"No? Well, means nothing t'me if you never use it again. The strong stuff'll rot your liver - either metaphorical or actual, and you..." he shakes his head.

It had burned in him from the first sight he got. Ralph doesn't mind working with the Black Arts now and again, but that went beyond dark. Better out of his hands.

"Well, suffice it to say, you had better make it up to Miss Winters. And I'm not giving you forever. You work at it, or you lose everything for good, y'hear?"