Harry Potter and the Headmaster's Pensieve

Chapter 2 - The present

July the 24^th found Number 4 of Privet drive in a very tense state. Outwardly it was the image of a perfect suburban household, down to the perfectly manicured lawn, but its occupants couldn't have been more agitated if a missile had landed in their spotless kitchen. The perfectly normal family of three sat in the living room, apparently mesmerized by the television. In truth, they weren't paying any attention at all to the program on the small screen, but listening to every sound that came from the smallest bedroom on the second floor.

The room was crammed full. Two of-age wizards, one underage wizard, one large, snowy owl, one small, twittering owl and one ginger, bandy-legged cat were seated around the room. Books, papers and quills were strewn everywhere, as though a miniature tornado had swept through. A bushy-haired young woman of seventeen had her nose buried in a book labeled "Famous Wizarding Artifacts of the 19^th and 20^th Centuries," while a tall, lanky red haired young man was copying notes from a heavy, leather bound book titled "Pure-Bloods - The families and their Histories, from 873 BC to Present." A skinny, young man with messy black hair had yet another thick book propped on his lap, but he was gazing out the window with a look of intense concentration clouding his emerald green eyes. He was the youngest of the group, not even seventeen yet, but he held himself with strength beyond his years. His posture exuded power, and it was clear that while the two people sitting on the floor below him were older than he was, either one would do anything he asked at a moment's notice. His lips were pursed thoughtfully, the end of a quill brushing against his mouth. Frustrated, he tossed the quill aside.

"This is ridiculous! What possible artifact of Gryffindor's could Voldemort have gotten his hands on? We've been pouring through book after book, and there's been nothing! The only thing that was ever dear to Godric was Hogwarts. There's never any mention of jewels, heirlooms or anything that would have been passed down the generations, other than the sword locked within the school grounds. He poured so much of his life into Hogwarts that he never married, never had children - his line died out when he did. Every day for the past month and a half we've searched for anything - any sign of what the last horcrux could be, and we've come up with nothing," Harry said angrily, tossing the quill aside. His voice had snapped Ron and Hermione out of their work, and they looked at him through troubled eyes.

"Harry, we're making loads of progress! We've learned all about Godric Gryffindor, and all the wonderful things he did - surely something will come up that will help us. We can't lose faith that this will all work out!" Hermione said, exasperatedly. The words tumbled out easily, as if she had said them many times before.

"Yeah, we've learned l-l-loads," said Ron, stifling a yawn. Hermione shot him a scathing look. Ron dropped his quill and laid his head on the open pages in front of him. Harry stood, not an easy feat in the overcrowded room, and stretched. Pigwidgeon fluttered happily around Harry's long arms, flying pell-mell into his elbow. Harry reached over to gently scratch Hedwig's head. She fluttered to his shoulder and nipped affectionately at his ear. Hermione rubbed her eyes and placed the book on the ground.

"Oh my, it's past noon already. Fancy a bit of lunch?" Hermione asked, pulling her wand out of her pocket. Ron's stomach grumbled in reply, and they all laughed. Waving her wand, Hermione transfigured a few sheets of crumpled parchment into three large sandwiches. Harry watched her enviously, counting down the days until he could do magic legally as well.

"You keep getting better at that, Hermione," Ron said happily, grabbing the closest sandwich and casting her a grateful smile. Hermione blushed prettily, but said nothing. Harry picked up another of the sandwiches and returned to his seat on the bed, gazing back out of the window. Every day of their summer had been the same. Less than a week passed before Ron and Hermione had shown up at his front door, grinning at him and proclaiming that Ron had finally passed his apparation test. They had been true to their word about being by his side in whatever he was doing, and Hermione had come armed with books on every subject that could have possibly been useful. Of course, the Dursleys had been furious at their unannounced arrival, but Harry explained to them that all they would be doing was research, not to mention that both Ron and Hermione were of age now, and they could do all the magic they wanted and not get expelled from Hogwarts. This bit of information kept the Dursleys frightened enough to not get in their way, and gave both Harry and Ron a good laugh. Hermione had been a bit edgy about threatening the Dursleys with magic, but after a week of trying to be nice to them, she finally agreed that it was a lost cause. They had quickly learned to Apparate directly into Harry's room, in order to avoid the shrieks and shouts from the Dursleys if they dared to ring the doorbell politely. It had given Harry quite a shock the first time they did, but he understood - he didn't want to see his aunt and uncle any more than he had to. The Dursleys had been terrible to him, making it clear that they couldn't wait until the day they could boot him out and never think of him again.

