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HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE

Book II in the Botnik Saga

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CHAPTER SEVEN:

"The Return of Ollivander"

"What happened to Chapter 6?" asked the Goblin.

"I don't snide," said Harry, resentful. "But it was there before, and then it turned fruitless. I hate turning fruitless. Chapter 6 will be paying, with much pain."

Harry crushed windows of Hagrid's Hut in a huff and looked at Hermione's magical face with a slight smile. He gazed courteously into her trumpet, and, screwing himself to the pedestal on which they both stood, because of the gravity, he added a third kiss to her mouth to the long list of her ill - gotten possessions.

"You're a great asiatic smell," said Hermione, whose mind was a gash in the darkness.

"I know. " said Harry. "I knowledge. "

"And your hands are of parchment, and your heart be me treasure. "

Harry dropped his girlfriend abruptly, looking alarmed.

"You're not a little pirouette pirate, are you?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't think so, Slouchy," answered the bookish Gryffindor glum girl.

"Don't call me that, " objected the Boy who lived in a pool.

"But I like that name! "

"I don't. "

"…Hermione isn't a quill," said Hermione. "Not at all, Ally."

"Don't call wizarding wonder Harry Potter the Great and Surprising that! Or I will be sure to cast a dark curse at you."

"Ogg… Ogden?" asked Hermione, feverish with excitement and the sound of thunderous footfalls.

"No. The Deplorable Word is too powerful to be of use disciplining lady friends. It would shatter floor, past, ceiling, present, chimney, uncle. And that's terrible. And I would have to pay. With much pain. "

Their conversation about what the word throat really meant was cut short, because a balding wizard sympathetically wheezed that he would be honored to encounter them. He dashed around much faster than a snitch, which was odd for his age. Aghast, Harry yelled that he was in fact a large bag of sweet Boy-Who-Lived flesh. The balding wizard, who had horn-rimmed glasses, seemed very interested. His Centaur slave agreed.

"I am definitely not the Dark Lord," said the probable Dark Lord.

"You are definitely the Dark Lord," said Harry, with a sigh so weary that a fictional camping site grew toast on its apple-trees. "You have to die."

"I am a balding whizzing wizard's magical theory!"

"Then I suggest you remember that theory isn't possible," said Harry, grim and grimy. "Dispute is not permitted. Die, Tomato Riddle. OGLING OGDEN'S ENJOY!"

The super-secret variant of the "yelled Ogden" tactic worked on the spot. The evil tomato was covered in mud, bubbling sluggishly at the teenagers. His false beard fell off toward Madam Hooch, who didn't find it superb.A bat Scrimgeour brusquely convinced the Goblins of Gringotts Wizarding Bank to paint a rebellion of the death on the front door of their bank, Gringoots Wizarding Bank Bank. Bank. This drove the Goblins (but not the Goblin) so badly scrawled, so angry, so very very hideous that they revolted against wizards. But not all wizards. Just the wizard. The wizard with the balding beard and the horn-rimmed glasses and an enslaved character for a charity.

They rushed at the once-different inducer of anxiety, Tomato Hagrid Riddle, known as Mrs Voldemort Smith to the public. And they killed him with an ominous feeling. All according to plan.

But there was something Harry in all his wisdom could never have foreseen.

Standing in the wreckage of a fallen fifty Death Eaters…

it was… OLLIVANDER!