It was the middle of August now. Harry awoke from a nightmare full of screams and murderous faces and high, cold cackles. A glance at his bedside clock told him it was two o'clock in the morning.

Though he didn't know it, a cat named Minerva had just prevented another enemy from doing away with Harry. She put up additional invisible barriers and then changed places with an elderly wizard who had come to relieve her for a few hours. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak over his head and resolutely took up his post under Harry's window.

Harry tossed and turned for twenty minutes, then had to accept that he wasn't going to sleep again that night. Whenever he closed his eyes, the image behind his eyelids was of a large stone chamber, with people chained to the walls. All of these prisoners were dying. Some were already dead. And in the middle of the room stood Lord Voldemort, holding his wand, laughing as he tortured innocent witches and wizards for his own amusement.

Harry got out of bed and looked around for something to pass the time till dawn. His eyes were tired, so he didn't feel like reading his textbooks. He wished he could make himself a Sleeping Potion so that he could have dreamless sleep, but it was too risky to try it in the Dursleys' house because he would need to light a fire in order to boil the shrivelfigs, and besides, the potion created a terrible stench while it was simmering.

Harry was suddenly struck by a bright idea to pass time. He pulled his new Pensieve out of his trunk and sat down with it on his bed.

"Sit down in a quiet place with your Pensieve," said the instruction manual. "Concentrate on the memory that you want to draw out of your head."

Harry focussed his mind on the nightmare he had just had.

"Place the tip of your wand to your temple and think the words, 'Memoria Lavoria', while still thinking of your memory."

Harry did so, trying to think about the magic formula and about his dream at the same time, while he also had to read the instructions and hold up his wand at the side of his head.

"Now simply pull your wand away from your temple and place your memory in the Pensieve."

Harry pulled, and felt the most curious sensation. It was like pulling a chunk of his mind out through his skull. It was a wonderful feeling, like taking a great burden off his shoulders. He felt almost physically lighter.

The end of the complete thought left his temple and Harry held up his wand, with the thought dangling from the tip, in front of himself. He expected to see a shining silver thread, and was disappointed to find something that looked like a grey, sticky, overcooked spaghetti spattered with blood, clinging to his wand.

"Note: Do not be alarmed if your thoughts initially resemble grey, sticky, overcooked strands of spaghetti splattered with blood," the instructions reassured him. "With practise, you will learn to refine your thought- removal technique." It went on, "To release your memory, simply swirl your wand tip clockwise in a circle around the bottom of the Pensieve."

Harry placed his wand inside the Pensieve basin and swirled as directed. After two circles the overcooked spaghetti-like thread left the tip of his wand and continued in the circuit on its own. In another moment it had spread out across the bottom of the Pensieve in a very sheer, murky layer. Harry peered in over the rim and discerned a blurry picture-the torture chamber of his nightmare.

Harry was delighted at his first success. He moved several more of his dreams into the Pensieve. By then his thought threads were free of blood smudges and were slightly less glutinous, and the Pensieve was filling with a clear, gossamer-like substance.

Harry wondered if he was ready to transfer his memory of the Triwizard Tournament.

"To move more significant memories, simply follow above instructions, using the words 'Memini Dediscere' in place of the regular words," said the directions. "Warning: If it is a painful memory, you may feel a sting as the memory exits your temple."

Harry followed the instructions and felt a twinge of pain in his scar as a glistening whitish thought left his temple. He placed it in the Pensieve and swirled it around, then peered inside.

The bottom of the Pensieve showed a darkened scene, with several slabs of rock jutting out of the ground here and there. Harry jumped when he saw himself and Cedric appear out of nowhere, clutching the Triwizard Cup between them. He shut his eyes quickly, unwilling to relive the horrific episode.

Then he heard a knocking on his window and opened his eyes. A screech owl and a tennis-ball-sized owl hovered outside his window.

Harry jumped off his bed and threw open the window. The little owl, Pigwidgeon, dropped a note on his head and fluttered round the room, hooting exuberantly in its tiny little voice. The screech owl, whom Harry recognized as Percy Weasley's Hermes, dropped a large package on the floor and flew into Hedwig's empty cage to rest for a few minutes.

Harry picked the note out of his hair and read,

Dear Harry,

You wrote me last week that you were having trouble sleeping, so in case you still can't sleep, here is a book that Lee Jordan lent George. It's a biography of this brilliant Quidditch player, Dangerous Dai, by the same bloke who wrote Quidditch Through the Ages, Kennelly Wasp or something. Sorry if sending two owls makes trouble for you, it's that Pig can't carry heavy things like books but he was wild to go deliver something. Don't bother rushing Hermes back here, Percy's got a report on standardized quill lengths to deliver to some foreign Ministry and we want to see how long it will take them to notice they haven't gotten it. I want to keep Hermes away till about next May because that's the date I bet on.

Ron

Harry ripped the paper off the package Hermes had dropped and uncovered a well-loved copy He Flew Like a Madman by Kennilworthy Whisp. "Excellent! Thanks Ron!"

He was glad to put the Pensieve under the loose floorboard by his bed and forget the memory of the Triwizard Tournament. Then he sat at his desk and read till the rays of dawn spilled through his window.