Ginny Weasley and the World That Could Have Been
Chapter 2: The Brown Bag and the Old Hag
One second Ginny was stepping through the portal; the next she felt as if someone had stuffed her in a freezer, she had never been one to complain about the cold, in fact she was one of those people who usually complained about the heat, if it was anything over seventy-five degrees. She, Ginny Weasley, for the first time she could remember in her twenty years of life was freezing.
It's not that Ginny Weasley could not remember being cold before, she could. She just never viewed the cold as something to complain about, even when Fred and George had locked her outside the Burrow upon their return from their first year of Hogwarts over Christmas vacation or even when Tom Riddle had forced himself into her mind and had directed her down into the Chamber of Secrets in her first year so that he could steal her life force, but neither instances had prepared her for this heart stopping, breath stealing cold that enveloped her, sinking past her skin, spreading through her whole body, and stealing all sensations other then that of pain.
Her fingers, which from the feel of it, were wrapped in itchy and filthy cloth, burned her breathing, as she tried to adjust to this new atmosphere, came out in short and painful gasps that sent shards of ice into her lungs. Her toes were currently past the pins and needles stage and were into the knives and daggers phase, and they hurt … exceedingly so. She wished that they could be detached from her body until she could get some warmth to them. Instinctively she rolled into a ball; trying to compress her body into as little space as possible to conserve what little body heat she still had while groping blindly around herself for a nice fuzzy blanket, so that she could have more insulation between herself and the biting cold. After a few moments of futile searching, she realized that she did not, in fact, have a blanket, let alone a nice thick fuzzy one, anywhere in the vicinity of her protruding hands.
Slowly her mind began to process what her hands were telling her. Ginny remained in her position on what she now realized was a very hard and slightly lumpy floor, "This can't be good for my back," Ginny groggily mumbled to herself as she slowly opened her eyes and took in the bare jagged walls that surrounded her on all sides in a dismal grey and brown hue. Ginny scrambled to her feet as she saw a large brown rat scrambling over a pile of garbage, it's beady red eyes staring at her reflectively as if it were trying to decide if she would be a better meal than the rotted and putrid crap that it was currently standing upon.
Ginny quickly scrambled to her feet, looking around the small alcove wildly for an exit to escape from, the pain that she had been feeling for the last few moments intensified until finally her knees gave out from under her. Ginny fell to the ground in an undignified crumpled heap breathing hard, her breaths visible in the cold morning air. She brought one hand to her head and groaned, "Bloody hell, is he trying to kill me?" Her whole body was in agony, the immediate problem, as far as she could tell, was the fact that she was on the verge of starving; she had never realized that not eating could cause so much pain. Sure her family had never been the richest people in the wizarding world but there had always been food on the table and everyone in her family had always been provided with anything that they really needed.
"I should have seen this coming," Ginny thought as she fell back against the wall, leaning on it heavily while watching the rat make its way over to her from the corner of her eye. She rubbed and blew into her shaking hands, trying to restore some heat to her fingers, while taking stock on how bad a shape she was in. Her clothes, she noticed, as she started rubbing life back into her feet were thin, too thin to be doing much good against the morning winter chill, and what little help they could have provided was ruined by the holes that riddled them. "Well, clothes," Ginny reflected "might be a little to generous a word, they are little more then rags really." She would probably be lucky if they survived the winter months and even more fortunate if they lasted another year. As for shoes, she didn't have any, instead there were mere rags tied to her feet, these ones ten times filthier then the ones that were on her hands.
"You're just lucky it hasn't snowed yet."
Ginny froze in the middle of rubbing her feet as she wondered where that thought had come from, it hadn't been hers, at least she was pretty sure it hadn't been. But the voice was right, she was lucky there wasn't any snow on the ground, she imagined that people living on the street didn't last long in the winter, especially without shoes; any other time of year, the lack of shoes could probably be dealt with and was survivable.
"Yes," the voice agreed, "being barefoot in summer is a lot easier. Better for hunting too, makes less noise."
Ginny sighed and then looked once again at her clothes, her personal hygiene Ginny reflected was at an all time low, her mother would blow a gasket if she could see her now. Her rags were as filthy as they were ratty. They were covered in what looked like food stains, mud, slime, gunk, and even, what Ginny thought just might be, blood. The rest of her, Ginny was sure, if the way her skin seemed to crawl or her scalp itched was any indicator, was as filthy as her clothes or maybe more so. "Yep, I'm a mess." Ginny concluded with a slight wince as she brought her hand up to her hair which felt matted, greasy, and in need of a serious wash. She hadn't realized it was possible to feel so gross in her own skin.
