Harry James Potter sat, disconcerted, in the dimly lit living room of
Number 12, Grimmauld Place. A stack of papers was scattered over the long,
glass table in front of him. They were most probably newspaper clippings
Molly Weasley had cut out of the daily prophet. Due to the fact that Lord
Voldemort's return to power was now in the open, the news had long ago made
the headlines, and continued to do so with every edition published.
Yet Harry didn't even bother looking at them anymore. He had known it all
for so long now. He had known the truth for a year, and every time he
thought about it he would laugh mirthlessly to himself. For an entire year,
he, and the rest of the Order had tried to convince the ignorant Ministry
that the Dark Lord was back. For an entire year Harry had to put up with
people thinking he was an arrogant, attention-seeking lunatic, who made up
crazy stories only to be noticed in the slightest way.
But he didn't care what people had to say about him anymore. He was 16
years old now, and the reality that he wasn't a super hero, but instead a
war soldier with many bruises, had finally sunk into him.
"Even the bravest end up dead." Harry muttered under his breath, as his
mind raced back to his Godfather. Sirius had died as a brave man that night
in the Department of Mysteries, but Harry still couldn't find himself able
to accept his passing away. It only made him more angry and frustrated to
know that the people he loved the most were always the ones who ended up
getting hurt-to know that the people he held closest were always ready to
oblige sacrificing their own lives to keep his safe.
Just once he wished he would miss that narrow escape, or be unfortunate in
some way. He would simply feel so much better knowing he had felt some of
the pain his parents and Sirius had to endure. And that's why, Harry had
finally come to the decision that from then on, the battle was his, and his
alone to fight. Someone had to win, and someone had to lose, and whatever
the outcome, he was certain that he was ready now-even the aspect of death
didn't seem so horrifying anymore.
But Harry absolutely refused to let his friends and cherished ones risk
their lives, especially since this whole war was taking place to determine
his fate solely.
He stared at the fireplace straight across from him, and immediately the
scar on his forehead prickled with pain. The memory of sneaking into
Dolores Umbridge's office to use her fireplace, in hopes of finding Sirius,
was once more returning to him. He winced as he remembered the smug look on
her face when she had caught him, and then grinned at the memory of the
centaurs dragging her away into the Forbidden Forest. He glanced down at
the back of his right hand. The words 'I will not tell lies' had not
completely faded yet, but Harry new it was the memory of Umbridge's
detentions that would be etched on his arm forever.
Yet, even that pain couldn't be compared on any level to how he had felt
the night his Godfather had died. Harry got a lump in his throat every time
he revisited the moment in his mind. Had he lived instead, Sirius would
have been free by then, and able to walk in the wizarding world cleared of
all charges-not as Snuffles, or some mass murderer!
Harry smashed his fist down on the table, and saw the glass shake
violently. He knew it might seem exaggerated, but losing his Godfather felt
like losing his parents all over again.
Just then, a door burst open, and Hermione entered the room, looking wildly
stressed.
"Harry, we need you in the kitchen-Ron's in hysterics!" She stated,
exasperated.
"Bloody hell, Hermione, what is it now?" Harry replied, irritated at having
his musings interrupted.
"Well, we were dusting out the cupboards underneath the sink, when Ron
found this jar of spiders. As you can probably imagine, the shock caused
him to throw the jar recklessly out of his hands. It ended up shattering
all over the floor and the spiders weren't exactly in quite the hurry to
escape-if you catch my drift-"
"Say no more." Harry told her, getting up and pacing quickly to the
kitchen. When he reached the door to it, he reached out for the knob, but
was saved the trouble by Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh, hello Harry, dear!" She greeted him with her famous warm-hearted
smile. "Where have you been all this time? Upstairs? Oh anyhow, dear, help
yourself to some pumpkin juice, I'm just off to fetch my wand for those
spiders!" She said, patting him on the shoulder, and scurrying off to her
room on the second floor.
Harry and Hermione entered the kitchen to find Ron trembling in the center
of what seemed like a hundred spiders surrounding him. He looked up when
they walked in, white as a ghost, lips trembling.
