The Pensieve

The Pensieve

Harry Potter had no clue how he got here. He remembered something about a spy mission, but details tend to get fuzzy when you're being chased by a horde of Death Eaters.

For the moment, Harry had lost them. He was wandering around a dark, dank corridor in the Dark Lord's lair, trying to figure out which way he came in.

There were many doors down this particular corridor, but, seeing as he was in Voldemort's hideout, he was reluctant to open any.

Suddenly, from behind him, he heard a slightly familiar drawl. There was no mistaking the voice, even though he had only heard it a few times.

"Look down this corridor," Lucius Malfoy instructed. "I have a feeling he's down this one."

Fighting back a growing feeling of panic, Harry picked a door at random and slipped into it.

Using his wand to lock the door, he listened until Malfoy and some other Death Eaters paused outside.

"No use trying this door," came the voice of MacNair. "The Dark Lord always keeps it locked."

"Yes," Malfoy agreed. "That's where he keeps his...well, you know." There was a sound of shuffling feet as they all moved on.

Harry unlocked the door and peeked out. Unwilling to leave the safety of the room, he closed the door again.

He surveyed his surroundings. The room was moderately lit with five large torches. In the middle of the room was a small stone table and on the table was...

A pensieve. Harry got closer to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. And yes, when he got up to the table, the object was, indeed, still a pensieve.

He gave the liquid light (or solid wind) a prod with his wand, and the light (or wind) revealed a somewhat familiar house, although he couldn't remember where he'd seen it.

"Well, well, Potter," came a cruel drawl. "You are snoopy, aren't you?"

Harry, shocked out of his musings, spun around to find himself wand-to-face with none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Quite jumpy, also. I would appreciate it if you would remove your wand from my face."

Regaining his wits, Harry sneered. "And why should I? I have no reason to trust you!"

Malfoy spread his arms. "I'm unarmed, Potter. I'm of no threat to you." He thought for a second, and then added, "Unfortunately."

Harry regarded him suspiciously. "How do I know you're not lying?"

Malfoy sighed impatiently. "Because I only lie when I'm asked to."

Harry stared at him for a few seconds, and then lowered his wand.

"That's better," Malfoy commented.

"So, what now?" asked Harry, tiredly.

"Now, we try to sneak you out of here without getting caught and/or killed."

Harry couldn't have heard him right. "I'm sorry...what?"

"I said we're going to try to sneak you out."

Harry's heart almost stopped. Malfoy was...offering to help him?

"Honestly, Potter, close your mouth before your jaw falls off! What am I supposed to do, hand you over to You-Know-Who?"

"Well, yeah!" Harry decided to rephrase that statement. "I mean, you being who you are, and your father being who he is, I just figured-"

"You'll want to watch what you say about my father, Potter," Draco interrupted.

"What, I can't say he's an overdressed, slimy git?"

"You take that back, Potter!" Malfoy yelled, rushing toward him and slamming him back into the table.

Unfortunately, in an effort to steady himself, Harry accidentally plunged his hand into the pensieve.

The floor gave an unpleasant heave, and Harry and Malfoy were thrown into the basin.

"Oh, brilliant, Potter!" Malfoy complained. "Just wonderful! Why the bloody hell'd you have to go and stick your bloody hand in the pensieve? And where the bloody hell are we?"

"It's not my fault! And I have no clue as to where we are! Although, it does seem familiar..."

It was night inside the pensive and they were outside the back door of a comfortable-looking two-story townhouse.

"Great. Perfect. Do you have any idea what we're in, Potter?"

"Yes. It's called a pensieve. It-"

"It's the Dark Lord's pensieve, Potter! And believe me, whatever's in here, we don't want to see it!"

Harry let out a sigh. "Well, how do we get out of here?"

"You're asking me?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "You're the one who's been inside a pensieve, before!"

"How do you know that?"

"Snape tells me everything, Potter. He is my godfather, you know."

"He is? I didn't know that!"

"Well, now you know."

Harry looked at him grumpily. "Anyway, I've never found out how to get out of a pensieve on my own!"

"So, what do we do now?"

"I guess we just go along with the memory and close our eyes when it gets bad."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Oh, bloody brilliant, Potter."

"Shh! Someone's coming!"

They heard footsteps approaching quickly and purposefully. A dark figure in a hooded robe slipped out of the shadows and walked up to the house.

"Voldemort," Harry whispered. Even though he knew the Dark Lord couldn't see him, he still cringed back from him as he passed. To his surprise, he saw Draco do the same.

