1000 Harry Potter M E M E S Mga Nobela at Kwento

I shrieked as two smaller versions of the armchair started to chase me. I didn’t know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of. I kept hacking at the chairs. Every hack caused them to multiple. Fucking hell. When everything started doubling, I felt like I was in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. This is how I’m going to die. I’m going to drown in my mind in a room of small armchairs trying to kill me.

Madelyn looks at me and I smile at her, making her blush. “So, what movie are we watching?” I ask taking the focus off of her. “Well, I think my mate needs to learn what it means to be a Gryffindor, don’t you?” Maeve asks. “Harry Potter it is! I’ll make the popcorn,” I say, showing Madelyn where to sit and grabbing a blanket off a chair to give to her. I don’t know if she’s still cold, but in case she is, I want to make sure she’s warm.

Hmaph. Puff…

Hmfph ! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Unread messages in the “Myōran Middle School Class of 2024 Parent Group Chat”: 99+ Mrs. Kimura sat frozen on the living room couch, her phone gripped like a time bomb. The glow from the screen flickered across her face as she scrolled through message after message with growing horror. “Takuto,” she called, her voice barely above a whisper, “this lady—‘CherryBlossomsDance’—says you built the Tokyo Stock Exchange out of LEGO... in kindergarten?”

Cassandre The shrill ringing of my phone pulls me from sleep like a slap. It’s still dark in the room, but the phone screen radiates like a nuclear alarm. I grunt, pull the blanket over my eyes, then, annoyed, sit up halfway to grab the phone. A flurry of notifications. Missed calls. Mentions. Group messages. Links. Screenshots. And that headline at the top of the homepage, framed in red like a terrorist alert: “ALEXANDRE LACROIX AND DANIEL ROZOV: A LOVERS' CLASH IN FRONT OF A PRIVATE RESTAURANT”

I melted into him. --- That night, a letter arrived. It was delivered by a raven—black, sleek, with a silver band around its leg. The letter was sealed with wax, stamped with Marcus's crest. My blood went cold. Damon read it aloud. His face went pale. "Lily. I know where you are. I know about Thorne. I know about the witch. Return to your pack within seven days, or I will burn Silvermoon to the ground. And I will kill everyone you love. Including your brother. Including your mate. You have seven days. Choose wisely."

Me three. ***

"Didn't you say you never want to see, talk or listen to anything that has to do with he-whose-name-must-not-be-spoken?" "Thank you for the Harry Potter reference, and yes I did say that." I could see her rolling her eyes, exactly the same shade as mine. "And no, I'm not feeling nostalgic. I just want to rip them to shreds and burn them crispy so I that I can forget that tomorrow is the 5th anniversary of the biggest mistake of my life! God, you have the worst taste in friends."

Michael added with genuine enthusiasm, as if it were the best idea of the night. “I think I’ll pass. Horror isn’t really my thing,” I said, trying to sound casual, as if admitting it didn’t give me away. “Don’t worry, Camimi. I’ll check under your bed,” Kevin replied, winking at me. «Gooood grief, Kevin and his winks.» “Very funny…” I said, laughing. “No, seriously. I’m an expert. Van Helsing is my middle name. Kevin Van Helsing Cooper, at your service,” he said, bowing dramatically.