Henry hovers over his cauldron, murmuring to himself Two sprigs of oleander… one clipping of a dragon’s toenail, and a sprinkle of moon dust… and-! He stops speaking as the cauldron shoots a blast of green smoke into his face, singing his hair. He groans Oh… that’s not right. You’re so stupid, Henry. Stupid, stupid stupid! He scowls and looks back at his book
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