A/N: Very short one-shot for now, please lots of feedback and I might be able to continue it.
Harry Potter was sitting on his bed staring out of his window. A glance to the calendar on his wall told him that his sixth-year at Hogwarts had finished exactly a week ago, but it seemed like an age ago that he had been watching Dumbledore's body amalgamate into its white tomb beside the lake.
Hedwig hooted at him softly from her cage on his desk, and he obliging opened its door, watching her soar out of his open window into the clear night. On his desk was a pile of unopened letters and a few newspapers which had not even been unrolled.
Suddenly the air just in front of him burst into flame and a package dropped onto his bed, Harry barely had time to gasp as the ball of flame disappeared just as unexpectedly as it had arrived, leaving only a solitary golden feather to float to the ground.
He sat onto his bed in a haze; picking up the feather and twisting it between his fingers. He didn't understand what any of this meant. He noticed something more uncomfortable than usual about his bed, and then remembered the parcel that he was sitting on.
He ripped the paper from it, and gasped as a stone basin slid onto his lap, strange markings glittering around its rim. The Pensieve; this really was mystifying. He put the paper to one side and moved the Pensieve onto his lap, looking into its empty basin. And as if they had known what he'd been thinking, two small glass bottles rolled out of the discarded paper.
Harry picked one up and turned it over in his hand, a label was tied around its neck; thin slanting handwriting read Harry Potter. Curiously Harry pulled the cork from the bottle and tipped its silvery contents into the Pensieve, swirling it in his hands as Dumbledore had done.
And then slowly a silver shape began to rise up out of the basin's swirling contents, revolving slowly upwards until Harry was face to face with Albus Dumbledore; his flesh quite as silver as his hair. Harry blinked and Dumbledore began to talk:
"Good evening Harry,"
Harry gasped as the silvery Dumbledore gave a small chuckle.
"This was intended for our next lesson, but as soon as I discovered the location of that cave we visited I knew there would not be a next lesson, so I prepared this for you.
"This Pensieve is all yours now, perhaps you might be able to exercise more control over other people's memories. I have saved this most important task for you; its importance will become more apparent as you work at it, as is always true in the realms of memory collection.
"I urge you not to start until you come of age, as I wouldn't want you to get into any more trouble with the Ministry, who I'm sure would like an excuse to have some power over you."
Harry snorted.
"I have already gathered one memory for you, but there are many more for you to find. I don't know who you may want to turn to; there are some who are obvious. But it is time for you to make your own choices.
"So what then," he said, "is it that I am asking you to do? Well, I believe that you must find out as much as you can about the night the Potters died."
A/N: Feedback needed urgently, let me know what you think of - it as it stands/future developments/end results. I've being playing around with this for a while, but I really don't know if I can do a proper seventh-year fic.