"Help?" He sputtered, still shaking like mad. Meanwhile Fred and George
stood on the side, holding their stomachs from laughing so much.
"Hey Ron!" Fred piped up. "Why don't you try making the ickle spiders go
away by cursing them to tapdance?" He suggested in between his cackling.
"Yeah you know Fred, I heard arachnophobia stems from childhood!" George
put in.
"Quite true! Must have been from all the times we hid those black widows
under his bed sheets!" Fred smiled, shaking his head in mock sadness-and
the twins erupted into more howls of laughter.
"It's not funny, boys!" Said Mrs. Weasley, strictly. She had just re-
entered the kitchen, and with a flick of her wand, the spiders circling Ron
vanished. Meanwhile, he had his eyes shut tight, as if praying that none of
them tried making their getaway right then, and climbed up his legs for an
easier escape route. "It's alright now Ron, they're gone." His mother told
him reassuringly.
"Yeah ickle Ronnie, the monsters have disappeared now-" George smirked.
"So you can stop wetting your pants!" Fred added.
"SHUT UP!" Ron roared, and attempted to pounce on them, before they
disparated into thin air, and he crashed headfirst onto the floor. Harry
coughed, trying to stifle a laugh, and Hermione turned around to disguise
hers. Mrs. Weasley shrieked and ran to see if he was all right, but Ron was
already getting up, rubbing his head vigorously.
"Blimey, that hurt!" He said, bluntly, then noticed Harry and Hermione(who
were shaking their heads in front of him, and smiling). Ron blushed
crimson. "Oh, hey guys!"
"Hey Ron!" They replied together.
And Harry abandoned his mourning for the while, and made his way upstairs
to the bedroom he shared with Ron, his two best friends right behind him.
"Can you two believe it? Sixth year-wow!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting on
the edge of Ron's bed and petting Crookshanks heartily across the back.
"I know. Feels like it was just yesterday we were stepping into the Great
Hall for the first time, nervous about being sorted." Ron agreed. He was
sucking on a sugar quill while looking over Harry's Broom Servicing Kit.
Harry was just staring at the ceiling blankly, vaguely aware of what the
other two were talking about.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked him, cautiously. When he didn't
answer her, Ron voiced out his thoughts.
"You've been thinking of Sirius again, haven't you mate?"
"My God, am I that transparent?" Harry suddenly snapped, icily. Ron and
Hermione exchanged fearful expressions.
"Listen Harry, we aren't trying to upset you, we just want you to know you
can talk to us about it if you-"
"And what makes you think I'd want to talk about it? Do you think it's
easy? Pouring out feelings and emotions like they mean absolutely nothing?
Do you really think it's that simple trying to put yourself back together,
when you feel as though the last intact piece of you has been severed and
tied to the top of some unreachable cliff?"
Ron had stopped sucking on the quill, and Hermione looked as if she was
very carefully choosing her next words.
"Yes of course, Harry, we understand-we understand exactly how you feel!"
"Look the last thing I need is your pity! I'm not some damn charity case,
Hermione!" And with that he leapt off the bed and left, slamming the door
and causing the portrait of Sirius's mother to start wailing curses loudly.
"FILTHY HALF BLOODS! CREATURES OF DIRT! BLOOD TRAITORS! SHAME OF MY FLESH-"
But Harry wasn't listening to her nonsense. He had reached the top of the
staircase, and found Mrs. Weasley talking to someone quietly at the door.
When she heard Harry's footsteps she turned around and smiled at him.
"Oh Harry, sweetheart, come here won't you-there's someone who wants to
speak with you!" She said, and Harry thought he heard something of an
anxious tone in her voice. He couldn't imagine who would want to speak with
him right then, but he made his way silently down the staircase. He walked
up to Mrs. Weasley, and then turned to the person standing at the door. It
was Albus Dumbledore. Harry was shocked, why would he want to talk to him?
"Good evening, Sir." Harry said, reproachfully. He still hadn't gotten over
what had happened last in the Headmaster's office.
"Good evening, Harry." Dumbledore replied, smiling kindly, and observing
him beneath his spectacles. "Molly may I come in for a moment?"
