Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity
...Or, Abusing the Fact the Wizards Use Gold For Money
Wanda: Hello everyone! This is an idea I got during Given, but couldn't implement in the story proper because, well, it just didn't fit in with the tone of the story or Cassie's characters. This is also cracky and not necessarily meant to be taken seriously. I do not own Harry Potter.
I'm a Pragmatist, Not a Saint
Most people wouldn't consider a child of, oh, say about nine or ten, to be capable of matricide, fratricide, assassination, fraud, con artist behavior, kidnapping and falsifying of legal documents, smuggling (of a person to a different country) bribery, arson, and breaking and entering.
I, however, am not most people.
It started when I died.
It wasn't even a glorious death. When some people talk about death, they usually go the heroic or tragic route; pushing a kid or old lady out of the way of a car, making sure everyone else escaped on the lifeboats, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time through not fault of your own. They make it sound so very theatrical.
I died in math class.
To this day, I can't remember if it was because some kid pulled out a gun, the cafeteria food was poisonous, or if algebra is so mind destroying that it literally killed me. I lost some of my memories surrounding the death as my new life started.
You'd think it would end there – an insane death for an unremarkable person.
But that wouldn't make an interesting story, would it?
That's the point where stuff got weird.
I won't bore you to death with how inane my previous life was. All you need to know was that I was an anti social lone wolf who spent most of her life in her room. I had some issues with school and work; I was autistic and didn't have a lot of friends.
Mostly I would say that I was raised by books. I wrote a list I called 'The Hero's Guide' in response to the Evil Overlord List when I was about six. I never thought it would have come in handy – except when it came to writing books myself.
And then I was reborn.
You know how people say that your life flashes before your eyes when you die? And that if you're almost dead but not really, you can see image of heaven?
Done and done. I saw all the things that had annoyed me about my first life; my teachers harassing me about work I 'hadn't done correctly', my parents getting mad at me whenever I couldn't get out of bed in the morning. (It's called chronic depression! Even if it doesn't give you a fever, it's still a sickness!) Freaking out after watching Fantasia 2000's Firebird Suite for the first time, the works.
Then I saw golden light and a building beautiful to behold – the Jerusalem described in revelations. I saw my parental grandfather – he had died less then a year ago thanks to Alzhimers degeneration, but there he looked young and strong again – and my great grandparents.
I was just reaching out for them when some inconsiderate jerk grabbed me by the collar and yanked me back like a snapping pully.
It was dark for a long time – I felt surrounded by warmth and security, but I also had the distinct impression I was trapped in a very small space. It was like floating in water; you know when your ears clog up making you hear ethereal noises? That's what it was like.
I was yanked back out into the cold hard world some indeterminate amount of time later, screaming and raising hell the entire way.
"You've got a fighter there, mistress! This is a good sign!"
"JUST MAKE HER STOP, YOU MISERABLE CREATURE!"
"Another girl? Alecto, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were doing this on purpose."
"AMYCUS, I SWEAR I'LL CRUCIO YOU UNTIL YOUR EYES BLEED, JUST MAKE IT STOP!"
...Yeah. What a warm welcome, huh?
I stopped shrieking when I realized I understood what they were saying. My vision was blurry and it was difficult to make anything out. I could just tell that there were other people in the room, some sort of footstool to my right, and I was being held by someone.
Someone who was not, on closer inspection, my mother.
"What shall we call her?"
"Venus." The woman decided. "She shall be the envy of all who see her."
...Venus? Seriously? I didn't know anyone in modern day who named their kids that. What sort of asinine person-?
"The perfect princess...a queen among purebloods."
It was that point when I realized that footstool wasn't a foot stool, it was a three foot tall creature in a baggy outfit, the moving ceiling was not my imagination, and pureblood was a term used frequently in the Harry Potter bookseries.
So I did what any baby would do and screeched at the top of my lungs. Like, loud enough to break glass. I'm surprised my lungs had the capacity to do that considering I was born into a family that was known for inbreeding.
(though mercifully, myself and my sisters avoided turning into a crossbreed Joffery-Dudley. Horrifying thought, there.)
First lesson of living with Amycus and Aletco Carrow, proudly married twin siblings (did you throw up a little in your mouth? I did – the entire contents of my stomach;) is never make a nuisance of yourself.
