Chapter Eleven –

Old Memories

Over the next few weeks, Leanne started counting down the days to January the 16th, though it was approaching painfully slow. Christmas passed, and those that had spent the holidays with their families arrived back at Hogwarts on the 5th of January, just in time to see the snowfall that they had been having for several weeks turn into rain. Naturally, Leanne and Frieda were quick to tell Duncan everything that had happened over the Christmas holidays, and was just as excited about Travers' upcoming visit as Leanne was.

However, her excitement was pushed quickly to the back of her mind as, overnight, the Christmas decorations vanished, and lessons, which Leanne had almost forgotten about, resumed. Which, much to Leanne's displeasure, included endearing double Potions every Friday once again, and judging from the continued way that Snape was taking numerous house points from Gryffindor and snapping at most of his pupils, his holiday experience had not been a merry one. Although Leanne and the rest of the Gryffindors tried their best to avoid eye contact with Snape (doing so often caused house points to be taken from Gryffindor for no reason whatsoever), Snape had combated this by standing in front of the instructions on the board so that Leanne had no choice but to look at him.

'A point from Gryffindor,' Snape declared as Leanne accidentally glanced towards him as their first lesson was about to draw to a close, 'for making unnecessarily rude faces towards the teacher.'

Leanne had not been making any faces towards Snape, and although she and Ron Weasley, by the way he was opening his mouth angrily, started to protest, a threatening look from the Potions master swiftly shut them up and they returned to adding the finishing touches to their potion before Snape decided to make up another pathetic excuse to deduct house points from Gryffindor.

Indeed, the steady disappearance of Gryffindor house points from the large hour glasses in the entrance hall seemed to have finally been noticed. Snape was taking House points away faster than they were being earned, and upon learning about this, Professor McGonagall hastened to award Harry Potter and Lavender Brown ten house points each for opening the windows during their next Transfiguration class.

January the 16th was slowly, but steadily, approaching, Leanne discovered after consulting the calendar that night – it was only next Thursday, which meant she wouldn't have to cope with another Potions lesson before talking to Travers. Leanne had hoped that she would receive one of her father's memories very soon, though her hopes were soon dashed as the days slid past and nothing arrived with Silverstone.

Frieda and Duncan were also eager for Travers to contact Leanne, though perhaps not for the same reason Leanne harboured; whereas she simply wanted to speak to Travers and learn more about him, and her father, Frieda and Duncan were becoming increasingly nervous that Snape might have succeeded in obtaining the Philosopher's Stone before January the 16th. Leanne, too, was worried about this, but the fact that Snape remained as sour and as venomous as always told her that he had not yet managed to get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone.

'But maybe he's always like that, even when he's happy,' Duncan suggested as they walked towards Defence Against the Dark Arts, when Leanne told him what she had been thinking.

'I doubt it,' Leanne replied. 'If he had managed to get the Philosopher's Stone, he'd probably have left the school. He wouldn't need the job if he could use the Stone to turn any metal into gold. No, he's still probably trying to get past that three-headed dog he spoke about.'

'I've been wondering about that,' Duncan mused softly, as they entered the classroom and took their usual seats at the back of the classroom, where Quirrell's eyes rarely wandered. 'Where is this three-headed dog? I imagine that such a thing would be uncommon; if it's here in the school, where is it? I certainly haven't seen it…'

'It'll not be in sight, will it?' Frieda pointed out, as Quirrell began the lesson by taking the register (which took twice as long as in any other lesson because of Quirrell's stutter). 'It'll be hidden behind a locked door somewhere. Come to think of it…remember what Dumbledore said at the beginning of the year – that anyone entering the third floor corridor on the right hand side would die a very painful death – remember? Well, I bet that's where this three-headed dog is. On that third floor corridor!'

'Quiet at the b-back p-p-please!' Quirrell shouted in a thoroughly unconvincing stern voice, as Frieda's voice started to rise in excitement.

Leanne looked at Quirrell as he began the lesson, wondering whether he had had any more run-ins with Snape since the Quidditch match, and although he seemed as fine as ever, he often kept raising his hand to his turban and looked slightly paler than usual. He also seemed to avoid sitting next to Snape during mealtimes, Leanne had noticed, preferring instead to find a vacated spot at the other end of the staff table. Once or twice, Leanne was sure that Snape had been glaring at Quirrell, but she had quickly lowered her head once he had turned her way.

An apprehensive bubble floated inside Leanne as she awoke on the 16th of January, knowing that at midnight, she would be talking once again to Derrick Travers. Leanne had told Frieda that she would be able to hide behind a chair again and listen to what was going on (as long as she didn't cough this time), though Duncan was most annoyed that he, being a Ravenclaw, would be unable to do so and would have to wait until the following day to learn from Leanne and Frieda what had happened.

