The Last Memory
Chapter 1: Something to Tell
Author's Note: First, all the characters and plotlines belong to the amazingly talented JK Rowling. This story is partially compatible with the Deathly Hallows epilogue depending on your view of the characters. You must read the last book to understand this. I completely disregarded the last movie. Enjoy.
Third Person Limited: Harry's P.O.V.
"Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore's portrait cried out suddenly, "I think it is time to tell Mr. Weasley, if he doesn't already know, and his family what you saw. What Professor Snape left you in his memories." The trio was nearly halfway down the stairs, anticipating yummy Kreacher-made sandwiches. They suddenly turned around
"Harry, what's he talking about? You reckon there's something you should be telling me?" Ron said as he twisted his wand nervously. It took Harry a few moments to realize what Ron was talking about before it occurred to Harry what his former Headmaster was referring to. Luckily for Harry, Hermione got the sense that Harry wanted to talk in a more private place. She began to lead them towards the seventh floor. However, Seamus interrupted them.
"Harry. What'z up. Shouldn't you be at the feeeeeeeeeeeeeeast." Harry zoned out of Seamus' Firewhisky induced monologue and spent several moments pondering the best way to attack the situation at hand. He was trying to remember the best way to produce a talking patronus. He waited for the exact moment in which Seamus passed out and Hermione and Ron proceeded to move him back to his dorm.
Harry noticed the Hermione and Ron seemed to be taking the long way back and Harry did not wish to think what they could possibly be doing in a dark castle without any company. He did not have too much time to ponder this for a mass of ginger color haired people emerged suddenly.
Harry turned Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and stated, "It's time to tell him."
"Time to tell me what?" Ron requested looking a little agitated as he emerged arm in arm with Hermione. Hermione on the other hand, looked thrilled to the bone because of whatever had happened on their journey back from the Fat Lady's portrait hole.
"Ronald, it's not about you, it's about me." Percy had just turned the corner.