She forced herself to her feet and then began making her way out of the alley that had served as the old Ginny's home. "Well, maybe home is too free of a term," Ginny thought with disgust, Ginny highly doubted this garbage heap could ever be considered anyone's home. Her former sleeping quarters were small, dark, and just as filthy, and as foul smelling as she was. At least that's what she assumed, it was hard to tell how much of the stink came from her and how much came from this delightful place.
"But at least it's safe," the thought floated up from the back of her mind, and seemed to resound around her brain until suddenly with the thought came a memory, but it wasn't one of hers, though she could see it clearly as if it were her one of her own.
Ginny was shuffling from behind one wall to another, everything was dark, the moon was blocked by the tall cluster of buildings on all sides of her, she needed to get out of here fast , it would only be a few moments until they came for her.
"Girl! Girl ge' back here," she could hea,r being bellowed a couple of blocks behind her.
Ginny stiffened and then ducked into an alleyway that led further into the shadows and away from the main streets. As she entered it she paused to let her eyes adjust to the darker shadows of the street, slowly as her eyes adjusted she could make out a long narrow road with buildings stuck together so tight that there was no space in between them, instead the boundaries were marked by doors. Most of them jutted out into the street, enhancing the walls already staggered and layered appearance.
She made herself walk swiftly and silently, moving stealthily from shadow to shadow, while forcing herself to take deep even breaths and calm down, ruthlessly squashing the impulse to give up her position by running wildly and loudly down the streets, if she allowed herself to succumb to the almost overwhelming feeling of panic rushing through her system, she wouldn't make it out of here alive and panicking would only accomplish the easy task of getting herself killed and she very much wanted to make it to her next birthday, whenever that was.
"Were is ya gir'," Bloodbane slurred and staggered into a wall. "I'll ge' ya for that, ya little punk. Teach ya ta trip Bloodbane."
She stopped short in the middle of the road and dropped to the ground, when she heard someone walking confidently and stupidly down the road ahead of her, "Bloodbane," she mouthed in horror, as she saw his grotesque face come into view. From her position on the ground she could clearly see his face, he had three vertical scars running down his right cheek, his ice cold blue eyes were dilated, and his blond hair was shoulder length and stuck together in greasy clumps. As he drew closer to her, she continued scuttling backwards, she froze then, stopped as she felt herself run into a garbage can behind her, hoping that Bloodbane hadn't heard, she held her breath but his eyes came straight to the spot were she was cowering. Bloodbane smiled nastily at her and she sprang to her feet pivoted around and allowed herself to run full out down the street.
Bloodbane was one of the more off kilter members of the Pythons, a gang headed by a thug called Jackel. She was done with all of them, thank you very much. She didn't need them; she would survive on her own or not at all.
Ginny tripped over a plank that was strewn across the road, falling with a thud and a grunt off pain to the ground. She pushed herself up off the road, and then staggered to her feet, taking one step forward as the smell of beer, piss, and unwashed body poured over her and made her gag, then came Bloodbane's bruising grip on her arm. She struggled but it did no good, she felt herself being pulled back against him.
"Ya'll ge' the runner's pun'shment, jus' ya' wait and see," Bloodbane said in his uneducated brogue, that seemed to emit his psychosis.
As he began to force her down the road, she twisted around in his grasp and dug her nails across his cheek hard enough to draw blood. "Hope it leaves a scar," Ginny thought without an ounce of guilt. Bloodbane howled in fury and pain, before viciously twisting her hands behind her back in a painfully tight grip which caused a grunt of pain to escape her. She didn't care if the rest of the gang came running, anything would be better then this so she opened her mouth and screamed. He clamped his hand over her mouth effectively silencing her.
