The Pensieve

Chapter 2: Since when did Ron have a diary?

Harry found himself in - his dormitory? Yes, it was and judging by the fact that there was only one figure in it, it was almost deserted. However, the one figure that remained was otherwise unrecognizable by his vibrant mop of ginger hair - Ron. He was holding a pink and purple notepad, and when Harry drew nearer, he opened it up, and started frantically rifling through its pages.

Harry went up to Ron and slowly waved his hand over Ron's face. Ron did not blink, or in any way acknowledge Harry's presence, so Harry sat down quietly, on the bed, next to Ron. After about thirty seconds of silence, Ron began to write. Thinking about it, Harry thought that Ron really did have a very odd style of writing; He stuck his tongue in the corner of his mouth, concentrating hard, and he was bent over almost double, his nose inches away from the paper. Harry noticed that Ron had written in the book before, he could see his spidery handwriting creeping across the other pages.

Harry wondered what the book was. Revision notes of some sort? No, that wasn't Ron's style. He pondering this when Ron started to read what he had written aloud.

"Dear Diary..."

So it was his diary? Since when did Ron have a diary? Ron continued. Harry listened closely, intrigued.

"...but the highlight of my day was definitely Transfiguration, because I got to see the love-of-my-life, Professor McGonagall. I wonder if she noticed me; I sure noticed her..."

What? Ron fancied Professor McGonagall! Harry was disgusted. The same Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, and Transfiguration teacher?

"...I spent the next lesson, which was History of Magic, conveniently, composing a poem for my love. Hang on, I'll write it in here..."

Ron cleared his throat and looked sceptically at his work.

"Ode to Minerva,

Her hair is as dark as ebony,

Her eyes are deep and shiny,

She's clever and great,

No girl can compensate,

And her voice is, well, stern, not whiny.

Minerva is my hero,

She is a great Hogwarts teacher,

Her subject is Transfiguration,

When she tells me off, it turns me on,

She's exciting, not like a preacher.

OK, thought Harry, I think that, if nothing else, Ron's attempts at poetry leave a lot to be desired. Ron continued to write in his diary, but this time, mutely.

And then the memory changed again... (Boy, this is getting repetitive, thought Harry.)

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Harry was this time transported into an unfamiliar room; where was he? He heard a hand on the doorknob, and he quickly crouched down behind the bed. He had a hunch no one could see him anyway, but he thought it was better to be safe than sorry.

Gilderoy Lockhart strolled in; a Lockhart with a full memory, Harry guessed that this event must have taken place about four years ago. Then, to Harry's surprise, came in a woman - Professor Sprout! She sidled in, looking extremely shifty.

"All right, there, Gwendolyn my dear?" Lockhart beamed, "Not having any doubts, I hope."

"Yes, fine...No, I'm not Gilderoy . I just don't know why we have to meet here of all places - A private room in the 'Three Broomsticks' I can understand, but in the 'Hogs Head'... and as for doubts... I'm having second thoughts, Gilderoy. Why don't we just go public and tell everyone at Hogwarts?" Professor Sprout replied.

"Good lord, no. Woman, what's possessing you? If I tell them what we've been up to, all the girls will want a piece of me!"

"Well, I still don't know..."

"I'm not pressuring you into anything, Gwendolyn." Lockhart said, the smile fading slightly on his face.

"Oh but I need you, Gilderoy! You have to teach me how to do it. I've never done it before." pleaded the Herbology teacher.

"You'll have learnt from the master. Well, if you're sure..." Lockhart began.

"I am! Well, let's not stand about. Get on with it."

"This is not something you can hurry, Gwendolyn. It is a gift, an art, a skill bestowed upon those who..." his voice trailed off at the look on her face. "Yes, let's start."

Lockhart and Professor Sprout both sat down on the bed. Lockhart withdrew from his pocket a small box of something - from his hiding place, Harry could not see just what. Lockhart's face brightened and he extracted a second identical box from his pocket.

"Top Trumps!" exclaimed Lockhart, "Which set do you want to play? Predators or Dinosaurs?"

"Oooh", said Professor Sprout, emitting a gasp like Lavenders, "Predators."

Lockhart put the Dinosaur pack safely back into his inside pocket, and started to shuffle and deal the remaining Top Trumps pack. They started to play.

This is so weird, thought Harry, what's happening? I can't believe that all this stuff is happening to me. Then again, it always does.

Then the memory changed once again. ("What did I tell you about being repetitive?" said Harry.)

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Harry found himself in a darkened room. He glanced around taking in all the information at one time, for it was a tiny room. From what Harry could see by the flickering light from the lamp in the corner, it was a room covered in wizard photographs and posters of the same waving figure. There were three people in the room, two bigger than the other. One of the larger figures had vibrant ginger hair; Harry could make this out even in the pitch black. Suddenly there was a bright flash, and a resounding click - a camera!

"Hold still Dennis, otherwise I'll never be able to get your fan club picture developed."

"OK Colin. Let me do you now please..."

There was another loud click. Without warning the door was wrenched open and in a flurry of swirling black robes, Professor Severus Snape swept in glaring in a very businesslike way.

"Hurry up Creevey. I'm a very busy man. Make this quick." Snape began, "And if anyone ever finds out I was here..." His voice trailed off threateningly, probably to emphasise the fact that if anyone found out that he was attending a Fan Club with Dennis and Colin Creevey he would like to do something very nasty to them.

Colin gulped.

"Yes Professor, of course. First things first then. I need to take a photo of you. For the record?" Colin added nervously.

"No photo."

"Ok then Sir. Let's take a look at the agenda. Ah, right, it says we're meant to discuss why Harry Potter is such a great figure in the wizarding society. Any ideas?"

Harry almost jumped out of his skin at the mention of his name. Then out of the mundane it all became clear; this was a Fan Club for him. A Fan Club that Snape was attending with Colin and Dennis

and...

"Ginny, do you have something to say?"

Ginny's hand was waving in the air, a position that reminded Harry forcibly of Hermione.

"I think that Harry is a good figure in society because he is so gorgeous - I mean he has such a nice character."

"Personally I think that Harry is a great person because, well, isn't it obvious, he rid the world of the evil Lord Voldemort." interjected Dennis.

"Well, yeah, and that I suppose." Ginny added, grudgingly.

"Why do you like him Professor Snape?" asked Colin.

Snape looked down his long hooked nose at the three students.

"The reason I like Harry Potter and think that he is a great figure in society is that -"

The memory changed, dragging Harry into the swirling vortex of colours that he was now becoming accustomed to.

Damn and blast, thought Harry, I was just about to find out the reason why Snape secretly likes me, and bang, the stupid Pensieve had to change again.

Harry was left in the silvery bowl of liquid, with no means of escape, and newly enlightened to the fact that Ginny still had a crush on him.