'Hey, look, it's Silverstone,' Frieda said with a mouth full of sausage during breakfast that day, and pointed; sure enough, Silverstone came swooping towards them, clutching what looked like a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. He dropped the parcel, though his accuracy could have been better, and Leanne had to lunge across the breakfast table to stop it from dropping into Percy Weasley's cereal; startled, Percy jumped backwards in surprise, his horn-rimmed glasses askew.

'It's from Travers,' Leanne said quietly, instantly recognising the scrawling handwriting that was on the parcel.

Silverstone hooted softly and landed haphazardly on the breakfast table, sending feathers flying, as Leanne eagerly ripped the paper off and opened the small box; inside, there was a small glass vial, which seemed to contain a silvery substance, though by looking at it, Leanne couldn't tell whether it was a liquid or a gas.

Leanne held up the letter, and Frieda leaned forward so that they could both read it together. It was very brief:

Dear Leanne,

Here is one of the memories from your father's pensieve. I managed to track down your owl again and give him this. Please do not use the pensieve and this memory until you have spoken to me tonight. I hope all is well.

From Derrick Travers

Leanne quickly finished reading and glanced at the small bottle, now realising that what was inside must be a memory.

'I wonder what the memory contains,' Frieda said, sounding as excited as Leanne felt, as Silverstone tore at the corners of a book that Hermione Granger was reading over her porridge. 'Perhaps one of when your father was at Hogwarts. Maybe when he married your mother. Maybe when you were born or something. Just think – you'll get to see your father again…but remember what I said at Christmas – don't get too comfortable. Your father is still dead, no matter how many times you will see him in the pensieve. I hope you realise that.'

Leanne did realise, but she was too excited to really listen to what Frieda was talking about, and barely welcomed Duncan when he arrived at the Gryffindor table to say hello, leaving Frieda to tell him what Silverstone had just brought with him. She was about to see her father for the very first time…well, not the first time; after all, she had seen her father when she had been very young, though she had been far too young to remember what he looked like, or what kind of personality he had. With the pensieve, however, she would be able to find out both, plus more. Thinking hard to herself, and smiling, she only looked round when Silverstone nibbled painfully on her ear, and was soon whisked away to Charms by the first-year Gryffindors.

The lessons that day were extremely vague and blurry to Leanne, who could only really think about that night and speaking with Travers again, and in her distracted state, she missed the vase of tulips (that she was supposed to be transfiguring into a vase of roses) completely, and ended up prodding Neville in the head. Professor McGonagall wasn't particularly happy, especially when Neville started sprouting horns, but refrained from taking house points from Gryffindor, since no one had yet managed to stop Snape's point-deducting rampage.

Finally, lessons came to a close, and, after bidding Duncan farewell, and promising that they would tell him everything that Travers said the following day, Leanne and Frieda hurried back to the common room to procure comfortable seats by the fireplace, even though it was still early and Leanne's meeting with Travers was only to take place at midnight.

The time seemed to go by slower than Leanne thought possible; an hour seemed like four hours, and by eight o clock, Leanne was sure she had been waiting there for what seemed like a day. The wind rattled against the windows, and rain lashed down, though the windows were shut tight, ensuring that everyone within the Gryffindor common room remained warm and snug, especially by the blazing fire. However, after a few hours more had passed, with one side of Leanne's face considerably warmer and redder than the other, Leanne was starting to regret sitting beside the fire, but daren't give up her seat in case Travers appeared in the fire whilst there were still other people in the room; if such a thing happened, Leanne was ready to leap up in front of the fireplace to block his head from view.

The first years were the first to bed, and Leanne would have been inclined to join them if this was not a very important night. Percy Weasley told them sternly that they should go to bed, or else they would be tired in the morning, but seemed friendlier towards them when they pretended to be working on some difficult Astronomy homework. Finally, when it seemed like the Weasley twins were about to stay up all night, they yawned and headed to bed at five to twelve.

'Quick, behind the chair!' Leanne cried urgently, and no sooner had Frieda dived behind the nearest armchair and concealed herself, than the head of Derrick Travers appeared in the fireplace like last time; the flames were once again licking his ears and chin, though it didn't seem to affect him and instead smiled as he saw Leanne.

'Hello,' he said graciously.

'Hi,' Leanne said. 'It's about time you came back. I've not seen you in months, I was afraid that you – '

'That I what? Had abandoned you?' Travers asked, guessing it at once. 'Of course not, Leanne. I'm still extremely happy that I found out about you, and I, myself, wish that I could have spoken to you much more frequently than this, but I have been very busy.'

'Yes, Wheezy told me,' Leanne replied, remembering her late-night visit from the house elf. 'He told me that you had important jobs. What sort of important jobs?'

