A Need For Memories

by aviendha15

This story is shared with SailorMartin3 with express consent.

19. A Sluggish Memory

Part 19

"But I wanted to read," said Sirius in a whiny voice. "I didn't get to read for ages."

"You can read the next chapter," said Hermione soothingly. "Molly asked first, so she gets to read this one." Sirius glared at her and his lips turned up into a tiny but unmistakable pout.

James noticed this and shook his head exasperatedly. "Only you, Sirius. Only you."

"What?" questioned Sirius, looking confused; an expression that was mirrored by many in the room.

"I said, Only you."

"I got that much. Everybody did. But 'only me' what? There could be many possibilities, you know. Only I am the one most sorted by Hogwarts girls, only I am the best prankster, the most handsome, the most talented in Defense, the best loved by Professors…"

"Shut up!" yelled James, looking revolted at most of the 'possibilities'. "I most certainly didn't mean any of that stupid stuff. I was trying to say that, only you can manage to act like a mature person one moment and a whiny brat the next."

"I had a good teacher," replied Sirius, shrugging and looking pointedly at James. "It is obviously not very difficult to accomplish, with you as my best friend."

"Shut up! I don't ever behave anything like that," growled James, while the others broke out into laughs. "You can ask Remus!"

"Nothing doing. Keep me out of this," said Remus, trying to curb his laughter. "I, for one, don't wish to get trapped in an argument between the two of you. All these years with the two of you have at least taught me this much."

"Whatever," said James sullenly. "So, what's the name of the chapter, Molly?" He changed the topic effectively.

"'The Sluggish Memory'," Molly read out. "Must be another of the memories that Headmaster shows Harry."

"But a sluggish memory?" muttered Remus. "That must be a first. But what makes a memory sluggish, Professor? Can it be time?" He questioned the ones in the room.

"No. Time can't destroy a memory. Even if it has been stored for a long time," answered Dumbledore. "It is only possible if someone tries to tamper with their memory. That is, if they deliberately try to change their own memories, rework their own memories so that they are shown in a better light."

"That's even possible?" asked Alice, looking awestruck. "I didn't know that. It would be quite easy to hide evidence in that fashion."

"It does need a considerable powerful bit of magic to work," said Minerva. "Only a badly tampered-with memory will appear sluggish. Not otherwise. Now, if your questions are done with, maybe Ms. Prewett can start with the chapter?" Molly took the cue and started reading.

Late in the afternoon, a few days after New Year, Harry, Ron, and Ginny lined up beside the kitchen fire to return to Hogwarts. The Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to the school.

"The Ministry seems to have made one sensible decision," said Snape, smirking a bit. "Though, I guess it was required if Scrimgeour wished to be retained as the Minister and did not want to go the same way that Fudge did."

James huffed. "Most probably, it was the Headmaster's or one of the Professor's decisions. I don't think that the ministry is actually capable of such brainwaves."

"As much as I wish to tell you off for disrespecting the ministry, Mr. Potter, you are most probably right," said Minerva, smiling at her student. "But nevertheless, please do not criticize the Ministry too much." James grinned sheepishly at his Transfiguration Professor.

Only Mrs. Weasley was there to say good-bye, as Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Bill, and Fleur were all at work. Mrs. Weasley dissolved into tears at the moment of parting. Admittedly, it took very little to set her off lately; she had been crying on and off ever since Percy had stormed from the house on Christmas Day with his glasses splattered with mashed parsnip (for which Fred, George, and Ginny all claimed credit).

"Jolly good of them," said Sirius, chortling hard. "Sorry, Molly, but you have to admit that he deserved that. In fact, I believe he got off lightly."

Molly grinned. "I guess."

"Don't cry, Mum," said Ginny, patting her on the back as Mrs. Weasley sobbed into her shoulder. "It's okay..."

"Yeah, don't worry about us," said Ron, permitting his mother to plant a very wet kiss on his cheek, "or about Percy. He's such a prat; it's not really a loss, is it?"

"Tact, Ron, tact," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Have you ever used it? Even once?"

"I think he has, Mione," Harry spoke up for his friend. "At least with you. And you just can't deny that. I seriously doubt that the two of you could have otherwise pulled it off as a couple."

"Very funny!" snapped Hermione as Ron directed a grateful grin at Harry.

Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever as she enfolded Harry in her arms.

"Promise me you'll look after yourself... Stay out of trouble..."

"This is Harry you are talking to, Molly," Frank muttered. "Harry Potter, the son of James Potter. He cannot stay out of trouble even if he wishes to."

"And which we are quite sure he doesn't," put in Sirius.

Dumbledore chuckled cheerfully. "This year at least, I believe this is more my fault than Harry's if he gets into trouble."

"You didn't tell him to go and spy on Malfoy, Professor," murmured Lily, with a scolding glance at Harry. "That, he is pretty well accomplishing by himself. And needless to say, that it got him into most trouble."

"But Professor Dumbledore advi…ordered me to always carry the Invisibility Cloak around," protested Harry, glaring back at his mother. "So obviously he wanted…"

"Wanted you to follow people around?" interrupted Lily, adopting an exasperated tone. "I am not sure about that, Harry. I am almost sure that it was said, keeping in mind your safety. Nothing else."

"It wasn't specified…" said Harry, shrugging casually. "Not my fault. And it's already happened, Mum. I promise to be careful in the future."

"I always do, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "I like a quiet life, you know me."

She gave a watery chuckle and stood back. "Be good, then, all of you. ..."

"At least he managed to cheer up Molly a bit," Frank pointed out. "That's something worthy of applause!"

"Shut up, idiot" murmured Molly, blushing crimson.

Alice smacked her boyfriend's arm, none too gently, and taking no account of his indignant look said, "Stop teasing her. I would say, she is taking things pretty well considering the circumstances. Better than many would have." Frank mumbled an apology to Molly, who resumed reading.

Harry stepped into the emerald fire and shouted "Hogwarts!" He had one last fleeting view of the Weasleys' kitchen and Mrs. Weasley's tearful face before the flames engulfed him; spinning very fast, he caught blurred glimpses of other Wizarding rooms, which were whipped out of sight before he could get a proper look;

"You shouldn't really even try and do that, Harry," said Lily, worriedly. "You might lose your balance and topple out into an unknown place."

James rolled his eyes at Lily's worried tone, by nevertheless patted her arm comfortingly. "I don't think he leans out too much…or at all. Floo accidents usually don't occur unless you get the name of the place wrong."

