Intersections

Chapter 21: Memories

With speed he didn't know he possessed, Harry hurried to change into some decent clothing as Dumbledore approached the front door. Harry grabbed Wormtail's wand, shoving the other two into his jeans pockets, and raced past an irritable, drowsy Uncle Vernon as the doorbell rang for the second time.

"Who is it?" Uncle Vernon barked, his face an ugly red color. "It is two in the bloody morning!"

Harry ignored him and wrenched open the door, his heart racing with excitement. "Headmaster Dumbledore," he breathed. "Did you get my letter?"

Dumbledore looked back at Harry with an expression of surprise. "Harry," he murmured, "if I could come in...?"

Harry lowered Wormtail's wand and stepped aside, letting Dumbledore come in as he shut the door against a cold breeze that was trying to blow its way into the house.

"Boy! What do you think you're doing, letting strangers into my home!" Uncle Vernon blustered, though he stayed at the top of the stairs, a good six feet from Dumbledore's reach. He yelped and ducked as Fawkes flew down from Harry's bedroom in a blur of red and gold, landing on Dumbledore's shoulder with a satisfied trill. Dumbledore smiled and stroked Fawkes gently.

"I apologize for the late hour, Mr. Dursley," the wizard said, inclining his head in apology. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I should have warned you that I was coming."

"Damn right you should have," Uncle Vernon hissed angrily, his gaze darting nervously to Fawkes.

"I am sorry to disturb you," Dumbledore continued calmly, as if he hadn't heard Uncle Vernon at all. "I will not stay long. I only came to retrieve Harry. You received my message, I trust?" he asked, turning to Harry with a piercing gaze.

"Yes, sir. Did you receive mine?" asked Harry anxiously.

"That I did, dear boy. We will discuss it later, but rest assured...your fears are unfounded. Do you need anything from your room before we go?"

"Just my coat," answered Harry, puzzling over Dumbledore's words. Did that mean that Sirius, Remus, and Snape weren't traitors then? Or that Dumbledore had taken care of them?

"Run upstairs and fetch it, then, and we shall be off. Mr. Dursley, a word, please."

Harry couldn't help but smirk as Uncle Vernon's face paled. He bounded up to his room and grabbed his coat, looking around for anything he may have forgotten. Fawkes' golden tail feather caught his eye, and Harry gently placed it into his coat pocket with a small smile.

Fawkes was gone when Harry stepped out of his room. Dumbledore was speaking quietly to a surprisingly mute Uncle Vernon at the foot of the stairs. "...and I thank you for taking him in on such short notice. Harry will need to return here for two weeks at some point in the year so that the protections may be renewed...ah, Harry, there you are. Are you ready?"

"There are protections on this house?" he asked curiously, as he wrapped Dudley's old, oversized coat around himself. His better one was still at the Burrow. "What do they have to do with me?"

"I will explain them in further detail later," Dumbledore replied. He held up a hand to stave off Harry's questions. "For now, we must go. It was a pleasure speaking to you, Mr. Dursley, and once again, I apologize for the late intrusion. Harry?" He opened the door and beckoned Harry outside.

"Er - good bye then, Uncle Vernon," Harry said quickly, neither expecting nor receiving a reply, and he stepped outside, shivering against the icy wind.

Dumbledore gently placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. Relief shone clearly in his piercing blue eyes. "Harry, my dear boy. It is so good to see that you are all right. Have you Apparated before?"

"Yes, sir."

"Take my arm and hold on tight, then," Dumbledore instructed. Harry complied, squeezing his eyes shut against the choking pressure surrounding him. When he opened his eyes, gasping, he was standing in front of a house that seemed to be expanding wider and wider with every passing minute, pushing its neighbors to either side with violent shakes.

"Inside, Harry, quickly now," said Dumbledore, steering Harry to the front door. It had a knocker in the twisted shape of a serpent, but no visible doorknob. Dumbledore placed his wand against it, and Harry heard the distinct click of a lock as the door swung inward with a creak to reveal nothing but pitch-black darkness. Harry hesitated, glancing at Dumbledore uncertainly, and Dumbledore nodded, placing a gentle pressure on Harry's shoulder. Together, they entered the oppressive darkness, and Harry glimpsed a long row of torches that flared with light before something came flying at him from the end of the hallway, crashing into him with such force that Harry nearly fell over.