Being a nuisance meant pain. Like getting slapped. ...even though you were just born. And couldn't help crying.
"Missy, take the child!" Amycus ordered furiously. "Set her up with Hestia and Flora. Attend to her needs; we have other business to attend to."
If being literally dumped off on the house elf like garbage directly after being born and named didn't give you a hint of what my new 'parents' were like, I don't know what would. This was just a hint of what was to come, too. Bloody hell, in retrospect even the Dursleys would have made better parents.
If anyone ever found out, I doubt a court in the world would convict me for what I did. The Carrows were incestuous, elitist, racist, classist serial killers. The world is much better off without them, and contrary to what Batman seems to think, I did not immediately morph into a serial killer myself after offing them. And it was partially self defence – or more specifically, self defence of my older twin siblings.
But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
Some of the articles on my 'Heroes Guide' list were as follows-
Number one – if the bad guy says he'll change his ways if he has a body count over 2, he's lying. Don't buy it.
Number two – 'honor' gets you killed while giving the bad guys an edge. If you have an opportunity, like, say, being able to easily capture the sociopathic boy prince of the equally unstable insane queen in order to ensure the realm's safety...go for it. Don't be a Ned Stark. It never works out.
Number three – make sure people like you. The downfall of every egomaniac is when the people get so fed up with them that they willingly help out the bad guy to get away from you.
Number four – Batman is nuts. If you have a gun to the head of the clown prince of torture and murder, after the fifty millionth time he's gotten out of the asylum, pull the trigger.
Number five – infiltrate politics. They're always obstructive at the worst moments, especially when the body is full of people who inherited their position as opposed to getting them legitimately.
I was in a unique position to fulfill number one; being the youngest daughter of Amycus and Alecto Carrow. (I still barf whenever I think of that). Surprisingly, I did not turn out as a Joffery doppelganger despite this being a trend in the Carrow family in general, nor did Hestia and Flora, but who knows – maybe insanity skips every fifth generation.
We – Hestia, Flora and myself – were largely left in the care of the house elf Missy while our parents went about committing perjury and covering up their mass murders with blatant lies and the Ministry of Magic being full of idiots.
This was a mercy. I want to make it abundantly clear; Alecto and Amycus are thoroughly reprehensible individuals. Any father who would hit his incest daughter with a Crucio falls under that list.
I don't know if they did it just for the sake of being dicks or if they were genuinely so insane they thought torture showed us affection. With the amount of cousins marrying in our family tree, I suppose it could have gone either way.
Luckily, pure bloods never realized that sanity has advantages, so dear Amycus never realized his three year old daughter was plotting against him until it was too late.
I had bursts of accidental magic the same as any child. (it took me a while to adjust to that fact. Magic. Bloody hell.) But anyone with magic is capable of using a wand. All I needed was to get a hand on either of my 'parents' to use it.
And Voldemort was kind enough to have taught me an instant kill curse that left no trace at the scene.
And yes, before you ask – I did sufficiently loath the two enough to cast it. Constant, illogical abuse does not endear a child, even to their biological parents.
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
I killed our parents at dinner.
Amycus put his wand down just inches from my little four year old hand. I glanced at Flora's face, bruised and bloody thanks to Alecto's latest fit of insanity, grabbed it and yelled, "AVADA KEDAVERA!"
A burst of green light. Amycus crumpled like a puppet with the strings cut. I turned to the right, not even giving her a minute to respond, and blasted Alecto.
Boom. Just like that. Two murderers, laid in a grave. Their children free.
Now part 2 of my batshit insane scheme could begin.
"You...you killed them!" Hestia stammered, looking at me in shock. Flora just stared at me. Neither of them were upset. They were in shock.
I got out of my chair and walked over to Flora. "How bad it is, flowers?" I asked, using my childish nickname for her.
"It hurts." Flora growled, turning her head away.
"Everything hurts here," I said patiently. "How bad is it?"
"...It hurts a lot."
I rubbed my forehead and resisted the urge to mutter. That was a kind of stupid question, considering the amount of blood on her face. "Missy!" I yelled.
The house elf appeared, and predictably started screaming when she saw the corpses of Amycus and Alecto. I snapped Amycus's former wand into three parts as a means to cover any remaining tracks and helped Flora over to the couch, Hestia trailing behind us.