He began dragging her back down the road towards the gang's home base and her death, she couldn't, no she wouldn't let that happen. When Bloodbane loosened his grip on her hand she bit down hard on his hand, a salty tang filled her mouth as she tasted blood, he howled in fury and let go of her, clutching at his hand. She didn't waste any more time, as he was clutching his bleeding hand, she darted in and grabbed the blade that he had stuffed into his belt. It came away smoothly, she was about to back away, but then the broken body of the last girl he had used flitted across her mind, so she drawn back and said, "This is for her." She kicked him in the balls and then ran towards the wall and started shimmying up the drainpipe as fast as she could manage the dagger now safely secured in her own waistband. She winced and hissed in pain as she cut her bare hands and feet on the sharp metal edges of the metal pipe.
When she was three quarters of the way up the wall she felt the pipe shake as Bloodbane began to climb up after her. "Make 'er pay, I will, no one hurts Bloodbane."
She scurried over the wall and then tried to pry the pipe from the wall, when it didn't budge; she grabbed a loose pipe from the floor nearby and placed it inside the gap between the wall and the drain. With one more frightened look down at Bloodbane she began putting all her weight on the pipe as he continued to speak, "Pain…y's lots of pain, teah off ur fingehs…when I get dun w' ya yu'll be lucky I' ya rembah ya own name."
With a yell of triumph she stumbled back and fell as the pipe ripped the drain from the wall. All was silent below, she didn't wait around to see if he was still alive or if he was currently in the process of trying to find another way up to her, instead she shuddered as she remembered the last girl who had tried to escape the gang, but had been unsuccessful. No she really didn't want to wait around and see instead she went to the edge of the building and jumped the short gap in between them to the next and then the next one after that.
She felt the memory begin to fade out of focus as she was soaring from one roof to another but before it faded out completely she heard the voice again, "I got your Harry now, you take care of mine."
She shuddered as the memory began to fade away and found that she had seized the handle of Bloodbane's knife where it was stored once again in the waistband of her tattered pants. She uncurled her fingers from the knife and started towards the entrance of the alley, she had to agree, the place looked safe enough, well as safe as a place without doors and locks can be. The only way into it was a narrow niche in the wall that was about three feet high, no grown men or women could get in and only the skinniest and smallest of children could probably manage, thankfully due to lack of a proper meal in what could have been years she was shorter then most kids her age, which was about ten give or take a few months.
She was also grateful now that she knew that her Harry had a chance for happiness. It was nice to know that he wasn't alone up there because she had came to this world in order to start over and keep this Harry alive.
She walked out of her alley and hunched down and peered around cautiously. She jerked herself back against the wall as three ragged and dangerous looking thugs passed by, conspiring in low voices, one laughed as then they passed out of hearing distance. "the Razors", the voice whispered in disgust and fear, the rest came to her mind as if the information had always been there, they were the gang that controlled these parts, fierce, unforgiving, and they controlled everything like the police could be found controlling the richer parts of London only the Razors went further, taking what they wanted, anything they wanted, women, food, buildings. No one in their right mind wanted to take the chances of crossing the Razors, so when they passed out of sight she scurried in the other direction, passing from shadow to shadow, stopping and ducking out of sight as people passed by, then taking off again, heading through the alleys and side streets of the dodgier parts of London with a wary confidence that she didn't know she possessed.
It wasn't until the roads and alleys began to get crowded that she relaxed her guard a little, finally she settled into a dark corner were she crouched down and began to scan the people of the road, unsure exactly what she was looking for, she realized that this wasn't her, it was the old Ginny, her instincts that were guiding her now, all of the knowledge that had been accumulated over years of living on the streets that was what was guiding her now.
So the question wasn't what she was looking for, but what the old Ginny would be searching the people for, it came to her like the knowledge of the Razors had. She was hunting for anything that she could get her hands on without getting caught, food, money, or packages unsuspecting people had temporarily put down. This was the thieves and crooks domain, in the better parts of London she would most likely be picked up for stealing by the police. This street though, was her stack out, her territory no other thief could come here unless they wished to challenge her for it and no one would ever dare to.
She let the old Ginny's instincts take over. She stepped out of her corner and began prowling the street like a hawk on the hunt for its prey. She passed out one street to another, this one bigger, busier, yet still in the bad part of town, still hers. Her eyes scanned from person to person, taking in clothes, possessions, and how and where they were moving, how wealthy they were, who the easiest people to steal from were, and who wouldn't be worth the trouble.
Finally she saw what she was waiting for There was a man, a black haired man, who looked a little better off then everyone else around these parts, at least his clothes looked of better quality then the people in the slums usually possessed. He was currently going through his pockets on the far side of the street, looking for a wallet or maybe a phone. She watched as he looked around suspiciously and then putdown the brown bag that he had been holding. Her eyes immediately homed in on the bag as he went back to searching for whatever he had misplaced.
