Chapter 9 – Harry
He couldn't believe it; in front of him sat a bowl of shimmering light; in front of him sat a Pensieve. Harry sat in awe staring at the object for a few seconds, and then noticed something strange; surely if he hadn't put any thoughts into the magical contraption, there shouldn't be this strange mist in the bowl. Well, there was only one way to find out what it was; he leaned over the bowl, very slowly lowering his head, until the tip of his nose was centimetres away from the silvery gas. All of a sudden, he jerked his head forwards, and was sucked into someone's memory.
As soon as he landed inside this queer circular room, Harry recognized it to be Dumbledore's office, and looked up. Sitting behind the desk was the old wizard, looking straight at Harry – but, wait, this couldn't be right; Harry was only in his memory... he wasn't actually there. It all got stranger when Dumbledore spoke:
"Ah, Harry, Merry Christmas." Harry frowned to himself, how was this happening? This was definitely Dumbledore and his own office though; Harry looked out the window, he could see the green grass of the grounds, Hagrid's hut... But wait, that couldn't be right, there was snow on the grounds earlier. Suddenly Harry realised – Dumbledore must have put this into the Pensieve a while ago, to give Harry something to start off with, or to tell him something important. Harry jumped when Dumbledore spoke again:
"I think I've given you enough time to work out that, when you see this, it will be a memory of mine. I've decided that you should own a Pensieve; they are awfully useful, and I think you have far too many grave thoughts floating around inside that head of yours Harry." Dumbledore appeared morose as he said the last part, and looked at his fingers whilst wearing an exhausted expression. He raised his silver-haired head and appeared to be looking straight at Harry, "I am all too aware of the fact that you have not been pleased with me of late, Harry. I don't blame you, but I want you to know that you must trust me, you have to. Everything I do is for your own safety; training you learn here may just save your life, save all of us." At the last sentence, Harry's heart began to beat faster; he hated thinking about the Final Battle looming in the distance. Dumbledore continued, "I want you to start private defence lessons – I have the perfect person to teach you, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind coming in to help. You will start lessons with him when the holidays finish; I want you to go to Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration room at eight o' clock in the evening on the first Tuesday back." Harry made a mental note to remember that, and tried to think who this mysterious defence person could be.
"I also assume that you desperately want to leave the castle and visit Hogsmeade, but, I'm sorry to say, I still don't think that's a good idea." Harry frowned at the last comment; he had hoped that after having some time to think about it Dumbledore would have somehow changed his mind, and allowed Harry to have a life which revolved around things other than Voldemort. For a moment Dumbledore was silent, and Harry wasn't really sure whether he was going to be sucked out of this particular memory at any given second.
"Harry" Dumbledore lifted his head sharply. "I must ask you this – do not tell anyone about this Pensieve, not even Ron or Hermione. As we both know, memories in these can be all too important." Dumbledore looked severely at where Harry stood, and Harry remembered the end of last year. Dumbledore looked at his crooked fingers one last time, and said "Good evening, Harry." Suddenly Harry felt himself being sucked through time, his skin ripping at his body, and his mind whirling.
Harry looked up to see an empty common room, and his new toy sitting in front of him. He stared at the bowl for a few seconds, and frowned: Dumbledore had never explained how to work the thing. 'Well that's bloody useful' Harry thought. This was obviously another one of the Headmaster's mind tricks wherein Harry had to decide for himself how to solve the problem.
Hmmmm. Harry racked his brains for a thought of how to possibly deposit thoughts into the strange thing which sat before him. He had seen both Snape and Dumbledore do the deed before, and remembered them raising their wands to a temple, and a silvery string gliding out of it. With this thought in his mind, Harry searched his brain for a memory he would like to be rid of. Finally, with a small stabbing feeling, he settled on when Sirius had fallen behind that veil. Thinking of this memory intently, he raised his wand to his temple, and slowly pulled it away. He slowly let his eyes peer round, expecting a silver thread, but they were met with nothing.
