The Pensive

Hello people. This is my second attempt at Harry Potter fan fiction. My first was…decent. Still, this was supposed to be a multi chaptered story and I may come back to it but I just want to see what people think. Anyway, I have another story on the go. I do have the plot for this all planned out. Chapter by chapter lol. I hope you enjoy my attempt at fan fiction. Please read and review.

Chapter 1- Introduction

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The war was over. Voldemort was dead.

It had been this way for the better part of a nine decades. Ninety years of peace Oh, the toll had been high. Massively high in fact. But what did that mean to anyone? It had happened and ended decades before most Wizards nowadays had been born. Those who survived it were old and though they would tell tales of the hardship and suffering, no one could really comprehend. Grandchildren would listen to the tales before going out to play, forgetting in their young bliss. Yes. It was all to easy to forget. Who would really want to remember? Those were dark times and the horror and terror of the war had been left behind all to eagerly. Not that there was anything wrong with that. For, what is the problem with moving on? Growing up? Walking forwards? Is there any fault in walking along the path set out in front of you? No. There is not.

Kyle stared down at the parchment on his desk. He quill poised over the clean paper.

He was writing his end of year History of Magic essay. It was something he'd been working on in class all year. A new addition to the school curriculum, it was compulsory for each student to choose a point in history that most interested them. A point in time where something important happened. A pivotal moment in time. Obviously, he wasn't the only one that had chosen the last war, many others had. Who wouldn't? With the exploits of Harry Potter and his friends. The lure of their adventures. The ones who had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. It was the stuff of fairytales. Sighing, he wondered what else to write. He was only on the introduction! It needed to be handed in tomorrow.

Others had been asking him for months why he hadn't started writing it and, the truth was, that he wasn't quite sure. He supposed it would be because he wanted to make it as accurate as possible.

His friends had been wondering at the amount of effort he had been putting into this essay. Its just homework, they told him, when they found him researching late into the night at the library. He knew they thought he only enjoyed the 'glory' of the war, and he was ashamed to admit that that had been his original reason for choosing the subject. Stupidly, he hadn't understood the extent of the violence, the loss.

Until he found something that could change everything. Forever.

He put his quill back to the page.

I chose the time of Harry Potter as my project. More specifically, the time of the war with Voldemort. Before I started this, I thought it was all glory and was easily won, always in favour of the light. That no extreme crimes against humanity were committed and that we won easily. No corruption, no treachery… I was wrong.

Pausing again, he felt a fleeting feeling of worry. Would he do the story, no not story…reality, he was about to tell justice? Should he of done more research?

No.

He had done all the research. He knew the story better than, in his understanding, anyone alive. As for doing it justice. There was no other choice. His retelling had to do something.

The end of the war saw the deaths of many of the prominent figures. Number one, for example, was Mr Harry Potter himself, though the exact events of his death were never known. Secondly, were his two best friends Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley. Others included his Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. It is unknown whether these deaths are connected, though they both involved Voldemort. Voldemort was killed, obviously. In the later parts of this essay, I will discuss the deaths in further detail and-

He stopped, even to his ears, it sounded too impersonal. Just words on a page. Nothing like the raw and very painful emotions and memories he had uncovered in his research. He knew his Professor wouldn't approve but he knew what he had to do. He had to write the story as it was, and the words couldn't be plain. They would convey the emotions he knew were felt, and so his hand shaking slightly before he managed to steady it, Kyle continued, crossing out the previous sentence and creating a new paragraph.

This is not my story. The things listed here are the actions and experiences of another. One with real feelings and emotions. They lived in the middle of the war I am trying to describe. I may be safe, in my secure life, but had it not been for the bravery of the wizards and witches that saved this world, I would be living a very different life. They are the hero's, the true hero's, of this age. They died so that others can live. Its time we commemorate that bravery. For too long we have let ourselves forget.

This is not simply a essay to me anymore.

Its so much more.

When I started this, I had no idea of true sacrifice or of the oppression suffered throughout the war we long to, and have started to, forget. There is no book to log the events, no event for us to remember. Many died, so that we could live, we owe it to them to remember.

I intend to remember. I intend to write something that will shake the wizarding world.

You may dispute my knowledge, but you can't deny the source. Memories. I have collected as many memories as possible about the most memorable events of the war. Also, I managed to stumble upon a wealth of memories all on my own. It seems that while some things are hard to remember, these things should be impossible to forget.

From what I have discovered, this account should be a accurate and non bias documentation of what happened in the war.

After all, the information came straight from Harry Potter himself.

Kyle paused, again, suddenly unsure of himself. However, he soon started to urge himself on. It was getting late and he needed to finish. He wanted to finish. It was his last month at school, maybe he'd finally make a lasting impression on his teachers. Never mind that, he admonished, this was far more important than praise from teachers. Still, he couldn't help, the small well of pride inside him that he felt when he thought about what he was doing.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he continued to write rapidly but carefully.

A pensive was sitting rather inconspicuously on the other side of Kyle's desk. It was very ordinary. Large but plain. The silvery liquid swirling in its depths contrasting to its dullness; alive and free.

The only indication to its origin was two words roughly chiselled into the stone. Very worn, it was only just readable.

A name.

Harry Potter

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Thanks for reading.