"Just imagine if Harry went toppling out of Voldemort's fireplace, provided it's not guarded," Ron murmured, chuckling. "His expression would have been priceless." Hermione scowled and smacked Ron on the head, gesturing towards Lily, who had not found the joke funny owing to obvious reasons. Though quite a few others had joined Ron in the laughter.

then he was slowing down, finally stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office. She barely glanced up from her work as he clambered out over the grate.

"Evening, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet."

"No, Professor."

Harry straightened his glasses and flattened his hair as Ron came spinning into view. When Ginny had arrived, all three of them trooped out of McGonagall's office and off toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry glanced out of the corridor windows as they passed; the sun was already sinking over grounds carpeted in deeper snow than had lain over the Burrow garden. In the distance, he could see Hagrid feeding Buckbeak in front of his cabin.

"Hagrid must have been overjoyed to get Buckbeak back," said Molly, smiling slightly. "He loves his pets a lot."

"Too much, to be perfectly normal," muttered Frank, rolling his eyes. "And they usually not very lovable, except for Fang at least. Though Buckbeak sounds alright too."

"Baubles," said Ron confidently, when they reached the Fat Lady, who was looking rather paler than usual and winced at his loud voice.

"No," she said.

"New term, new password," Snape murmured to himself. "That's a rule."

Ron grinned sheepishly. "We kinda forgot. At least, I did."

"What d'you mean, 'no' ?

"There is a new password," she said. "And please don't shout."

"But we've been away, how're we supposed to —?"

"Ask a prefect, duh?" said Sirius, staring indignantly at Ron.

James scowled at his best friend. "Lay off them, Sirius. If someday our stories are put in print, we would spend most of the time hearing such idiotic nonsense pouring out from our mouth. Especially the two of us. And Frank too." He dealt a glare at the other boy.

"It must be rather annoying to hear your own thoughts and presumably casual actions being portrayed in a book," Arthur remarked. "Annoying and Embarrassing."

"In the least," agreed Harry. "But, these books are helping a lot to help tell the story in an organized form. I seriously doubt that we would have had been able to tell it so well. And with all its details."

"Harry! Ginny!" Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves.

"I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck — I mean Witherwings," she said breathlessly. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yeah," said Ron at once, "pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim —"

"I've got something for you, Harry," said Hermione, neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him.

"I tried to talk to you, Mione," Ron muttered. "That was rather rude of you, though I probably deserved it…"

Harry interuupted. "No, you certainly didn't. You took a hasty decision, but the choice of 'not speaking' was solely Hermione's. Not that I blame you," he said with a glance at the girl. "But, it was a little childish. Maybe talking would have resolved the issue faster."

"Ya, it would have," Hermione accepted, a little grudgingly. "Though, as conversation was supposed to take place with Ron, I am not all that sure either."

"Me too," Harry confided to her in an undertone, which set off Hermione into giggles and caused Ron to glare at his friends.

"Oh, hang on — password. Abstinence."

"Precisely," said the Fat Lady in a feeble voice, and swung forward to reveal the portrait hole.

"What's up with her?" asked Harry.

"Overindulged over Christmas, apparently," said Hermione, rolling her eyes as she led the way into the packed common room. "She and her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of drunk monks down by the Charms corridor.

"She doesn't learn from the past," said Minerva, shaking her head in faint disapproval.

"It is Christmas, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "Everybody is allowed to indulge themselves a little, even paintings." Minerva huffed.

Anyway..." She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore's writing on it.

"Great," said Harry, unrolling it at once to discover that his next lesson with Dumbledore was scheduled for the following night. "I've got loads to tell him — and you. Let's sit down —"

"There we go again… Malfoy and Sevvie incident…on the roll, or maybe we can call it 'Drakie and Sevvie incident' " Sirius announced cheerily.

"Shut up!" both Harry and Severus snapped, while Lily reached out and whacked Sirius hard on the head, which caused him to yell and seek refuge behind James.

But at that moment there was a loud squeal of "Won-Won!" and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into Ron's arms. Several onlookers sniggered; Hermione gave a tinkling laugh and said, "There's a table over here... Coming. Ginny?"

"You didn't mind?" Ron questioned, looking and sounding hurt.

Hermione shrugged. "I got over it. At least tried to. It is impossible…not to mention stupid, to keep mourning over something that's already happened. No real use, beating myself up over it."

"Didn't mind beating me up, though," Harry murmured derisively. "At least my brains."

"Fourth year!" she muttered from the corner of her mouth causing Harry to redden. He had, after all, given her a harder time during his fight with Ron in the fourth year.

"No, thanks, I said I'd meet Dean," said Ginny, though Harry could not help noticing that she did not sound very enthusiastic. Leaving Ron and Lavender locked in a kind of vertical wrestling, match, Harry led Hermione over to the spare table.

"Vertical wrestling match?" Sirius asked curiously. "Who was trying to get away from whom?"

"Me from Lavender," said Ron sheepishly. "I had nearly enough of her…her…"

"Snogging?" Harry offered.

"Cuddling?" from Sirius.

Ron sighed, "Both, I guess. And she was too girlish, if you know what I mean."

"You should have thought of that, before you launched into a relationship," said Hermione, waspishly.

Ron gave a small smile and murmured, "I agree, I should have. It wasn't fair, even to Lavender. She was just being herself." Hermione wrapped an arm around his shoulders and bestowed a light kiss on his lips, before nodding at Molly to continue reading.

"So how was your Christmas?"

"Oh, fine," she shrugged. "Nothing special. How was it at Won-Won's?"

"Being rude again, Mione," said Harry, in an annoying sing-song voice, which earned him a hard slap on the arm from the same girl.

"I'll tell you in a minute," said Harry. "Look Hermione, can't you —"

"No, I can't," she said flatly. "So don't even ask."

"At least you tried," said James.

"You two are certainly raking it too far," Molly said sternly. "Does one or both of you need to face death or some equally terrible accident, in order to bring you back to your senses?" Hermione gasped out loud and tightened her hold around Ron, who was looking thoroughly mortified.

Arthur patted Molly consolingly on the arm. "I think they resolve their issues, Molly. T fussy at much is evident from their present behavior. They are behaving like idiots, no doubt. But then, which couple doesn't? They seem sensible enough to straighten out the things themselves." Both Ron and Hermione threw grateful grins at Arthur.

