Sirius Black stood at the front of the living room, his posture so heroic it might as well have been carved in marble. His arms flung out, dramatic enough to knock the potted plant off the table—again. He wasn't even sorry about it.
"Alright, listen up, Team Black!" Sirius bellowed, his voice echoing through the house like he was about to lead them into battle. "This is not just some silly prank war. This is THE prank war. The fifth annual prank war, and if you think for one second that Harry's gonna just roll over and hand us the crown, you've got another thing coming!"
Remus Lupin, who had been half-heartedly sipping his tea (a lost cause, really, considering the caffeine-fueled fire that was Sirius), groaned loudly. "Sirius, we're all here. Cut the theatrics."
Sirius spun around to face his friend, eyes wide like a kid on Christmas Eve. "Theatrics? Remus, you wound me! This is a war, not a backyard barbecue! And in war, there must be drama. There must be flair. There must be—"
Marlene McKinnon-Black, standing in the kitchen with her arms crossed and a look on her face that could stop a dragon in its tracks, interrupted him. "Sirius, we don't have time for this. Harry is planning something. I can feel it. And trust me, whatever it is, it's going to be catastrophic."
"Exactly," Sirius said with a theatrical clap of his hands, throwing a glance at Marlene as though she was his co-director. "This is why we're here! We're going to get ahead of it!"
Fred Weasley, not one to miss out on a good show, leaned over to George. "Is this going to be the year they actually win, or is it just going to be a repeat of last year when they ended up using the guest bathroom as a substitute for the Azkaban holding cells?"
George snorted. "If they win, I'm renouncing my Weasley heritage."
Lee Jordan, who'd been trying to figure out if he should sit or stand, finally spoke up in a voice that was far too calm for the chaos brewing around him. "So... what exactly are the rules for this thing? Or, you know, are we just going to start lobbing enchanted chocolate frogs at each other and see what sticks?"
Sirius grinned at him like he'd just cracked the code to the universe. "Welcome to the madness, Lee. There are no rules in a prank war. But! There are tactics. And trust me, when Harry Lokison gets involved, it's like playing wizard chess with a ten-ton troll on the board."
Ginny Weasley, ever the realist, rolled her eyes. "Right. And when Harry pulls out some new level of ridiculousness, we're all just supposed to what, cry in a corner and wait for him to get bored?"
"Exactly!" Sirius said with a flourish, pointing at Ginny like she'd just discovered the meaning of life. "Except, instead of crying, we'll be retaliating with class and elegance, and maybe a bit of dynamite if necessary."
Ron, who looked like he'd just come from a near-death experience (which, knowing him, was probably true), added, "Last time, he turned my entire bedroom into a swamp. You really think we're winning this thing?"
Sirius shot him a grin that was equal parts charming and completely insane. "Yes, Ron. This year is different. This year, we're going to be the ones doing the swamping. And for once, we'll do it without turning the house into a waterlogged nightmare."
Daphne Greengrass, sitting with her arms casually draped over the back of the couch, raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but this is about pranking Harry, right? Not planning his wedding?"
Sirius froze mid-pose. "Oh, Daphne, you wound me! Do I look like the kind of person who plans anything that doesn't involve chaotic, gleeful mayhem?"
Neville Longbottom, who had been mostly quiet (and wisely so), raised his hand, looking like someone who had suddenly found his niche in a room full of pranksters. "We could use some enchanted plants. Maybe something that'll—"
"YES, Neville!" Sirius shouted, pumping his fist like the man had just handed him the Sword of Gryffindor. "I knew I could count on you! We'll make this war an ecological disaster!"
Marlene just gave him a look—one that said she was so done with him—and then turned to the group. "Listen, we all know Harry's unpredictable. But we also know how he thinks. He's planning something big for his birthday, and if you think he's going to go easy on us, you're mistaken."
"That's why we need to hit him first," Remus said with a dry smile, putting his empty cup down. "And we need to be prepared for anything. Anything. From a prank involving his magical ferret army to something... much worse."
Fred jumped to his feet, slamming a fist into his palm with all the drama of a WWE wrestler. "Then let's do it! Team Black's going down swinging! And if it involves switching out Harry's shampoo for pixie dust, so be it!"