Another quick glance down the road gave her the how; there was a harried looking older woman who was trying to keep her three rambunctious children together and out of trouble. They were all heading towards the man who was looking angrier by the second.
Slowly, Ginny began to nonchalantly make her way towards the man and the children, taking a circular path, weaving through people, so it didn't seem like she was picking him out for any kind of mischief.
"Innocence is key," the voice explained, "make it look natural."
As the voice advised her, she fell in behind the harried looking women and her children. As they came to the man, the eldest boy of the three pushed the younger girl, who fell into the younger boy who plowed into the man from behind sending him staggering into the nearest wall. Then as Ginny continued on her forward course the girl burst into load desperate tears, howling at the sky. The man straightened himself, his black hair falling in front of his face; he stared at the girl for a moment, turned darkly to the mother, and said, "Shut the brat up."
The women ignored his rudeness and then began to quietly apologize for her children; this only seemed to make the man angrier though. He ignored the apology and then yelled, "If you can't control your children then maybe you shouldn't have any."
"Shouldn't have said that." Ginny thought as the women began railing at the man about not stopping in the middle of the street because they cause safety hazards and that he should mind his own business.
As the adults were having a yelling contest and taking their frustrations out on each other, the two boys were having a fight of their own. The girl abruptly stopped crying in favor of watching her siblings fight. To her delight, the younger boy threw himself at the older boy, they fell to the ground with a thud and then the older boy punched his brother in the jaw. Things quickly escalated out of control, leaving both boys rolling around on the ground punching, kicking, and screaming at each other.
As she came to the group, she kept her eyes focused on the man and women, who by this time were both deep in a shouting match and allowed herself to trip over the boys who were still rolling on the ground, each trying to get and keep the upper hand.
She landed on the ground with her hand a foot from the bag and she pushed off the ground and got to her feet, taking the brown bag along with her. With one last withering glare at the boys who were still rolling around on the ground beating each other up, which they didn't notice, she continued strolling down the street, the brown bag tucked securely under her arm, each step taking her further away from the man who had formerly owned the bag.
With her blood pounding through her veins, she continued walking down the road as innocently as possible, casually allowing the flow of the traffic to carry her further away from the fighting group and further away from trouble. To her amusement, she could still hear the man shrieking like a girl in the background. She was tempted to go back to watch the rest of the show, but that would be risky and foolish, and as much as she enjoyed courting with danger, there was a difference between taking calculated risks that were necessary and stupid risks that were bound to fail. She did not take stupid risks, at least not often, so instead of stopping for the rest of the show, she kept walking letting herself be caught up in the flow of the people around her. At the first opportunity, she ducked out of the crowd and found herself crouched in a darkened doorway off the main road.
It was as she was opening the brown bag that she really realized what she had just done. She had stolen something for the first time in her long life and she wished she felt just a tad bit guiltier about the action. She did feel guilty, but it wasn't because of the stealing; it was her total lack of guilt that got her feeling just a little sorry, but she was too hungry to really care all that much either way. What really caught her attention though was not that she had stolen from a man; it was that she had been good at it.
For the first time since she had woken up in her new body, she wished she had more memories of the previous Ginny's life. So far she had that one with Bloodbane. She also had the previous Ginny's instincts that had thankfully been melded with her own. This thankfully allowed her to get something to eat and she couldn't forget that voice that had instructed her during her escapade, the one she was almost a hundred percent sure was the old Ginny's personality.
She would have to be content with what she was offered for now, she concluded as she opened up the bag and pulled out a sandwich, a bottle of water, and an orange. The man's lunch for the day or at least it would have been; now it was her breakfast. As much fun as it was, if she didn't want to continue living on the streets and stealing to keep herself alive, which would become harder the further they got into the winter, she had to come up with a plan.
"Plan A, Step 1, go to Gringotts and get money," Ginny decided as she took a bite out of the sandwich, it was a little dry but she was starving, so she tore into the sandwich with enthusiasm, she would go to Gringotts and see if they would allow her to take money from her vault without a guardian with her. If the goblins allowed her to go into the vault Grolk had set up for her without a guardian, then that would knock off a lot of problems in one go, "Step 2 can be… gathering info on this new world." Once she figured out who was alive here, who could be a potential ally, and who from her former friends and acquaintances did not exist in this world, she could go on from there.
