Harry Potter and the Knife of Hephaestus

"It was strange," Harry said to Hermione. "It was like she had something to hide, the way she got so worked up about me looking in her Pensieve."

"I'll bet she was hiding something," Ron said. "I think we should find out as much as we can about her."

Hermione refused to believe that Slayt was anything to worry about. "Honestly, Harry invaded her privacy! Would you like someone poking around at your memories?"

Harry flushed. "Well, it doesn't matter," Ron said determinedly. "I'm going to break into her office tonight. I'll use her Pensieve, and see what she's trying to hide."

Harry looked a little unsure of this plan. "I don't know, Ron. D'you really think Professor Slayt's a Death Eater?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

Harry's mouth set. "Then I'm going to help you."

Hermione looked uneasy, but, after a moment, she nodded reluctantly. "I suppose I'll go too then. It's not like I have much of a choice."

"Ron, watch your elbows!"

"Sorry!"

The voices came from nothing, an empty patch of air . That is, empty if you couldn't see Invisibility Cloaks. Underneath the cloak were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all fighting for space. The cloak, which had been so easy for three people to fit under back in their first year, was now rather cramped for three fifth years. Every so often, a toe, or an elbow would pop out of nowhere. But, somehow, they managed to make it to the Defense classroom and into Slayt's office without being caught.

"Finally!" Ron gasped, as they threw off the cloak. Hermione shushed him, and Harry pointed to the Pensieve.

"Look," he said. "It's over there." He raised an arm and pointed at the large bowl. Hermione stepped over to the countertop and lifted the bowl, bringing it back to where the other two were standing.

The three looked at each other for a moment, unsure as to what to do. Finally, Harry exhaled loudly. "Well," he said, "shall we do it, then?" The words broke the silence. Ron nodded firmly, Hermione less so. But, as one, they each stuck a single finger into the bowl.

December 28th, 1973
**********

A group of people was standing by a giant fire, suspended over a stone slab. Through the flames, Harry could just make out a shape, although he couldn't tell what it was. The two girls closest to where Harry, Hermione, and Ron were standing looked about thirteen. One of them was Professor Slayt, younger.

Hermione gripped his arm. "Harry---" she said, hesitatingly, not looking at him, but rather, at the other girl, the one who wasn't Slayt. "Isn't that--- your mother?"

"Yeah," Harry said, not taking his eyes off her. Ron watched, openmouthed.

Slayt stared into the flames. "Gods, I don't know," she whispered. "Armina--- I'm going to---" She broke off, and stared into the fire.

Harry's mother rubbed her eyes, They were red and wet; she had been crying. Hesitantly, Slayt raised a hand, then put it down.

Lily Evans sniffed, turned to Slayt, and said, "You're Armina's sister, Damia?"

Slayt stared straight ahead. "Yes."

Lily looked uncomfortable. "I know Armina and you kind of... live in different worlds at school--"

"You could say that," Slayt sneered. Lily didn't seem put off in the slightest. Rather, she looked determined to be nice to Damia.

"I know I never really talked to you before, but Armina really loves you.... she talks about you all the time..."

"Armina is dead, Lily," Slayt said harshly, and Lily winced. "She is gone. She does not talk about me any more."

"I know she's gone," Lily said softly. "It doesn't mean I believe it."

Slayt turned to her. "Armina used to say the exact same thing," she said, her voice equally soft. The two girls stared at each other for a moment, then both turned back to the flames, watching them in a comfortable, if sad, silence.

"Who's Armina?" asked Ron, not taking his eyes off Slayt.

"I think she was Professor Slayt's twin sister," Harry replied, glancing away from his mother for a moment. "They looked absolutely nothing alike, though. And---" he was cut off as the world around him blurred, and slowly faded into a new memory.

February 9th, 1975
**********

Lily was sitting in History of Magic; at the desk next to her sat Slayt. Both girls looked bored to tears. After a moment, Lily reached over and poked Slayt in the arm.

"Hey, Damia, how'd you like your birthday gift?"

Slayt looked uncomfortable. "It was nice, Lily, it really was. Thanks again, I know I'll use it a lot."

"You've got no idea what they are, do you."

"Not a clue." Slayt cracked a slight smile, and Lily laughed softly.

"They're roller skates, Mia! And Muggle clothes! You have to come over to my house sometime this summer, we'll go out to a club, and I'll teach you to dance..."

Slayt had been smiling slightly throughout this, but, when Lily mentioned going to her house, Slayt's face fell. "I don't think my father would let me, Lily. He's very strict about that sort of thing."

"He doesn't like Muggle culture, does he."

"Never let it be said Damien Slayt is anything but a bigot." She snorted. "The way he acts is the disgrace to the family name, not my association with Muggle-borns. No decent Slayt is prejudiced like that; our family has always respected magic, whoever it appears in. He might as well be a Malfoy." Both girls shuddered, as the memory again faded away.

October 7th, 1976
**********

The world came back into focus in what the trio recognized as the Hogwarts library, empty. Except for a table in the back of the room, where seven people were sitting. Harry recognized his mother and father, arms slung over each other's shoulders, sitting by Sirius, Lupin (who had his arm around a pretty girl with dark brown curls they didn't know), Slayt, and, much to the dismay of the three friends, Pettigrew.

"Sirius, where's Jeanette?" James Potter asked his friend.

Sirius looked disgruntled. "Off with that Ravenclaw seventh year. What does she see in him?"

"The fact that heÂ’s not you?" Slayt said innocently, and the others roared with laughter.

"Funny, Damia," Sirius said acidly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I thought so."

