The Next Morning

Hedwig, my living/breathing alarm clock, alerts that it's time to wake up in a shrill manner. Malfoy lets out a guttural grown from across the room tossing a pillow in her direction.

Today is Monday and I would soon be meeting with Dumbledore as instructed. My alarm clock lets me know that I have a little under thirty minutes until I have to be in his office.

I throw a lazy arm over my eyes recalling the night prior. The surprise party was a great bit of fun and I was still coming down from an unfamiliar social high. I kissed Ginny, made a few mates on my team and found out through Hagrid that Malfoy wasn't the one that sold me out to Snape in regards to my eye.

Well, perhaps that last part wasn't so great.

I drearily stretch my arms over my head as I sit up in bed. I'm greeted by Draco who's still in the process of waking up. His legs hang over the side of the bed with a heavy head held between his hands.

My eyes widen as he raises his head to look at me. His normally perfect-in-place platinum blonde hair is unkempt and frizzing in every direction. Dark purple circles rim his lower eyelids and the tip of his nose is as bright as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

He thrashes his wand hand toward the mini fridge in the corner while muttering an incantation under his breath. The door creaks open to the compartment and a tiny water bottle emerges from the refrigerator; summoned directly to the caster. Magic granted many life hacks, and curing a hangover at the swish of the wrist was one of them.

"Hungover, mate?"

Draco languidly raises both brows in response. His glossy eyes roll around in his head slowly making their way toward me.

I wasn't much of an apologizer and I wasn't any good at it. So, I get straight to the subject and get it over with. "I know it wasn't you who told Snape," I say bluntly. "I was out of line for blaming you."

"I already explained that your tantrums are of little importance to me." His dry, scratchy voice leaves his tone undetectable. But based off how sickly my roommate currently looked; I believed every word he said. "I'm going to shower," he announces.

My watch beeps indicating that it's 8 AM. I hope out of bed and throw open the top-drawer removing a fresh t-shirt.

I notice Malfoy stall at our open bedroom door from the corner of my eye. He bends over and picks something up before turning back to me. I turn my head to find him examining what appeared to be a shoe box close to his nose. He uses his fingers to leaf open the tag securely sealed to the surface. His chin wrinkles as he parts the box open and takes a peek inside.

A repulsed expression washes over his face as he yanks the shoe box a fair distance from his face. He raises a skeptic eyebrow while peering at me in contempt. "There's a bloody snake with your name on it."

"There's a what?" I close the top drawer to my dresser and throw the shirt over my shoulders. I ignore his incredulous facial appearance and tear the box from his fingers.

The tag reads: To: Harry Potter – Handle with Care - From: An Old Friend

I open the shoe box and my eyes instantly latch onto the tiny serpent with glowing yellow eyes and neon green scales. Even though it's coiled up into a ball I can tell it is approximately 12 inches long.

Frankly, it was the most beautiful snake I'd ever seen. I'd always wished to own a pet snake, but my mother was repulsed by such 'ugly creatures' and Hagrid wasn't fond of them back when I requested one in Diagon Alley. Coming from a house whose mascot is a snake, I make an educated guess that the creature was some sort of miniature python.

"No one owns snakes for a pet; not even Slytherins," Draco states the obvious.

"Do I sense jealousy?" I smirk as I curl a finger and run it along its rough scales.

"Hardly," he scoffs. "Who's it from?"

"I don't know. All I know is it certainly wasn't Hagrid. I don't particularly have many relatives to send me gifts either."

"Fair enough," he replies with narrowed eyes. "Well, aren't you going to name it?"

"Any recommendations?" I extend my arm as the serpent slowly wraps its body around my wrist. "Perhaps I'll name it twat; after you."

Draco dramatically rolls his eyes at me. "Really, Potter?"

"Lighten up." I smirk while taking a seat on my bed. "I'm thinking of the name Callidus. Sounds wicked."

"Odd name for a pet," he points out before exiting the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

I lay on my back on my bed and chuckle to myself while placing the snake on my chest. It curiously sways it's head back and forth while closely examining me.

"You thought my joke was funny, didn't you?" I mutter to it.

My newfound friend gleefully nods it's head in response.