Travers, or at least, his head, paused. 'I was still undecided about whether to tell you this, Leanne, but I think it's best that you know,' he said finally. 'There is a very powerful and precious artefact hidden in Hogwarts, called the Philosopher's Stone. Now, I – '

'I know about the Philosopher's Stone,' Leanne said quickly. 'Wheezy kind of let it slip and then I did some research on it. It's a stone that grants immortality, isn't it? And it can turn any metal into gold, right?'

'That's right,' Travers said, looking extremely surprised that Leanne knew about this. 'Er…well…it was once being held at Gringotts, but it was moved to Hogwarts for its own safety. For it seems that someone has recently taken to attempt to steal the Stone…'

'You think it's Professor Snape, don't you?' Leanne blurted out.

'How do you – ?' Travers asked, once again looking very shocked, but quickly recovered. 'I see you've been doing your homework, Leanne…'

'Well, not exactly,' Leanne said. 'I overheard you speaking to Snape a few months ago. You were in the fireplace in an empty classroom. You were saying that something was clearer than it had been for ages or something, and that it was very convenient that Snape had a part in protecting the Philosopher's Stone.'

Travers was even more surprised, but then he looked at Leanne proudly. 'Well, you certainly seem to have a skill at roaming the corridors at night and finding out things that most students don't know,' he said, gazing rather fondly now at Leanne. 'Your father was very much the same, often wandering the school after dark – rarely caught as well…but I digress. We shall talk about your father very soon, but yes, I have been exceedingly busy as of later, and yes, I do suspect Severus Snape.'

'Why?' Leanne asked, even though she, too, was highly suspicious of the Potion master.

'Severus and I were at school together, but not in the same year,' Travers replied. 'We were never the best of friends, but he liked me a bit more than James Potter and his group of friends. Your father and I sometimes helped Severus when his confrontations with James and Sirius became violent, but he never seemed to like us for it. Quite the opposite, in fact; he didn't like us saving him, it made him look like he was weak and defenceless, when, of course, he was not – one of the best pupils at Defence Against the Dark Arts at my time, he was. Probably one of the reasons he wanted that post a few years after he had left Hogwarts.'

'Why does he teach Potions then?' Leanne enquired.

'Because Dumbledore refused to give Snape the job, and instead offered him the post as Potions master, another subject that he was extremely good at,' Travers explained. 'That hasn't stopped Severus from applying for the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts every year since then, though, but Dumbledore keeps denying him…'

'But why?'

'Don't ask me,' Travers replied. 'Ask Dumbledore. Something to do with Severus being a little too fond and familiar with the Dark Arts for it to be safe for him to teach that subject. Which is also one of the reasons why I suspect Snape of being after the Philosopher's Stone. Who wouldn't want it, after all? Recently, I have been learning as much of the Philosopher's Stone as I have been able to, and I have been doing research on the various enchantments and spells placed to protect it, aided, of course, by Wheezy. However, thus far, I have only gleamed that a large, three-headed dog is protecting it, and there seems to be no way of getting past it. Poor Wheezy was nearly eaten as he investigated…'

'Do you have proof that Snape is after the Philosopher's Stone?' Leanne asked, hoping that he would have.

'No,' Travers said heavily. 'Severus has a very good story, and without evidence of any kind, I cannot approach Dumbledore and tell him of his staff problems.'

'Why would Dumbledore even appoint Snape as a teacher in the first place?' Leanne wondered, almost to herself.

'Who knows,' Travers said, and Leanne was sure that if he had shoulders, he would be shrugging. 'I do know, however, that although Albus Dumbledore is a great man, and probably the most powerful wizard in recent years, he does has his flaws. He is exceedingly trusting, perhaps too much for his own good. He always sees the best of people, and not the worse. However, he was wise enough not to allow Snape become the Defence Against Dark Arts teacher when he first arrived.' Travers paused for a moment and went on, 'But enough about Severus Snape. Let's talk about your father, which I am sure you are extremely eager to do so.'

Leanne nodded enthusiastically. 'Yeah, I want to know about him, everything about him,' she said.

'To say everything would take several years,' Travers replied with a smile, 'but I shall tell you some important details about dear Evan. He was born in 1957 – I forget his birth date – to Donald and Patricia Rosier, both magical, which made Evan a pure-blood. He never boasted about his bloodline, however, unlike some people at school that I could mention, such as Lucius Malfoy, who was in his fifth year when we first started. Evan's father – your grandfather – Donald, left a few years after Evan was born, saying that he did not want care of her son. I never found out what made him do that, or why Patricia and Donald's marriage fell apart. Something made me think that Evan knew, but he never let on; whenever we veered anywhere near that subject, he'd always change it quickly.

'Anyway, Evan was brought up by Patricia, and he hardly ever saw his father again,' Travers continued, and Leanne felt a stab of pity for her long-dead father. 'After school, he told me that he'd managed to track him down, but by then, Donald was aging and ill. From what little information I managed to get from Evan hinted that Donald was on his last legs – he's probably been dead for several years now.