"Harry," Hermione breathed into his shoulder. "Harry, it's really you. You're all right."

"Hermione," he gasped past the bushy brown hair enveloping his face. "I can't breathe."

"Oh - I'm sorry -" Hermione stepped back, looking slightly nervous, and dropped her hands to her sides. Harry met her eyes, and a smile broke out onto his face. It seemed that Voldemort hadn't got to her after all.

Hermione smiled back at him, her eyes shining with relief. She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she had a chance, two men emerged from behind her and joined the party in the hallway.

"Harry," said Sirius, his tone half-disbelieving. He made to reach for Harry, but Harry stiffened and stepped back, accidentally jostling Professor Dumbledore behind him. Sirius halted, anguish flashing across his features. "Harry...it's me. Sirius."

Harry's blood roared in his ears. He wanted to believe that Sirius wasn't a traitor, but he couldn't help but remember the burning of the Firewhisky as it went down his throat. His voice caught and he let out a strangled whimper, backing away as Remus took a step forward. "Get away from me," he whispered in a rush. "Don't come any closer."

"Harry..." Remus began.

Harry shook his head. "Don't!" His shout echoed loudly throughout the hallway; everyone winced.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Perhaps it would be better if Miss Granger took Harry upstairs and explained what has occurred during his absence," he said, his voice gentle.

Hermione glanced up at Dumbledore and nodded slowly. "Harry, come on," she said quietly. Harry swallowed, avoiding Remus and Sirius' gazes as he followed her down the hallway and up a long, winding staircase. "My room's on the first floor," she said, passing a landing that housed three rooms with closed doors. "It's the door closest to the staircase."

Harry bit down impatiently on the half-formed questions threatening to spill out of his mouth. "Where are we?" he finally blurted out, as they reached the second landing.

Hermione sighed and tapped the middle door of the landing with her wand with a whispered "Alohomora." It opened with a loud creak. "We're in Grimmauld Place," she told him, as she walked into the room and sat down on one of the twin beds. A cloud of dust went up, making her cough and wrinkle her nose. "It's Sirius' old house. Oh, look!" She pointed to the rather battered suitcase lying at the foot of the opposite bed. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley must have brought your things over."

Harry frowned and stared at her. "What's going on?" he asked. "Why aren't we at the Burrow?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked away. "I should start from the beginning," she said slowly, taking a deep breath. "The Death Eaters had a plan. They used Polyjuice Potion - which turns you into someone else - to disguise themselves as Sirius and Remus and take you to Voldemort. After they kidnapped you, they planted..." Hermione's voice broke slightly, and she continued flatly, "They planted an impersonator in your place using Polyjuice Potion, so that no one would suspect that you were missing."

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes," said Hermione, nodding tightly. "I didn't know that it wasn't you. I suspected...I knew that you were acting strangely, but I didn't know why. All of the adults knew, though. Mrs. Weasley, and Sirius, and Remus...they all knew, but they didn't tell me."

"They knew I'd been kidnapped?" Harry asked in shock. He'd thought this whole time that the adults hadn't known he was missing. "Why didn't they come and get me earlier then?" Why didn't they save me from Voldemort?

Hermione bit her lip. "They didn't know where you were," she replied. "And Sirius said that they didn't find out you'd been kidnapped until a day after it happened."

For some reason, this didn't make Harry feel any better.

Hermione proceeded to tell Harry how the Death Eaters attacked the Burrow on Saturday, but the Order, who already knew about their plans, was prepared to fight. "Remus sent me here during the battle," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Sirius was already here. He left the Burrow early to prepare this place as the new Order headquarters. He said he couldn't stand seeing someone posing as his godson..." Hermione fixed her eyes on a point past Harry's shoulder as she shivered. "Anyway, the Death Eater who was impersonating you is gone now. The Ministry took care of him." She turned her gaze back to Harry. "Are - are you all right, then?"

Harry nodded slightly, pushing back the memories of his abduction and the events that had followed. "I'm fine."

Hermione frowned at him rather doubtfully.

Harry attempted to smile at her. "I'm fine," he repeated, looking down at the suitcase that lay near his feet. "I'd better start to unpack. I'll see you in the morning."

Hermione stood up, an odd longing on her face. "Good night," she said quietly. The door shut behind her with a soft click.