We proceeded to sit there and wait for Missy to stop screeching and we could get her attention. It took nearly an hour. At some point I got fed up and cleaned Flora's face with a wet cloth, though she swore and pinched me whenever she found me to be insufficiently delicate in my care.
I fully own up to corrupting my sister's language use. I swore like a sailor the minute I could talk. It's probably a good thing that the elder Carrows had been too insane the care how their children behaved (as long as they weren't fifthly mudblood lovers, obviously), because that shit would have been incredibly suspicious.
So once Missy finally ran her voice ragged, I walked over to her and snapped, "Missy! Flora's hurt, won't you help?"
"What happened? Master and Mistress!"
"They were killed." I politely declined to mention who was responsible for that. I let her imagination fill in the blanks. One good thing about the house elf bond is they are physically incapable of tattling on their masters – she might have ratted me out otherwise. Dobby was fairly unique in that regard. "And Flora was hurt too! Won't you help?"
That at least drew Missy's attention from the bodies.
"What...what...why? What do we do?" Hestia asked in confusion as Missy healed Flora. "Where do we go? What happens now?"
"We leave." I answered promptly, turning on my toes to face my sisters. "We wait for a few hours, throw whatever's edible into a sack and run."
"Why?" Hestia asked, baffled.
I rolled my eyes, "Gee Hestia, our 'model citizen' parents have died. What do you think is more likely, that we're sent to an orphanage to be adopted by some non-psychopathic individual, or that we'll be handed off to their 'friends' for breeding stock or god knows what else?"
"Fuck that noise." Flora snarled, a moment after she and Hestia had digested what I had just said. "No more headsplitting pain for me, please!"
"But...but what will we do?" Hestia bit her lip. "Where would we go?"
"A muggle casino." I answered immediately.
"...why the fuck should we do that." Flora asked, staring at me.
"I have a plan," I responded easily, my confidence positively rolling off my tongue.
"Like what? How are a bunch of little girls going to wander through London without attracting any unwanted attention?" Flora demanded skeptically.
"Missy." I pointed at the still panicking elf. "You obey us now, right?"
"My poor masters children, of course, of course, but Missy has been a bad elf, master is dead, Missy didn't do her job-"
"You can protect us now," I suggested helpfully. "We need money."
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
Wizards use gold for money.
Solid, twenty-four carrot gold, and pure refined silver. For normal currency.
I cannot overstate how insane Harry Potter was for never taking advantage of that in the books.
To give you an idea of what my plan entails, it involved taking advantage of both worlds. Muggle born students could exchange muggle money for knunts, sickles and galleons. Muggles – excuse me, non magicals – wanted gold. A lot.
The exchange for one pound of solid gold is over a thousand pounds.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
Missy was integral to my schemes, so I'm lucky that she wasn't like Dobby and more like Winky. Mainly, she could use extremely advanced magic of any kind as long as I or the twins gave her permission to do so.
So I located the nearest casino in London, told Missy to disguise herself as a fully grown woman and told her to cheat like a bitch at BlackJack. Now, most non magicals would get caught pretty quickly in mass cheating, because the guys running the casino weren't interested in turning over the big bucks that they earned through the god of random number generation.
However, Missy can cast Confundus. So whenever someone got suspicious? They suddenly decided that it wasn't that important. Or the guy next to her would get 'busted' instead. No matter how many times Missy aced the table, winning more and more money, she remained above suspicion with just a little bit of magic.
We left the building a hundred thousand dollars richer.
Then we went to Gringotts.
Did you know that pure bloods often had their house elves do transactions for them on days when they were busy, or needed to be discreet? Well, if a cat can come in with a key to retrieve enough money for an international standard racing broom – the magical equivalent of a Mercedes – without anyone batting an eyelash or asking questions, you can do just about anything.
Missy exchanged the money for both galleons and sickles, right down to the pennies. While she was doing this, I was sitting outside with Flora and Hestia with a map, looking for pawnshops and exchange companies.
There were many. Even with confundus or obliviate, it would raise suspicion to dump the gold all in one place. So I had Missy apparate us to various shops across the country.