"Of course, Albus! Please do!" And she and Harry stepped aside to let him
in.
"Is Arthur home yet?"
"Oh, no, not yet, but he should be arriving soon."
"Oh jolly good, then. I've been meaning to ask him about how things are
going at the ministry."
"Well Fudge is groveling apparently. Of course, I expected that-the man
feels like a downright fool and a half now, doesn't he? And I've heard that
many have been sending in complaints, stating that something this serious
should've been looked into immediately, and not overlooked so
irresponsibly!" Mrs. Weasley told him.
"Well, I must say, I was surely expecting that! I gave my warnings far more
than once, but Cornelius was never the easiest wizard to make understand
something, he's far too narrow-minded and pigheaded!" Dumbledore answered
wearily.
"Certainly-but, as far as Hogwarts goes-" She began.
"Dolores Jane Umbridge is no longer a member of our staff, least of all
Head Inquisitor, and the Educational Decrees have been removed personally
by the Minister himself." He assured her, smiling merrily.
"Oh, that's excellent then!" Mrs. Weasley beamed. "That Umbridge woman was
nothing more than a vicious snake-you should hear the stories my sons tell
of her."
"Yes well, there's no denying her unpopularity," Dumbledore agreed. "but I
think it best that we forget about her, and continue to focus on the much
more important issues heading our way." He looked straight at Harry when he
said this.
"Yes, well, I suppose you're right." Mrs. Weasley nodded in agreement. "Now-
you wanted to speak to Harry?"
"Yes. Harry, may I have a private word?" He asked him, humbly.
"Sure." Harry replied, shortly. Dumbledore led him down the corridor, to a
large, empty room that Harry had a feeling had not been used in quite a
while. He faced his Headmaster, awkwardly.
"Now Harry, I've come here this evening in order to pass on to you
something I think you will enjoy very much." Dumbledore told him.
"Oh really? What's that?" Harry answered, a bit more coldly than he had
meant to.
"A book."
"A book?"
"Yes, a book, or more, a link to memories of your father's and Sirius's."
Dumbledore explained. Harry, who had been staring down at his feet, and
pacing, looked up at the mention of this.
"What are you saying?" He asked him, perplexed.
"When Sirius and James were at school, they created a book to store their
most cherished memories in. You could think of it more as a pensieve,
though, not a novel. Every page of the book will take you back to a certain
moment of theirs. Sirius left it in my possession once we had started the
order, he said he had eventually wanted it to be given to you, as a gift
from him, for your coming of age. Unfortunately, well-things didn't go as
planned," Harry gritted his teeth at this, trying to keep his self-control.
He wasn't angry anymore, but just the subject of his Godfather could easily
make him breakdown. "but I feel positive, that he would've wanted me to
give it to you." Dumbledore reached down into the large pockets of his
purple robes then, and pulled out a leather covered book, bolted shut by a
suede belt. He handed it to Harry, who took it as if it were the rarest
treasure he would ever possess.
"Thank you so much, Sir!" Harry gulped, in wonder.
"Oh, don't mention it my boy!" He said, chuckling. "Anyhow, I best be
getting on my way!" He walked swiftly to the door, and shut it lightly
behind him, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the room, gazing at the
novel in his hands in utter amazement.
Could this book actually take him back to his father's and Sirius's days at
Hogwarts? Was he actually going to be able to see them again?
He heard Dumbledore saying goodbye to Mrs. Weasley and thanking her for her
time, then the front door shut loudly, and he was gone. Harry waited till
he was sure Mrs. Weasley had returned to the kitchen, and then fled
upstairs to tell his friends what had just happened.
Harry thundered through the door to find Ron and Hermione still sitting on
Ron's bed, talking about something Harry was sure had to do with him.
However, he didn't have time for childish arguments with them right then,
so he dismissed that thought quickly.
"Ron, Hermione, you're never going to believe what Dumbledore has just
given me!" He exclaimed. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Ron gave her a
confused look.
"I take it you're not angry with us anymore?" Hermione asked, and Harry
looked down, slightly ashamed for taking all his frustrations out on the
two people who cared about him the most.