Harry knelt down on the floor and unzipped the suitcase, his heart swelling as he picked up the wand waiting for him on top of a pile of clothing. The holly length of wood thrummed slightly as he flicked it in the air and muttered, "Lumos," emanating a soft glow that made the dank, dark room seem a little warmer. Harry rifled through the clothing and pulled out a pair of pajamas, his hand brushing against something both soft and hard underneath them. Slowly, he picked up a familiar leather-bound book, and he reverently flipped open the cover. His parents beamed back at him, dressed in all of their wedding finery, and his eyes blurred slightly as he drank in the sight. He never thought he'd see this photo album again.

The adrenaline of the night slowly drained out of him as he continued to unpack. He climbed into bed and gently set the photo album on the nearby bed stand, brushing off the dust that clung to it spiders to a web, and drifted off to sleep staring at his parents' radiant smiles.

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"It's so good to see you back, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said the next morning, setting down a plate of delicious-smelling eggs and toast in front of him. She smiled warmly while giving him a critical once-over with her eyes. "Eat up, dear. Your aunt and uncle haven't fed you enough."

Harry flushed and thanked her as he began to dig into his breakfast, uncomfortably aware of Remus and Sirius' presence at the far end of the table. They had their heads bent over the wizarding newspaper, but Sirius kept turning his head to glance at Harry when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Although Harry now knew that the two men weren't traitors, he still found it hard to trust them.

Hermione entered the kitchen, tying back her hair into a plait. "Good morning," she greeted, taking a plate of toast and sitting down across from Harry. She glanced toward the end of the table. "Are we having lessons today?"

Remus cleared his throat. "Dumbledore will be coming in an hour," he said to no one in particular. "He wants to talk to Harry, but we can all be there."

Harry's heart lifted slightly. He had quite a few questions for Dumbledore. He still didn't know whether Snape was a traitor, for one, and he wanted to know more about the protections on Privet Drive.

"In the meantime," Remus continued, nodding toward Mrs. Weasley, "I thought it'd be a good idea for all of us to clean the drawing room upstairs. We can teach Harry and Hermione about magical creatures while we do so."

Mrs. Weasley beamed as excitement flickered across Hermione's face. Harry could not think of anything less exciting than cleaning a house - even a magical house - but he did not say so. He shrugged, ignoring Sirius' penetrating stare, and after breakfast, he reluctantly followed the group onto the first landing.

"Now, from what I know, there are doxies in the curtains," said Mrs. Weasley, as Harry peered through the large ornate windows that overlooked the abandoned street in front of the house. "And the cabinets are filled to the brim with Dark objects - we'll have to be careful when handling those..."

A faint rattling caught Harry's ear. He turned his head curiously and found that the top drawer of the writing desk was shaking a slightly. Shooting a furtive glance at the others, who appeared to be donning masks and grabbing bright green spray cans from Mrs. Weasley, he drew his wand and tapped the drawer with it. The rattling became more insistent, and Harry stepped back, frowning. Then, on impulse, with his head and heart screaming at him that he shouldn't, he reached out a hand and pulled open the drawer.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then cold, high-pitched laughter rang through the air, and Harry dropped his wand in terror as scarlet-slitted pupils burned into his eyes and a thin, lipless mouth curved upward. "You thought you could escape me, Harry?" asked Voldemort, lifting his wand with long, thin fingers. "I will make you pay, and by the end, you will be begging for mercy -"

Someone forcefully knocked Harry toward the ground, and Voldemort's pale form swirled and re-formed into a dark, towering, hooded figure whose very presence chilled Harry to the bone. Harry heard a distant screaming, and he blindly groped for his wand as the room was plunged into darkness.

"No...no...please not H--"

A bright, blinding orb flashed across his vision. Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the brilliance of it. Seconds later, he felt himself being pulled up roughly, and he opened his eyes to find himself face to face with a very angry Remus Lupin.

"What were you thinking, Harry?" asked Remus furiously. Sirius, who had been on the floor next to Harry, silently handed Harry his wand; Harry's fingers curled around it as his face burned with shame.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, unable to meet Remus' eyes. "Wh-what was that?"

