A/N: This is my very last entry for the Houses Competition! It's been such a fun experience, and many thanks to the amazing judges and House Captains! Also, yes, the title is taken from that poison in Game of Thrones. Sue me, I'm obsessed.
House: Ravenclaw
Category: Themed
Prompt: Pensieve
Word count: 814
A few years after the war, Harry wrote to Professor McGonagall inquiring about Dumbledore's Pensieve. He asked if it was being used, and, if not, if it was possible that he could have it. If it was, however, that was perfectly fine.
Some days later, a small package arrived on the Potter's doorstep, the address written in the oh so familiar handwriting that had appeared on many letters in his youth. Harry grabbed it and took it inside, setting it on the kitchen table. He immediately noticed the Undetectable Extension Charm when he reached in, and soon felt his fingers brush against cool marble. He sent a silent thanks to McGonagall, then pulled his arm back out and read the card attached to the inside of the flap.
Dear Mr Potter,
I hope you are well, and that this gift will help you now and in the future. I'm sure it will serve you much better than it does me, and better it is put to use than left to gather dust in the corner of my office.
Take care,
Minerva McGonagall
Harry smiled and took the package to his study. He wrote a quick note of thanks to McGonagall then attempted to set the Pensieve up in the corner by the window. He was red in the face after three unsuccessful attempts at lifting it out the cardboard, so he sat down for a quick breather, idly twiddling his wand between his fingers. Once he had caught his breath, he set his wand down and rolled up his sleeves to try again. He was about to start lifting when he stopped dead and mentally kicked himself.
Are you a wizard or what? Ron's voice bellowed in his mind, causing Harry to laugh as he floated the Pensieve to the space he had cleared. It seemed out of place in the modern room, and Harry suddenly felt nervous now that he had it. He couldn't quite place why, perhaps because it had been Dumbledore's, one of the many people he'd had to say goodbye to far too soon. Regardless, he forced himself to shove the feeling to the back of his mind and left the room, heading downstairs to prepare tea.
In his nightmares that night, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and Sirius lay in a wide grave, their faces pale, their chests still. Harry wanted to move, to shut his eyes, but he was paralysed, and could only watch as their eyes suddenly shot open and they lurched forwards, grabbing at him. They dragged him down into the grave and pushed him between them, shouting truths into his ears.
We're dead because of you!
This is all your fault!
You should have saved us!
How could you do this to us?
On and on it went, and then suddenly grave dirt was being shovelled down into the hole and still he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe-
He woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. Ginny's arm wound round his chest in reassurance, but it only served to fuel his panic more. He stumbled out of bed, ignoring her drowsy call for him, and grabbed his wand off the bedside table, rushing to his study.
He leant his forearms on the Pensieve and stared down into its milky depths. Voices seemed to be calling to him from within, so he strained to hear them, unconsciously leaning in. He managed to catch himself before he tumbled forward, though, and refocused on the task at hand. He thought of the friends from his dream and lifted his wand to his temple, concentrating on the memory of Fred's grin when they let off the fireworks in Harry's fifth year. He pulled his wand away and dropped the silvery strand a vial, watching it for a moment. He then repeated the procedure thrice more before placing all the memories on a shelf and going back to bed.
The nightmares didn't return that night.
The days turned into weeks, which turned into months, then years, and every few days another memory would be bottled up next to the Pensieve. One day it was Colin and his excitement at first meeting Harry, another it was Lavender giggling with Parvati in the Gryffindor Common Room. It helped him to say goodbye to the friends he had lost, and bottling up the good memories kept them safe from being corrupted and twisted by his mind as he dreamed. Occasionally, Harry would select one at random and lose himself in it, allowing himself to smile as he saw how happy they once had been. It was hard to say goodbye again, which was why he never did it very often, but the knowledge that the dead were still alive in his memories made it a little easier to bear.
Perhaps, then, he would never really say goodbye. Perhaps it was simply farewell.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed that! Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!