"Alohomora," Voldemort muttered when he reached the door. It sprang open and he passed through it. After glancing at each other, Harry and Draco followed.

They got in just in time to hear a man yelling.

"I'll hold him off! Run!"

The words and the voice triggered a long-forgotten memory in Harry's brain.

"No," he whispered. "Please, no!"

"What are you babbling on about now, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, but Harry was already sprinting into another room.

Harry burst into the room to a surprising sight. It was almost as though he had been hurled into the future and was looking at himself. The same untidy black hair...same glasses...but the eyes were wrong. Harry knew instantly that this was his father.

"Just walk away, Potter, and I might not kill you," Voldemort said in that horrible, high-pitched voice of his. "It's not you I want at this particular moment."

"Why are you here then?" James asked bravely, standing his ground.

Voldemort smiled a terrible smile. "I want your son."

A horrified look came over James' face, but before he could react, Voldemort muttered the two words that had made Harry and orphan; the two last words James heard: "Avada Kedavra!"

"NO!" Harry screamed, running toward Voldemort. He had no rational thoughts running through his head; he was acting on pure instinct. It wasn't until he collided with Voldemort and ran straight through him that he remembered where he was. He dropped to his knees next to his father and cried miserably.

Voldemort swept past him toward a flight of stairs. Harry got up and ran after him.

Malfoy stopped him right at the foot of the stairs. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "Potter, really, you shouldn't go up there. You probably weren't meant to see this!"

"Do you really think we're going to have a choice? This is Voldemort's memory! We're going to have to see what he saw! Besides, it may be best that I see this. I might be able to understand some things now."

Malfoy sighed and stepped aside.

Harry and he bolted up the stairs where a woman was screaming.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please, I'll do anything!"

Harry ran into the room to see his mother standing protectively in front of a baby, whom Harry could only assume was himself.

"Stand aside!" Voldemort yelled. "Stand aside, girl!"

"No!" Lily said, pleadingly. "Please, no!"

Voldemort smirked. "Avada Kedavra!" Lily screamed and fell to the floor, lifeless. Voldemort then proceeded to point his wand at young Harry...

The floor gave another lurch, and Harry and Draco found themselves back in the room with the pensieve.

Harry leaned back against a leg of the table and let his tears fall freely.

Draco walked over to him timidly and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Harry...I'm so sorry..."

"Wait, when did I become 'Harry' instead of 'Potter'?"

"Well, now, I suppose," Draco said with a hint of a grin. He wiped the smile from his face and said, "You shouldn't have had to relive that. That was terrible."

Harry nodded. "At least I know exactly what happened now."

Draco nodded. "Maybe now you'll be able to find some closure."

Harry smiled. "I hate that word, closure. It sounds so formal."

"I hate it, too." Draco laughed softly.

Harry looked at him for a second. "Why are you being so nice to me, Draco?"

The other boy raised an eyebrow. "So I'm 'Draco' now, am I?" He grinned. "Well, I suppose I'm being nice to you because you just had to see your parents get killed."

"No, that's not what I mean. You're supposed to be horrible. I'm supposed to hate you!" He paused for a moment before continuing. "You're supposed to be a Death Eater."

Draco stared hard at him. "I am, am I? Let me tell you something. Just because my father's one doesn't mean I want to be one! I think it's horrible what the Dark Lord's doing, but I can't stand up to him, or I'll be tortured and disowned. Maybe even killed! Father would be horribly mad at me..."

"Your father would be mad at you if he found out about a lot of things, wouldn't he?"

"Yes, I suppose he would."

Harry looked at him for a few seconds. "So what do you say, Draco? Friends?"

Draco smiled. "Definitely." He got up and held out a hand to help Harry to his feet. "Now, I promised I'd help you get out of here."

Harry allowed Draco to lead him through secret passages. They wound on forever it seemed, and Harry wondered if even Voldemort could find his way around here.

Some half hour later, they came out into the open. "Will you be alright?" Harry asked once they were safely outside.

"I'll be fine. See you in school in two weeks?"

"Of course!" Harry smiled. "It's going to come as a shock to everyone when we actually get along."

Draco smirked. "Maybe we could keep it a secret for a while. You know, let everyone get used to it slowly. Besides, it's fun to have a brawl every now and then!"

"Maybe you've got a point," Harry said with a smile. "See you on the train!" He paused and said, "Draco, don't tell anyone about what you saw in the pensieve tonight, please?"

He smirked and his eyes danced. "What pensieve?"

*~fin~*