"I'm sorry about that, you guys. I was just in a rotten mood."
"It's alright," Ron said, compassionately. "but you should know we hate it
when you just snap at us like that."
"I know, I shouldn't have, I'll try to work on channeling my anger at the
right people, I promise." Harry told them.
"Good!" Hermione said, approvingly. She smiled at Harry and then said, "So
now, what's this you were saying about Dumbledore giving you?"
Harry walked over to them, and sat down on the bed.
"He gave me this." He said, handing her the book, and Ron bent over her
shoulder to get a closer view.
"What is it?" He asked Harry.
"Well, according to Dumbledore, it's a book my father and Sirius made
during their time at Hogwarts." Harry explained.
"Really?" Hermione asked, looking very interested.
"Yeah, but that's not even half of it. See, it's not really a book, but
more of a pensieve. Every page of the book will supposedly take you back to
a memory of my father's and Sirius's. That's why they make it in the first
place, to store their most precious moments in it. Dumbledore said Sirius
was going to give it to me as a present for my coming of age-"
"You mean when you turned seventeen?" Hermione questioned.
"Yeah, I guess."
"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron expressed, amazed. Harry grinned at him.
"You're damn right it is!" After sitting in silence for a moment, Harry
spoke up.
"So-so do you wanna try it out?" He asked them, nervously.
"I DO!" Ron said, jumping at the opportunity for an adventure. The two boys
then turned to Hermione.
"Well I do suppose it would be highly interesting," She compromised. "but
how exactly do we get back from the memory once we're in it?"
"Simple, we return from it as soon as the memory ends." Harry told her.
"Will people be able to see us, or feel us there?" Ron inquired.
"No." Harry assured him. "No, it'll just be as if we're invisibly there,
watching them."
"Ok." His friends said together.
"So, are you guys coming or not? Because either way I'm doing this!" Harry
said, confidently.
"Well alright then, I suppose we have nothing to lose-and besides, if
Dumbledore gave it to you, I'm sure it's safe!" Hermione decided.
"Exactly!" Ron agreed. "Let's do this!"
Harry beamed at them both, and carefully began undoing the suede belt
attached to the book. Once it was off, he opened the book up to find a
white envelope(addressed to him) fall out of it.
"Read what it says first." Hermione warned.
"Obviously." Harry rolled his eyes at her. He unsealed the envelope, and
pulled out the dry parchment in it. Opening it up, he saw the familiar
handwriting of his Godfather.
Dear Harry,
I am writing this to you from my bedroom in Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
Even though Kreacher is quite the annoyance, I don't think I will find much
trouble in expressing myself to you.
James and I created this novel during our time at Hogwart's together. It is
most probably the most valuable and sacred, among our many treasured items.
Remus and Peter did not help with it though, James and I decided, when the
idea first came to us, that it should remain something between the two of
us, solely.
To be quite honest, it was never something I had expected would be given to
you. I had kept it in my possession for many years, and planned on
continuing to do so, until your parents died, and I knew that it should
rightly be passed on to you!
I hope you enjoy every page of it, and I hope it helps you get to know your
parents a little bit better! You know, James was always more of a brother
than a friend to me, he helped me through some of my darkest hours, and I
truly feel that if I owe him anything for all he's done for me, it's your
happiness, Harry!
So take a stroll down memory lane, and trespass on the most prized moments
of the Marauders-as long as you solemnly swear you are up to no good!
Hehe-
Much love,
Sirius-
Harry peered down at the letter one last time, smiling to himself. Then he
closed it, and turned to the first page of the book-the title page.
"Prongs and Padfoot, proudly present, I Solemnly Swear I Remember When." He
read out loud.
"They're pretty fond of that whole 'I solemnly swear' thing, aren't they?"
Ron said, grinning widely.
"Yes, definitely!" Hermione seconded.
"Well-here it goes, guys!" Harry told them, excitedly. He turned the title
page and found himself face to face with a blank one. Then, suddenly, a
burst of light shot through the page, and before he knew it, Harry felt
himself fly into it-Ron and Hermione on either side of him.