Remus sent him a hard glare, and then he seemed to deflate with a sigh. "That was a boggart," he explained. "It's a magical creature that takes the form of your worst fear - such as Voldemort, in your case, or a full moon, in mine. The best way to get rid of it is laughter - to turn your fear into something comical. However, given the situation, I used a more advanced spell called the Essence Charm - I sent laughter at it as a form of magical energy. Do not do that again, Harry," he said firmly, and something in his tone made Harry look up. "Do not open something without letting us know. There could have been something much more dangerous inside of that drawer, do you understand?"

Harry nodded, his face still flushed with shame.

"Remus?" called Hermione hesitantly from where she was standing at the doorway. "What was that second - thing - that the boggart turned into?"

"A Dementor," Sirius replied hoarsely. "One of the guards of Azkaban. My worst fear."

A heavy silence descended upon the living room. Harry stared at the blackened carpet, his heart clenched with guilt. A hand landed on his shoulder suddenly and he jumped, looking up into Sirius' concerned face. "Are you all right?" asked Sirius.

Harry nodded, trying to avert his gaze. "So...this is your house," he said, the words clumsily rolling off his tongue.

Sirius' eyes darkened. "My mum's house, yes. Look, over there." He pointed past Harry's shoulder, and Harry twisted around, catching sight of a large, worn tapestry covering the entire wall. "That's the Black family tree. I expect dear old mum blasted me off of it. Let me check." He made his way to the tapestry, and Harry followed him curiously, noting the large, imposing TOJOURS PUR sewn across the top. "'Always Pure,'" Sirius explained with obvious disgust. Oh, yes," he sighed, running his finger along a charred hole towards the bottom of the tapestry. "She blasted me off of it."

"Why did she do that?" asked Harry, as he traced Sirius' genealogy with his index finger. "Regulus," he murmured. "You had a brother?"

"Mum hated me when I stopped believing in her pureblood ideals," Sirius answered. "Those are the ideals Voldemort supports - that magical blood is superior to non-magical blood, that pure-blood wizards are better than Muggle-borns. It's all rubbish. Mum was never a Death Eater, though; Voldemort came after her time, and he wasn't high-class enough for her. My little brother Regulus, however," and his tone became considerably colder here, "signed up for the Death Eaters as soon as he was able. He got killed when he tried to back out. Probably found out that the tasks his master set him weren't all fun and games as he expected."

"I'm - sorry," said Harry awkwardly.

Sirius waved a hand, continuing to trace along the lines of the family tree. "Cousin Bellatrix," he said, snorting. "She's insane. She's in Azkaban now, and the world is better off for it. Narcissa is her sister; her son, Draco, goes to Hogwarts."

"Draco Malfoy," Harry recalled. "Ron's mentioned him."

Sirius nodded. "The Weasleys don't get along with the Malfoys at all. Can't say I blame them. The Malfoys - Lucius Malfoy, at the least, is Voldemort's right-hand man, and his son Draco is full of that pureblood philosophy, or so I'm told. Narcissa was always a snob, even when we were children." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The only good person to come out of that family was Andromeda." He pointed to the charred hole in between Bellatrix and Narcissa's elegantly scripted names. "She was always my favorite cousin. She married a Muggle-born named Ted Tonks after she finished Hogwarts. The family wasn't too pleased about that."

"Who was that?" asked Harry, pointing to a charred hole in between the names of Sirius' and Andromeda's parents.

"That would be Uncle Alphard," said Sirius with a grin. "He gave me money for a flat after I finished at Hogwarts, since I'd already run away to live with the Potters by then. He also left me some money in his will, which probably made Mum very angry. I was, as she put it, a 'disgrace to the Black name.' My parents disowned me when I ran away." Sirius ran a hand through his hair with a bitter sigh and turned to the adjacent wall. "Alohomora," he muttered, tapping his wand against one of the large cabinets along the wall; the double glass doors unlocked with a squeaky click. "Let's sort through the rubbish here," said Sirius, indicating the many trinkets and vials located on the filthy wooden shelves. "Be careful - I'm sure there are plenty of nasty traps."

Harry picked up a vial of blood-red liquid, grimacing at the gritty dust that attached to his fingertips. "What is this?"

Sirius glanced at it and made a face. "I don't know. Throw it out."

"How?"

