Chapter 1: Memories of terror
Once again Harry and Ron stood on the bluff above crater that had once been the dueling ring. The elements had begun to fill in the crater; the final resting place of whatever remained of Lord Voldemort after the mysterious shockwave they had seen one year before.
Harry sighed.
"What are you thinking Harry? Is it about You-know-who?" Ron glanced at his friends face.
"After 20 years, you still call him that." Harry's face was blank, as he starred out over the flat stretch of land. "He's dead Ron, nothing will bring him back. VOLDEMORT!" The last was yelled at the top of his lungs.
Ron turned and looked too, but all he saw was that same blank dirt and patches of grass, little changed from when they had stood here before.
"Why'd you come back Harry? There's nothing here anymore."
"I… I don't know. I wanted to make sure."
The wind came up, rustling the grass. The pair drew their robes closer together to ward off the chill wind. The gust blew Harry's bangs back, revealing a blank forehead.
"I was afraid it might come back. When… If it returns, we'll know," Harry reached up and fingered his forehead, where the vivid lightning scar had been. It had vanished a month after the combatants had disappeared, and was further proof to all wizards around the world that Lord Voldemort was gone forever.
The two men stayed, looking solemnly out over the field and the destroyed dueling ring. After a long time of silence, wondering what had happened to Voldemort and to Cedric, they departed, Disapparating quietly away.
That night the moon loomed high and bright, almost full. At the stroke of midnight, another wizard Apparated quietly in. His cloak swished as he drew it around himself, to ward off the chill air, and a whispered word lit his wand up like a torch. He knelt by the depression, and after a long moment, began to weep.
"My Master, my Master…" He choked out between sobs. Soon he was on all fours, sobbing, water running down his face and rolling into the hole that was Voldemort's final resting place.
His balding head reflected the moons light as he stood, and illuminated his rat-like features, contorted in sorrow. He walked slowly away from the depression, then turned and ran off into the dark night. The wand light faded, and then went out completely. The tiny, broken wizard Disapparated.
"Sugar Quill." The gargoyle sprang aside at the password. Harry smiled.
"After all these years, Dumbledore, you're still using candy for your passwords."
Everything around him was familiar, but it had been so long everything seemed almost distorted. The spiraling staircase, the portraits of the famous headmasters, the whirring gadgets on the shelves, it all spoke to the boy who had long since grown up.
He walked over to the shelf and studied the contents. Everything he remembered was still there, including the ruby studded saber he had pulled out of the sorting hat, which was on the lowest shelf. On an impulse, he removed a covering, a covering that revealed memories when taken off. The Pensieve looked back at him, shimmering ethereally. Harry Potter looked, and smiled at the memories.
A squawk sounded from behind the door. Fawkes was looking his radiant phoenix self, if fact so healthy he almost seemed to be burning. In his pocket, Harry's wand started getting warm, as though it felt good about getting close to its progenitor. The wizard smiled, and held out his arm to the fiery bird.
With a flap, the red phoenix bridged the gap between them, and started licking his ear.
Harry laughed. "Stop it Fawkes, stop it! I mean it! I'm here on official business!" But by now he was laughing too hard to continue.
With a titanic effort, he controlled himself and got Fawkes to stop tickling him. With the phoenix still on his shoulder, Harry went over to the Pensieve, and looked deep into it. He could still remember accidentally sticking his nose into a place it didn't belong, which in that particular case was a wizarding courtroom.
But now when he looked, it showed him a scene he and everyone else he knew wanted greatly to forget. A man in a dark cloak was standing outside a mansion. A woman, with long curly brown hair, wand in hand, rushed out of the house, and stood, screaming. Even though there were no sounds, he could remember her cries, bone piercing and horrible.
From his point of view, which he now realized was Dumbledore's, he could see Ron and a person that had to be himself running up the hill towards the woman and the evil man. The view started to move as well. It swung down facing the ground, but Harry didn't need it, he could remember it all as though it had happened yesterday.
The brown-haired woman had cast a spell, a powerful one, but it had had no effect on the man. With his hand held out, the beam of red light had simply bended around him, to hit a tree in the yard. The tree had exploded, and the light from the fire had illuminated the woman's face.
And with a scream, Hermione Granger died, victim of a green beam of light and evil.
Harry jumped, and slammed his head into the shelf above. He drew back, rubbing his head, trying to make the sight of his best friends death go away. But it wouldn't go away, his mind kept going over the situation, and he kept telling himself he should've done something. But he had been too far away, and Voldemort had already Disapparated away, leaving only Hermione's corpse and the Dark Mark, hovering in the sky above her house.
"Looking in my Pensieve again Harry?" Dumbledores voice came from the doorway.