Their research had turned up loads of information, but nothing useful. Harry had wanted to concentrate on what the last horcrux was while he was still at Privet Drive, and worry about where they were located once he was free to go where he wanted. He had been driven for the first few weeks, but after going through tome after tome with no luck had worn his resolve down. Ron and Hermione had been supportive and reassuring throughout everything, but it was clear that they too were becoming exasperated by the situation. They wanted to be out there, actively fighting Voldemort and his cronies, but they knew it would be useless if the horcruxes weren't destroyed. Both Ron and Hermione had tried to convince Harry many times to let the Order know about his quest for the horcruxes, thinking that the Order could have helped him find them, but every time Harry had angrily shot them down. Dumbledore had given the quest to him and him alone, and he wouldn't go against his promise, even if it would make his mission easier. They had finally learned not to suggest it, even though they both thought that Harry was being a bit daft in not telling anyone. Harry appreciated their concern, but knew that this was something he had to do alone, with none of the adults helping him.

The mounting tension between Ron and Hermione had been a silent struggle against their efforts, too. Harry was constantly catching the two stealing glances at each other, or gazing absentmindedly at one another when they thought no one was looking. He was happy that they had both realized their feelings for each other, but was unsure if they had admitted it to each other. They seemed so driven to help him on his quest that he could imagine they would put their own relationship aside for his sake. Truthfully, he didn't mind. It would have been a relief just to see that there was still love in the world, still something to smile about amidst the anger, hate and death all around them. Watching their stolen glances, though, made his heart ache for Ginny. She had stayed away from him during the summer holidays at his request, but her face never left his mind. From what he had heard from Ron, she was not taking her separation from Harry well, and was constantly throwing fits about wanting to help him, too. Harry would have given anything to see her, to hold her, to kiss her, but she would be in danger if she came anywhere near him. If Voldemort got to her because of him, Harry knew that he would never be able to forgive himself.

The sandwiches were nearly gone when the doorbell rang. Harry glanced out the window, but couldn't make out exactly who was at the door. Figuring it was one of Dudley's friends coming over to take the great lump to tea (at least, that was the excuse he always gave), he picked up the thick book he had been reading and flipped it back open to the page he had been reading before. He barely had gotten through the first sentence when a voice bellowed from below.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Snapping the book shut, Harry jumped off the bed and pulled open the door, his wand out. Ron and Hermione jumped up behind him and they all dashed down the stairs. Harry stopped short on the last step, causing Ron to crash into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. At the doorway stood a purple-faced Uncle Vernon, a shaking Aunt Petunia, and a very tense looking Professor McGonagall. She was wearing a long, tartan dress and her graying hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She held a small stack of letters in one hand and a carefully wrapped package in the other. She surveyed Harry, Ron and Hermione with an annoyed look, then stepped into the house.

"You didn't tell us you were going to be having more visitors, boy," Uncle Vernon said, bristling. Harry looked between Professor McGonagall and his uncle for a moment, confused.

"I didn't know you were coming, Professor McGonagall," Harry said to her. "Did you send an owl?"

"No, Potter, I didn't. Things have been very disorganized with the Order since Dumbledore died, and I didn't get a chance. I wasn't even sure that you were here, but I guess I was just lucky that you were. Mrs. Weasley tells me that Ron and Hermione have been disappearing at the crack of dawn every day, yet neither of you seemed to think that she deserved to know where you were going," Professor McGonagall said tersely, stepping into the doorway. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia took a step backwards into the living room, but Professor McGonagall didn't pay any attention to them. She instead sent a scathing glare at Ron and Hermione, who both looked away, ashamed. They began to sputter apologies, but Professor McGonagall silenced them with a wave of her hand.

