In the week that followed the party at Number Twelve, Harry and Ron spent most days around loafing around the Leaky Cauldron, and Diagon Alley. Sometimes Hermione would come, but usually she would just stay at Number Twelve and read her book about Pensieves. Because Harry was avoiding Ginny at all costs, they didn't go by the Burrow at all. The thought of Ginny leaving the party so that Harry wouldn't say something to her that she obviously didn't want to hear… it was too embarrassing. What would the point be to making Ginny see him again?

The week had passed quickly. Both Harry and Ron leisurely bought their school supplies and new robes during that week, and also a fair number of butterbeers along the way.

After that week, Hermione found herself in Diagon Alley again. Ollivander had owled her the day before. The stone for the Pensieve was ready.

"Miss Granger, hello again," said Ollivander. He had been waiting in a chair behind the front display case.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander. I received your owl," said Hermione unnecessarily. She was nervous. "I read the whole book twice this past week. I think I'm ready."

"Good. I've hewn the stone into shape and polished it. The manual labor at least is done." Ollivander magically lifted the stone from behind the display case. Hermione was surprised how shiny it was. It looked like metal.

"They can be made with any solid stone, but if it has a metallic hue it can make some memories more colorful and vibrant. This is obsidian. It's quite beautiful when magically polished, don't you agree?" Ollivander said, gazing down at the reflective plate of metallic-looking stone.

"Yes, very," Hermione said. Her mouth was dry. She stepped forward and slid her wand from her pocket.

"Ten and three-quarters… Vine wood and dragon heartstring core."

"Yes." Hermione instantly was reliving when her wand chose her, the first time she'd been in this shop. She had walked into Ollivander's, looked around at the hundreds of boxes, and her wand's box has flown from its spot high up in the shelves down to the display case before her. The box had opened and the wand had flown into her hand and had emitted a warm glow.

Ollivander seemed to have recalled the same memory because he said, "You really were destined for a greater purpose. That wand knew it even when you were just a little girl." He smiled wider than she'd seen him ever smile.

"Thank you," Hermione said, feeling herself blush.

"Well, shall we?" Ollivander said, still smiling.

"Alright then." Hermione stepped toward the metallic stone sort of platter. She was thinking hard about what she'd read. "I think I know what to do… Please just tell me if I'm doing something wrong."

"Of course," Ollivander said, nodding once "So you've chosen your memories?"

"Yes, I have."

"And you know that once—"

"Once I give them, I can never have them back. I know. This is worth it. If it means getting my parents to know me again."

"Ah," Ollivander said, pausing for a moment. "I see."

Hermione nodded at Ollivander and then turned her attention back to the stone. A hush fell over the shop as she laid her wand on the stone. It was pointed straight out ahead of her. Then, she laid her hands flat on the cool stone on either side of her wand, closed her eyes, and thought of the memories she'd chosen.

The first memory: elation. In her mind, she re-lived receiving her wand once more. The warmth of the wand in her hand for the first time. That feeling of belonging together. Of pure joy at knowing that she was going to belong with this kind little strip of wood. That she finally found why she always felt so different than the other girls at school…

She didn't realize it but a smile had spread on her face. Ollivander, who was watching her closely, smiled at her happiness.

And then the memory was torn from her. She felt like someone had just punched her in the chest.

She did not open her eyes though.

Then, it was easy to think of one of her lowest, unhappiest moments. She'd stood in the rain when Ron Disapparated away. He'd left Harry when things were already so desperate. He'd left her.

She didn't notice when the tears rolled down her cheeks as she let the memory bleed hotly into the stone. Her chest felt like someone had stabbed her, the pain of the punch was nothing to this.

"The worst is over, now, Miss Granger," Ollivander said quietly. She was in so much pain that he sounded distant, like she was hearing his voice through a long underground tunnel. She kept her eyes pressed shut, just as she knew she had to. Then, she thought of the third memory.

Last: a dream. The dream that she'd had two nights ago. An inexplicable one about Harry. Harry pushing the straps of her dress from her shoulders. The feel of his fingers as they glided up the skin of her neck and pushed her hair back from her face. The feel of his lips on hers. The dream had been so real. But then the dream had morphed and they were married. She and Harry were at St. Mungo's and she was lying in a hospital bed having just given birth to their son. They were each other's only family in the whole world. It was happy and sad at the same time. But thankfully it was only just a dream.

Everywhere that Dream-Harry had touched her, in real life her skin felt like it was burning. It felt as though someone had rubbed a lit match over her shoulders, up the sides of her neck and to her face and lips. She gritted her teeth, enduring the pain.

She felt like someone was squeezing her brain. It hurt so much that she could barely stand up. Through the fog of pain, she remembered that she was done and lifted her hands from the obsidian.

Instantly, all three memories she'd given to the stone were gone. They'd been torn from the fabric of her being. They lived inside the stone forever now.

She would still know that her wand chose her, but she'd never be able to recall the strength of the magical bond they'd had that very first moment.

She'd never remember the dream she'd had about Harry but it was just as well. She didn't know where it had come from. After all, she'd never thought of Harry that way (that she knew of) anyway.

And she'd never remember standing in the rain in the dark forest and how she felt after Ron left. Though, she would still know that he'd left because she remembered the time while he was gone and when he came back. She thought she'd be better off without such an emotionally hurtful memory.

"You've done it," said Ollivander. He'd pushed a chair around to Hermione and gestured for her to sit down.