Harry turned around to see the old man, now looking even older and aged. Lines of tension, only now beginning to go away, creased his face. Fawkes flapped off of his shoulder, after a quick nip at his ear, and settled on the old wizards arm.
"You look well, Professor."
"Don't we all, now that the threat is gone. This could be the heralding of a golden age for wizards. The number of Muggles that know about us wizards is expanding, and very soon we might make our presence known to more of them. It seems our friend Cedric has brought about peace and joy to the world of magic, and to the world of the non-magic as well." Dumbledore spoke slowly and calmly, devoid of stress.
"Indeed, Professor. But, and I don't know how I know this, but I feel like some new danger is coming. Even worse than Voldemort. I really can't explain it."
"My boy, you know I would never disregard anything you would say, especially not after all those years you were in school, after your first few years we all learned to trust your judgment, but we don't know anything about this threat. And, I doubt the Ministry would believe you, even with Fudge gone. I'll look into it though, thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.
"I believe there was another matter I wanted to ask you about. Good thing you came, I was going to write a letter and send it off to you this very night! Ah, where was I? Oh yes, I need you to question several new Death Eaters that have been brought in. Apparently, they had been camped out in the woods of Albania, hoping their lord would come back. They are some of the inner-circle acolytes, and have been very hard to interrogate. But, obviously, you can't be harmed by them, so…" He trailed off.
"I'm the one person who can safely question them." Harry finished for him, and then nodded. "I'd be happy to find out what they know."
Dumbledore smiled. He didn't feel that this would give them any leads on the question in the back of everyone's minds concerning Voldemort's return, but it needed to be done. And with the Acolyte's innate, wand-less powers, Harry was the only one that could be safe.
After an hour of speculative talk, about many things including Voldemort and Cedric's duel, Fawkes next self-immolation, and the various Weasly brothers, Harry got up to leave. And so with a last goodbye and thanks, Harry stepped onto the moving staircase, and walked out of Dumbledore's office.
But instead of going out of the school and Apparating to Azkaban, he headed to Gryffindor tower. He was lost in a maze of memories. Everywhere he looked, a classroom, a portrait, a short cut, they all sparked memories of his days as a student in the majestic castle.
After a roundabout route to Gryffindor tower (he couldn't resist stopping by to see Sir Cardogen again) he arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait. To Harry's surprise, she was there, looking sleepy. She smiled when she saw him, and opened for him before he even had a chance of giving the password he had gotten from Dumbledore. He went inside, and looked around the common room.
Little had changed since the last time he had been there, 5 years before. The chairs still clustered in small groups, and around the fire in the center of the room. It still blazed merrily, even though all the students were away on summer holidays. Harry stopped to look around and sit down in the comfiest chairs by the fire, then got up and went to the very top of the spiral staircase, to a little known attic, placed in the very top cone of the tower.
The door had not been opened in the last five years, judging by the dust that covered it. He pulled at the ancient iron handle, and slowly the heavy wooden door swung out, to reveal and ordinary chest. Made of iron and very unassuming, it stood of to the side, surrounded by the odds and ends only a place with Albus Dumbledore in residence could accumulate. Ignoring the clutter, Harry pulled a small iron key from his pocket, and fitted it into the lock. It fit perfectly, but he didn't turn the key just yet. Instead he pulled out his wand, the very same he had purchased from Ollivander all those years ago.
"Lumos." He said. In response, his wand lit up, filling the dank attic with white light. Delicately, he put the flaring wand tip into a tiny, concealed hole underneath the keyhole. Leaving it there, he turned the key slowly, and opened the lid.
Harry heard a click inside the chest, followed by a whirring sound, but he trusted in Dumbledore's instructions. On reflection, he realized he didn't want to know what would happen if the lighted wand wasn't put into the slot.
"Thankfully, I'll never have to find out," He murmured to himself as he heaved the top of the chest up.
Inside the chest, some of Harry's most precious items had been stored, in case he fell to Voldemort. But now, with the threat gone, possibly forever, he could safely retrieve them.
A grubby parchment lay next to a shimmering length of cloth. He took out his wand (thankfully not triggering whatever trap was set) and tapped the parchment. The Marauders Map sprang to life. The school was empty, and so the map was useless, at least for the moment.
The second item had the potential to be of more use. Harry scooped up the invisibility cloak, a gift from his dead father, and put it in a bag hanging from his shoulder. Then he folded the map, and put it in his pocket, though he doubted what it's usefulness would be.
His task done, he departed the school. The Entrance Hall echoed with his solitary footsteps, a metaphor for his life. Everyone around him seemed distant, and in the back of his mind he could still feel the threat. Dumbledore had convinced him it would be looked into, but that wasn't making it go away.
His mind felt confused, and he was still thinking about the premonition that had been hounding him for the last year, as he walked down the path to the gates, and Apparated away quietly.