Sirius plucked the vial from Harry's fingers and considered it carefully. "Evanesco," he said slowly. Nothing happened. "Oh, of course," he muttered. "Here -" He conjured a large wooden box and set it down on the carpet. "Put the rubbish in there for now." Reaching into the cabinet, he pulled out two silver goblets imprinted with an elaborate crest along with a piece of green velvet cloth that had seen better days. He threw all the items into the box, coughing slightly as dust went up his nose. Behind him, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Remus began to spray the curtains with the bright green cans Harry had seen earlier.

Harry reached into the cabinet and pulled out a heavy gold locket with the letter "S" laid upon it with glittering green stones. Remembering Remus' warning, he waited until Sirius had moved a few tarnished brooches into the box before clearing his throat. "Er, Sirius?" Sirius whipped around, startled. "Could you open this for me?"

Sirius frowned as he examined the locket. "Alohomora," he muttered, tapping it with his wand. The locket remained closed. Sirius sighed and tried to pry it open with his fingers, shaking his head in frustration. "Just another useless trinket," he told Harry. "Toss it."

Harry shrugged and started to put it in the box, but a loud croaking sobbing came from around the corner, and something hurled itself toward Harry's ankles. Harry stumbled and tripped, falling hard on the carpet, as a tiny, repulsive creature began to pull at the locket that he clutched in his hands.

"You shall not take Master Regulus' locket, oh no, oh no! Kreacher is a bad house-elf, Master Regulus' locket must be kept safe, Kreacher will not fail Master Regulus!"

"Kreacher!" Sirius roared. The spraying of the curtains stopped abruptly as the others turned toward the source of the commotion. "Kreacher, get off of him! Now!"

The creature stared up at Sirius with the utmost loathing and clambered off of Harry, bowing so low that its bulbous nose and white tufts of hair touched the floor. "Kreacher must listen to Master, yes, yes," he muttered, "but Kreacher will not fail Master Regulus, he will never fail...filthy half-blood touching Master Regulus' locket, oh yes..."

"Kreacher, take the box right and get rid of the items in it," Sirius ordered tightly. "Don't even think about stealing anything from it. The items are to be thrown out of this house."

"Yes, Master," Kreacher muttered, still sending Sirius a look of utter loathing, and he snapped his fingers and shuffled out of the room, the box hovering behind him.

Sirius let out a breath of frustration. "That was my house-elf," he explained, turning back to Harry. "House-elves are like servants in the magical world. They're bound to specific families - usually the old pure-blood families. Kreacher's lived in this house his whole life. He's still devoted to my mum, and clearly to my brother, though they're both dead." Sirius examined the locket again, curiously. "S for Slytherin, I expect," he said, drawing back his fingers as if the trinket burned him. "We won't have any use for that." He smirked. "Maybe we should give it to Snape."

Harry's eyes widened at the mention of Snape, and he debated whether or not he should tell Sirius about Snape's betrayal. Dumbledore had said that Harry had nothing to worry about...perhaps, like with Sirius and Remus, it hadn't really been Snape who was at the graveyard, but a Death Eater in disguise, meant to trick and confuse Harry. With a shrug, Harry tossed the locket into another wooden box Sirius had conjured and continued to help Sirius pluck items out of the cabinet. Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Remus resumed their spraying.

An hour later, they trudged downstairs to the large basement that served as a kitchen, awaiting Dumbledore's arrival. Mrs. Weasley taught Harry and Hermione a Cleaning Charm - Scourgify - in order to rid them of the dust and grime from the drawing room, and shortly afterward, the Floo roared to life, and Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace, using one hand to brush ash off of his brightly colored robes.

"Good morning," he said, withdrawing something from inside his robes. It looked like a large basin with carvings along the side, and the top of it was covered with a heavy black cloth. "This is a Pensieve," he explained to the two teenagers in the room. "It stores thoughts and memories. I often use it to look for patterns and links that I may have missed."

"What do you mean by thoughts and memories, sir?" Hermione interrupted. "Do you mean that you can - you can take memories out of your mind?" she asked in disbelief.

"That is precisely what I mean, Miss Granger," replied Dumbledore. "Though, a faint shadow of the thought will always exist in your head. You will know that an event occurred in your memory, but the emotions and feelings associated with it - as well as the details of the memory - will be extracted."

"What are we going to use the Pensieve for, sir?" asked Harry excitedly. He would love to get rid of the memories of Voldemort and torture.