Lee, still trying to make sense of what was going on, raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so we're just throwing random things at Harry until something sticks? Is that the plan?"
"No, no, no!" Sirius shouted. "That's not the plan at all! We're going in like precision tactical operatives. There will be stealth. There will be cunning. There will be, dare I say it—" He paused for dramatic effect, "—sabotage."
Tonks, ever the chaos enthusiast, flung open the door with all the subtlety of a marching band and spun into the room, her hair a vibrant, ever-changing rainbow. "Did I hear 'sabotage'? I'm in. Let's make this legendary."
Remus, looking utterly exasperated, muttered, "And here we go again…"
Sirius pounded his fist on the table, calling the group to attention. "Alright, alright. Team Black has never won. But this year? This year is different. We will have victory. We will have justice."
"Isn't it a prank war?" Fred asked, confused.
"It's both!" Sirius answered, pointing a finger. "It's a prank war and a quest for glory!"
"We're doomed," Remus muttered under his breath, but even he couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips.
And so, with the team assembled and the stakes higher than ever before, the Black family and their ragtag group of allies prepared for a battle of pranks like no other. As Sirius gave them one last dramatic speech about precision and sabotage and the sweet taste of victory, Lyra, blissfully unaware of the chaos that was about to ensue, popped her head out from behind the couch.
"Can I help?" she asked, swinging her little plastic sword like she was born for this moment.
Sirius looked at his daughter, who was all energy and mischief wrapped in a too-big jumper, and grinned. "You bet, kiddo. You bet."
And with that, Team Black readied themselves for the wildest prank war the Wizarding World had ever seen.
—
Fred and George were already off to the side, huddled together with Lee Jordan. They were all looking way too pleased with themselves, the kind of pleased that usually meant some form of chaos was about to go down. If you were in their vicinity, you could almost hear the faint hum of impending disaster.
"Alright, Sirius, you've been yammering on about strategy and 'meaningful destruction,'" Fred began, rubbing his hands together like he was about to reveal the secret to eternal life. "But have you considered the real game-changers?"
George, who looked like a mad scientist who'd been let loose in the kitchen, grinned and pulled a small, seemingly innocent box from his bag. "This little beauty," he said, holding it up like he was presenting the Holy Grail, "is a prototype for our latest invention. We're calling it… The Kettle of Catastrophic Chaos."
Lee raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Isn't that just an enchanted kettle? The kind that makes tea?"
Fred shook his head, looking at Lee like he was a Muggle with no sense of adventure. "Not just any tea," he said, as though Lee had just insulted the very fabric of magical innovation. "This kettle makes tea... that explodes."
Lee blinked a few times, his eyes widening. "Explodes? As in—boom? The tea blows up?"
"Exactly," George said, leaning in with an almost sadistic gleam in his eye. "It's enchanted to be completely unpredictable. You could be sitting there, casually sipping your tea, thinking life's a-okay. And then, BOOM—you're covered in confetti, and your hair's turned into a flock of chickens."
Lee's eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. "I can already see it now. This is the kind of disaster I can get behind."
Fred beamed. "And if it doesn't explode, it still makes tea that tastes like it came from an enchanted cow. You're basically getting double the chaos for your money."
Lee slapped his knee. "You two are geniuses. How have you not been expelled already?"
"Well, there was that time in third year when we turned all the furniture into—" Fred began, but George slapped his hand over his brother's mouth.
"Not important right now," George said, eyeing Sirius like he was about to drop an atomic bomb of chaos. "Now, let's talk about Sprinkles of Sorrow."
Fred produced a small vial filled with sparkly, glittery powder, holding it out like it was the world's most dangerous substance. "This stuff? It's gold. Literal gold. Sprinkle it on someone, and they'll be haunted by their worst fears in the form of an illusion. It's like an existential crisis in a bottle."
"Wait, wait," Lee interrupted, "you're telling me this could make Harry think he's about to fail at the prank war? That's like... worse than a Dementor attack."
Fred raised a finger. "Exactly. Imagine Harry, the prank master himself, suddenly realizing he's about to lose to someone. It's the ultimate defeat."
George chuckled darkly. "Of course, if that doesn't work, we can always add a few spiders. Spiders tend to do the trick for most people."
