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... hop, alerting the wizened old man at the counter of someone’s presence. He called out a noncommittal greeting in response, not looking up from the mortar in which he pounded a few leaves into mush. The visitor, light on their feet walked up to one of the low rack of potions that lined the side walls of the cozy-looking shop. They stared at the diagrams of spell models on the walls, right above the rack, walking slowly as they assessed them. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic soft poundi ...
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