Dumbledore sent Harry a penetrating glance. "We are going to use it on you, Harry, to obtain an account of what happened during your abduction. I must warn you, however - we will need to put the memories back into you after viewing them." He held up a hand as both Harry and Sirius opened their mouths to protest. "It will be very painful and very difficult, but you will be a better person because of it. When you remove those experiences, you remove a part of your own character, which can lead you down a dangerous path similar to Voldemort."

Harry's heart dropped, but he knew he had no choice in the matter. "Then - how do we extract my memories, sir?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Do you remember what Professor Snape taught you about Occlumency, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Take out your wand and place it to your temple. Visualize whatever barriers you have formed in your mind for Occlumency, and then imagine a hole in those barriers - a path, leading directly to your wand. Focus on siphoning your memories into that pathway, into the wand, until you have finished. Close off the pathway, re-form your barriers, and remove your wand from your temple. Your thoughts will appear as a silvery strand which you then place into the Pensieve." Dumbledore lifted the cover of the Pensieve. Silvery-white liquid thoughts shone brightly from within the basin. "Are you ready?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry tried not to let his fear show on his face as he nodded. Everyone was staring at him, and he tried to ignore the prickling of his skin as he closed his eyes. His arm felt like a dead weight, and it shook as he lifted it to place his wand at his temple.

Are you ready to die, Harry?...BEEP...drop the wand, Potter, and the Muggle won't get hurt...serve me...willingly...beg for it, Harry... The thoughts and memories he'd been pushing back for days came crowding to the surface, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he struggled to maintain control of them. He was helpless and tied up and gagged and Snape wasn't going to save him and he was lying in the cell, being dragged down a stone hallway...the wind was blowing his fringe into his face as he struggled through town and then he was crying, sobbing in his bedroom at Privet Drive - Harry wrenched himself away and forcefully walled in the thoughts in with concrete barriers, and then, gritting his teeth, began to carve a hole in the wall just as Dumbledore instructed.

His arm was trembling. Gripping his wand more tightly, his fingers slick with sweat, he concentrated on the smoky stream of memories and slowly willed them toward the hole in the barrier. Fragments of memories passed by, and he tried not to hear or see or feel them they were sucked in by the bright red and gold glow that signified the tip of his wand. He could see the veil of smoke thinning...he was almost done....finally, finally, there were no more thoughts left, and he hastily blocked off the hole in his barriers. He was done...

Harry opened his eyes. To his amazement, a thick, glowing strand of silver liquid-gas was hanging from his wand. Cold sweat ran down his back as he touched the strand to the Pensieve and watched it meld with the rest of the shining contents. His heart pounded in his ears, but he felt strangely detached and calm. "Now what, sir?" he asked Dumbledore, his voice sounding dull and flat to his own ears.

"Now," said Dumbledore, glancing at the party assembled at the table, "we go in."

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"Crucio!"

Hermione gasped in horror as she watched Harry fall to the ground, screaming in agony. Next to her, Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her eyes, while Remus' face drained of color and Sirius clenched his fists at his sides. Dumbledore's expression was one of muted pain, and Harry himself looked as if he were about to be sick. His memory-self was now struggling to his knees, rearing back, terrified, from the head of Voldemort's giant snake, and - hissing? Mrs. Weasley gave a little gasp, and then flinched as Harry was hit once more with the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione wished she could block out the noise, but her arms felt paralyzed; she could do nothing but stand and listen.

In the memory, a Death Eater stepped forward, and Hermione was startled to recognize the low, sneering tone of Professor Snape, who tutored Harry in Occlumency. Sirius let out a growl of rage as Snape presented Voldemort with an offer of Harry's servitude rather than death, trembling as a Death Eater dragged Harry up a long and winding staircase and pushed him into a room with flickering shadows. "Malfoy..." Sirius hissed hatefully, and then he roared in fury as a fat, balding man emerged from the shadows. "Wormtail!"

"Sirius," Remus said sharply, attempting to glare at the man. Instead his expression became more anguished as Voldemort taunted Harry, forcing him to his knees. They watched as Harry was subjected to the Imperius Curse and Cruciatus Curse successively, each time refusing to give into Voldemort's sick demands.