"I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas —"

"It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-year-old wine, Harry, not me. So what was this important news you wanted to tell me?"

She looked too fierce to argue with at that moment, so Harry dropped the subject of Ron and recounted all that he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape. When he had finished, Hermione sat in thought for a moment and then said, "Don't you think —?"

"Now Hermione," Harry murmured, rolling his eyes. "Just shows how much trust my friends had in my judgment."

Ron sniggered, "Doesn't help that you are scrawny, specky git." Harry threw a mock glare at him but could not help noticing the dark look that had settled in the older boy's eyes. It struck him that maybe Ron had yet to forgive himself for abandoning his friends during the search for Horcruxes.

"— he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione.

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so," Harry said grudgingly. "But this definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."

"No, I can't," she answered slowly.

"Finally acceptance," Sirius said, dramatically. "At least for one of the things."

"And he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said!"

"Hmm…did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?"

"You are a bit too meticulous, dear," Minerva said. "You should trust each other's judgments a little more. At times, there are things that might not have a logical explanation or reasoning. But, that doesn't mean that the thing is not to be believed in."

Hermione blushed a little and mumbled, "I know that. But, I could never convince myself to behave that way. Just the way I am… I guess."

"That did help me Hermione," Harry reminded her in an undertone. "A lot. Even Dumbledore thought so. It's not a bad thing at all that you are so…umm…fussy." Hermione narrowed her eyes a little at him, before giving rein to her laughter.

Harry frowned, trying to remember. "I'm not sure ... Snape definitely said 'your master,' and who else would that be?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?" She stared across the room, apparently lost in thought, not even noticing Lavender tickling Ron. "How's Lupin?"

"Not great," said Harry, and he told her all about Lupin's mission among the werewolves and the difficulties he was facing. "Have you heard of this Fenrir Greyback?"

"Yes, I have!" said Hermione, sounding startled. "And so have you, Harry!"

"Borgin and Burkes," Harry murmured to himself. "I can't believe I forgot that."

Hermione patted him consolingly. "You were probably paying all your attention to Draco at that time. Trying to place his intentions."

"Yeah, most probably."

"When, History of Magic? You know full well I never listened ..."

"No, no, not History of Magic — Malfoy threatened Borgin with him!" said Hermione. "Back in Knockturn Alley, don't you remember? He told Borgin that Greyback was an old family friend and that he'd be checking up on Borgin's progress!"

Harry gaped at her. "I forgot! But this proves Malfoy's a Death Eater, how else could he be in contact with Greyback and telling him what to do?"

"It is pretty suspicious," breathed Hermione. "Unless . . ."

"Oh, come on," said Harry in exasperation, "you can't get round this one!"

"It's Hermione, mate," Ron muttered. "She can." Hermione grinned smugly.

"Well . . . there is the possibility it was an empty threat."

"You're unbelievable, you are," said Harry, shaking his head. "We'll see who's right. . . . You'll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry. Oh yeah, I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well. . . ."

And the rest of the evening passed amicably with both of them abusing the Minister of Magic, for Hermione, like Ron, thought that after all the Ministry had put Harry through the previous year, they had a great deal of nerve asking him for help now.

"That's one thing we all were one minded about," said Hermione.

"Does it get any better? As of now?" Arthur questioned, curiously.

Ron shrugged casually and replied, "A bit." He did not want to give away all secrets just now. The Ministry was great now, especially with… Molly's voice broke into his musings, as she started reading. Ron concentrated on the chapter.

The new term started next morning with a pleasant surprise for the sixth years: a large sign had been pinned to the common room notice boards overnight.

APPARITION LESSONS

If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31st August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor. Please sign below if you would like to participate.

Cost: 12 Galleons.

"We are going to also be going to get our notice after Christmas, I guess," said Remus, his eyes shining with excitement. The three from the future looked rather amused at the sight of childish pleasure in their former Professor's eyes, especially for a simple thing like apparition.

Harry and Ron joined the crowd that was jostling around the notice and taking it in turns to write their names at the bottom. Ron was just taking out his quill to sign after Hermione

A collective sound of 'Ahhs' went around the room, turning two of the Trio crimson, once again.

when Lavender crept up behind him, slipped her hands over his eyes, and trilled, "Guess who, Won-Won?"

Harry turned to see Hermione stalking off; he caught up with her, having no wish to stay behind with Ron and Lavender, but to his surprise, Ron caught up with them only a little way beyond the portrait hole, his ears bright red and his expression disgruntled. Without a word, Hermione sped up to walk with Neville.

"By the way, Neville found it hilarious," Harry supplied the information. "He told me later, that he had a hard time to bottle in his laughter. Especially with Hermione rambling about all sorts of stupid things."

"Shut up, Harry" Hermione mumbled half-heartedly, knowing very well that it was the truth.

"So — Apparition," said Ron, his tone making it perfectly plain that Harry was not to mention what had just happened. "Should be a laugh, eh?"

"I dunno," said Harry. "Maybe it's better when you do it yourself, I didn't enjoy it much when Dumbledore took me along for the ride."

"But, it is dead useful," James pointed out.

Snape nodded. "Moreso, with the type of adventures they are used to facing. But, it won't be useful within Hogwarts. It is a no-apparition zone!"

"I forgot you'd already done it. ... I'd better pass my test first time,"

said Ron, looking anxious. "Fred and George did,"

"Charlie failed, though, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but Charlie's bigger than me" — Ron held his arms out from his body as though he was a gorilla — "so Fred and George didn't go on about it much . . . not to his face anyway .. ."

There were snickers around the room. "Sounds terribly like some people we know," Remus said to Lily in an undertone, glancing significantly at the duo of James and Sirius who were busy making funny faces at each other and to the room as whole. Lily chuckled lightly and rolled her eyes.

"When can we take the actual test?"

"Soon as we're seventeen. That's only March for me!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to Apparate in here, not in the castle . . ."

"Not the point, is it? Everyone would know I could Apparate if I wanted!"

Ron was not the only one to be excited at the prospect of Apparition. All that day there was much talk about the forthcoming lessons; a great deal of store was set by being able to vanish and reappear at will.

"It is more important, than people ever realize," Minerva said. "Especially during duels."

"And while escaping," Hermione added.

"Saves your companions loads of trouble, if you know how to do it properly," Ron murmured bitterly. Apparition was still, one of Ron's weak points. Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"How cool will it be when we can just —" Seamus clicked his ringers to indicate disappearance. "Me cousin Fergus does it just to annoy me, you wait till I can do it back. . . He'll never have another peaceful moment. . . ."