With that decided she pushed herself out from the darkened doorway and back out into the streets following the crowds out of the poorer parts of London. As she went she tried to find a street that looked familiar but the old Ginny couldn't even help her like she had been able to in the poorer districts of London, she probably had never ventured far out of the slums. She would just have to hope that she stumbled upon the Leaky Cauldron. As she walked, she peeled her orange and tried her best at ignoring the scandalized faces of the richer inhabitants of the city as she flicked the peels directly onto the ground not caring what they thought.
She watched first in amusement then in annoyance as people kept talking about her in loud voices or in obvious ways, then as she walked closer towards them they began to edge farther away from her, as if she was a carrier of some horribly contagious disease, like leprosy. Some, like a stuffed up old influential looking women who stuck her aristocratic nose into the air and had the nerve to whisper as she passed by in obvious hearing distance, "What is it. Why is it here?" as if she were hard of hearing and not just poor. Then the smaller of the two companions of the old stuck up lady sniffed then grabbed the other ladies' hands and took off as fast as possible in the other directions, as if she were a dangerous criminal who might murder them all in broad daylight.
She stood there with her teeth barred and fumed as the people edged further away from her as if she had intruded on their sensibilities just by daring to come where as they believed she did not belong, she heard the same old codger say loudly, "…have to inform the police, can't have riff raff like that hanging around."
She stiffened as the words slammed into her, "She is going to pay for that," she thought furiously as she changed directions, dropping back a few feet, and then tailing them through the streets. She had another target, no, she may not murder them in broad daylight but she could very well rob them blind, she so loved hunting. She would show her, how dare that rich old lady who probably never had to worry a day in her life about where her next meal was coming from, talk about her like she was worse then the dirt that she walked on. She had it coming. She felt the shadow of the old Ginny, rise up in her and agree with an angry hiss like a cat getting ready to hunt a giant rat.
She forced her face to go blank as she passed through the crowds keeping the old lady barely in sight. Just close enough that she could see her but far enough away that if the lady or her friends looked back she would not be seen. "Just keep walking," she whispered quietly, "you can't hide from me."
She felt her blood start to pump through her veins as she stalked her prey; they were the easiest kind, rich enough not to feel secure yet not rich enough to be paranoid. She would need to make her move soon, she didn't want to hurt the old lady but she wanted to eat again today and this lady might as well provide her with her next meal. "Maybe next time she won't be so rude," Ginny thought semi-optimistically. She knew she was being unreasonable and she was acting exactly how the people around her expected her to act but she was too furious to care and she could admit to herself that she was enjoying herself just a little more then was strictly necessary.
"This must be how Fred and George always feel after a good prank," Ginny thought in amazement. "No wonder they can't get enough…I'm definitely going to pull pranks this time around."
She tailed them for about twenty minutes, through the streets before the old hag, as she had dubbed her, entered into an expensive looking clothes shop, she wouldn't even be allowed to step one toe inside the shop without raising a fuss and drawing unwanted attention so instead she was content to settle down outside the window to keep watch behind a giant potted plant, that sat beside the entrance to the shop, that hid her from view. Five minutes later, Ginny watched with morbid fascination as the old hag started yelling at the sales clerk, who from the looks of it was probably new and about to burst into tears. She did.
She crouched down outside the window to wait, keeping one eye on the drama unfolding inside the shop and one on the people walking down the street outside. Ten minutes later her old hag walked out of the shop with a very smug smile on her face and was exclaiming to her friends, "The service these days has gone to the dogs."
"I won't be shopping here again," the smaller friend chimed in eagerly like a good sycophant.
The old hag smiled at the smaller lady and Ginny got the impression of a cat keeping a rat as a pet before finally pouncing on it when she got bored, and then in the blink of an eye, the old hag turned an expectant stare to the third lady who looked distinctly uncomfortable and kept shooting looks filled with longing back towards the shop, where the sales lady was collecting the baskets full of clothes to put back on the shelf.
The old hag cleared her throat and glared at the third lady, who jumped and immediately began weakly, "Oh yes, horrible service, I wouldn't come back there, even if someone forced me at gun point…unless of course they have really good sales…."