Once again Harry and Ron stood on the bluff above crater that had once been the dueling ring. The elements had begun to fill in the crater; the final resting place of whatever remained of Lord Voldemort after the mysterious shockwave they had seen one year before.
Harry sighed.
"What are you thinking Harry? Is it about You-know-who?" Ron glanced at his friends face.
"After 20 years, you still call him that." Harry's face was blank, as he starred out over the flat stretch of land. "He's dead Ron, nothing will bring him back. VOLDEMORT!" The last was yelled at the top of his lungs.
Ron turned and looked too, but all he saw was that same blank dirt and patches of grass, little changed from when they had stood here before.
"Why'd you come back Harry? There's nothing here anymore."
"I… I don't know. I wanted to make sure."
The wind came up, rustling the grass. The pair drew their robes closer together to ward off the chill wind. The gust blew Harry's bangs back, revealing a blank forehead.
"I was afraid it might come back. When… If it returns, we'll know," Harry reached up and fingered his forehead, where the vivid lightning scar had been. It had vanished a month after the combatants had disappeared, and was further proof to all wizards around the world that Lord Voldemort was gone forever.
The two men stayed, looking solemnly out over the field and the destroyed dueling ring. After a long time of silence, wondering what had happened to Voldemort and to Cedric, they departed, Disapparating quietly away.
That night the moon loomed high and bright, almost full. At the stroke of midnight, another wizard Apparated quietly in. His cloak swished as he drew it around himself, to ward off the chill air, and a whispered word lit his wand up like a torch. He knelt by the depression, and after a long moment, began to weep.
"My Master, my Master…" He choked out between sobs. Soon he was on all fours, sobbing, water running down his face and rolling into the hole that was Voldemort's final resting place.
His balding head reflected the moons light as he stood, and illuminated his rat-like features, contorted in sorrow. He walked slowly away from the depression, then turned and ran off into the dark night. The wand light faded, and then went out completely. The tiny, broken wizard Disapparated.
"Sugar Quill." The gargoyle sprang aside at the password. Harry smiled.
"After all these years, Dumbledore, you're still using candy for your passwords."
Everything around him was familiar, but it had been so long everything seemed almost distorted. The spiraling staircase, the portraits of the famous headmasters, the whirring gadgets on the shelves, it all spoke to the boy who had long since grown up.
He walked over to the shelf and studied the contents. Everything he remembered was still there, including the ruby studded saber he had pulled out of the sorting hat, which was on the lowest shelf. On an impulse, he removed a covering, a covering that revealed memories when taken off. The Pensieve looked back at him, shimmering ethereally. Harry Potter looked, and smiled at the memories.
A squawk sounded from behind the door. Fawkes was looking his radiant phoenix self, if fact so healthy he almost seemed to be burning. In his pocket, Harry's wand started getting warm, as though it felt good about getting close to its progenitor. The wizard smiled, and held out his arm to the fiery bird.
With a flap, the red phoenix bridged the gap between them, and started licking his ear.
Harry laughed. "Stop it Fawkes, stop it! I mean it! I'm here on official business!" But by now he was laughing too hard to continue.
With a titanic effort, he controlled himself and got Fawkes to stop tickling him. With the phoenix still on his shoulder, Harry went over to the Pensieve, and looked deep into it. He could still remember accidentally sticking his nose into a place it didn't belong, which in that particular case was a wizarding courtroom.
But now when he looked, it showed him a scene he and everyone else he knew wanted greatly to forget. A man in a dark cloak was standing outside a mansion. A woman, with long curly brown hair, wand in hand, rushed out of the house, and stood, screaming. Even though there were no sounds, he could remember her cries, bone piercing and horrible.
From his point of view, which he now realized was Dumbledore's, he could see Ron and a person that had to be himself running up the hill towards the woman and the evil man. The view started to move as well. It swung down facing the ground, but Harry didn't need it, he could remember it all as though it had happened yesterday.
The brown-haired woman had cast a spell, a powerful one, but it had had no effect on the man. With his hand held out, the beam of red light had simply bended around him, to hit a tree in the yard. The tree had exploded, and the light from the fire had illuminated the woman's face.
And with a scream, Hermione Granger died, victim of a green beam of light and evil.
Harry jumped, and slammed his head into the shelf above. He drew back, rubbing his head, trying to make the sight of his best friends death go away. But it wouldn't go away, his mind kept going over the situation, and he kept telling himself he should've done something. But he had been too far away, and Voldemort had already Disapparated away, leaving only Hermione's corpse and the Dark Mark, hovering in the sky above her house.
"Looking in my Pensieve again Harry?" Dumbledores voice came from the doorway.