A hundred thousand became five hundred thousand, a million, two million. I had to have Missy move the sacks of money we had to our temporary room in the Leaky Cauldron because it was all paper. I made a mental note to set up a non magical bank account as well, because this stuff quickly became a pain in the ass to carry around.
I'm pretty sure even Malfoy hadn't seen this much money in one place.
I had over six million dollars now. Seriously.
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
I bought us a mansion in the non magical London Countryside – one of those out of the way houses with six floors, ten bedrooms and more space then you know what to do with.
Flora was pretty stoked when I showed her around the building and said she could have whatever room she wanted. Hestia was amazed; this place was even bigger then The Carrow's house.
I told the twins to get some sleep – I had worn them out yesterday and their bodies needed to recover from the abuse they had taken almost nonstop the last week or so.
Missy set up my non magical bank account with a little help from me. She cast an illusion to make me look like an adult and stood next to me with a confundus at the ready while I prepped everything. Oh, and she hid us from sight as I spent nearly three hours dropping off half of our new money into the savings and checking accounts.
Once I had done that, I proceeded to hire the best known ward casters in Britain. The price for their work and their silence was extravagant by most people's standards, but it hardly put a dent in mine. I wanted the best of everything. Wards that wouldn't allow anyone other then guests inside, wards that hid us from non magical and magical eyes that didn't have our permission to approach, protection against every sort of assault, and an early warning system just in case some stubborn jerk got pushy.
Once that was over, I collapsed in my queen sized bed and pondered what to do next.
Now, I want to state something – I'm not a traditional hero. I'm a survivor and a pragmatist.
While I wanted the second blood war as I called it to have minimum casualties, if any, that didn't mean I wanted to go through the motions and put myself – and my sisters – through trauma and basilisks and incompetent defense teachers and the machinations of manipulative old men. No, I was far more interested in preventing it from ever happening...at least, the stuff I found of interest.
I didn't care to try and change the prejudiced world. If they were going to make that bed, they could lie in it for all I cared. I just couldn't quite bring myself to let innocent people suffer, especially with the foreknowledge I possessed.
However, the sheer amount of money I now had put me in a very good position – one many heroes didn't have. Because they weren't underhanded enough. I very much intended to exploit the shit out of all the other loopholes I knew as well.
Besides, it wasn't just the future of the wizarding world that I knew about.
When it came time for James Cameron to make Titanic, I was going to invest. I would buy a chain of MacDonalds. I could bet on Iron Man when it came out. There was a lot I could invest in, even if I didn't have it right now.
Theoretically, I was set for life. Now all I had to do was be satisfied with it...as opposed to the Tom Riddle route, in which I couldn't be happy unless I had crowned myself the immortal god queen of Britain.
Personally, I didn't care for all the paperwork that implied.
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
Buying a chain of fast food restaurants is an annoying process. So much paperwork to sift through, red tape and specifics to handle. Even though I managed to settle it over the course of a day, it felt like it took forever.
However, now Flora, Hestia and myself had a more then stable income that didn't rely on cheating in casinos. Now that I was secure in that area, I turned my attention to dismantling a certain blood war.
My first concern was for my sisters. I arranged for us to be tutored in an exclusive boarding school – Tokyo Lights Comprehensive when we hit eleven, as opposed to Hogwarts School of Child Endangerment. (Translation wards are a travelling witch's best friend.) Before that, I looked around for high profile therapists who assisted abused children with the help of Missy.
Flora's first appointment was on Saturday; Hestia's was two hours later. Both doctors came highly recommended and had no discrepancies in their history, so I was certain that they would be in good hands as I continued my insane little crusade.
Next item of interest – Harry Potter.
Voldemort needed Harry's blood to resurrect himself. Dumbledore needed him as a weapon for the Greater Good (tm), to ensure the continuation of the status quo in a society that didn't deserve to be preserved.
So I decided to remove him from the equation.
That night, Missy apparated me to Number 4, Privet Drive. Can I mention once again how amazing it is to have a house elf? They can take you literally anywhere – even past dear of Dumbledore's vaunted blood wards.
He should be grateful Malfoy had been to stupid to figure that out. You know, for 'the best of wizardkind', they're pretty stupid. Must be the inbreeding.