"He sounds like the twins," Hermione remarked. "Even they loved to get on Ron's nerves, using this very trick." Remus and Snape noted the subtle use of past tense, and shared a tensed look. Did the twins just grow bored of doing such stuff…or did something happen to one or both of them? They didn't have time to dwell on it, as Molly had resumed reading.

Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water that was the object of today's Charms lesson, he let out a hoselike jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on his face.

"Poor professor Flitwick," said Alice, giggling. "I think, the students practice most of the charms on him, rather than on the objects that they are supposed to."

"Though most of the times, it is an accident," James pointed out. "Or else, most of the detentions would have been issued in his class."

Dumbledore chuckled. "He does not issue them often enough. Quite a few of the incidents aren't actually 'accidents'. But, he is a very good teacher and terrifically good in Charms." All the students and ex-students nodded as one.

"Harry's already Apparated," Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus, after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines: "I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick." "Dum — er — someone took him. Side-Along-Apparition, you know."

"Close one," Snape muttered, smirking at Ron. "Though your classmates would have caught on, if they were paying attention." Ron grinned sheepishly.

"Whoa!" whispered Seamus, and he, Dean, and Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day, Harry was besieged with requests from the other sixth years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather than put off, when he told them how uncomfortable it was, and he was still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening, when he was forced to lie and say that he needed to return a book to the library, so as to escape in time for his lesson with Dumbledore.

"Thanks to Ron," said Harry, casually shoving his friend. "You just had to mention that I had already Apparated." He added on seeing Ron's perplexed expression.

Ron just rolled his eyes at him.

The lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever.

"Do you ever get to know what caused that…that…thing?" James questioned his son, looking slightly nauseous again at the mention of the injury.

"Yeah! I do," Harry murmured, sharing a slightly uncomfortable look with his friends. "Though you might just hate it." He added in an undertone. Both Ron and Hermione's faces mirrored the grief his voice held.

It did not seem to have healed at all and Harry wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, what had caused such a distinctive injury, but did not ask; Dumbledore had said that he would know eventually and there was, in any case, another subject he wanted to discuss. But before Harry could say anything about Snape and Malfoy, Dumbledore spoke.

"I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?"

"Yes," said Harry. "He's not very happy with me."

"No," sighed Dumbledore. "He is not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on."

Everyone broke out into laughter at this. "Just imagine the look on the Minister's face if he heard that," chortled Sirius. "He would be positively bewildered."

"Or worse," Lily agreed, grinning.

Harry grinned. "He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a wonderful job.'

Dumbledore smiled. "It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you hoping that you would give him your support—"

"After everything Fudge did last year?" said Harry angrily. "After Umbridge?"

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment we met and he demanded that I arrange a meeting with you —"

"So that's why you argued!" Harry blurted out. "It was in the Daily Prophet"

"The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally," said Dumbledore, "if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way to corner you at last."

"Though that didn't help," said Frank, looking smug. "That should teach them to leave people alone and do some work themselves."

Arthur nodded. "The Ministry does need some better people in it. Especially a competent minister."

"He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man through and through.'"

"How very rude of him."

"No. Just the truth," said Hermione, smirking at a blushing Harry, who glared at her.

"I just hope that I live up to such confidence, that is my actions do," said Dumbledore, smiling at the trio, his blue eyes twinkling

"I told him I was."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry's intense embarrassment, he suddenly realize that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and stared hastily at his own knees. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite steady.

"Boys," both Lily and Hermione murmured.

"They turn dumb in front of any show of emotion," Alice agreed, rolling her eyes, seemingly at the whole male population.

"Hey!" chorused most of the boys in the room.

"I am very touched, Harry."

"Scrimgeour wanted to know where you go when you're not at Hogwarts," said Harry, still looking fixedly at his knees.

"Yes, he is very nosy about that," said Dumbledore, now sounding cheerful, and Harry thought it safe to look up again. "He has even attempted to have me followed. Amusing, really. He set Dawlish to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once; I did it again with the greatest regret."

"When was the first time?" Dumbledore questioned, sounding curious. After all he did not make it a point to go about hexing people. Especially Aurors.

"Our fifth year," Hermione answered. "As we already said, the Ministry did not wish to believe that Voldemort had returned. Umbridge never taught us any defense, so we created our own student's group to learn it, with Harry was the teacher. One of the students babbled on us, and Professor Dumbledore took the entire blame. The Ministry tried to get him arrested…"

"…and he managed to jinx the Auror and escape," finished Minerva, smirking at the aged man.

"Also the Minister, my brother Percy, Umbridge and also Kingsley, to spare him the suspicion," Ron added, grinning.

"They asked for it, except Kingsley of course," said Snape, sneering contemptuously. "The Ministry should know better than to interfere at Hogwarts, and obviously to even think of arresting the Headmaster is stupidity." Dumbledore bestowed a small smile on the boy.

"So they still don't know where you go?" asked Harry, hoping for more information on this intriguing subject, but Dumbledore merely smiled over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"No, they don't, and the time is not quite right for you to know either. Now, I suggest we press on, unless there's anything else —?"

"There is, actually, sir," said Harry. "It's about Malfoy and Snape."

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, sir. I overheard them during Professor Slughorn's party . . . well, I followed them, actually. ..."

Dumbledore listened to Harry's story with an impassive face. When Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said, "Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."

"Bet Harry won't like that one bit," said Sirius, smirking.

Harry chuckled. "I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to take on that bet, Padfoot. I am known to be persistent, to the point of self destruction." He glanced slyly at Hermione, who glared back.

"Not of great importance?" repeated Harry incredulously. "Professor, did you understand —?"

Remus whistled softly. "I guess, that's the first time a student tells you that, Professor? Though I don't know even if anyone else would have dared."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Harry said, grimacing. Dumbledore waved away his apology.

"Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me," said Dumbledore, a little sharply. "I think you might even consider the possibility that I understood more than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that causes me disquiet."

"How was I to know that he already knew this?" Harry whispered angrily to his friends. "Can't believe that he actually made me do so much…for nothing. And I know he told me to quit it,' he added hastily seeing that Hermione was going to interrupt. "But, he honestly couldn't have expected me to listen to that and maintain a low profile."

"I agree to that," Ron whispered back.

