased. She immediately shoved a pain relief potion into his left hand and told him to drink it.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged. "I can mend simple fractures in a second. But, when they're compounded like this..."

"You'll be able to fix it without removing it and regrowing it, won't you?" asked Harry, desperately. "That way bloody hurts!"

"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will still be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pyjamas. "You'll have to stay the night."

The girls waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry's bed while Neville helped him out of his Quidditch robes and into his pyjamas. It took a while to ease the broken arm out of the robes and into the sleeve of the pyjamas.

"Just getting him out of his wet Quidditch robes was almost enough to make him vomit," Neville called through the curtain as he eased the sleeve up his injured arm.

As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm lying crookedly across his chest. Daphne and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labelled Skele-Gro.

Harry was thinking about what he remembered of this potion from his stay at Saint Mungo's when Madam Pomfrey hit him with a Stunning Hex. He woke a few minutes later to find his second elbow, and Daphne, were gone. But it looked like Neville had toughed it out, even if he was looking a little green.

"You're in for a rough night," she the medi-witch, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him, making sure he grasped it with his left hand. "Resetting and knitting bones is a nasty business."

So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned Harry's mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Neville to help him gulp down some water. The partitions were removed and his friends all gathered around. Daphne was looking quite pale.

"That was some catch you made. That poor 'Puff chaser's face - she looked ready to kill," said Tracey, an avid Quidditch fan.

"I want to know how, whoever did, fixed that bludger," said Hermione darkly.

"We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask Madam Hooch," said Harry, sinking back onto his pillows. He was starting to feel quite sleepy.

The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Ravenclaw team had arrived to see Harry.

"Unbelievable flying, Harry," said Roger. "I've just seen Diggory trying not to yell too much at Miss Bobbin. Something about having the snitch on top of her head and not noticing. She didn't seem too happy.

"Oh!" he said, holding Harry's broom out. "I brought your broom with me. I thought to give it to one of your friends to look after for you, instead of leaving it in the broom shed. None of us leave our brooms there, either."

Hermione took it and said, "I'll look after it, Harry. It'll be safe in the Gryffindor Second Year girl's dorm."

The team had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice. They gathered around Harry's bed with his friends and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "This boy needs rest. He has a compound fracture to repair and I don't want to see it misaligned! Out! OUT!"

And Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his arm.

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-==(oIo)==-

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