Poor little Harry Potter was asleep in the cupboard. I recoiled when I saw him; he was in terrible shape. The whole enclosure stank, there was dried blood in his hair and he looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.
This pissed me off to the point where I seriously considered burning the house with the Dursleys inside. But in the end, I decided to do something far more painful for them.
I hadn't watched much of CSI in my first life, but my mother liked it. Sometimes I had sat next to her and watched the procedures as the agents dealt with murders. I remembered enough of it to be useful.
Frame ups are easy with magic. I took many pictures of Harry's state, moving the dates a few days back. I imperioused a sleeping Vernon into committing his abuses to paper, while Petunia had a diary full of tirades about how much she hated her 'perfect sister' Lily. I covered a kitchen knife with blood and dropped it on the floor in front of the cupboard.
Missy created the body double. It wasn't actually a body, but the texture of the skin and the blood would make it go under the radar of the non magical police. I slit the throat area with the knife.
I dragged Vernon downstairs under a stunner and put the bloody knife in his hands. Then I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed the phone, dialing 999.
"Please, you have to hurry! They've been like this for years, but I've never heard screaming before – oh please, come quickly, that poor boy!"
I watched from the front yard, disillusioned to appear invisible, the sleeping Harry at my feet as six police cars pulled up and kicked the door down. Vernon of course denied everything, but considering his bloody hands, the knife and the 'body', that didn't mean anything to them.
I giggled a bit as Vernon and Petunia were hauled away in cuffs. Once they had left, I had Missy levitate Harry and disapparate, leaving Privet Drive behind.
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
I arranged Harry's adoption by an American couple who left the country the next day. (it's amazing what you can do with both magic and obscene amounts of money.) They were a loving pair, but the woman was sadly barren, denying them their much wanted child...until Harry came along.
I had his hair dyed red just in case even the people oversees were familiar with the boy who lived tripe. Harry Potter – sorry, Jason Dayne – disappeared from Britain forever.
You have a normal life now, Harry. Your scar doesn't mean anything overseas. You're welcome.
Next order of business – Sirius Black. Oh, the fun I had with that.
The day after the Dursley's arrest, Fudge received an anxious letter...and a huge sack full of galleons.
Salutations, Minister Fudge;
As you undoubtedly know, champion of the people, there was a lot of distress in the wake of the murder of the Potters especially in the legal system. But what most people seem to have forgotten is that the 'betrayer' Sirius Black was jailed without a trial.
This is an outrage! The scion of one of our oldest families jailed without a trial? Without Veratiserum confirming his evils? The only witnesses other then Pettigrew were muggles – can we truly trust their judgement on the matter? That lot probably couldn't tie their shoes properly, much less judge something of such importance.
Consider this donation my plea to see justice done. Give Black a trial, test him by Veratiserum – it should be easy to ensure he cannot block its abilities. If the muggleborns believe that a pure blood can be thrown in jail on hearsay, they may develop ideas beyond their station. I urge you not to let this happen!
Sincerely, A Concerned Pureblood.
I seriously felt my IQ dropping like a thermometer in Alaska winter while I wrote that. But, it was all worth it when I found a paper with the headline, "Shocking Verdict! Sirius Black Innocent!" just a few days later.
Next up, I went to the Burrow to retrieve a certain rat with Missy's help. I grabbed him out of his cage and left a huge sack of galleons on the table for the family's use. Compensation, I called it in the hastily written note I left behind. Ten thousand galleons. That was pocket change to me now and they could really use it.
Amelia Bones came into her office that afternoon to find Peter in his human form, tied up, stunned and sporting a post it note saying "pump me full of veratiserum please!"
Flora was laughing when she read the paper the next day. I just took another nip of my large McFlurry and grinned while she and Hestia celebrated this. They weren't quite old enough to understand the depths of the Death Eaters scale. They didn't have to – they just knew that one of their parents murderous friends had been captured and thrown in Azkaban.
As I continued eating my smarties-mixed icecream, I considered my options now. That pretty much guaranteed Voldemort's fourth year resurrection party would be impossible. There was still Barty Crouch Jr, but I'm pretty sure he couldn't activate without Peter's help. Besides, I could always drop another 'hint' that might get his house searched, or his 'grave' examined should I change my mind.