Harry sat in seething silence, glaring at Dumbledore. What was going on? Did this mean that Dumbledore had indeed ordered Snape to find out what Malfoy was doing, in which case he had already heard everything Harry had just told him from Snape? Or was he really worried by what he had heard, but pretending not to be?

"So, sir," said Harry, in what he hoped was a polite, calm voice, "you definitely still trust —?"

"I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already," said Dumbledore, but he did not sound very tolerant anymore. "My answer has not changed."

"Too persistent," said Lily, in a scolding voice. "It should be sufficient that the Headmaster trusts someone. Obviously, he would not do so without good reason. You should trust him. After all that he is obviously doing to keep you safe…to help you train. You can't take his advices, when you don't trust him." Harry was wincing with every word his mother uttered. And this was just beginning. James placed a calming hand on Lily's shoulder squeezing it slightly, causing Lily to stop her tirade. The others sneaked wary glances at both Lily and Harry.

"I don't think we should blame Harry, Ms. Evans," Dumbledore said gently, his gaze including a distressed looking Harry. "He is perfectly allowed to question me. And just because I am the Headmaster, and an experienced Wizard does not mean that I won't make mistakes. And it seems that I, or at least my older self, is keeping at least some secrets from Harry. It is not unnatural for him to be curious and question me."

"But I should have…tried to trust more," Harry muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Snape chuckled softly. "I am not surprised, Harry. You hated me, and had almost certain proofs that I am a Death Eater. And the Headmaster does not take heed and just tells you to trust me. I would say that you are being polite. I would have probably done something worse than just asking him." Harry smiled at him gratefully, receiving an apologetic smile from his mother in return.

"I should think not," said a snide voice; Phineas Nigellus was evidently only pretending to be asleep. Dumbledore ignored him.

"And now, Harry, I must insist that we press on. I have more important things to discuss with you this evening."

Harry sat there feeling mutinous. How would it be if he refused to permit the change of subject, if he insisted upon arguing the case against Malfoy? As though he had read Harry's mind, Dumbledore shook his head.

"You were never a good occlumens," Hermione murmured in his ears.

Harry huffed. "Or maybe the Headmaster is an extremely good Legilimens." Hermione smirked at him.

"Ah, Harry, how often this happens, even between the best of friends! Each of us believes that what he has to say is much more important than anything the other might have to contribute!"

"I don't think what you've got to say is unimportant, sir," said Harry stiffly.

"Well, you are quite right, because it is not," said Dumbledore briskly. "I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, 1 think, the most important I have collected."

Harry did not say anything to this; he still felt angry at the reception his confidences had received, but could not see what was to be gained byarguing further.

"At least your son has got sense," said Remus, grinning at Lily. "That is much more than I could say about James."

"Some friend you are," James grumbled. "Couldn't wait to point out my faults."

Frank grinned. "That's what good friends should do, James. Helps you become a better man."

James narrowed his eyes threateningly at the boy. "From what I know, they point out the faults to the friend in question, not to his future wife. Who still doesn't want to go on a date with him." Lily giggled a little before hugging the boy, who was still glaring daggers at his friends, who was currently laughing at his predicament.

"So," said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, "we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued thievery when he arrived at school.

"Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his secondhand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head," continued Dumbledore, waving his blackened hand toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. "How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know — perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance."

"No doubts about that," James mumbled.

"Harry must be the first Gryffindor to know Parseltongue," said Sirius, munching on some chocolates that he had found in his pocket. "Salazar Slytherin would definitely roll about in his grave."

"As would Godric Gryffindor," both Remus and Snape stated as one, and turned to glance at each other in mild surprise, causing the others to break out into laughter.

"However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed police, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him."

"Didn't you tell them, sir, what he's been like when you met him at the orphanage?" asked Harry.

"I wished to give him a chance," Dumbledore said, sadly. "I never knew that Tom would turn himself into Lord Voldemort. He had resources…but I never expected him to break all bounds of evil and create a new definition of evil and dark Wizardry."

"He was discreet at school, Albus," Minerva said, comfortingly. "I went to school with Tom Riddle. I was a few years above him." She supplied the information for her students.

"Wow," most of the others exclaimed.

"No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance."

"You give too many chances, Albus," said Minerva. "People don't always deserve it. Though some do." Sirius fidgeted in his seat. He was one of those countless people whom Albus Dumbledore had given another chance. Any other Headmaster would have thrown him out of the school after the prank he played on Snape and managed to nearly kill three students. Though, no other Headmaster would have let in Remus in the first place, and they would have lost out on a wonderful friend.

Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at Harry, who had opened his mouth to speak. Here, again, was Dumbledore's tendency to trust people in spite of overwhelming evidence that they did not deserve it! But then Harry remembered something. . . .

"But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you? He told me . . . the Riddle who came out of that diary said, 'Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did."

"I had my suspicions," said Dumbledore. "Especially after the Chamber of Secrets was opened. I knew for a fact that, Hagrid could not have done it. But, unfortunately there was no proof of the same. He was careful never to drop in any clues. He was an extremely brilliant boy. If only he was able to give up that overpowering essence of evil in him…"

"Then he wouldn't be Voldemort," Frank said, matter-of-factly. "He would just be Tom Riddle. And that even sounds impossible and improbable." The headmaster nodded sadly.

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy," said Dumbledore. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I learned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues."

"He managed that?" Lily questioned, her brows furrowed. It was a trifle impossible to imagine a teenage Voldemort in school, actually attending classes and giving exams and such.

"He was a regular teacher's pet," Minerva replied, chuckling a little. "And it did help that he was a brilliant student and an expert in flattery."

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle.

"They were kind of, a dark version of the Marauders," Minerva remarked. "Though the number of students in it was far more than four. And I did mention that it was a DARK version." She added this, on noticing the glares that she was being subjected to by two members of the same group. (A/N – No prizes for guessing which two. )

They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.

"Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, placing his withered hand on the Pensieve. "Few who knew him then are prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike."

"It involved a lot of effort," Dumbledore reminisced. "And not to mention, quite a few illegal spells and doings. But, obviously none of them was hurt in any manner whatsoever."

"But, why were you so keen to find out about Voldemort's activities, Professor?" questioned Remus sounding a little pensive. "Was it just to find out if he possesses any weaknesses…or was it something else?"

Dumbledore stared at Remus over the top of his half-moon glasses and seemed to think hard for a moment. "I think that this book will reveal the reason in due course and I would like you all to find out along with Harry, when he does. And if you still have any questions, I would definitely try my best to answer them." Remus have a quick nod.

"Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family — the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death."

"He is mentally ill," Molly murmured angrily. "What child actually judges his parents on that basis."

Arthur put an arm around her. "He never had his parents, Molly. He didn't know them."

"But that's no excuse!" said Molly, her voice hardening. "Harry here never had his parents," She sent an apologetic glance at him. "He was actually fed lies about himself and his parents by his so called 'Aunt' and 'Uncle'. But, he turned out to be alright, even great." Harry could not help but blush at this point. "And I believe, Tom Riddle was much better treated at the orphanage than the treatment Harry received at home. You know who is twisted, because of his own twisted personality. And not due to anyone else's faults." With these words, Molly picked up the book and continued reading from where she had left off, thereby giving the others no time to contradict her. Though, no one seemed as if they wanted to do the same.

"All he had to go upon was the single name 'Marvolo,' which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking research, through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if you will stand ..."

"Another memory," Sirius murmured to himself. "Probably of the first meeting between Voldemort and Morfin."

"Didn't he seek out Marvolo?" Alice questioned.

Sirius gave a half-smile, "Marvolo would be dead by now. He didn't survive for long after returning from Azkaban."

"Wow, Black. You actually hold a brain in that box of yours, though your antics did try to convince me otherwise," muttered Snape, smirking. "Maybe you are capable of applying your brains if you choose to."

"Shut up, Snape" grumbled Sirius, with a half-heartened glare at the boy.

After all, it was praise…at least a half-praise.

Dumbledore rose and Harry saw that he was again holding a. small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory. "I was very lucky to collect this," he said, as he poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. "As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?"

Harry stepped up to the stone basin and bowed obediently until his face sank through the surface of the memory; he felt the familiar sensation of falling through nothingness and then landed upon a dirty stone floor in almost total darkness. It took him several seconds to recognize the place, by which time Dumbledore had landed beside him.

The Gaunt's house was now more indescribably filthy than anywhere Harry had ever seen. The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; moldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots.

"Now he must be missing his sister," Lily hissed, her face perfectly portraying her disgust. "We don't have to guess where from Voldemort gets his uncaring and cruel attitude."

"No surprises there," said Ron, darkly.

The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair and beard so overgrown Harry could see neither eyes nor mouth. He was slumped in an armchair by the fire, and Harry wondered for a moment whether he was dead. But then there came a loud knock on the door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left.

The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an old-fashioned lamp stood a boy Harry recognized at once: tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome — the teenage Voldemort.

"Voldemort and handsome in one sentence just sounds…disgusting, mate," Ron complained in an undertone to Harry.

"Tell that to the author, not me," Harry pointed out. "Or maybe you can show Hermione one of these memories. She can well identify handsome men." Harry had raised his voice slightly to include Hermione in the conversation, but this proved to be a bad thing as he had to deal with not one, but two hard smacks on his arm.

Voldemort's eyes moved slowly around the hovel and then found the man in the armchair. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering and tinkling across the floor.

"YOU!" he bellowed. "YOU!" And he hurtled drunkenly at Riddle, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop.

Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man skidded into the table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it," said Riddle. He moved forward into the room,allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Harry could not help but feel a resentful admiration for Voldemort's complete lack of fear. His face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

"He obviously expected something regal of the last of the Slytherin descendents," said Alice, sounding a little disgusted herself.

"Where is Marvolo?" he asked.

"Dead," said the other. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Riddle frowned. "Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

"Marvolo's son?"

"'Course I am, then..."

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle, and Harry saw that he wore Marvolo's black-stoned ring on his right hand.

"I thought you was that Muggle," whispered Morfin. "You lookmighty like that Muggle."

"What Muggle?" said Riddle sharply.

"That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin, and he spatunexpectedly upon the floor between them. "You look right like him.Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it. ..."

"And Voldemort gets the confirmation that his father is a Muggle," said Ron, rather dramatically. "The one thing that he must have willed hard to not happen."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "It must have a true shocker. The heir of Slytherin on one hand, and having a muggle father on the other."

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge of the table for support. "He come back, see," he added stupidly.

Voldemort was gazing at Morfin as though appraising his possibilities. Now he moved a little closer and said, "Riddle cameback?"

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin,spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off.Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"

"She sold it," said Sirius, keeping up with his annoying habit of stating the obvious. Though nobody seemed to mind a lot, as they were all well habituated with his fact.

Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and shouted, "Dishonored us, , shedid, that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit. It's over…"

He looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort moved forward. As he did so, an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Voldemort's lamp and Morfin's candle, extinguishing everything. . . .

"The memory seems to be erased after this," Snape murmured thoughtfully. "Most probably by Tom Riddle himself." Harry did not miss the fact that most of the students had retorted to call Voldemort, 'Tom'. They probably found it easier to do so. At least they were using a name, that's probably the best that he could hope for. 'You know who' was seriously getting on his nerves.

Dumbledore's fingers closed tightly around Harry's arm and they were soaring back into the present again. The soft golden light in Dumbledore's office seemed to dazzle Harry's eyes after that impenetrable darkness.

"Is that all?" said Harry at once. "Why did it go dark, what happened?"

"Because Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward," said Dumbledore, gesturing Harry back into his seat. "When he awoke next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone."

"Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father."

"H…he killed his father…" Lily murmured in a faint, shaking voice. "He actually killed his father and also his grandparents?" Most of the teenagers, except for the trio, were looking revolted.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I am afraid he did. And blamed the entire thing on Morfin. And he was still underage. I never expected that an underage wizard would be capable of murder. Though I got to know this, quite some time after Tom left Hogwarts."

"The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they do not know to this day how the Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra curse does not usually leave any sign of damage. . . . The exception sits before me," Dumbledore added, with a nod to Harry's scar. "The Ministry, on the other hand, knew at once that this was a wizard's murder. They also knew that a convicted Muggle-hater lived across the valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater who had already been imprisoned once for attacking one of the murdered people."

"Morfin," Frank murmured softly, tightening his arm around Alice. He always knew that Voldemort was evil…but this wasn't normal evil. He seems to have gone far beyond any explanation and definition of normal evil.

"So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not need to question him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency. He admitted to the murder on the spot, giving details only the murderer could know. He was proud, he said, to have killed the Muggles, had been awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight."

"A false memory must have been planted in his mind," commented Snape. "That is a really complex bit of magic. Especially as Riddle was still underage. Mind magic is supposed to be one of the more difficult branches of magic. His magical skills must be brilliant."