Number 12, Grimmauld Place. A stack of papers was scattered over the long,
glass table in front of him. They were most probably newspaper clippings
Molly Weasley had cut out of the daily prophet. Due to the fact that Lord
Voldemort's return to power was now in the open, the news had long ago made
the headlines, and continued to do so with every edition published.
Yet Harry didn't even bother looking at them anymore. He had known it all
for so long now. He had known the truth for a year, and every time he
thought about it he would laugh mirthlessly to himself. For an entire year,
he, and the rest of the Order had tried to convince the ignorant Ministry
that the Dark Lord was back. For an entire year Harry had to put up with
people thinking he was an arrogant, attention-seeking lunatic, who made up
crazy stories only to be noticed in the slightest way.
But he didn't care what people had to say about him anymore. He was 16
years old now, and the reality that he wasn't a super hero, but instead a
war soldier with many bruises, had finally sunk into him.
"Even the bravest end up dead." Harry muttered under his breath, as his
mind raced back to his Godfather. Sirius had died as a brave man that night
in the Department of Mysteries, but Harry still couldn't find himself able
to accept his passing away. It only made him more angry and frustrated to
know that the people he loved the most were always the ones who ended up
getting hurt-to know that the people he held closest were always ready to
oblige sacrificing their own lives to keep his safe.
Just once he wished he would miss that narrow escape, or be unfortunate in
some way. He would simply feel so much better knowing he had felt some of
the pain his parents and Sirius had to endure. And that's why, Harry had
finally come to the decision that from then on, the battle was his, and his
alone to fight. Someone had to win, and someone had to lose, and whatever
the outcome, he was certain that he was ready now-even the aspect of death
didn't seem so horrifying anymore.
But Harry absolutely refused to let his friends and cherished ones risk
their lives, especially since this whole war was taking place to determine
his fate solely.
He stared at the fireplace straight across from him, and immediately the
scar on his forehead prickled with pain. The memory of sneaking into
Dolores Umbridge's office to use her fireplace, in hopes of finding Sirius,
was once more returning to him. He winced as he remembered the smug look on
her face when she had caught him, and then grinned at the memory of the
centaurs dragging her away into the Forbidden Forest. He glanced down at
the back of his right hand. The words 'I will not tell lies' had not
completely faded yet, but Harry new it was the memory of Umbridge's
detentions that would be etched on his arm forever.
Yet, even that pain couldn't be compared on any level to how he had felt
the night his Godfather had died. Harry got a lump in his throat every time
he revisited the moment in his mind. Had he lived instead, Sirius would
have been free by then, and able to walk in the wizarding world cleared of
all charges-not as Snuffles, or some mass murderer!
Harry smashed his fist down on the table, and saw the glass shake
violently. He knew it might seem exaggerated, but losing his Godfather felt
like losing his parents all over again.
Just then, a door burst open, and Hermione entered the room, looking wildly
stressed.
"Harry, we need you in the kitchen-Ron's in hysterics!" She stated,
exasperated.
"Bloody hell, Hermione, what is it now?" Harry replied, irritated at having
his musings interrupted.
"Well, we were dusting out the cupboards underneath the sink, when Ron
found this jar of spiders. As you can probably imagine, the shock caused
him to throw the jar recklessly out of his hands. It ended up shattering
all over the floor and the spiders weren't exactly in quite the hurry to
escape-if you catch my drift-"
"Say no more." Harry told her, getting up and pacing quickly to the
kitchen. When he reached the door to it, he reached out for the knob, but
was saved the trouble by Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh, hello Harry, dear!" She greeted him with her famous warm-hearted
smile. "Where have you been all this time? Upstairs? Oh anyhow, dear, help
yourself to some pumpkin juice, I'm just off to fetch my wand for those
spiders!" She said, patting him on the shoulder, and scurrying off to her
room on the second floor.
Harry and Hermione entered the kitchen to find Ron trembling in the center
of what seemed like a hundred spiders surrounding him. He looked up when
they walked in, white as a ghost, lips trembling.