Harry turned around to see the old man, now looking even older and aged. Lines of tension, only now beginning to go away, creased his face. Fawkes flapped off of his shoulder, after a quick nip at his ear, and settled on the old wizards arm.
"You look well, Professor."
"Don't we all, now that the threat is gone. This could be the heralding of a golden age for wizards. The number of Muggles that know about us wizards is expanding, and very soon we might make our presence known to more of them. It seems our friend Cedric has brought about peace and joy to the world of magic, and to the world of the non-magic as well." Dumbledore spoke slowly and calmly, devoid of stress.
"Indeed, Professor. But, and I don't know how I know this, but I feel like some new danger is coming. Even worse than Voldemort. I really can't explain it."
"My boy, you know I would never disregard anything you would say, especially not after all those years you were in school, after your first few years we all learned to trust your judgment, but we don't know anything about this threat. And, I doubt the Ministry would believe you, even with Fudge gone. I'll look into it though, thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.
"I believe there was another matter I wanted to ask you about. Good thing you came, I was going to write a letter and send it off to you this very night! Ah, where was I? Oh yes, I need you to question several new Death Eaters that have been brought in. Apparently, they had been camped out in the woods of Albania, hoping their lord would come back. They are some of the inner-circle acolytes, and have been very hard to interrogate. But, obviously, you can't be harmed by them, so…" He trailed off.
"I'm the one person who can safely question them." Harry finished for him, and then nodded. "I'd be happy to find out what they know."
Dumbledore smiled. He didn't feel that this would give them any leads on the question in the back of everyone's minds concerning Voldemort's return, but it needed to be done. And with the Acolyte's innate, wand-less powers, Harry was the only one that could be safe.
After an hour of speculative talk, about many things including Voldemort and Cedric's duel, Fawkes next self-immolation, and the various Weasly brothers, Harry got up to leave. And so with a last goodbye and thanks, Harry stepped onto the moving staircase, and walked out of Dumbledore's office.
But instead of going out of the school and Apparating to Azkaban, he headed to Gryffindor tower. He was lost in a maze of memories. Everywhere he looked, a classroom, a portrait, a short cut, they all sparked memories of his days as a student in the majestic castle.
After a roundabout route to Gryffindor tower (he couldn't resist stopping by to see Sir Cardogen again) he arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait. To Harry's surprise, she was there, looking sleepy. She smiled when she saw him, and opened for him before he even had a chance of giving the password he had gotten from Dumbledore. He went inside, and looked around the common room.
Little had changed since the last time he had been there, 5 years before. The chairs still clustered in small groups, and around the fire in the center of the room. It still blazed merrily, even though all the students were away on summer holidays. Harry stopped to look around and sit down in the comfiest chairs by the fire, then got up and went to the very top of the spiral staircase, to a little known attic, placed in the very top cone of the tower.
The door had not been opened in the last five years, judging by the dust that covered it. He pulled at the ancient iron handle, and slowly the heavy wooden door swung out, to reveal and ordinary chest. Made of iron and very unassuming, it stood of to the side, surrounded by the odds and ends only a place with Albus Dumbledore in residence could accumulate. Ignoring the clutter, Harry pulled a small iron key from his pocket, and fitted it into the lock. It fit perfectly, but he didn't turn the key just yet. Instead he pulled out his wand, the very same he had purchased from Ollivander all those years ago.
"Lumos." He said. In response, his wand lit up, filling the dank attic with white light. Delicately, he put the flaring wand tip into a tiny, concealed hole underneath the keyhole. Leaving it there, he turned the key slowly, and opened the lid.
Harry heard a click inside the chest, followed by a whirring sound, but he trusted in Dumbledore's instructions. On reflection, he realized he didn't want to know what would happen if the lighted wand wasn't put into the slot.
"Thankfully, I'll never have to find out," He murmured to himself as he heaved the top of the chest up.
Inside the chest, some of Harry's most precious items had been stored, in case he fell to Voldemort. But now, with the threat gone, possibly forever, he could safely retrieve them.
A grubby parchment lay next to a shimmering length of cloth. He took out his wand (thankfully not triggering whatever trap was set) and tapped the parchment. The Marauders Map sprang to life. The school was empty, and so the map was useless, at least for the moment.
The second item had the potential to be of more use. Harry scooped up the invisibility cloak, a gift from his dead father, and put it in a bag hanging from his shoulder. Then he folded the map, and put it in his pocket, though he doubted what it's usefulness would be.
His task done, he departed the school. The Entrance Hall echoed with his solitary footsteps, a metaphor for his life. Everyone around him seemed distant, and in the back of his mind he could still feel the threat. Dumbledore had convinced him it would be looked into, but that wasn't making it go away.
His mind felt confused, and he was still thinking about the premonition that had been hounding him for the last year, as he walked down the path to the gates, and Apparated away quietly.