All of this really belongs to J.K. Rowling.

It was fortunate, perhaps, that I did not meet up with any misbehaving students on the way to my office. Perhaps they were alerted by the sound of slamming doors as I made my way to the dungeon. Perhaps the sound of my footfalls, uncommonly loud, sent them to ground. Whatever the reason, the halls between the Hospital Wing and my office were exceptionally quiet. The few students I did pass moved quickly to let me by.

At last I reached the deserted safety of my office. I threw myself in my chair and reached for the Pensieve. It wouldn't move. I looked closer at it and realized it was attached to something.

Or someone.

Someone like Potter. Who was connected to the Pensieve like a first year that had licked the stadium stands in December.

Part of me was tempted to just leave him there. Move my office to a different part of the castle. Umbridge would never notice, and would be delighted in Potter's disappearance. If she guessed I had something to do with it she might even give me a pay raise. I was tempted to go straight to Umbridge with proof, absolute proof, that Potter was invading my privacy. That would be enough to get Potter out of her hair. I certainly wouldn't be sorry to see the last of him either.

The question was, who did I want to see squirm more; Umbridge or Potter. Umbridge, while loathsome, had never stolen from me, or knocked me out, or blatantly told me to shut up. What she didn't have was Dumbledore's trust. She also wasn't fated to be a witch powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord. She wasn't even powerful enough to defeat a toilet. Plus, the longer Potter looked in my Pensieve, the more chance he might have to see something that might blow my cover.

Which, considering Potter's connection to the Dark Lord, might be relayed straight to him.

Above all, I didn't want that.

Looked like Potter was off the hook. Again. Which meant that I had better find a way of extracting Potter from the Pensieve without turning Dumbledore's golden boy into a gibbering idiot. Which meant referring to Dumbledore's handwritten notes on the operation of his Pensieve. Fortunately, Dumbledore seemed to have realized that fishing out over curious teenagers would be something I would likely have to do, and had left instructions on how to remove someone "accidentally affixed" to the Pensieve in the first paragraph. I performed the required charms, swearing the whole time that I was a second cousin to a banshee if Potter was ever stepping foot in my office again. The charms performed, I entered the Pensieve, and immediately tripped over my own feet and landed on my nose.

Potter seemed to have stumbled on embarrassing rather than life threatening memories. I was surprised Potter didn't notice my less than graceful arrival, but he was too transfixed by his bloody father to notice. I too was rooted to the spot, an indifferent outsider, as Potter Sr. decided to hoist me head over heels. Potter and Black's laughing faces were beginning to meld with the Weasley twins. I could feel blood thumping in my ears. Potter Jr. looked like he had never seen anything so fascinating as my undergarments. Well, as entertaining as it might be, Mr. Potter was going to get out of my Pensieve straight away and start explaining how he had gotten there in the first place.

I firmly grabbed his arm to remove him from the Pensieve. He turned around like a small child who had been disrupted during his favorite game. Damn him. Did he think this a game? Or a joke, perhaps, an amusing joke to play, the same way his father had humiliated me. I could still hear James's explanation to a teacher, "It was only a joke, Professor. We were just having a little fun."

"Having fun? Been enjoying yourself, Potter?"

My anger was like a real thing that I could have taken out and shaken. I ended up shaking Potter, instead, peripherally aware that he was trying to get loose. Potter and Black had been exactly like the Weasley Twins, no idea what damage their little jokes and pranks could cause. "Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?"

Potter began with his what I was sure would be a feeble excuse, and I realized that unless I wanted to do Umbridge's work for her, I had better remove my hands from Potter before I broke his neck. I let Potter go, visions of the story being all over the Great Hall the next day. "You will not repeat what you saw to anybody! Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!"

I must have look absolutely terrifying, because the Boy Who Couldn't Be Bothered to Practice ran like an entire squad of Death Eaters was after him. Which was fortunate, because I had lost all control of my magic. Bottles began crashing everywhere.

------------------------- Thanks to Mystic Witch, BekaJWP, Nemo Returning, and daintress for taking the time to review.