Wait. Hang on. No, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all - he knew this door. He knew this corridor. This wasn’t some big mystery, he knew precisely what lay beyond, and he knew precisely how to open it too. He had walked past it five days a week for nearly seven years. Though... though he had only laid eyes on the contents of the Hall of Prophesy one time, when he was fifteen years old. Dread spiralled from his belly up to his throat, threatening to choke him with its intensity. Oh Merlin, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. No, no this wasn’t right! He had to -.