"Shit" he muttered. He scolded himself for having thought that something like this would have been so easy. Sitting there he silently began to systematically sift through all the ready memories in his brain, wondering if he had simply chosen the wrong one. He did, however, after a couple more attempts of removing thoughts from his brain, realise that it had nothing to do with the particular recollection he chose to use, and so it must have had something to do with the frame of mind. Harry bloody well knew by now that nothing in magic was simple, so decided to try and figure out how he could do it.
Harry soon realised how stupid he had been; of course, you would have to concentrate on the specific memory hard. Very hard. Harry guessed he would have it clear his head of all thoughts which may obscure the chosen memory, and did so. Having only the memory of Sirius' death in his mind was more than painful, but Harry was intent on it working. Slowly and apprehensively he raised his wand to his temple, and suddenly felt a connection with the piece of wood in his hand, and his mind. Harry could feel the memory, and all the emotions it carried with it, being sucked out of his brain. Quickly he stuck his wand, and the silvery string, into the Pensieve. Harry considered this feeling; it was as though he could still remember Sirius' death, but he couldn't get at it, and no one else could. Harry knew the memory was in a place other than his head, and that it was safe. Thinking about this made Harry's remaining thoughts spin, and so he decided he's had enough for the night. Sighing, he picked up the glass bowl, and carried it carefully up to the dorm, where he silently covered it with one of Dudley's vile old jumpers, and slid it underneath his bed. Harry knew no one could ever know about it, otherwise lots of trouble would be caused. He also knew he mustn't misuse it, lest it might fall into the wrong hands, and dire consequences would surely come to pass.
With that, Harry clambered into bed, and rolled over. After a long day his eyes closed willingly, and he drifted off to sleep peacefully and happily for the first time in a long while.
SO sorry it took me so long, and I know it was so short, but I have had a fucking scary amount of work these past couple of weeks, and just haven't had time. Thanks to reviewers, keep doing it! Mithrandir – made me laugh, as always. Rose – awww thanks, that's so sweet of you to say. Maria – thanks, but I do like my angst, I know, sorry lol. I'll try to get the next one up sooner. Thanks Nine Alteratives.
He couldn't believe it; in front of him sat a bowl of shimmering light; in front of him sat a Pensieve. Harry sat in awe staring at the object for a few seconds, and then noticed something strange; surely if he hadn't put any thoughts into the magical contraption, there shouldn't be this strange mist in the bowl. Well, there was only one way to find out what it was; he leaned over the bowl, very slowly lowering his head, until the tip of his nose was centimetres away from the silvery gas. All of a sudden, he jerked his head forwards, and was sucked into someone's memory.
As soon as he landed inside this queer circular room, Harry recognized it to be Dumbledore's office, and looked up. Sitting behind the desk was the old wizard, looking straight at Harry – but, wait, this couldn't be right; Harry was only in his memory... he wasn't actually there. It all got stranger when Dumbledore spoke:
"Ah, Harry, Merry Christmas." Harry frowned to himself, how was this happening? This was definitely Dumbledore and his own office though; Harry looked out the window, he could see the green grass of the grounds, Hagrid's hut... But wait, that couldn't be right, there was snow on the grounds earlier. Suddenly Harry realised – Dumbledore must have put this into the Pensieve a while ago, to give Harry something to start off with, or to tell him something important. Harry jumped when Dumbledore spoke again:
"I think I've given you enough time to work out that, when you see this, it will be a memory of mine. I've decided that you should own a Pensieve; they are awfully useful, and I think you have far too many grave thoughts floating around inside that head of yours Harry." Dumbledore appeared morose as he said the last part, and looked at his fingers whilst wearing an exhausted expression. He raised his silver-haired head and appeared to be looking straight at Harry, "I am all too aware of the fact that you have not been pleased with me of late, Harry. I don't blame you, but I want you to know that you must trust me, you have to. Everything I do is for your own safety; training you learn here may just save your life, save all of us." At the last sentence, Harry's heart began to beat faster; he hated thinking about the Final Battle looming in the distance. Dumbledore continued, "I want you to start private defence lessons – I have the perfect person to teach you, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind coming in to help. You will start lessons with him when the holidays finish; I want you to go to Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration room at eight o' clock in the evening on the first Tuesday back." Harry made a mental note to remember that, and tried to think who this mysterious defence person could be.
