Prologue

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A large dagger was thrusted into the newborn's slimy hands. "A boy! And a six inch steel dagger, how bizarre!" It was tradition. More like law, actually. Every person was assigned a knife at birth. At some point in their life, they could kill anybody with their blade, without any legal responsibility. After the murder,you had to turn in your knife to the Ministry. They were the organization that helped run their little system. They created and gave out the knifes, and collected them when used.

Harry Potter always wanted to be a part of the Ministry. It was a good paying job and everyone seemed to be pining to join it. It required lots of studying, though, so not many people actually pressued it as a career choice, though. But Harry was prepared to study for this. He was prepared to try harder than he'd ever tried before.

It was because of the Secret.

The Secret was something that only people in the Ministry knew. How the blades were made to match each person perfectly, how the color shape and overall design of the knifes were designed perfectly for their future victim. That was the Secret.

And Harry, like everyone else, was dying to know it.

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