Hermione Granger broke the Horcrux. It hissed angrily. The golden cup had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, one of the four founders of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione and her friend Ron Weasley were kneeling in the Chamber of Secrets while a ferocious battle raged above them. They had needed a Basilisk fang to destroy the goblet Lord Voldemort had turned into a horrible Horcrux.
Suddenly Harry Potter burst into the Chamber, wrapped in a bathrobe, wet with colourful bubbles clinging to him, like he had just come out of the Prefect’s bathroom. He was clutching a large, golden false egg.
“I can’t figure it out,” he said, frustrated. “I don’t understand what the egg means.”
Harry had gotten the egg from the Dursleys as a present for leaving their house. When he had brought it to Hogwarts, it had turned into a Portkey and led him to the merpeople.
Suddenly the egg burst open and let out a bout of ‘Weasley is Our King’:
Weasley is our king,
He cannot block a single thing,
That is why the Slytherins all sing,
Weasley is our King.
Soon Professor Slughorn walked up to Harry.
“I just love knitting,” he said.
Harry nodded and handed the professor the Elder Wand.
“Here, knit with this,” he said.
Slughorn took the wand, popped a Pepper Imp into his mouth, and walked away.
Harry got up and stood among a crowd of Hogwarts students. They were looking at a crude sign painted in what looked like blood on the stone wall of the corridor. The words read:
Suddenly Hagrid jostled through the crowd and made his way to Harry.
“Yer a wizard, Harry!” he exclaimed, beaming cheerfully.
“Er … I know,” said Harry, quite confused.
He looked down and saw Scabbers the rat.
“Why, Scabbers!” he exclaimed.
Soon Scabbers transformed, his snout shortening and his tail thickening, into Crookshanks, Hermione’s cat. The cat hissed.
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live,” it said, and ran away.
Then Harry dipped his head into the Pensieve in front of him. The silvery liquid rippled as he entered a memory.
Harry gasped in astonishment. He saw himself and Ron’s sister Ginny riding together on a hippogriff. The hippogriff was flying through the starry night, with an hourglass attached to a chain around its feathery neck.
The memory-Harry and Ginny leaned toward each other, and kissed.
Suddenly memory-Ginny turned into Draco Malfoy, Harry’s archenemy. They were flying on broomsticks through the Quidditch field.
“Hey, Potter, bet you can’t catch that Hungarian Horntail,” he said.
Harry lifted his head out of the Pensieve and turned to Ron.
“Ready?” he asked.
They shifted their trolleys. Harry’s pet phoenix, Fawkes, squawked in his cage and sang a long, sorrowful song.
“One … two … three!” Ron shouted, counting down.
They ran into the wall between platforms nine and ten, and disappeared.
And the moral of this story is: do not read a book series out of order, or you will find yourself hopelessly confused.
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