"Did you just complement You Know Who? A person who actually killed his father, his grandparents and is also the murderer of countless other families and even children. And who is the reason that your childhood friend supposedly dies, in the future." said Arthur, a little too sharply. His eyes looked cold, devoid of any of the usual warmth it always has.

Snape grimaced. "I…I didn't mean it that way. It was just an impressive bit of magic…I mean…" He was stammering, his eyes held quite a bit of fear which he was trying his level best to keep out of his voice. But no one could miss the slight tremors in his body. With a pang, most of the people in the room realized that Snape was having some sort of a panic attack.

Much to everyone's surprise, mainly of the Trio it was Sirius who got up from his seat, before the professors could do so, and placed a hand on Severus Snape's shoulders. He looked up with unmasked surprise and a questioning look in his eyes.

Sirius smirked at the expression on Snape's face. "I just can't believe that this is the same Severus Snape who had taken on all four of the Marauders as one, on more than a single occasion. And almost came out as the winner…Almost." Here he couldn't help but put a teasing tone to his voice. "Though, I guess it was Two to One. Moony never participated, and Wormtail…Well he didn't do much…Couldn't I guess."

Snape took a shuddering breath and looked up Sirius, who was sort of leaning by his side. "It was not Two to One. Lupin kept you guys safe. He never attacked, but his defense spells are quite brilliant. And more than once, I got hurt by Pettigrew's accidental spells."

Sirius grinned. "But, in spite of all these you still sot us out, trying to take revenge. If someone had told me that you would have something akin to a panic attack, at something that Arthur said; mind you, said but not meant." Arthur nodded his head vigorously, at this point. "Well, if anyone had said that, I would have never played a single prank on him. Ever. Just for making the funniest statement of the decade." Snape managed to chuckle softly at Sirius's words.

"I didn't mean anything, Severus," said Arthur, softly. "I…I just spoke too much, without thinking. I didn't mean to blame you or anything. We all know that you were just trying to praise his magic, not his deeds. I truly am sorry."

Snape shook his head fervently. He didn't wish for Arthur to feel guilty for something that was his fault. "I didn't mind that. But, I couldn't help thinking that I actually become a Death Eater in future. I join someone, who is responsible for my friend's death. That's all. Hopefully I won't have to do this. Hopefully we can change the future." This time he directed piercing pleading looks at the Trio.

"I cannot promise anything, Severus," Harry mumbled. "But, we will try. That's why we are even making an effort. We can't be sure that anything will come off it, but we will try."

"Don't worry Sevvie," said Sirius, cheekily moving back beside James. "You are not going to be a Death Eater, if I have absolutely any say in the matter."

James nodded. "We loved pulling pranks on you too much, to let you go to that idiotic Tom, who probably doesn't have the word humor in his dictionary." Almost everyone broke out into chuckles at this; while Lily managed to whack James on the head (he valiantly tried to dodge it). Harry saw both Dumbledore's and McGonagall's looks at Sirius, as he could swear that it was one of pride.

All that disturbed him was the fact that his father's ring had disappeared. 'He'll kill me for losing it,' he told his captors over and over again. 'He'll kill me for losing his ring.' And that, apparently, was all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo's last heirloom, and is buried beside the prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls."

Sirius gave a barely perceptible shudder, but Remus felt it and drew his arm around his friend, offering silent comfort.

"So Voldemort stole Morfin's wand and used it?" said Harry, sitting up straight.

"That's right," said Dumbledore. "We have no memories to show us this, but I think we can be fairly sure what happened. Voldemort stupefied his uncle, took his wand, and proceeded across the valley to 'the big house over the way.' There he murdered the Muggle man who had abandoned his witch mother, and, for good measure, his Muggle grandparents, thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Riddle line and revenging himself upon the father who never wanted him. Then he returned to the Gaunt hovel, performed the complex bit of magic that would implant a false memory in his uncle's mind, laid Morfin's wand beside its unconscious owner, pocketed the ancient, ring he wore, and departed."

Molly had to stop for quite a few times, during the reading, but no one interrupted. There seemed to be nothing to interrupt about.

"A schoolboy planned and executed all of this so smoothly," she mumbled, before clearing her throat and continuing with the chapter.

"And Morfin never realized he hadn't done it?"

"Never," said Dumbledore. "He gave, as I say, a full and boastful confession."

"But he had this real memory in him all the time!"

"Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax it out of him," said Dumbledore, "and why should anybody delve further into Morfin's mind when he had already confessed to the crime?

However, I was able to secure a visit to Morfin in the last weeks of his life, by which time I was attempting to discover as much as I could about Voldemort's past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I saw what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure Morfin's release from Azkaban. Before the Ministry reached their decision, however, Morfin had died."

"Again the Ministry acts a tad too late," Hermione snapped. "Either they won't give someone a fair trial, and at times they don't bother to give it at all." She snuck a look at Sirius, who was leaning casually against James. He grinned at her, but Hermione did not miss the glimmer of darkness in his eyes…which was already brooding about the future, if they are unable to change it. But nevertheless, she gave a wider return grin.

"But how come the Ministry didn't realize that Voldemort had done all that to Morfin?" Harry asked angrily "He was underage at the time, wasn't he? I thought they could detect underage magic!"

"You are quite right — they can detect magic, but not the perpetrator: You will remember that you were blamed by the Ministry for the Hover Charm that was, in fact, cast by —"

"Dobby," growled Harry; this injustice still rankled. "So if you're underage and you do magic inside an adultor wizard's house, the Ministry won't know?

"They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly at the look of great indignation on Harry's face. "They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offspring's obedience while within their walls."

"It's absolutely unfair for the Muggle borns," said Harry. "And people like me who live with muggles."

"We are also not allowed to use magic at home, mate," Ron pointed out. "And I guess, that is even more irritating. At least you are forbidden to by the Ministry. It does seem a tad more annoying when your parents forbid it." Harry could not help but laugh at that, and agree that his friend did have a valid point.

"Well, that's rubbish," snapped Harry. "Look what happened here, look what happened to Morfin!"

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "Whatever Morfin was, he did not deserve to die as he did, blamed for murders he had not committed. But it is getting late, and I want you to see this other memory before we part. ..."

"This one will be the sluggish one, then," said Remus, excitedly. Harry nodded confirmation.