"I've brought your school letters, and I need to speak with you, Mr. Potter," she said. "In private," she added, with a glance to Harry's Aunt and Uncle.

"Oh! Well, we can go to my bedroom," Harry suggested, looking at the expressions of rage and fear on his aunt and uncle's faces. Ron and Hermione, eager to shake off McGonagall's gaze, jumped aside and allowed Harry to lead the way to his tiny room. They climbed the stairs in silence, the creaking of the steps echoing through the house. Harry led the way into the room, kicking away the piles of books, parchment and quills to clear a space for Professor McGonagall. Once they were all settled in, Harry, Ron and Hermione turned their eyes to their Professor.

"Been doing a bit of studying over the summer, Potter?" she said shrewdly, placing the package onto his unkempt bed.

"Er, a bit," he replied lamely, glancing at the package out of the corner of his eye. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, and there was no writing on its pristine surface.

"I was instructed by Mrs. Weasley to bring the three of you to the Burrow. You're to start preparing for the upcoming wedding, and she would prefer that you stay put there, where she can keep an eye on you. She's been fretting all summer about you three. Now, here are your school letters," she said, handing them the envelopes. They took them all wordlessly, but did not open them.

"I'm not returning to school," Harry said, after a moment's pause.

"What?" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, looking from Harry's face to Ron and Hermione's, aghast. While Harry met her eyes steadily, the others looked away.

"I said, I'm not returning to school. I can't speak for Ron and Hermione, but Dumbledore gave me a mission before he died, and I promised him that I would do it. I won't break my word because he's dead now," Harry said calmly. Flaring her nostrils, she turned to Ron and Hermione.

"And the two of you?" She asked curtly. They glanced at each other uncomfortably. Hermione finally spoke, not looking at McGonagall.

"We...well, we were going to help Harry," she said softly.

"Yeah, and we won't go to the Burrow with you now. We're seventeen and we can take care of ourselves, and we want to help Harry," Ron said, puffing himself up. McGonagall surveyed him with narrowed eyes. He deflated almost instantly.

"You had better get home and tell your mother that yourself. She deserves to know what you're up to, and she's in a right state as it is. If she's going to rage at someone, it had better be at the proper people," Professor McGonagall said angrily, her fury barely contained. "Her constant moodiness has been a strain on the Order, and we've got enough problems as it is. She keeps going on about how she feels she's lost three more of her children, and that what you're doing to her now is worse than what Percy did."

This statement was met with shocked silence. Hermione looked ashamed, while Ron was ashen-faced at the idea of his mother's rage. Harry, however, was resolute. He turned to his two friends.

"Go with Professor McGonagall. I never meant to hurt your mum, Ron, and we're not getting anywhere with what we've got here. It will be alright," Harry told them, over their protests. Harry then turned to Professor McGonagall. "I promised Dumbledore I would stay at my Aunt and Uncle until my birthday, and I will not go back on my word. Of course, I will come to the wedding in August, but I will not be returning to Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared once more, and her eyes narrowed so much that they were barely slits beneath her eyebrows.

"Potter, I do not agree with this decision. I will leave your letter with you, and let you think on the matter. I would also implore you to share this quest of yours with the Order, because we can be of help, regardless of what you think. However, since I am not your guardian, I cannot force you to do anything you do not want to. But please think about it, Potter. If you do not continue with your education, you will be doing yourself a great disservice." She took a few deep breaths, then lowered herself onto the bed, just on the other side of the package. Clearing her throat, she turned to Harry again.