A look of fury stole across the old hags face and her blue eyes darkened, Ginny could even see a vein beating wildly on her forehead like it was getting ready to burst. The third lady seemed to shrink before the ire of the first, she took a step back, and then stammered, "I was say- saying, on-only if they were go-going out of business. Get them gone as f-fast as we can, yes?"
The old hag backed down a little and studied the third lady to see if she was serious, she must have liked what she saw because she nodded sharply. "Let us go ladies, we have tea with Mrs. Henderson today, poor thing fell down the stai…and did you notice the size of her mole? It was enor…"
Ginny watched as the old hag walked away, heading down the busy street with a triumphant look on her face that Ginny longed to wipe off, the smaller lady took off behind her like an obedient puppy trained to do tricks for it's master, Ginny wouldn't have been surprised if the lady started rolling around on the floor, the third lady cast one last wistful look back into the shop before trailing off behind her companions. If Ginny was hesitant about stealing once again all her apprehensions about it were squashed by the view of the young sales clerk rushing off to the bathroom, still in tears.
She was about to take off after them again, when a familiar nasal voice floated over to her, "Filthy Muggles," She spun around and it took about a nanosecond to decide to give up her petty vendetta against the old hag. She had bigger fish to fry, this one she would take even more pleasure in frying then a she would the rich, stuck up hag. This particular fish had long slicked back blonde hair and was currently looking around the street with his lips curled up in a familiar look of disdain which caused his face to screw up as if he smelled something really bad, and she was positive that she wasn't close enough for her to be the problem.
"He's probably fantasizing about all the unforgivables he could cast on the unsuspecting muggle population," Ginny thought in disgust, "and he said my father was a disgrace." Without a thought she began to tail Malfoy, passing through the streets ten feet behind him at all times, keeping his large ugly head in plain view. Three streets latter he led her to a familiar dingy pub, the Leaky Cauldron.
"Wow, who knew I was so close," Ginny thought in amazement as she waited a few minutes outside before she followed Malfoy into the pub. She really didn't need him to realize that he had picked up a thief on his journeys out among the muggles. How could she have the joys of stealing from him if he was on his guard?
Thankfully, she didn't see his large blonde head anywhere in the room, so he already spared the patrons of the pub the pain of staring into his cold and assessing gaze, they were probably immensely relieved by his passing. "I'd be even more relieved if he would just die already."
She didn't stay to loiter, it's not like she had any money to purchase a drink or meal anyways, and besides she had a self appointed mission to accomplish; a high and mighty pure blood to bring down a few notches. In her urgency she failed to see a gob smacked looking stocky red head sitting at a nearby table drinking with a witch with purple spiky hair, instead Ginny sped through the pub; She climbed over a chair in front of her just after a tall red haired witch in a green robe got up from the table instead of going around her like most normal people would do. She passed by a table with three wizards next, as she passed an empty table she snatched a bread stick from an empty plate and shoved it into her mouth. "Pretty good," Ginny though, "I'll have to come by sometime when I actually have money."
As she sped by the counter she had to jump out of the way of Tom the bartender at the last second as he came out from behind it to deliver butterbeers to some customers. She was almost out of the pub when she saw Hagrid walk in through the door. "Slow down? Naa." She said to herself, instead she slid in between Hagrid's legs. Ginny came out of the slide without missing a beat, she climbed off the floor and then ran through the doorway before anyone in the bar could say "quidditch" leaving turmoil and confusion in her wake.
As Ginny passed through the door to the back of the place, she refused to stop or slow down, even when she saw the wall closing up; instead she sped up and dove through the small hole barely making it through. In mid air she rolled herself in a ball before landing on her feet like a cat.
For all those people, who took time out of their busy days to review, I would like to thank you for taking the time out of your day to do so.
Further note, I have had the first chapter edited, by my new editor, we'll call him Odin, for those of you that had to suffer through the first chapter with my repulsive grammar and spelling mistakes, I would like to thank you for coming back, and giving me another try. The first chapter has only been edited there is really no new content besides some prettier and more thorough descriptions of the meadow when our main character, Ginny, not Harry, passed through. All further chapters will be edited before they are posted on the site because surprisingly I am not all knowing. Who would have known?
"Me," says mighty and all powerful Odin, though I prefer Wodin.
(If there are any mistakes I would greatly appreciate it if someone informed me, though any mistakes are intentional on the part of the editor.)
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