"Help?" He sputtered, still shaking like mad. Meanwhile Fred and George
stood on the side, holding their stomachs from laughing so much.
"Hey Ron!" Fred piped up. "Why don't you try making the ickle spiders go
away by cursing them to tapdance?" He suggested in between his cackling.
"Yeah you know Fred, I heard arachnophobia stems from childhood!" George
put in.
"Quite true! Must have been from all the times we hid those black widows
under his bed sheets!" Fred smiled, shaking his head in mock sadness-and
the twins erupted into more howls of laughter.
"It's not funny, boys!" Said Mrs. Weasley, strictly. She had just re-
entered the kitchen, and with a flick of her wand, the spiders circling Ron
vanished. Meanwhile, he had his eyes shut tight, as if praying that none of
them tried making their getaway right then, and climbed up his legs for an
easier escape route. "It's alright now Ron, they're gone." His mother told
him reassuringly.
"Yeah ickle Ronnie, the monsters have disappeared now-" George smirked.
"So you can stop wetting your pants!" Fred added.
"SHUT UP!" Ron roared, and attempted to pounce on them, before they
disparated into thin air, and he crashed headfirst onto the floor. Harry
coughed, trying to stifle a laugh, and Hermione turned around to disguise
hers. Mrs. Weasley shrieked and ran to see if he was all right, but Ron was
already getting up, rubbing his head vigorously.
"Blimey, that hurt!" He said, bluntly, then noticed Harry and Hermione(who
were shaking their heads in front of him, and smiling). Ron blushed
crimson. "Oh, hey guys!"
"Hey Ron!" They replied together.
And Harry abandoned his mourning for the while, and made his way upstairs
to the bedroom he shared with Ron, his two best friends right behind him.
"Can you two believe it? Sixth year-wow!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting on
the edge of Ron's bed and petting Crookshanks heartily across the back.
"I know. Feels like it was just yesterday we were stepping into the Great
Hall for the first time, nervous about being sorted." Ron agreed. He was
sucking on a sugar quill while looking over Harry's Broom Servicing Kit.
Harry was just staring at the ceiling blankly, vaguely aware of what the
other two were talking about.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked him, cautiously. When he didn't
answer her, Ron voiced out his thoughts.
"You've been thinking of Sirius again, haven't you mate?"
"My God, am I that transparent?" Harry suddenly snapped, icily. Ron and
Hermione exchanged fearful expressions.
"Listen Harry, we aren't trying to upset you, we just want you to know you
can talk to us about it if you-"
"And what makes you think I'd want to talk about it? Do you think it's
easy? Pouring out feelings and emotions like they mean absolutely nothing?
Do you really think it's that simple trying to put yourself back together,
when you feel as though the last intact piece of you has been severed and
tied to the top of some unreachable cliff?"
Ron had stopped sucking on the quill, and Hermione looked as if she was
very carefully choosing her next words.
"Yes of course, Harry, we understand-we understand exactly how you feel!"
"Look the last thing I need is your pity! I'm not some damn charity case,
Hermione!" And with that he leapt off the bed and left, slamming the door
and causing the portrait of Sirius's mother to start wailing curses loudly.
"FILTHY HALF BLOODS! CREATURES OF DIRT! BLOOD TRAITORS! SHAME OF MY FLESH-"
But Harry wasn't listening to her nonsense. He had reached the top of the
staircase, and found Mrs. Weasley talking to someone quietly at the door.
When she heard Harry's footsteps she turned around and smiled at him.
"Oh Harry, sweetheart, come here won't you-there's someone who wants to
speak with you!" She said, and Harry thought he heard something of an
anxious tone in her voice. He couldn't imagine who would want to speak with
him right then, but he made his way silently down the staircase. He walked
up to Mrs. Weasley, and then turned to the person standing at the door. It
was Albus Dumbledore. Harry was shocked, why would he want to talk to him?
"Good evening, Sir." Harry said, reproachfully. He still hadn't gotten over
what had happened last in the Headmaster's office.
"Good evening, Harry." Dumbledore replied, smiling kindly, and observing
him beneath his spectacles. "Molly may I come in for a moment?"