"Also, Potter, when we were clearing out the Headmaster's office, we found his will. He requested that...that his pensieve go to you. He also left you a letter," Professor McGonagall said, her voice a bit shaky. She indicated the package on the bed, and Harry pulled it onto his lap. He started unwrapping the package, and found a crumpled letter resting on top of a handsome wooden box. Placing the letter aside, he lifted the lid of the box, which creaked on its rusted bronze hinges. Inside, laid on bed of rich purple satin, was the shallow basin Harry had only ever seen in Dumbledore's office and briefly in Snape's, during Occlumency lessons. He ran a finger over the ancient runes decorating the edges, thinking of the many times he and Dumbledore had disappeared into this very basin the year before. A pang of sadness shot through him as he realized that he would never see the Headmaster again, never hear his voice giving helpful advice or telling an amusing joke. And it was all because of Snape. Thinking of his former Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a surge of hatred like nothing Harry had ever felt shot through him, pushing all sadness away. He closed the box with a clap of the lid, then placed it on the floor at the foot of his bed. He picked up the letter, which was simply addressed "Harry" in Dumbledore's long, slanted writing. Turning it over, he saw a deep, blood-red seal with a stately D in the center. There were many marks and scratches around the seal, as if someone had been trying to open it. Harry had a funny feeling that it had been members of the Order, desperate to know what Harry's mission was. He slid his finger behind the seal, where it popped off with ease. With a triumphant smirk, he began to open the letter, but Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

"I haven't got time to sit here and watch you read your private letters. I just came to deliver your letters and bring you to the Burrow. I have a lot to get going on with, so if there's really no convincing you to come, I must take Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger and be off," she said, her voice cold once again. They all rose, and Hermione hurriedly hugged Harry around the neck, her eyes swimming with tears. Ron shook Harry's hand roughly, looking down at his feet. Harry pulled Ron into a brief one-armed hug, then hoarsely said "Ron, tell your mum I'm sorry. I know she may not believe it, but I never meant for this to hurt her. I'll see you at the wedding." Ron nodded quickly, then all three disapparated with loud pops.

The following silence echoed loudly in Harry's ears as he started idly into the space that had been occupied by his best friends. He had known that eventually he would have to do things on his own, but he hadn't expected it so soon. True, his friends weren't abandoning him completely, but he couldn't help feeling alone without the constant sighs of frustration or snorts of laughter that had filled every waking hour of his summer. Swallowing back his despair, he turned to Dumbledore's letter. He picked it up gingerly from the bed, as if he were afraid it would crumble if handled too forcefully. Flattening the folds of the yellowed parchment on his lap, he lowered his eyes to Dumbledore's long, slanted writing.

"Harry, I can only imagine how my death is affecting everyone, especially you. Perhaps I'm being a bit of a sentimental old fool, but I have come to see you as a son or grandson, and I can only hope that you perhaps feel the same affection for me. If you do, as I think the case may be, then my death can only be bringing you more heartache and pain, which I am deeply sorry for. I have told you before, but I will tell you again - I have always cared for your happiness above all others, and to think that I have only increased your pain fills me with the deepest regret. I hope that you will be able to forgive me.

As you have probably figured out, I knew that I was going to die. Yes, Harry, I knew my time was growing short. I did not want to alarm you with this information, because there was nothing you could have done, or anyone could have done, for that matter. I do not fear death - in fact, I welcome it after the pressures of this last year. I am sorry if it seems that I have abandoned you, and I assure you I have not. I told you once that I will only truly be gone if there are none loyal to me, and I have a feeling, based on what you said to the minister over Christmas, that you will remain loyal to me. I have faith that you will be able to accomplish everything you need to, as long as you put your mind to it.

I have left you something very dear to me, and invaluable in your hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes. My memories, and the memories of others pertaining to Voldemort and his quest for immortality, are now at your disposal. I must tell you that it does not contain all the answers, but enough to point you in the right direction. Let your truest friends aid you, and don't be afraid to ask for help. Keep your mission quiet, but not so much that you are holding yourself back from the success I know you can achieve.

Finally, my dear boy, I must ask you to promise me one more thing. My killer, whomever he may be, is not what you should be focusing your efforts on. I understand your rage, and I sympathize. But your most important job is to find and destroy Voldemort's horcruxes. Do not waste your efforts finding revenge for my death. Two deaths occurred nearly sixteen years ago, and those are the deaths that should mean the most to you, not the death of a senile old man. My death is nothing compared to those of your parents.