"Speaking of significant others not in attendance," the unknown girl, who was in Ravenclaw colors, piped up. "Damia, where's the object of your affections?"

"Hospital wing, Roxanne," Slayt said. "Someone---" she shot a nasty glance at Sirius--- "thought it would be funny to time-transfigure his pillow into a rock. He was sleeping with it on top of his head." The others snickered, until she shot them the same glance Sirius had gotten.

"Oh, lighten up," James said, rolling his eyes and looking irritated. "You have no sense of humor."

"Don't say that about my best friend!" Lily cried, poking James in the ribs and laughing. "You didn't know her when she really did have no sense of humor. Now, she actually jokes! And laughs!"

"I can also smile," Slayt added.

Hermione turned away from the memory conversation. "Did you know Professor Slayt was your mum's best friend?" Harry shook his head mutely.

Ron watched the former generation laugh and talk, with a small smile on his face. "I didn't know Professor Slayt had a sense of humor."

Harry turned back to watch his parents and their friends. Only now there were two Slayts. One was sixteen, sitting and laughing with her friends. The other was thirty-five and furious. She stood over them, not making a sound, as the three Gryffindors looked at each other in terror. With a quick snap of her fingers, all four emerged into the real world once again.

December 5th, 1994
**********

Professor Slayt's face was pale, and her eyes glittered with fury. "Granger, Weasley, and---" she growled--- "Potter. I punished you once for doing this, and not only do you come back and do it again, with friends, but you do it in the very same day." Her voice was tight, controlled, and very, very dangerous.

She looked them over. "If you will insist on spending your free time prying into the past of teachers, I think you have too much free time. Detention. For three weeks. Every night. Separately." They all winced. "And fifty points from Gryffindor." She whisked the Pensieve away, and set it in a cabinet, closing and locking the door. Harry noticed she was in her nightdress, and her feet were bare.

She turned and looked back at them. "I cannot tell you what a foolish thing to do that was. Now get out of my sight before I decide to make it three month's detention and a hundred points."

They ran.

Damia collapsed into her armchair in her room, her head in her hands. "Oh, heavens above," she whispered. "Oh, all things of power.... I know what they were looking at..." She lifted her head. "Lily? Armina? Are you listening to me? Lily, I'll try to be good to your son, you know I will, but it's so hard... you two are still open wounds for me..."

She trailed off as Icicle jumped into her lap, purring loudly. She set a hand on the cat's head, stroking lightly. Icicle meowed. "Yes," Damia said. "I know. I try. But they just....” She made a noise of complete frustration and let an angry tear trickle down her cheek. Icicle meowed again, and Damia looked at the cat in astonishment. "No! It's two in the morning! And anyway, it's silly." The cat looked at her. "I'm not crying," Damia sniffed elegantly, rubbing her cheek. She looked at the ceiling. "Why is it, that here or not, they can still both make me completely lose any speck of image or reputation I may have had?"

A knock on the door sounded, startling her. Why on Earth was there someone there at two in the morning? A sharp voice sounded from the other side of the door, answering her question.

"Damia? Are you awake?"

She sighed. "Yes, Severus. Come in."

He pushed open the door and strode into the room. He was fully dressed, something Damia found amusing, for some reason. He closed the door behind him and sat down.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry at all. "Something woke me up and told me to get dressed and come see you. I don't know what, but I was not inclined to ignore it."

"Infernal cat," Damia muttered, as Icicle began to wash herself, a little too innocently.

"Did something happen?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair and eyeing both Damia and Icicle.

Damia let out a breath. "Potter, Granger, and Weasley broke into my office and looked at my Pensieve." He raised an eyebrow. "It brought up far too many memories. And if you ask me whether I want to talk about it, you will regret it."

He stood up. "Damia, I am a teacher, not a therapist. I do not particularly care whether you want to talk or not, and, if you do, I suggest you find another person."

She sneered. "Ah, such a caring member of the staff. I'm sure the children just flock to you to tell you their woes."

He said, "If it weren't so early, and you had not just been subjected to having the past drug up and kicked about, I would be appalled at that statement. As it is, I know you are not at your mental best, and shall forgive you. I'll see you in the morning, then, Damia." She watched lazily as he swept out of the room, and then looked down at the cat in her lap.

"I hope you're happy," she said to her. "You woke him up, dragged him in here, and made us talk. And a nasty conversation it was." Icicle shrugged, and Damia rolled her eyes. "Cats." She pushed Icicle off her lap and stood, ready to go back to bed.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione tumbled through the portrait hole, winding up in a tangle of arms and legs on the floor. Harry was grateful that the common room was empty, and there was no one there to see them. Untangling themselves (Ron's face rather red), all three stood up, and looked at each other. Harry suddenly felt very tired.

"Let's go see Hagrid in the morning," he said dully. "We'll talk about it then." He turned away, not quite looking at them. "But for now," he finished, "I'm tired." Ignoring the gazes he could feel on his back, he walked up the stairs to his dormitory. Right now, all he wanted was sleep. Answers could wait until morning.

But they couldn't. Or, more accurately, wouldn't. Professor Slayt's secondhand memories ran through Harry's head like an endless film. He saw his father teasing his mother, and her laughing. He saw Professor Slayt needling a grumpy Sirius, as everyone else sat and laughed.

She was such a nice person back then, he thought. Why is she so cold now? And, with another thought, he sat straight up in his bed. And she was such close friends with my mum--- she could tell me about her. I know plenty about my dad, but no one's ever told me about my mum. Maybe she has things that used to belong to her... things that I could have...

It was a long time before Harry could fall asleep that night.