Next part was Harry, out in the corridor, forcing Malfoy senior to take back the diary; him then forcing it into the hands of Dobby; Harry indicating to Dobby to open it and Dobby discovering he'd just been handed clothes by his master, thereby freeing him.
Malfoy, discovering what Harry had done, pulled his wand on him. About to curse Harry, by snarling out, "Avada―" and Dobby banishing his now old master down the corridor.
The memory then ended with Memory-Harry putting in an appearance.
"And there you have Lucy Malfoy in the process of attempting to curse an unarmed twelve year old boy with the Killing curse." His voice dropped into a full sarcastic snark. "What a naffing hero!" And returned back to what it was. "From that, I easily understand how his son turned out to be such a... doofus."
Real-Harry did not need to look into the stands to know Malfoy junior would be red with rage, but unable to act upon it as he wanted. His fear he just might lose his magic, no matter how slim or unlikely, stayed his hand and tongue.
"Now, a review of the year," continued Memory-Harry. "Dumbledore hires a man clearly incompetent and unqualified for the position as Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Even the Voldemort-possessed Quirrell was a better choice than that. The idiot teaches us nothing. Well, what he teaches us has nothing to do with the subject, at any rate. I don't think we really needed to know what hair products and teeth whitening potions the popinjay used.
"Filch's cat got petrified by, at that point, an unknown assailant. Because I'm one of the first on the scene, I immediately get the blame. "That then starts me being bullied by the majority of the school, including the passive-aggressive shit the teaching staff and the caretaker aimed at me, for the next eight months.
"A week later, Creevey is petrified while I have an ironclad alibi being laid up in the Infirmary under Pomfrey's care. The same ironclad alibi ignored by both students and staff less than two weeks later.
"Next it's discovered, even by me, that I'm a parselmouth. From that everyone immediately and erroneously assumes I'm evil. Refer back to Filch's cat.
"Finch-Fletchley is attacked and I'm blamed for it. Refer back to Colin Creevey and me simultaneously being in the Infirmary less than two weeks earlier.
"A half year break, Hermione and Clearwater are petrified while I'm down at the Quidditch pitch. This, once again, proves it couldn't have been me. However, thistime the populace of the castle finally figure that out for themselves. All the evidence was there conclusively proving I didn't do it, but it took the petrification of my best friend for them to finally take that bare moment needed to work out it wasn't me.
"Morons!
"Three weeks after that Ron and I force Fraudhart down into the entrance to the Chamber. "We get separated and I go on. I face, yet again, the spirit of Voldemort trying to come back to life. I battle a one thousand year old gi-normous basilisk in battle. And I save the life of Ginny Weasley.
"Fawkes helps the four of us back up into the school proper. Before we even get a chance to go see to our injuries in the Infirmary Dumbledore, McGonagall and Arthur and Molly Weasley begin to interrogate the shitout of us.
"After over an hour, Dumbledore finally states Ginnyneeds to visit the Infirmary. Mister and Missus Weasley leave with Ginny to go and do just that; and take Ron with them. In other words, Harry was bitten by a basilisk - which I had only just gotten through telling them about but, according to all the adults there, fuck him! He doesn't need to go to the Infirmary. Nor does the fraud, Lockhart, who managed to almost completely Obliviate himself all the way back to his young childhood.
"Still before I can finally get to the Infirmary, Lucy Malfoy turns up. I manage to trick the idiot into freeing his house elf. So, in return, he tries to hex/curse me with the Killing Curse. The schmuck gets smacked down by his now ex-house elf, in saving my life.
"That evening those who were petrified, including Mrs Norris, are unpetrified.
"It's now two weeks to go until the end of term. Dumbledore decides to cancel exams. Personally, if I was a fifth or seventh year supposedly about to sit my OWLs or NEWTs, I'd be ropeable. There was no notice he was going to do this. He gave no one a chance to disagree. He just did it. Talk about an abrogation of his responsibilities to the students!
"Finally, we're sent home for the summer. And that brings to a close second year.
"Oh, and just so you know, I never did get sent to the Infirmary to have Madam Pomfrey take a look at the basilisk bite. Obviously, Albus Dumbledore is that brilliant a wizard he never had to take even the apprenticeship for healing to be determined a fully qualified master healer. And, even then, didn't need to inspect the wound to declare me fit and healed.
"Albus Dumbledore, at the time, claimed himself to be my magical guardian, Madam Bones," said Memory-Harry, looking as if he was facing the VIP table in the stands. "That he knew I'd been injured by a bite that kills, and never did anything about it, is a crime. It's neglect of a child under your care. As Professor McGonagall is supposed to be my Head of House, the same charge could be levelled against her. The same charge could also be levelled against both of them for the professor-student relationship."
Up in the VIP section, Madam Bones muttered, "Already noted, Mister Potter."
Outside the champions' tent, but between it and the gate into the arena, Barty Crouch Junior, Polyjuiced as Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, was getting quite worried. As far as he was concerned, Potter was taking his own sweet time in getting his egg and being done with it. Now, he had to wait him out; just like everyone else was doing. His problem was, he was quickly running out of on-hand Polyjuice and he had no idea just what Harry was doing.
Moody's anti-poison potion flask, that he now used to carry around the Polyjuice potion, was too small to carry more than about ninety minutes worth. That time was rapidly approaching and he was almost out.
His problem: He couldn't leave before Potter did or it would look suspicious.
Back in the arena, while Real-Harry continued to lounge on the lounger while pretending to read a book, Memory-Harry was ready to move on.
"It's now another summer at Durzkaban - where I was worked harder than a house elf. When not forced to work I was locked into my room with bars on the window, fed insufficient food to feed a three year old through a cat-flap in the bottom of the door and... well... you get the idea. Vernon's sister, whom I unlovingly refer to as 'Marge the Barge', pays her somewhat annual visit.