The Dark Past: Confusing Times

Chapter 1: Evan Rosier's Pensieve

Harry laid awake in his soft warm bed at the Weasley house, listening to the quiet sounds of Ron's snoring, unable to get Evan Rosier's Pensieve out of his mind. Mr. Weasley had confiscated it from Malfoy Manor that morning and was storing it in his bedroom, under his bed, until he could hand it over to Dumbledore.

Harry wasn't supposed to have heard any of that but he hadn't felt well in the afternoon and had come in early while everyone else was still playing a game of Quidditch. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been talking to each other, in hushed voices, at the table and Harry had heard every word they said.

He sighed tiredly. Most people probably wouldn't have cared but Evan Rosier had been a friend of Snape's and Harry wanted to know what a young Snape had been like, what a Death Eater Snape had been like too, and that Pensieve held his answers.

Why couldn't Snape have looked at him with hate at the end of the year feast instead of that strange unreadable expression? Much of Harry's hate for Snape had dissipated over the summer because of that, leaving him with a burning desire to find out why he had become a Death Eater and why he had changed sides.

Cursing his curiosity, Harry slipped the invisibility cloak over his gawky body and slipped out of bed. He arranged the pillows to look like a sleeping person and then crept out of the room, standing still in the doorway to make sure that Ron was still asleep.

Harry would have liked company in his latest adventure but Ron hated Snape and wouldn't care about what the Pensieve had to say and Hermione, well, she was too much of a rule abider to do something like this. He was on his own this time.

Harry, using all of his skill at being soundless he had acquired living with the Dursley's, silently walked to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room. He opened the door and quietly shut it behind him. From the sounds of it, they were both asleep.

Padding over to the bed, Harry glanced at the sleeping Weasley's, making sure they were really asleep, before bending down and crawling under the bed.

The Pensieve was there. It looked just like Dumbledore's. Taking his wand out, Harry swirled it around in the silvery substance, not exactly sure how the things really worked, and muttered "Hogwarts, fifth year."

That would be a starting point at least and Harry didn't want to have to see Voldemort right off. He just hoped that Evan Rosier wasn't already serving Voldemort as a fifteen year old.

Harry stuck his head over the Pensieve and felt it pull him in, struggling not to gasp at the strange sensation.