"If you are obedient enough, I may even spare the life of your Mudblood girl, Hermione..."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she took in the horror and shock on memory-Harry's face. She chanced another glance at the present Harry and found that he was flinching violently as he watched himself being dragged back to the cell.

And now memory-Harry was knocking over Wormtail and running, escaping...blackness hit the scene for a moment, and a kindly old man with a weathered face was telling Harry to eat, taking him through a small town - Little Hangleton - and to the pub...irritation splayed across Harry's face as the people in the pub gave him pitying glances...and the anger turned into horror as the old man tried to kill him in the telephone booth...he ducked frantically as glass sprinkled above his head, confusion and horror flashing in his expression as he realized the man was cursed...Death Eaters, invisible Death Eaters had the old man by the neck...

"Malfoy again," said Sirius furiously.

Memory-Harry whirled around in a burst of adrenaline - "Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Stupefy!" And he dropped to the ground, gathering the wands that lay strewn around him...

Harry was in the hospital now, crumpled in a chair and grasping his arm, letting out a cry of pain as he clutched his forehead...The old man - Frank Bryce - was being wheeled down a corridor...a mother and her child bought him lunch "how many times have I told you not to run off!"...and then he was sitting in Frank Bryce's room, guilt tearing him apart as he apologized for his condition...and a loud beep penetrated his consciousness and he stared uncomprehendingly for a moment before shaking his head in denial....

Mrs. Weasley sniffed loudly as the scene shifted.

Harry was dully looking out of a car window, passing a row of identical houses and trudging back up to his bedroom in Surrey. There was a phoenix, Fawkes, and a note from Dumbledore, and Harry was shaking, his face in a pillow...

"I think that is enough," Dumbledore said quietly. "Let us remove ourselves."

Hermione closed her eyes and forcibly pulled herself out of the Pensieve, feeling the world spin under her feet as she attempted to regain her ground. She sank down into a hard wooden chair, taking stock of everyone around her. Remus' face was still drained of color, while Sirius' was the opposite, was suffused with a terrible rage so red that Hermione feared he might explode. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were red and shining with unshed tears, while Dumbledore was gazing at Harry with equal parts grief and sorrow.

Harry himself had a deadened look in his eyes. Hermione felt her heart break at his expression, and without thinking, she reached for his hand, which felt like ice against her palm. Harry's eyes flickered. He jerked away, startled, and stumbled into Sirius, who steadied him by the shoulder.

"Now you've seen them," said Harry tonelessly. "Are you going to put them back in?"

"Soon," Dumbledore answered, his voice gentle, "but not right away. Do you still have the wands, Harry, from the Death Eaters?"

Harry nodded robotically. "They're upstairs in my room. Should I go and fetch them, sir?"

"That would be excellent, dear boy. Remus, Sirius, do you mind accompanying him? We shall wait in the meantime."

Sirius nodded jerkily and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, leading him up the stairs. Remus followed. Hermione watched them go, tears filling her eyes as she observed Harry's mechanical gait.

"That poor boy," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice shaking. A tear trickled down her cheek.

Dumbledore looked away silently, his expression pained.

They sat in the stifling gloom of the basement for what seemed like hours before Sirius, Harry, and Remus re-entered the kitchen. "Here they are," said Remus, setting down three wands onto the table.

"Thank you, Remus." Dumbledore considered the wands speculatively for a moment, and then reached for them and put them inside of his robes.

"What are you going to do with them?" asked Hermione. "Are you going to turn them in as evidence and convict the Death Eaters?"

All eyes turned toward Dumbledore, who shook his head grimly. "Lucius Malfoy is too well connected to the Ministry. I will keep them under my protection at Hogwarts."

"We could use Wormtail's wand to clear my name," Sirius argued, still looking ready to explode.

"It's no use without Wormtail himself," Dumbledore countered. "In addition, the Ministry is not likely to clear your name in its current state. Cornelius is doing everything he can to find a scapegoat on which to blame his problems. You would be far too easy a target."

Sirius' fists clenched, but he said nothing.

"But -" Hermione protested. Dumbledore turned to her inquiringly. "What if we used Harry's memories in the Pensieve? It's clear that Wormtail's alive in them, and that Malfoy is a Death Eater - and that Sirius isn't one, since he wasn't at the meeting that Voldemort called."