"I'm not sure Harry has any real fears," Lee said, rubbing his chin. "Besides maybe his broom falling apart mid-flight."
Fred snorted. "Oh, trust me. I've seen him panic over a bent broomstick. Imagine him caught in his worst nightmare... a world where every prank fails miserably."
"Not even we can screw up that badly," George said with a shrug, "but we can sure as hell make him think we can."
Remus, who had been quietly sipping his tea on the other side of the room, glanced over, clearly hearing the entire conversation. "You two are absolute maniacs. And that's why I love you."
Sirius, leaning back with his hands folded behind his head, gave a low chuckle. "Alright, alright, keep the insanity to a simmer. Let's not forget we're here to strategize. But I'm all for a bit of mayhem to get things started."
"That's the spirit, Padfoot!" Fred cheered. "But wait, we've got something even better. I present to you… the Flame-Throwing Paperclip."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Remus muttered, but Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Let me guess," Sirius said, leaning forward with a smirk, "it's a paperclip that lights itself on fire whenever someone tries to use it?"
"Well, not exactly," George began, eyes gleaming. "It's actually a paperclip that, when enchanted, throws flames at whoever's nearest."
"Uh-huh," Remus said, rubbing his temples. "And how long do you think it'll take before one of you burns down the entire common room?"
Fred grinned. "We've got it all under control. Just... maybe don't use it near anything flammable."
Lee laughed, a little too enthusiastically. "Oh, I love it. You guys are like the Mad Hatter of the wizarding world."
"I prefer 'chaos artists,'" Fred corrected, a wink in his eye.
Tonks, who had been lingering at the door with an exaggerated yawn, raised an eyebrow. "So, wait, you guys are planning to turn the entire castle into a war zone with all these... delightful gadgets?"
"Not the whole castle, just key targets," George said, shrugging. "And don't forget, we've got the Time-Twister Turmeric for when things get real."
Sirius blinked. "The what now?"
"The Time-Twister Turmeric," Fred repeated, clearly loving how much it confused everyone. "You throw it, and boom—instant time loop. The person on the receiving end starts reliving their worst, most embarrassing moments over and over. No escape."
Lee cracked up. "Harry, on repeat, messing up a prank? That's like watching a car wreck in slow motion, but way funnier."
Remus raised a brow. "How long does it last? How many times can they relive their worst memory?"
"Indefinitely," George said, practically giddy at the thought. "Well, not indefinitely, but long enough to make them question their entire existence."
"Guys, I think we've found our secret weapon," Sirius said, giving a sly grin. "And it's gonna be beautiful."
"Alright, Team Black, I think it's time we got to planning," Sirius said, voice lowering dramatically. "This prank war's ours, and when we win—well, I'll be the one to get a crown, of course."
Fred and George high-fived Lee, who was practically in tears from laughing. Meanwhile, Tonks shook her head, clearly thinking of the disaster that was about to unfold.
"Alright," Sirius said, voice suddenly steely, his grin turning into something far more dangerous, "I don't care what happens. This is gonna be the most legendary prank war Hogwarts has ever seen."
Fred's eyes gleamed. "Agreed. But let's just hope Harry doesn't go full 'avenging angel' on us when we hit him with the Kettle of Catastrophic Chaos."
Sirius grinned like he was planning to watch the entire school burn to the ground—metaphorically, of course. "No guarantees, mate. But one thing's for sure—it's going to be a hell of a ride."
And with that, they all knew: the prank war was officially on.
—
Marlene sat in her corner like a queen in her throne, sipping her tea with the sort of grace that made you wonder if she'd been born with a porcelain cup in one hand and a book in the other. Seriously, it was like watching someone perform an art form in the middle of what could only be described as a high-speed car crash.
"Look, I'm just here for the tea and the view, alright?" Marlene said, her voice calm, smooth, and positively unbothered. "The chaos is none of my concern."
Sirius, of course, wasn't having any of it. With that devil-may-care grin of his—probably more charming than legally allowed—he slouched toward her, clearly ready for a fight he didn't intend to win. "You can't honestly tell me you're not getting in on this. You've got a way too good of a knack for scheming to sit this one out."
