I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up to No Good: Private message to Terry Boot

Terry: Portkeys aren't working. So we can't use the go-to-hell portkeys Mum and Dad gave us. In case of emergency.

Can you ask them, uh...there isn't any emergency going on. Is there?

Sorry, don't mean to be panicking or anything. But we're at the Twelfth Night Faire in New London, and Evelyn's getting really nervous.

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