After making my way to Dumbledore's office, the headmaster leads me through a hidden doorway. We enter an intimately sized room with a peculiar structure in the middle. The stoned artifact is shaped similar to a shallow bird bath that holds a holographic liquid moving in a cyclonic motion.

"Over my years, Harry, I've come to find that I am more of a visual learner," he explains approaching the contraption.

I eagerly near his side. "Me as well, Sir."

"Very good." He lightly smiles with a nod, watching me closely through the reflection of the mirrors surrounding us. "This is called a Pensieve," he explains. "It allows me to see things that I've already seen. Whether that be something of the conscious mind, or hidden deep in the subconscious." His long, wrinkled fingers grasp the sides of the Hogwarts heirloom.

"That's brilliant." I'm instantly hypnotized by the rhythmic liquid. "Any memory at all?"

Dumbledore removes his hands from the stoned object and interlaces his fingers before him. "There are limitations, of course. There are those who purposefully block out painful memories. If the mind is not ready to view such scenarios, the Pensieve will be of no use."

"What do you wish to show me, Sir?"

"It is not for me to show, Harry. This is something to see for yourself; rather, you will be showing yourself what you'd like to see."

It takes a few moments to wrap my head around the perplexing Pensieve. I slowly gulp while filling in the blanks. "You want me to uncover the memory of my encounter with Voldemort."

Dumbledore's eyes briefly close as he nods, holding an unreadable expression. "If we are to get to the origination of your eye, we must start with your origin in itself."

My chest tightens in a similar sensation to the first night Malfoy informed that my parents were dead. I place a delicate hand over my aching chest nearing the Pensieve once more.

"Harry, I must warn that this may be very disturbing. Of course, I do not know which memories you retained as an infant. However, I must advise that the Pensieve knows no bounds when one is faced with a traumatic memory. There is no escape until the process is through."

I pace the tiny room with one hand shielding my forehead and the other on my hip. The unpredictable artifact is intimidating to say the least. It would be convenient to own one of these contraptions at home; for whenever I couldn't remember where I left my PS4 controller or car keys..

But to redeem the memory of the death of my biological parents? With virtually no idea of what I was about to witness?

"You don't have to do this," Dumbledore points out, observing my nervous body language. "For a first-year, using something as advanced as the Pensieve could be overwhelming.. traumatizing."

A heavy rush of adrenaline consumes me and I know what I have to do. "I want to know." I nod my head, confidently striding directly before the headmaster. "I want to remember."

"Very well. I will be vicariously processing the memories through you," he informs. He then removes his uniquely crafted wand from his robes and nears the tip to my temple. "Good luck."


After being instructed to lean face first into the contents of the Pensieve, I'm instantly teleported to another time frame. I'm restricted behind a glass barrier just inches from my face and I'm unable to move.

I can see through the glass that Dumbledore had stripped a memory from my infancy. I get a sense of familiarity standing in presumably my old nursery. I closely observe myself from the third person rolling around in the crib as a baby.

I shove both useless hands against the surface in front of me in a desperate attempt for ventilation. I'm growing claustrophobic and trying my best not to hyperventilate. Condensation forms around my fingers imprinting my hands.

There's utter commotion in the next room as a series of windows get blown out and shatter across the ground. I'm startled as an explosion bursts through the door, emitting a green light that illuminates every crevice of the room. Something falls to the ground like a heavy sack of potatoes. Shortly thereafter, a voice that I was unknowingly acclimated to penetrates my ears.

"James! No, James!"

I hold my breath, retaining the dwindling oxygen, as I anticipate my mother's entry into the nursery. She sprints into the room scooping me up from the crib. Her long, strawberry blonde hair swishes over me as I'm held close to her chest.

"No! Not him! Please!"

I whimper, pounding both fists heavily against the surface. I'm forced to listen to her heart-wrenching pleads as I'm helplessly enslaved behind the inconspicuous wall.

The force field encircling me suddenly fills with water expeditiously. My thighs are promptly submerged and my knees tremble peering down at the rising tide.

I'm distracted by a hooded figure that glides into the room creeping toward my mother. It levitates above the ground with dark smoke expelling from the bottom of its robes.