"Of course, Albus! Please do!" And she and Harry stepped aside to let him
in.
"Is Arthur home yet?"
"Oh, no, not yet, but he should be arriving soon."
"Oh jolly good, then. I've been meaning to ask him about how things are
going at the ministry."
"Well Fudge is groveling apparently. Of course, I expected that-the man
feels like a downright fool and a half now, doesn't he? And I've heard that
many have been sending in complaints, stating that something this serious
should've been looked into immediately, and not overlooked so
irresponsibly!" Mrs. Weasley told him.
"Well, I must say, I was surely expecting that! I gave my warnings far more
than once, but Cornelius was never the easiest wizard to make understand
something, he's far too narrow-minded and pigheaded!" Dumbledore answered
wearily.
"Certainly-but, as far as Hogwarts goes-" She began.
"Dolores Jane Umbridge is no longer a member of our staff, least of all
Head Inquisitor, and the Educational Decrees have been removed personally
by the Minister himself." He assured her, smiling merrily.
"Oh, that's excellent then!" Mrs. Weasley beamed. "That Umbridge woman was
nothing more than a vicious snake-you should hear the stories my sons tell
of her."
"Yes well, there's no denying her unpopularity," Dumbledore agreed. "but I
think it best that we forget about her, and continue to focus on the much
more important issues heading our way." He looked straight at Harry when he
said this.
"Yes, well, I suppose you're right." Mrs. Weasley nodded in agreement. "Now-
you wanted to speak to Harry?"
"Yes. Harry, may I have a private word?" He asked him, humbly.
"Sure." Harry replied, shortly. Dumbledore led him down the corridor, to a
large, empty room that Harry had a feeling had not been used in quite a
while. He faced his Headmaster, awkwardly.
"Now Harry, I've come here this evening in order to pass on to you
something I think you will enjoy very much." Dumbledore told him.
"Oh really? What's that?" Harry answered, a bit more coldly than he had
meant to.
"A book."
"A book?"
"Yes, a book, or more, a link to memories of your father's and Sirius's."
Dumbledore explained. Harry, who had been staring down at his feet, and
pacing, looked up at the mention of this.
"What are you saying?" He asked him, perplexed.
"When Sirius and James were at school, they created a book to store their
most cherished memories in. You could think of it more as a pensieve,
though, not a novel. Every page of the book will take you back to a certain
moment of theirs. Sirius left it in my possession once we had started the
order, he said he had eventually wanted it to be given to you, as a gift
from him, for your coming of age. Unfortunately, well-things didn't go as
planned," Harry gritted his teeth at this, trying to keep his self-control.
He wasn't angry anymore, but just the subject of his Godfather could easily
make him breakdown. "but I feel positive, that he would've wanted me to
give it to you." Dumbledore reached down into the large pockets of his
purple robes then, and pulled out a leather covered book, bolted shut by a
suede belt. He handed it to Harry, who took it as if it were the rarest
treasure he would ever possess.
"Thank you so much, Sir!" Harry gulped, in wonder.
"Oh, don't mention it my boy!" He said, chuckling. "Anyhow, I best be
getting on my way!" He walked swiftly to the door, and shut it lightly
behind him, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the room, gazing at the
novel in his hands in utter amazement.
Could this book actually take him back to his father's and Sirius's days at
Hogwarts? Was he actually going to be able to see them again?
He heard Dumbledore saying goodbye to Mrs. Weasley and thanking her for her
time, then the front door shut loudly, and he was gone. Harry waited till
he was sure Mrs. Weasley had returned to the kitchen, and then fled
upstairs to tell his friends what had just happened.
Harry thundered through the door to find Ron and Hermione still sitting on
Ron's bed, talking about something Harry was sure had to do with him.
However, he didn't have time for childish arguments with them right then,
so he dismissed that thought quickly.
"Ron, Hermione, you're never going to believe what Dumbledore has just
given me!" He exclaimed. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Ron gave her a
confused look.
"I take it you're not angry with us anymore?" Hermione asked, and Harry
looked down, slightly ashamed for taking all his frustrations out on the
two people who cared about him the most.