There were also the horcruxes, but if Voldemort didn't have anyone to revive him, it was less of a priority. I could always hire some cursebreakers to go after them at my leisure – I knew where all of them were.
It's amazing what this much money could do...especially if you actually used it.
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
After buying myself a large flat screen TV, all the animated Disney movies so far, all the Stallone esque 80s action movies so far, the playstation, the game boy, all the Marvel Comics that I wanted, any book I could get my hands on, and dozens of plush toys, I went on a bit of a charity binge.
The Weasleys got more money from their mysterious benefactor – another ten thousand galleons. They could upgrade their house, buy their children new wands and robes (and owls), and not worry about covering the cost of Hogwarts supplies or anything else really.
It was a pain in the neck to track down Remus Lupin, but I did eventually find him. Got him a ten thousand dollar check of sorts and a referral to the Department of International Affairs, as a 'disabled' worker. I also arranged for him and Sirius to meet up. Even without Harry, Remus gave Sirius a reason to live.
I got the Granger family a pamphlet detailing their daughter's abilities and the world she could potentially enter, if she wished it, along with a starter sum of a thousand galleons. I also made sure to give them a list of schools other than Hogwarts, just to keep the options open.
I endorsed the Quibbler through some ailiases, getting the Lovegood family a little more attention. Thanks to that, Marie Lovegood decided to help her husband with the paper as opposed to continuing to experiment with potions – the thing that had lead to her death.
It was easier then I had expected. Once I had done that, both assuaging my conscience and helping other people out.
Venus Carrow the Philanthropist, yay!
Also, I sent Sirius an anonymous note detailing how he could transfer Kreacher over to a House Elf selling organization. Fun times.
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
Four years later. I sat on the balcony of our house, watching Flora, Hestia, Tracey Davis, Theodore Nott, Graham Pritchard, Eleanor Branstone, Natalie MacDonald, Blaise Zabini, Draco and Sandra Malfoy and Neville Longbottom playing in the pool I had installed the year before.
You might recognize a lot of those kids as pure bloods who had originally been either involved with Voldemort as his minions or forced bystanders. There's a reason for that.
Malfoy and his friends attempted to make his 'let's torture the helpless non magicals!' legal. I don't know if this was supposed to be some sort of a retribution for Voldemort's death or what, but I was extremely annoyed when I discovered how much support it had in the Ministry body.
So I hired assassins anonymously.
It occurred to me that I might need to make a more permanent solution to this whole 'our neighbors are sub human savages' thing that the pure blood elite had going on. Even if Voldemort didn't return himself, Malfoy and his friends were still essentially still Death Eaters. They weren't any different after the loss of their boss.
Removing them from the equation seemed to be my most obvious solution. Of course, just killing them wouldn't wipe their stain off the face of the earth, so I went into philanthropist mode again.
I.e., setting up a 'orphanage' near my house. It was registered as a magical building, but it was an entirely retro non magical building, decked out with a TV with every channel possible, video games, and all sorts of books.
So not only had I gotten rid of the stains, I was teaching their kids that non magical folk were extremely cool. Suck on that, Lucius Malfoy.
I planned on bringing the lot to Disney World when July rolled around. It would be like Quidditch, except far less dangerous! Finally, I would get to re enter the Magic Kingdom!
I chuckled when I heard Sandra Malfoy yelling at her brother for pulling her under water again. You're starting to sound like normal kid. That's nice.
-Exploiting Wizarding Antiquity-
Flora and Hestia went to Tokyo Lights Comprehensive. They met Hermione there and had a wonderful time learning from actual competent teachers. I wouldn't be joining them until next year, but I was more than a little pleased to hear it.
So I was sitting in front of my TV, watching The Terminator and enjoying a McFlurry when my owl Elsa delivered today's Daily Prophet. I laughed when I saw Dumbledore on the front cover; he was so clearly wrong footed by the loss of his weapon and sinking into obscurity.
I can't say I felt particularly sorry for him.
Though I kept an ear out for him, there was no twitch or whisper from the wraith of Tom Riddle. I wondered when he would start to regret the whole Horcrux thing – maybe a few centuries from now.
I heard Missy making lunch in the kitchen and smiled. There really was a joy to being pragmatic.
Heh. There's a forward thinking self insert.
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