Dumbledore's gaze was assessing as he addressed her. "That is a bright idea, Miss Granger. The problem is that currently, the Ministry does not know of Harry's whereabouts, and I prefer to keep it that way."

"If Fudge - the Minister - ever got a hold of Harry, we'd be in serious trouble," Remus said darkly. "He'd try to use Harry as a political tool as soon as he could."

Hermione bit her lip, frustration bubbling up inside of her. She just wanted to do something to help them. Sirius was innocent and on the run, and the Death Eaters who had let Harry be tortured were free and respected...it wasn't fair. It wasn't just.

Harry, who had been staring at the floor the whole time since entering the kitchen, looked up blankly at the sound of his name. "Sir," he said dully. "Was that really Snape in the graveyard?"

Sirius seemed to perk up at this and looked at Dumbledore expectantly. Hermione was reminded of a dog waiting for its master.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "It was Professor Snape, yes."

"That traitor," Sirius spat. "I knew it."

"Severus saved Harry's life," Dumbledore reminded Sirius, his tone of voice firm and slightly angry. "He did it at great risk to himself; he had no way of knowing whether Voldemort would take to his suggestion or kill him for it."

"He turned me over to Voldemort," Harry pointed out flatly. "He didn't try to help me escape."

"But he did come back and inform us of your location as soon as Voldemort dismissed him," Dumbledore replied. "We were preparing to come and free you, but," he said, smiling slightly, "you seem to have taken care of that yourself."

Harry's face twisted oddly. He looked away.

"I am going to put the memories back now, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. He took out his wand and prodded the depths of the Pensieve; Harry's face floated to the top. "Close your eyes, and please try to relax."

Harry complied, his face crumpling in pain and anguish as the memories traveled back into his mind. He let out a stifled sob, stumbling backward and wrapping his arms around himself tightly as the process continued. Mrs. Weasley gently pushed him into a chair.

When Dumbledore finally removed his wand, Harry opened his eyes slowly and looked up, his green eyes glimmering in the dim light of the kitchen. His glance darted from person to person before coming to rest at his feet.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "look at me."

Harry unwillingly lifted his gaze.

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "You were exceptionally brave in the face of your enemy, and you have extraordinary willpower that would most certainly make your parents proud were they alive today." Harry made a small strangled noise at the back of his throat. "I ask that you continue to demonstrate the same strength that we saw in those memories. I know you have the capacity. Contrary to what Voldemort said, I do believe in you and your abilities. You have far exceeded my expectations within these past few months, and I cannot express how proud I am of you at this moment."

"We are all proud," Mrs. Weasley agreed, stepping forward. She looked as if she were resisting the urge to pull him into a hug.

Sirius' hand came down on Harry's shoulder, and he squeezed gently. "You've done well," he said hoarsely. "James and Lily would be proud."

Harry blinked rapidly and nodded, dropping his eyes to the floor again as he swallowed. He seemed to be shaking. Hermione hesitantly reached for his hand, and to her surprise, he uncurled his fingers from his palm and let them rest in between hers. "Let's go upstairs," she said softly. With a nod from Dumbledore, she led Harry up the staircase to his bedroom and watched as he kicked off his shoes and then curled up on the bed, turning away from her to face the wall. Hermione sat down next to him and gently stroked his soft, messy hair as he let out a few hitching breaths. Each sound made Hermione's heart break a little more, and she turned away for a moment to regain control of her tears.

Leaning forward, she sucked in a breath as she caught sight of a photograph of Harry's parents on their wedding day. Harry's mother was gorgeous, her long red hair curling around her gold-threaded white robes, her green eyes - Harry's eyes - exuding joy even through film. Harry's father, who looked just like Harry except for his eyes, had a laughing smile that Hermione had never seen on Harry's face. He had one arm wrapped around his new wife's waist, while the other kept reaching up to brush his ruffled hair out of his face.

Hermione turned back around as she felt Harry shifting behind her. He was scrubbing at his eyes as he attempted to sit up. Slowly, he reached past her for the photograph album, scooting over to one side of the bed so that she had room to sit. She hesitated for a moment and then climbed in to sit next to him, reaching up one hand to stroke his hair as he flipped through the album. Harry inhaled sharply and seemed to sink bonelessly into the bed.

"Thanks," he whispered.

Hermione smiled slightly. "You're welcome," she said softly.

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