A/N: I thought of this when I was trying to get some sleep a couple of nights ago. Turns out I didn't sleep at all. I stayed up all night/morning, reading. So, now, here's my funny HP story. I hope you enjoy it! I do not own anything except for the imagination in my head that created this story.
The Real Reason
Harry walked up to the headmaster's office, to have another talk about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; Voldemort. Harry Potter was in his sixth year, taking private lesson's with Professor Dumbledore. Harry didn't want to think about what it would be like if he had to take lesson's with Snape like he had the previous year. At that thought, Harry shuddered slightly, and stopped in front of the Goyle that lead to the headmaster's office.
"Lemon Drop." Harry said, plainly. He watched the Goyle move for the staircase to appear, then he started walking up.
Obviously it would be 'Lemon Drop'. He can't get enough of those bloody things... he thought to himself as he shook his head.
When he reached the door, he knocked three times. When he heard a "come in", he opened the door to find Professor Snape standing there in front of Professor Dumbledore's desk.
"Ah! Harry, my boy! Come in!" the old headmaster said, cheerfully.
Harry slighty scrunched up his face, while Snape had his usual sneer across his features.
Bloody Git, Harry thought, rolling his eyes inwardly.
"Er, if this is a bad time--" Harry started, but Dumbledore cut him off.
"It's fine, Harry. Professor Snape was just leaving." Dumbledore said, cheerfully.
Relief flooded Harry's features, but made it so Snape wouldn't see.
Snape nodded at the headmaster, turned and left the office, apparently not noticing Harry, with his dress robes flowing behind him.
Harry rolled his eyes as he thought one thing; He's so bloody dramatic.
"So, Professor... what will we be doing, today?" Harry asked, eager to learn something interesting.
Professor Dumbledore stood up from his desk, and walked around it to the front.
"Before I say, Harry, would you care for a Lemon Drop?" he asked, politely.
"Er, no thanks, Professor. I'm good." Harry said, inwardly sighing to himself.
"Well, today, we will be going back to the pensieve. I have a memory for you to see." Dumbledore said, dryly.
"What is about, sir?" Harry asked.
Professor Dumbledore hesitated for a moment before simply answering, "The real reason."
Harry frowned. This isn't helping at all...
"The real reason for what, sir?"
"The real reason for the good and the bad side, my boy!"
Before Harry could say anything else, Dumbledore turned away from him, and went up to the pensieve and put his wand to his temple, pulling out a memory. As Dumbledore put the memory in the pensieve, he metioned Harry to come forward.
Harry did so, walking up next to the old headmaster.
Dumbledore gently took Harry's arm and placed him in front of the pensieve.
"I'd like you to go on your own on this, Harry." Dumbledore said in a serious tone.
"Is it bad, sir?" Harry asked, concerned.
"For me it is. But I'd like you to see it."
Harry nodded silently, curious for what it is. He stepping forward and bent down, letting the memory suck him in. He met with the cool darkness that sucked him in, spinning furiously as he went, and then --
He was standing in Dumbledore's office, that seemed to be somewhat years back. The sun was shinning intensely through the tall narrow windows, and everything seemed to shine in the office.
"Tom..." a voice said, softly. It sounded patient. Younger.
Harry spun around, and saw a younger Dumbledore, followed by a young boy with dark hair and fair skin, who seemed to be in his first year.
"Tom... you know you have to give them back." Dumbledore said, that twinkle slightly in his eyes.
"Give what back, sir?" the boy asked, innocently.
"I think you know 'what', Tom." replied Dumbledore.
"I.. don't know what your talking about." Tom said, plainly.
"Tom... My socks. I saw you took them. You shouldn't deny it, my young boy. I don't want to punish you." the old headmaster said, softly.
"But sir... how can I be punished for something I did not do?" the first year said smoothly.
Dumbledore sighed. He had been at this for about fourty five minutes now, and was finding himself getting no where.
"Fine, Tom. You may go." Dumbledore said, signaling with his hand, that he can go.
Harry watched as the boy simply got up, grabbed his backpack, flung it over his shoulder, and left the office silently.
Harry stood there dumbfounded. Socks?! This is all because of socks?!
"Oh bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed. He turned and looked at Dumbledore, who was sitting there with a look of sadness across his features.
"I really liked those socks..." Dumbledore sighed.
All of a sudden, Harry felt the sensation of being pulled out of the memory. He stumbled backwards as he met up with the present.
Harry looked around, and saw Dumbledore standing there, sadness in his eyes.
"Now you know, Harry." Dumbledore whispered, but heardable.
"Socks?! The good and bad side is all because of some bloody socks?!" Harry said loudly, feeling dumbfounded.
Dumbledore sighed, "I believe so."
Five minutes later, Harry left Dumbledore's office, apperently inflamed.
"I cannot believe this is all happening, for a stupid pair of socks! It's ridiculous! Bloody ridiculous!" Harry said, loudly.
Harry walked back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Hermione waiting for him to tell them what happened.
Yeah.. this'll go well, he thought sarcastically.