DISCLAIMER: Nothing is mine. If it was, why would I be writing fan fiction?

A/N: This is the third part of my Soulmate series. It isn't going well. And before everyone gets on my case saying "that isn't how the pensieve works" and "you've got it all wrong", I know I have. This is the way I wanted to write it. So there.

Dumbledore walked back to his desk and sat down heavily in his chair. He let out his breath in a long sigh. He should have known that Harry would guess his secret. He was a sharp kid, Harry, just like his father really.

Dumbledore stood up and crossed to a table on which stood a bowl filled with what looked like white mist. It was a pensieve - one of his most treasured and useful possessions.

It would show him his memories. He wanted to look into Voldemort's - or rather Tom Riddle's at this stage - past. It might prove helpful to Harry and Hermione's quest. Dumbledore concentrated on the memory of Tom Riddle as a first year student and looked into the heart of the mist.

Instead of being drawn into a Hogwarts classroom filled with students, he was in a long, dark corridor. It stretched off to a door with iron studs in it. Dumbledore walked towards it swiftly. He soon reached the solid wooden door and pushed it open. In front of him, as his older self knew there would be, stood a mirror.

A/N 2: Sorry to interrupt the story, but I would like to say that the old Dumbledore is in the body of the younger one. Its confusing to me, and I wrote the thing, but anyway! On with the story!

He moved in front of it, stepping carefully around the magical jnk that littered the floor. When he moved his gaze from the carved edge into the glass he smiled. Instead of seeing a young teacher in blue robes, he saw himself with a long white beard, sitting at the head of the long table in the Great Hall. He knew that he was seeing himself as headmaster of Hogwarts. He continued to stare into the mirror until he heard a slight noise from the corridor outside. He quickly ducked into the shadows. He knw what would happen next, and he also knew that he couldn't stop it.
He knew who would be walking through that door any second now, and who would follow ten minutes later.

The present headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dippet, came in. He walked hastily towards the shadows in the corner opposite to Dumbledore. Both of them waited patiently in the dark until the door swung open once more, to reveal a slim, long haired girl standing hesitantly in the doorway. She stepped inside, slower than the previous two, and sttod in front of the mirror, admiring its carved, well polished frame. She looked into the glass. "The picture's different!" she whispered. Dumbledore knew what he had to do. He stepped out of the shadows and into the dim, flickering light cast by the girl's wand.
"Hello Minerva," he said quietly.