"This feels very strange," she said rubbing her chest. The headache was already only a dull ache, but her chest still hurt quite badly. The burning feeling along her neck only hurt if she touched her skin like a superficial sunburn.

"It'll heal with time," said Ollivander. He conjured a glass of what looked like water. "Here. Drink this."

She took the glass from where it floated before her and took a sip. "What is this?"

"Just a nerve tonic. Helps your body calm down after the stress of what you just went through."

She wished Ollivander would keep talking. She liked the calming sound of his voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."

"You're welcome, Miss Granger. I would feel remiss if I did not draw attention to the fact that you did all the hard work."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without you."

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, bowing his head to her.

Once she drank a few more sips of her tonic, she was feeling a little better. Ollivander wrapped the Pensieve in a blue velvet cloth and then wrapped it all again in brown paper and string.

Once he was finished, she lifted her new Pensieve. She was pleasantly surprised by the light weight of it. She said goodbye to Ollivander and left his shop.

Hermione felt awkward carrying such an important magical object down the street, especially since she felt like she was getting over a bad illness. Her legs ached as though she'd just run five kilometres.

As she walked, she worried over how she'd put so much of herself into this thing. Because it had taken hardly any time, she almost felt as though it might have not actually happened. And now someone could bump into her accidentally and cause her to drop it. Or someone could run up to her and take it. Was this what having a Horcrux felt like?

She pushed the thought from her mind the instant she thought it. This was not a part of her soul. It was just a few memories.

But then she thought, what are we if not all of our memories?

As she thought this, she came nearer to the shop where she'd had her palm read only the week before. Hermione noted that the place was called Second Sight and thought it was funny that she was carrying a Pensieve into the place. She told herself she'd only stop in for a moment and then go home. It wouldn't take long. She just wanted to sit down for a minute and rest.

"You're back," came the woman's misty voice from the back of the shop.

"Yes," Hermione said quietly. The smell of incense was heavy in the air. The whole place had a smokiness about it. It made it seem hot in here despite the mild summer day outside. A wave of nausea flooded over Hermione but then left her just as quickly as it had come on.

The woman was jingling softly as she walked. Hermione wondered if it was an ankle bracelet causing the noise.

"Come to the table, child," she said. Once she reached Hermione, she didn't look at her but rather led her by gently nudging Hermione's shoulder.

"Cards first," the woman said.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked. She noticed that, just as last time, there were no other customers.

"Madam Malkin, and no I do not own the robes shop. That is my dear sister."

"Oh, ha, right. Okay," Hermione said. The woman was laying her cards out in her 'H' pattern. "You know, the strangest thing…" Hermione tried to stifle a yawn. Her head was throbbing, but she tried to ignore the pain. "I don't really remember what you told me last time. I just felt like, well this might sound silly, but I felt drawn back to here."

"Don't remember?" said Madam Malkin, "Don't be coy. You were obviously shaken when you left here last time."

Hermione shook her head. "I know, I just… things have been a little crazy lately… I honestly don't remember."

"Well, let's see here," Madam Malkin shook her head and looked down at the cards. "You have done a great deed. Illness hides in your heart. Your heart is broken. Strange." She shrugged. "You have forgotten one lover and chosen the other." The woman looked up from the cards for a moment and then back down, "Well, you're a strong one. Most people wouldn't be able to decide so quickly."

"Decide what?"

"Between two lovers. You really did forget, didn't you?"

Hermione only stared at her.

"You're not having me on? Would you like my memory of your visit to look at in your Pensieve if you don't believe me?"

"How'd you know this was a Pensieve?"

Madam Malkin pulled out her wand and was raising it to her temple.

"No, no, it's alright. I believe you. I won't take your memory. Thank you, though."

Madam Malkin lowered her wand again and slid it back into the deep pocket of her robe. "Let's continue, then. You wish to travel great distances to attempt to forge a friendship of sorts. The trip will not go as you plan, but you will find beauty and happiness on your journey. When you come back, you will uncover a secret and have to make a choice."

"My trip to Australia to see my parents?"

"Perhaps… You will have a career or a position of sorts in a powerful place and make decisions that will change the world."

"Mm."

"You seek knowledge…" Madam Malkin stared at the cards. Then, suddenly, she stood and her robe billowed behind her as she rushed to a bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. When she reached the wall, a book jumped off the shelf and into her hands. She strode back to the table and sat back down. "Here," she said, "The book you seek."

Hermione looked down at the book and stifled a laugh. It was My Eyes and How to See Past Them by none other than Sybill Trelawney.

"It explains about the Twelve Fates and also about Tarot. I will sell you these cards for three galleons once we are finished."

"Er… okay."

"Your future is different than the last time I read these cards. You have many choices to make. You are cherished and greatly admired." Madam Malkin looked down at her cards for a long moment. Hermione felt exhausted.

Madam Malkin shook her head again and then cleaned the cards up into a neat little stack.

Hermione pulled seven galleons out of her pocket and laid them down on the table. Then, she picked up the book and the stack of cards. "Thank you, Madam."

"Anytime, dearie." They both stood. "And anytime your Harry Potter wants to get his cards read, please send him my way."

"He's not my Harry Potter," Hermione said. She was too tired to realize that Madam Malkin shouldn't have known that Hermione was friends with him.

Madam Malkin was walking her to the door.

"Oh. Oh, I see. That's too bad. But… I suppose… yes. I see."

"Well, goodbye."

"Goodbye for now."