Marlene raised an eyebrow. If she'd been Alicia Vikander (which, in Marlene's case, was totally realistic), she would've given him the look—the one that makes grown men flinch. "I have no intention of getting sucked into your mayhem, thank you very much." She took another sip of her tea. "You've got your ragtag team of pranksters. I've got a cup of tea and a novel I've been dying to finish."
Sirius, who was clearly raised on mischief and sweet rolls, snorted like a teenage boy who'd just heard his first fart joke. "Oh, come on. Tea? Really? That's how you're gonna play this?" He flicked a finger at the air like he was preparing for the coolest prank of the century. "You know as well as I do, tea and pranks are basically the same thing. They both require strategy and, you know, a bit of chaos."
Marlene's eyes darted around the room, her lips twitching as Fred and George engaged in a heated argument with Lee Jordan about fireworks (who knew firecrackers could be so controversial?) "Hmm, yes. Chaos," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm so thick you could've spread it on toast. "Except one of them doesn't involve that," she finished, nodding toward the twins, who were now practically tangling over a firework shaped like a hippopotamus.
Sirius just laughed, leaning against the doorframe like some kind of dark-haired Greek god, all cheekbones and charm. "Alright, but come on—don't tell me you won't be a little disappointed if you miss out on the explosion of confetti, the sneaky tricks, and the sweet, sweet revenge?"
Marlene let out an exaggerated sigh, placing her cup down with almost surgical precision. "I think I'm good, thank you. I've seen what happens when you mix fireworks with the equivalent of a toddler's sugar rush. I'm quite happy here, avoiding flying teabags and the sudden appearance of exploding confetti in my personal space."
"Oh, but Marls," Sirius said, throwing his hands up like he was auditioning for the role of 'guy who's definitely going to get caught.' "You'd love it. Imagine Harry's face when he gets hit by a 'Sprinkle of Sorrow.' He'd be all like, 'Wait—this is my worst fear?' And then boom, he gets pelted by jelly."
Marlene smirked. "Yes, well, someone can handle that particular brand of insanity. I'm not sure the world is ready for me to unleash my secret weapon."
Sirius raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Wait, you've got a secret weapon? What is it? Some kind of overpowered, tea-based magic?"
Marlene leaned in, her smile turning absolutely dangerous—a quiet, calculating look that would've made the most dangerous spies shiver. "A calm, collected strategy to stay out of trouble."
Sirius blinked, clearly taking in the audacity of her claim. Then, without missing a beat, he let out an exaggerated groan. "I knew it. You're gonna be that person. Fine. You know what? We're Team Black. We go big or go home, and you've just declared yourself a permanent resident of 'Home.'"
"Well, I am home," Marlene said with a shrug, easing back into her chair with an ease that could only be described as 'savage queen energy.' "Let me know how the confetti bombs go. I'll be here, sipping tea and catching up on literature."
Sirius shot her one last glance, eyes wide in playful disbelief. "Come on, Marls. You're one of us. You can't just—"
"I'm already one of you, Sirius," she interrupted smoothly, the corners of her lips curling into that sweet, honeyed smile that had gotten her out of more than a few situations. "But one of us also knows when to stay the heck out of your madness."
She leaned back, the room's craziness completely ignoring her—like the calm center of a hurricane. Fred and George were now trying to mount Lee's firework onto a broomstick. Harry, undoubtedly plotting his own brand of mischief with half a dozen tricks in the works, would be at the center of the chaos as soon as he arrived. And Marlene? She was holding steady, sipping her tea like she was at a spa and not on the brink of what could only be described as the most ridiculous prank war in history.
"Well, I suppose someone's got to be the voice of reason around here," Sirius muttered, throwing his hands up in exaggerated exasperation. "You're welcome to it."
Marlene gave him the kind of smile that could cut through solid steel. "I'm perfectly happy with that role. I'll be here with my tea, thanks."
It was a small victory, sure—but a victory nonetheless. As the latest round of pranking unfolded—Fred and George now in a heated debate about the best method of 'strategic squirrel placement'—Marlene sipped her tea, utterly unbothered.
She just hoped no one decided to aim an exploding teapot her way. Again.
—
Just when you thought the prank war couldn't possibly get any more ridiculous, the ground actually shook—like the kind of tremor you feel when someone in the next room knocks over their cereal bowl, except this time it was an earth-shattering shake.
