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The morning sun slices through the kitchen blinds, casting stripes across the cluttered dining table. The smell of toast and coffee hangs in the air as May and Harry huddle close, their whispers a low murmur against the ticking clock. Athena Grant steps into the doorway, her silhouette sharp against the light, eyes narrowing as she takes in the scene. "Uh-uh, no whispering at the table. What have you got to say?" She folds her arms, waiting for you to answer.