"You mustn't make yourself a casualty in this, Lily. Now hand over the boy! This is my last warning.."

I slam my fists against the barrier like a mad man in a frantic attempt to grab her attention. I'm fully aware that I'm presently witnessing a memory, but that doesn't stop me from trying. Hot tears stain my cheeks as I plead for her to let him have me and save herself.

"Not Harry! Not my baby boy! Please, have mercy!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" A bright green lightning bolt emits from the tip of his wand inducing another explosion.

And that's when I hear it; the desperate, excruciating scream of my mother's life being taken from her. I frantically cry out in horror as she collapses to the floor. Relentlessly punching the invisible blockade, the water soon rises above my neck.

My stagnant eyes are obliged to examine the dark caped figure. "Nagini.. come."

A 12-foot-long snake enters the room and obediently slithers toward its master. I instantly notice that it holds an uncanny appearance to my new pet snake; coloration, details and all. The enlarged creature weaves around my mother's lifeless body and makes its way toward its premeditated prey; my infant self.

The enormous snake picks up momentum charging forward until Voldemort orders it still. The Dark Lord maniacally cackles as I innocently crawl on the floor just inches from my dead mother.

"At last he is mine, Nagini." My eyes widen as the perilous reptile straightens it's neck, hovering over me. "He will undoubtedly grow strong one day.. but what to do with the boy.."

The monstrous reptile exposes it's 6-inch fangs and independently decides to make the decision for its master; it was going to kill me.

"Stop!" Voldemort shouts as the serpent strikes me.

The second it's fang pierces the outer layer of my cornea, a blinding light catapults the Dark Lord and his snake across the room.

I watch on from behind the force field as my right eye spontaneously bursts into flames. The entire right side of my face promptly catches fire. I scream in agony before I'm fully submerged in water.

An influx rushes down my throat and extinguishes the flames from my face. I slowly drown as my mother's blood curdling screams haunt me, echoing throughout my dissipating surroundings.

The glass barrier finally shatters and I break free. I collapse to the ground on all fours in recognition that I had returned to Dumbledore's office. I hyperventilate with both hands latched to the right side of my burnt face. I'm choking, expelling the suffocating sensation from my body.

"Harry. Harry!" Dumbledore grabs my shoulders as I gag gasping for air. "Breathe, my dear boy. Breathe."

I continue to struggle coughing up water that was never inhaled, and I persistently rub the eye that had never caught fire.

The Pensieve had reflected my suffocation, anger and helplessness to the scenario. Every torturous physical sensation I had endured was just an illusion.

Dumbledore helps me sit up and offers a tiny vial. He uncorks the potion placing it in the palm of my hand. "Drink," he instructs in a soothing tone. "It'll take the edge off."

Though I had learned last night that taking unidentified potions from witches and wizards wasn't ideal, I was desperate to seek relief. The liquid tranquilizer instantly alleviates my disorientation as my breath stabilizes.

Dumbledore gracefully raises to his feet with his hands held before him. "Now you know of your origins, Harry."

"But this answers virtually nothing," I rebuttal in aggravation. "If anything, this has only left me with more questions."

"And now is not the time for answers. That will be enough for today."

"So that's it?!" I raise my voice standing to my feet. I feel my temperature raise. "You put me through the torture of watching my own mother be slaughtered, and now you aren't willing to speak on it?!"

Dumbledore turns his back to me exiting the private room. He calmly takes a seat at his throne. "We will meet again. Nothing will be accomplished with your current state of mind. You must trust the process, and you must calm down."

"CALM DOWN?!" I roar. My vision wildly sputters while the lighting in the tower flickers and goes dark.

"Mr. Potter." Dumbledore calmly casts a hand over a group of candles illuminating the small area surrounding him.

My chest heaves while my breathing escalates. Dumbledore's appearance transitions from black and white, to ultraviolet and back again.

"It is time for you to leave." The headmaster's apprehensive tone and expression do not go unnoticed.

I squeeze my eyes shut; my hands clenched into fists just as tight. "I'm- I'm sorry for my behavior, Professor," I manage to spit out. Without looking at him I speed walk out of the poorly lit room utilizing my superior, dominant right eye.