And then, boom. There they were—two figures materializing with all the flair of a rockstar and his manager showing up fashionably late to the best party in town.
First, there was a guy so tall his head nearly brushed the ceiling. His hair looked like it had been styled by an electric storm, and his cheekbones could've been used to cut glass. You could practically hear thunder as he swaggered in, his mischievous grin flashing like a villain in a blockbuster movie. I'm talking Loki-level mischief here, folks. And if you didn't know, that's James Potter—Harry's dad—who had a few upgrades in the whole godhood department.
And then, in contrast, there was the second guy—shorter, but buzzing with an energy that could power a city for a week. Hermes, the god of speed, thieves, and things-you-really-don't-want-to-lose, flashed a grin that could only be described as "I've already gotten into trouble three times this morning, but I still have time to ruin someone's life for fun." You could practically see the excitement in his eyes, like he'd just stolen a whole jar of candy and was contemplating whether he could get away with eating it in front of everyone.
"Well, well, well," Loki said, leaning against the doorframe with the nonchalance of someone who'd just slipped into a room full of chaos, "If it isn't the world's greatest prank squad. And look, my dear boy Harry, you've made some... interesting friends."
Hermes nudged Loki in the ribs, his grin still there like he'd just discovered a new way to break the universe. "I'm not sure 'interesting' is the right word, buddy. This looks more like a controlled explosion of... bad decisions and glitter."
"Bad decisions and glitter are my favorite kinds of decisions," Loki shot back with a smirk, folding his arms and letting his gaze wander across the room like he was a proud father inspecting his new minions.
And speaking of proud fathers, Harry—who had somehow mastered the art of pretending to look bored while clearly plotting something even worse—took one look at the scene of glitter-fueled insanity and leaned back in his chair, his smirk growing like it knew it was about to unleash pure genius. "What can I say? It's all in the genes."
Jim—who, if you've never seen him, was basically a living embodiment of chaos and hyperactive energy—spun in his chair like a Tasmanian devil, waving his hands dramatically. "Jazz monkeys, Harry! Jazz monkeys in fedoras! It'll break their spirits, I promise you! Who can resist that? Who?"
Hermes raised an eyebrow as if trying to figure out if he was being pranked. "Jazz monkeys... really?" His voice had that mock serious tone that only a god could pull off. "You're telling me you're going to... summon a jazz monkey band to overthrow the forces of logic?"
Loki, not even breaking a sweat, gestured to Jim with exaggerated approval. "Now that's the kind of thinking we need. I like him. I'll make him a god of chaos, too. His title can be 'Jazz Monkey Enthusiast Extraordinaire.'"
"Sure, but only if they come with a side of cupcakes," Jim said, spinning around to face the group with a face that could only be described as 100% Jim Carrey—full of manic energy and barely-contained madness. "Imagine the glory, the chaos! Think about it!" He mimed a jazz band playing wildly off-beat with invisible instruments.
Luke, sitting at the table and flipping through what could only be described as absurdly complicated blueprints, raised a hand like he was about to lecture everyone on the fine art of strategic destruction. "Trust me, we've got plans. Big plans. This... this is just the beginning."
Hermes, smirking, leaned over to get a look at the blueprints like it was an actual treasure map. "Oh, I see now. A jazz monkey band, a lot of glitter, and, what—three firecrackers on steroids? Are you sure this isn't some sort of fever dream you all collectively had after eating a bad taco?"
"Only one firecracker," Travis corrected, deadpan, as he swiped a hand through his hair with a flair only a Sprouse twin could pull off. "And we've got other surprises. The jazz monkeys are a must, but we've got other tricks up our sleeves. You'll see."
Hermes looked less than convinced. "Right, and I'm sure the ancient Greek gods would be thrilled with this plan. Can you imagine the paperwork? Oh, and you do realize I won't clean this up, right?"
"Of course you won't," Loki grinned, throwing his hands up. "This is your problem now. I've already got my hands full with... well, everything else."
"Speaking of which," Annabeth interjected from the corner of the room, her arms crossed and her face the picture of unimpressed determination. "I'm sure your chaos doesn't involve making a proper strategy, right? Or do we have a plan here that doesn't involve throwing glitter at people until they surrender?"