"I'm sorry about that, you guys. I was just in a rotten mood."
"It's alright," Ron said, compassionately. "but you should know we hate it
when you just snap at us like that."
"I know, I shouldn't have, I'll try to work on channeling my anger at the
right people, I promise." Harry told them.
"Good!" Hermione said, approvingly. She smiled at Harry and then said, "So
now, what's this you were saying about Dumbledore giving you?"
Harry walked over to them, and sat down on the bed.
"He gave me this." He said, handing her the book, and Ron bent over her
shoulder to get a closer view.
"What is it?" He asked Harry.
"Well, according to Dumbledore, it's a book my father and Sirius made
during their time at Hogwarts." Harry explained.
"Really?" Hermione asked, looking very interested.
"Yeah, but that's not even half of it. See, it's not really a book, but
more of a pensieve. Every page of the book will supposedly take you back to
a memory of my father's and Sirius's. That's why they make it in the first
place, to store their most precious moments in it. Dumbledore said Sirius
was going to give it to me as a present for my coming of age-"
"You mean when you turned seventeen?" Hermione questioned.
"Yeah, I guess."
"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron expressed, amazed. Harry grinned at him.
"You're damn right it is!" After sitting in silence for a moment, Harry
spoke up.
"So-so do you wanna try it out?" He asked them, nervously.
"I DO!" Ron said, jumping at the opportunity for an adventure. The two boys
then turned to Hermione.
"Well I do suppose it would be highly interesting," She compromised. "but
how exactly do we get back from the memory once we're in it?"
"Simple, we return from it as soon as the memory ends." Harry told her.
"Will people be able to see us, or feel us there?" Ron inquired.
"No." Harry assured him. "No, it'll just be as if we're invisibly there,
watching them."
"Ok." His friends said together.
"So, are you guys coming or not? Because either way I'm doing this!" Harry
said, confidently.
"Well alright then, I suppose we have nothing to lose-and besides, if
Dumbledore gave it to you, I'm sure it's safe!" Hermione decided.
"Exactly!" Ron agreed. "Let's do this!"
Harry beamed at them both, and carefully began undoing the suede belt
attached to the book. Once it was off, he opened the book up to find a
white envelope(addressed to him) fall out of it.
"Read what it says first." Hermione warned.
"Obviously." Harry rolled his eyes at her. He unsealed the envelope, and
pulled out the dry parchment in it. Opening it up, he saw the familiar
handwriting of his Godfather.
Dear Harry,
I am writing this to you from my bedroom in Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
Even though Kreacher is quite the annoyance, I don't think I will find much
trouble in expressing myself to you.
James and I created this novel during our time at Hogwart's together. It is
most probably the most valuable and sacred, among our many treasured items.
Remus and Peter did not help with it though, James and I decided, when the
idea first came to us, that it should remain something between the two of
us, solely.
To be quite honest, it was never something I had expected would be given to
you. I had kept it in my possession for many years, and planned on
continuing to do so, until your parents died, and I knew that it should
rightly be passed on to you!
I hope you enjoy every page of it, and I hope it helps you get to know your
parents a little bit better! You know, James was always more of a brother
than a friend to me, he helped me through some of my darkest hours, and I
truly feel that if I owe him anything for all he's done for me, it's your
happiness, Harry!
So take a stroll down memory lane, and trespass on the most prized moments
of the Marauders-as long as you solemnly swear you are up to no good!
Hehe-
Much love,
Sirius-
Harry peered down at the letter one last time, smiling to himself. Then he
closed it, and turned to the first page of the book-the title page.
"Prongs and Padfoot, proudly present, I Solemnly Swear I Remember When." He
read out loud.
"They're pretty fond of that whole 'I solemnly swear' thing, aren't they?"
Ron said, grinning widely.
"Yes, definitely!" Hermione seconded.
"Well-here it goes, guys!" Harry told them, excitedly. He turned the title
page and found himself face to face with a blank one. Then, suddenly, a
burst of light shot through the page, and before he knew it, Harry felt
himself fly into it-Ron and Hermione on either side of him.