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Summary
Voldemort twisted and writhed, legs kicking uselessly in the air, his paws batting fruitlessly. His mouth opened in a soundless scream. He struggled in the boy’s grip with all the ferocity he could muster, which was to say, not very much.
He was out of magic.
He was out of options.
He was only -
"A rabbit," the student said, sounding surprised.
