Weatherby had spent the better part of several weeks preparing. He'd secured the storage room, deep behind the trophy rooms and other unused parts of the castle, placing muffling charms and other spells of protection upon it. He'd arranged the old, damaged pottery and crates, long-emptied of their magical ingredients and solutions, now functioning as targets and dummies. He'd gathered everything he needed - except for his comrades. They'd each received a secretive message, tucked away in their robes or in their books, written in ways that he knew they'd understand. Now, all there was left to do was wait.





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