"I also assume that you desperately want to leave the castle and visit Hogsmeade, but, I'm sorry to say, I still don't think that's a good idea." Harry frowned at the last comment; he had hoped that after having some time to think about it Dumbledore would have somehow changed his mind, and allowed Harry to have a life which revolved around things other than Voldemort. For a moment Dumbledore was silent, and Harry wasn't really sure whether he was going to be sucked out of this particular memory at any given second.
"Harry" Dumbledore lifted his head sharply. "I must ask you this – do not tell anyone about this Pensieve, not even Ron or Hermione. As we both know, memories in these can be all too important." Dumbledore looked severely at where Harry stood, and Harry remembered the end of last year. Dumbledore looked at his crooked fingers one last time, and said "Good evening, Harry." Suddenly Harry felt himself being sucked through time, his skin ripping at his body, and his mind whirling.
Harry looked up to see an empty common room, and his new toy sitting in front of him. He stared at the bowl for a few seconds, and frowned: Dumbledore had never explained how to work the thing. 'Well that's bloody useful' Harry thought. This was obviously another one of the Headmaster's mind tricks wherein Harry had to decide for himself how to solve the problem.
Hmmmm. Harry racked his brains for a thought of how to possibly deposit thoughts into the strange thing which sat before him. He had seen both Snape and Dumbledore do the deed before, and remembered them raising their wands to a temple, and a silvery string gliding out of it. With this thought in his mind, Harry searched his brain for a memory he would like to be rid of. Finally, with a small stabbing feeling, he settled on when Sirius had fallen behind that veil. Thinking of this memory intently, he raised his wand to his temple, and slowly pulled it away. He slowly let his eyes peer round, expecting a silver thread, but they were met with nothing.
"Shit" he muttered. He scolded himself for having thought that something like this would have been so easy. Sitting there he silently began to systematically sift through all the ready memories in his brain, wondering if he had simply chosen the wrong one. He did, however, after a couple more attempts of removing thoughts from his brain, realise that it had nothing to do with the particular recollection he chose to use, and so it must have had something to do with the frame of mind. Harry bloody well knew by now that nothing in magic was simple, so decided to try and figure out how he could do it.
Harry soon realised how stupid he had been; of course, you would have to concentrate on the specific memory hard. Very hard. Harry guessed he would have it clear his head of all thoughts which may obscure the chosen memory, and did so. Having only the memory of Sirius' death in his mind was more than painful, but Harry was intent on it working. Slowly and apprehensively he raised his wand to his temple, and suddenly felt a connection with the piece of wood in his hand, and his mind. Harry could feel the memory, and all the emotions it carried with it, being sucked out of his brain. Quickly he stuck his wand, and the silvery string, into the Pensieve. Harry considered this feeling; it was as though he could still remember Sirius' death, but he couldn't get at it, and no one else could. Harry knew the memory was in a place other than his head, and that it was safe. Thinking about this made Harry's remaining thoughts spin, and so he decided he's had enough for the night. Sighing, he picked up the glass bowl, and carried it carefully up to the dorm, where he silently covered it with one of Dudley's vile old jumpers, and slid it underneath his bed. Harry knew no one could ever know about it, otherwise lots of trouble would be caused. He also knew he mustn't misuse it, lest it might fall into the wrong hands, and dire consequences would surely come to pass.
With that, Harry clambered into bed, and rolled over. After a long day his eyes closed willingly, and he drifted off to sleep peacefully and happily for the first time in a long while.
SO sorry it took me so long, and I know it was so short, but I have had a fucking scary amount of work these past couple of weeks, and just haven't had time. Thanks to reviewers, keep doing it! Mithrandir – made me laugh, as always. Rose – awww thanks, that's so sweet of you to say. Maria – thanks, but I do like my angst, I know, sorry lol. I'll try to get the next one up sooner. Thanks Nine Alteratives.