'But I've gone too far,' Travers realised, backtracking. 'Evan and I were best friends during our school years. We were quite popular, though not as popular as James Potter and his little gang. James, of course, was killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, along with his wife, Lily Potter – she was in his year as well, Head Boy and Head Girl during their last year. His son, Harry, is in your year as I am sure you know. Sirius is in Azkaban, Peter is dead, and who knows where Remus is. But anyway, Evan and I got along pretty well, the teachers liked us, we got good grades, we were good at Quidditch – both of us were on the house team for a few years. We both got the O.W.L.s that we wanted and then we left school.'

'When did he meet my mother?' Leanne asked.

'The year after he left Hogwarts,' Travers replied, smiling. 'They were a happy couple – they were meant for each other, and it's no wonder that they decided to have a kid at such a young age. He was only twenty when your brother, Roger, was born – your mother nineteen. Some say that they rushed into it, but everyone was doing it, especially now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was now at large with his followers. You were born three years later. Anyway, they were about to get married as well, but alas, it was not to be; your father was killed in 1980, just a few months after you were born. But, like I've said before, I'm not entirely sure how Evan died. At the hands of Death Eaters, everyone says, and it certainly seems most likely.'

'Where was my mum when all of this happened?' Leanne enquired. 'And where was Roger?'

'Both of them were out, it seems,' Travers replied. 'So were you. Visiting a relative, perhaps. Without consulting your mother – and I'd rather not do that, not yet, at least – we won't know. It's fortunate, anyway, for if you, your brother and your mother had been in the house at the time of your father's death, the rest of you would have been killed by Death Eaters. From what I know, you, Roger and Tessa returned to the house a few hours after your father had been killed, and what happened after that is a much a mystery to me as it is to you. If your mother is unwilling to divulge information to you about the matter, it is highly unlikely that she will pass it on to me.'

'So what's in here?' Leanne asked, holding up the vial of what was apparently a memory.

'A memory of your father's that I am sure you will find extremely enlightening and enjoyable,' Travers said with a smile. 'I shall not spoil its contents, but I advise you to find a quiet place in the castle, pour the memory into the pensieve and then lower your head into it. You will then see your father's recollection as if you were there. It has not been easy sifting through the memories, I can say that, but I think you will enjoy this one the most. I shall send other memories at a later date, no doubt, though don't count on them arriving too soon. For one, your owl doesn't seem very reliable, and for another, I shall be once again extremely busy with researching the Philosopher's Stone and trying to procure hard evidence that Severus Snape is trying to steal it.'

'When should I use the memory?' Leanne asked.

'Whenever you so wish,' Travers replied, 'though I suggest that you get some sleep tonight and enter the pensieve tomorrow when you are wide awake and can appreciate it more – '

Leanne blinked; Travers had opened his mouth in surprise and had vanished abruptly. Turning, Leanne quickly saw why. Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost had just sailed through the entrance to the common room was gliding over to where Leanne was standing, who was trying not to look suspiciously to either the fireplace or the chair behind which Frieda was hidden, and now peeking around.

'Ah, Leanne, I've been sent to give you a message,' Nearly Headless Nick said, which caught Leanne off guard. Who would be giving Nick a message to give to Leanne at this late hour?

'Oh…what is it?' Leanne asked, still trying to look as casual as possible, though fully aware that she was standing in a highly suspicious manner.

'I heard from one of the portraits along the sixth floor corridor that Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak to you in his office immediately,' Nearly Headless Nick replied. 'I shall lead the way if you do not know where his office is located. But then I must be off…Peeves is causing trouble in the owlery, so I need to find the Bloody Baron quickly…'

'Dumbledore wants to see me?' Leanne asked, her voice hollow as she stood frozen to the spot. 'What for?'

'The woman in the portrait did not say,' Nick replied, 'only that you were to go to his office immediately. I daresay that he will tell you shortly. Now come, I'm in a hurry…we're going to have some very featherless owls in the morning if Peeves isn't stopped…'

Leanne forced herself to move forward, her heart pounding. Dumbledore knew, Leanne realised, he knew about Travers and her secret meetings with him. He was going to shout at her, no doubt, and then Travers would be in trouble, and so would Frieda…Perhaps Dumbledore would even expel Leanne, she thought desperately as she walked as slowly as possible towards the impatient Nearly Headless Nick. That would make Snape happy, if I were expelled, she added bitterly to herself.

'Oh, and Dumbledore said you are to bring the memory with you,' Nearly Headless Nick added, looking slightly puzzled. 'At least, I think that's what the woman in the portrait said. Anyway, come on, no time for dawdling,' he chided sternly, forcing Leanne to pick up the pace on her shaking legs as she crossed the common room. 'I've got to stop Peeves from causing any more damage or Filch'll go mad!'