Dumbledore took from an inside pocket another crystal phial and Harry fell silent at once, remembering that Dumbledore had said it was the most important one he had collected. Harry noticed that the contents proved difficult to empty into the Pensieve, as though they had congealed slightly; did memories go bad?

"This will not take long," said Dumbledore, when he had finally emptied the phial. "We shall be back before you know it. Once more into the Pensieve, then . . ."

And Harry fell again through the silver surface, landing this time right in front of a man he recognized at once. It was a much younger Horace Slughorn.

"Professor Slughorn?" Lily cut in, sounding amazed. "He modified his memory? What did he have to hide?" All Harry did was to raise his towards the book in Molly's hand. Lily blushed a bit, before motioning for Molly to continue reading.

Harry was so used to him bald that he found the sight of Slughorn with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair quite disconcerting; it looked as though he had had his head thatched, though there was already a shiny Galleon-sized bald patch on his crown. His mustache, less massive than it was these days, was gingery-blond. He was not quite as round as the Slughorn Harry knew, though the golden buttons on his richly embroidered waistcoat were taking a fair amount of strain. His little feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, he was sitting well back in a comfortable winged armchair, one hand grasping a small glass of wine, the other searching through a box of crystallized pineapple.

"His favorite," said Sirius, shaking his head exasperatedly. "That's all you have to give him to secure a fair place with him."

"He is quite alright," Lily snapped, effectively shutting Sirius up.

Harry looked around as Dumbledore appeared beside him and saw that they were standing in Slughorn's office. Half a dozen boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens. Harry recognized Voldemort at once. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair; with a jolt, Harry saw that he was wearing Marvolo's gold-and-black ring; he had already killed his father.

A murmur of collective gasps went around the room. Though they all knew that Voldemort had already killed his father, but hearing about him at school after that, seemed to somehow cement the fact.

"Sir is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you fm the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite —"

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that Harry could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside him. Then Slughorn's voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loudly, "You'll go wrong, boy, mark my words."

"The memory has been altered," Snape murmured. "He wants to hide something. Maybe he actually praised Tom Riddle…and was ashamed of it."

Dumbledore nodded. "That does seem to be case, Mr. Snape.:

The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared and yet nobody made any allusion to it, nor did anybody look as though anything unusual had just happened. Bewildered, Harry looked around as a small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" said Slughorn. "You'd better get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

"The first death eaters," muttered Alice, her eyes flaring up at the mention of the Lestrange.

Slughorn pulled himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk as the boys filed out. Voldemort, however, stayed behind. Harry could tell he had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be last in the room with Slughorn.

"Look sharp, Tom," said Slughorn, turning around and finding him still present. "You don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect…"

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about. . . about Horcruxes?"

A sharp intake of breath from Dumbledore was all that marked the declaration. The pained look on the Headmaster's face was not lost to anyone.

"What is a Horcrux, Sir?" James questioned, a little cautiously. Dumbledore didn't seem very comfortable with the topic.

"I don't think they should know…know about such things, Albus," said Minerva, glancing worriedly at the Headmaster. The Trio exchanged worried looks at this.

However, to the relief of the others Dumbledore didn't seem to agree. "I am not answering their questions right now, Minerva. But, they will know about it when Harry, in the book, does. I think it would be mandatory for them to know about it, and I totally trust every one of this group. They won't be influenced by any form of evil."

And it happened all over again: The dense fog filled the room so that Harry could not see Slughorn or Voldemort at all; only Dumbledore, smiling serenely beside him. Then Slughorn's voice boomed out again, just as it had done before.

"I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again!"

"He answered the question," Lily murmured to James in an undertone. "He told Riddle about the Horcruxes, whatever they are. But, most probably he feels guilty about the entire thing, and tried to modify his memory before handing it to Dumbledore."

"Well, that's that," said Dumbledore placidly beside Harry. "Time to go."

And Harry's feet left the floor to fall, seconds later, back onto the rug in front of Dumbledore's desk. "That's all there is?" said Harry blankly. Dumbledore had said that this was the most important memory of all, but he could not see what was so significant about it. Admittedly the fog, and the fact that nobody seemed to have noticed it, was odd, but other than that nothing seemed to have happened except that Voldemort had asked a question and failed to get an answer.

"He got the answer," Dumbledore murmured to himself. "But why did he need to ask Horace…there were books…" The few, who had caught on Dumbledore's words, exchanged worried looks. Even the Trio, though it was for an entirely different reason.

"As you might have noticed," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk, "that memory has been tampered with."

"Tampered with?" repeated Harry, sitting back down too.

"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections."

"But why would he do that?"

"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," said Dumbledore. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations.

"And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all."

"But why Harry, Professor?" Frank questioned. "You would be able to use Legilimency…or some other means to extract the truth."

"Professor Dumbledore thought that Harry would do a better job of extracting the memories." It was Hermione who answered. "Being a student, he had benefits of trust. And it wouldn't be too easy to trick Slughorn. He is a Slytherin after all."

Harry stared at him. "But surely, sir," he said, keeping his voice as respectful as possible, "you don't need me — you could use Legilimency ... or Veritaserum. ..."

"Professor Slughorn is an extremely able wizard who will be expecting both," said Dumbledore. "He is much more accomplished at Occlumency than poor Morfin Gaunt, and I would be astonished if he has not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him ever since I coerced him into giving me this travesty of a recollection.

"No, I think it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from Professor Slughorn by force, and might do much more harm than good; I do not wish him to leave Hogwarts. However, he has his weaknesses like the rest of us, and I believe that you are the one person who might be able to penetrate his defenses. It is most important that we secure the true memory, Harry. . . . How important, we will only know when we have seen the real thing. So, good luck . . . and good night."

A little taken aback by the abrupt dismissal, Harry got to his feet quickly. "Good night, sir."

As he closed the study door behind him, he distinctly heard Phineas Nigellus say, "I can't see why the boy should be able to do it better than you, Dumbledore."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Phineas," replied Dumbledore, and Fawkes gave another low, musical cry.

"Nobody would expect Phineas Nigellus to," said Sirius, rolling his eyes.

"Well that's the end," Molly murmured. "What now? Next chapter?"

Harry seemed to contemplate something. "Well, we can read the next chapter and then we can tell you guys about our fourth year. Then maybe we can stop for lunch? What say?"

"I think that's great," agreed Minerva. "Here you go, Sirius." She picked up the book that Molly had placed on the table and passed it to Sirius.