I know you will make me proud, Harry. You always have. Yours, Albus Dumbledore."

Harry read over the letter twice before folding it gently and placing it on his bedside table. Another surge of hatred towards Snape coursed through his body as he read through it, knowing that Dumbledore would have chastised him if he could see him now. Of course, he would fulfill Dumbledore's last request to him, and he would not seek out Snape, however hard it would be. Staring resolutely at the letter, he smirked as he thought to himself, "I am only promising not to seek him out - if he happens to cross my path, it will be the last time he ever does."

A grim determination filled him as he thought of ways he would love to destroy his former potions master, and he lifted the box containing the pensieve to his lap once again. The lid creaked open on its rusted hinges as he opened it, and he slid his hands gingerly under the shallow basin. It was lighter than it appeared - while it was full to the point of spilling over with memories, it felt as if the stone basin were empty. Even the stone seemed lighter than it should have, almost as insubstantial as the contents of the basin appeared. Staring into the silver-white memories, the face of his old Potions master cam unbidden to the surface of the swirling substance in front of him. Curious, he plunged his face into the surface. Flashes of memories Dumbledore had of Snape swirled in front of him, but the one Harry had been hoping for was mysteriously missing - the one of Snape's supposed return to the light side. In fact, all memories concerning Snape and Dumbledore's trust in him were not there. Frustrated, Harry sat back up and closed the pensieve back into the box.

"What on earth are you doing, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked angrily, standing inches from Harry's head. He must have entered the room while Harry had been in the pensieve, and been thoroughly perplexed by the site of Harry with his head in what appeared to be an ancient mixing bowl. Harry jumped at the sight of his uncle, but quickly regained his composure.

"Nothing," he replied coolly. His uncle glared at him, turning a bit purple in the face.

"Boy, you're turning seventeen next week. Now as that...that man told us last summer, you'll be an adult in your world, and we won't have to keep you here anymore. Now, we've been tolerant of your frequent, er, visitors, so far, but we won't stand for any more funny business in this house. In fact, we don't want to see you here past your birthday, ever again," Uncle Vernon said, his voice growing louder and more agitated as he spoke. Harry stood, his eyes narrowed as he stared at his Uncle. He was taller than his Uncle now, and had to lower his face to meet his eyes.

"I wouldn't stay here if you begged me to," he said coldly. "I've got far more important things to do than be bullied around by you and deal with your grotesque son trying to provoke me into using magic on him. There's a war going on in the Wizarding world, and I need to be part of it. I plan to be gone by midnight on the thirty-first." Uncle Vernon, surprised by Harry's cold attitude, merely nodded and left the room.

The week went by slowly. Harry sent letters to Ron and Hermione, but all the news they had was of Mrs. Weasley berating them both for their inconsiderate behavior, and driving everyone crazy about the wedding. It was in two weeks, Ginny's dress still wasn't complete, and Fleur couldn't decide between a lemon and a chocolate cake. Despite the stony silence he met every time he left his room, Harry was grateful that he wasn't at the Burrow for the time-being.

The day before his birthday was spent packing all of the books, parchment, and notes he had obtained over the summer. It had been hard to cram everything in, but he managed somehow. He had decided to go to Diagon Alley for a bit before the wedding, to collect some money from his vault and buy some new dress robes, since his old ones were getting ridiculously short on him. He had pondered a while on how he would get there, but finally decided he was going to Apparate. Ron and Hermione had done it all summer without getting into trouble, and he figured that the Ministry was too concerned with the war to worry about apparation in front of muggles, especially muggles who knew about the Wizarding world as it was.

At 11:50, Harry gathered up his trunk, his broom and Hedwig's cage. He had tried to clean up as much as he could, cramming everything he would need into his trunk, and surprised that he managed to fit it all. His loose floorboard had been cleaned out and repaired, his bed had been made. All he had to do now was wait.

11:58...

11:59...

12:00. *CRACK*