Stay Free

Epilogue

When Harry went to his dormitory after the feast, he was surprised to see a small, wrapped box sitting on his bed. He touched it hesitantly, as though expecting something to jump out. Nothing happened, however.

"What have you got there, Harry?" asked Dean from across the room. The other boy was taping a football poster on the wall, evoking an eye roll from Seamus.

"I don't know," said Harry honestly. "It's just here."

"Probably something from the house-elves," said Ron from behind his curtains. He was going to be asleep in minutes, Harry predicted by the hidden yawn in his friend's voice. "Dobby, most likely. Maybe it's a pair of socks."

Harry hid a smile. Dobby's socks were horrid. "I think I'll just open it."

And he did so, carefully removing the wrapping paper and setting it aside. It was a cardboard box. Harry picked it up, letting out a small gasp at the sudden weight. He placed it back down on the bed, and took off the top.

It was a Pensieve. A small one. Harry bet he could hold it in two hands. Perhaps it was used for storing smaller memories? But who on earth would give him a Pensieve?

A card answered his questions. Harry fingered it cautiously before opening it.

Harry-

This Pensieve holds my memories of Lily. You seemed to enjoy my stories of her, but it didn't seem fair to only have the words. Now you can see your mother without the aid of the Mirror of Erised. There are also some of Black, which I got from Lupin before he left.

Consider this sixteen years worth of birthdays, or at least the only birthday present you'll ever receive from me.

Severus Snape

PS: I've left out the rather intimate memories of Lily. I doubt you need those images.

No wanking material, then, Harry thought with a small grin. He held the Pensieve in his hands, a knot tightening in his chest. Memories of his mother and Sirius. This was what he needed, didn't he? A chance to see his loved ones without resorting to necromancy or insanity.

"Is that a Pensieve, Harry?" Neville asked. Ron looked up curiously.

"Yeah," said Harry, nodding. He tucked it under his bed, safely hidden in his trunk. "Memories of my Mum."

"Who gave them to you?" Ron inquired. He sat up straighter, trying to see the card. "Lupin?"

"No." Harry pushed the card beneath his bed along with the Pensieve.

"Who was it, Harry?" Seamus persisted. He and Dean were staring at him hopefully. "Tell us!"

"No," Harry repeated stubbornly. "Go to bed."

"Come on," Dean urged. "Tell us, Harry. We won't--"

"Go to bed!" Harry ordered. Seamus and Dean exchanged looks, then shrugged and got into their respective beds.

The candles flickered, and then went out. Harry burrowed himself under the blankets, but discovered that someone was poking his shoulder. He sat up groggily, having just missed the perfect opportunity to get more sleep.

"What?" he hissed.

A parchment was shoved into Harry's hand. He took it, and then moved into the moonlight to read it. He recognized Ron's messy scrawl.

Who was it? You can tell me, I'm your best friend. I won't tell Seamus, Dean, and Neville if you don't want me to.

Harry sighed. There was the slight squeak of bedsprings, and a quill was placed on his pillow. He picked it up and scribbled an answer.

You've got to promise, though.

It was Snape.

He tossed the parchment back to Ron. There was a brief moment in which his friend read his response.

Then,

Tell me about it later. I'm too exhausted to think this through.

Harry coughed to hide his laughter. When he heard Ron begin snoring lightly, the Boy-Who-Lived turned over onto his side, closing his eyes.

Yes, he was ready.