Loki raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize the daughter of Athena was so... sensitive about her plans."
"Oh, I'm not sensitive," Annabeth said, arching a brow. "But I do like a plan that works. No offense, but your strategy sounds a lot like... what my little brother would come up with after three hours of watching bad cartoons."
"Little brother?" Hermes snorted. "You just wait until you've seen this plan in action. There's nothing like the thrill of watching it all unfold."
"Yeah, I'm in," Loki grinned. "Let's see this chaos go down."
And with that, the gods—Loki and Hermes—slipped back into the background just in time for a firecracker to go off. And, well, they weren't wrong. The night wasn't going to be the same when it was over. Not for anyone. And definitely not for the prank victims.
Harry just sat there, watching the madness unfold, his smirk never once leaving his face. "I'll say it again: genes."
—
The chaos reached its peak when—pause.
Yes, you heard me right. Hold up.
Suddenly, whoooosh—and just like that, we're no longer in the middle of that action-packed mess with glitter bombs and unholy amounts of confetti. Nope. We're out. Like a TV channel changing to something way more exciting. Picture this: the page flickers—oh, look, it's like a transition scene in a low-budget movie. Now imagine the air thick with the scent of popcorn (and maybe some nacho cheese... don't judge me, I'm Deadpool). Oh, wait. I can't actually smell. I just wanted to give you that cool visual. Because I'm that awesome. And then—BOOM—there I am.
That's right, folks. It's your boy, Deadpool. The Merc with a Mouth. The funny, totally loveable psychopath you never knew you needed until, well, you did. The one who saves the day with violence, inappropriate jokes, and very questionable decisions. Look, I know, I know. You thought I wasn't going to show up yet, right? You thought I was going to keep you waiting. Well, surprise! I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.
So, here's the thing—Harry, you know, that lovable, godly, chaos-spreading son of Loki and Artemis, now the official Monkey King (because, who else could handle the job?), and I made a little deal. You see, I had to rescue my girl Vanessa (who, just to keep things real, is currently basking in post-coital bliss right now... and by "right now," I mean right now as you're reading this—you're welcome for that visual). I told Harry, "Help me with that, and I'll join your team. I'll help you win this prank war. For real."
And Harry, being the absolute chaos god that he is, agreed.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Deadpool, you're way too cool to be left on the sidelines, bro." Trust me, I agree. But hold your horses. I'm all about the big entrance, and trust me—timing is everything. So, hang tight. I won't be in the action until the next few chapters, but when I come in? Oh, boy. You're gonna need a towel. And maybe some tissues for the emotional rollercoaster that's about to happen.
But here's the thing: what better way to kick things off than by helping the legendary Harry "Hey, I'm Loki's kid, but I'm also a prank master now" Lokison lead his team to victory? No one does pranks better than me. I've pranked gods, I've pranked demons, I've pranked the entire taco industry (just ask the taco vendors, they'll tell you all about the sour cream surprise).
I mean, I was born for this stuff.
But hey, enough about me. I know you're dying to get back to the madness. The glitter-covered chaos. The barking dogs. The jazz monkeys in tiny fedoras (don't ask questions, just roll with it). But let's just appreciate the fact that I'm about to join Team Lokison and absolutely obliterate the competition in this prank war. You might want to take notes. I'm bringing the big guns. Like, the gun made out of peanut butter and a whoopee cushion.
Alright, alright. I know you all want to jump back to the action, but just remember—I'm lurking in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Maybe getting a snack. Who knows? But I'll be here, ready to completely hijack this story and make it way more interesting when I finally show up. And trust me—when I do? It's going to be legendary. And I'm not just saying that because I'm awesome. But, uh, mostly because I'm awesome.
Now, unpause.
And just like that—BOOM, we're back. The page snaps back to life, and Harry and his squad were already making their big moves. Luke (that guy's got more charisma than a wizard with a pumpkin spice latte) was laying out the blueprint for what was going to be the prank of the century. Trust me, if you weren't already laughing, you will be soon.
But little did they know, things were about to go sideways in the most gloriously, absurdly epic way possible. Because here's the thing: Deadpool doesn't do things halfway. And when I join a prank war? I don't just participate. I dominate.
Game on, baby.
---
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