Chapter 10: The Second Meeting

Harry followed the Headmaster to his office, wand still clutched in his hand, head held high. He knew that as much as he should have tried to hold his temper that Draco had deserved every hit. Upon reaching the gargoyle, the Headmaster gave the password and it sprung aside to reveal the moving staircase.

"After you, Harry," Albus gestured indifferently with his hand.

Harry shrugged and stepped onto the staircase. He had been in Professor Dumbledore's office many times before, but never for a reason like this. He didn't know quite what to expect, other than maybe the possibility of expulsion. He stood in the middle of the room, and heard the door close softly behind him. He watched with observant eyes as his Headmaster gingerly moved around in front of him, but didn't sit at his desk like he normally did. Instead, he went to his cupboard, removed his Pensieve, and then sat down at one of the chintz armchairs next to a small table in the corner.

"Please, have a seat, Harry."

It was a request- Harry could tell that much. Gazing at the elderly man with a leery eye, Harry sat gingerly on the edge of the cushion, and waited for him to make the first statement.

Dumbledore sighed, reached into his pocket, and removed a small tin, which Harry thought could only contain lemon drops. Albus offered him one, and Harry politely accepted, not knowing really what else to do. The only sound for quite some time was the crunching of sweets before his Mentor finally spoke.

"Harry, I'd like to know what happened. I'd like to see it with my very own eyes what caused you and young Mr. Malfoy to throttle one another so viciously. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to use my Pensieve, that way it will be as accurate a representation as possible."

Harry nodded, and obediently drew the memory from his temple with his wand, and placed it in the basin. He started to lean back, so he could wait patiently for the Headmaster to return, but Albus shook his head.

"Oh no, Harry, I'm not doing this alone. You'll be coming with me."

Harry raised his eyebrows inquiringly, but didn't protest. He knew that he would only be cut off mid-sentence any way.

"You need to see what happened for yourself," Dumbledore continued, "and see the destruction that it caused before you will ever understand why you must learn to control your power, and above all, your emotions."

Harry wasn't sure he fully understood what the Headmaster was talking about, but he nodded and stood up, preparing himself to enter the memory that was still fresh in his mind. He and Professor Dumbledore plunged their hands into the depths of the basin, and once again Harry felt the somersaulting motion as he vaulted head first into his memory.

Not really wanting to hear Malfoy's scathing words again so soon, Harry walked over to stand by Justin Finch-Fletchly and Ernie MacMillan. He was surprised when he heard their take on what was happening, and was pleased to know that they were on his side. There was another element behind their voices, though, and he had to look into their eyes for quite some time before he realized what it was—it was fear.

Ernie and Justin were afraid of me.

More appropriately, they were frightened of the power he was exerting throughout the classroom. Being in the memory as he was, he couldn't feel the effects of what was going on around him, but he could certainly see the reactions of his classmates. Girls and boys alike were shivering and shrinking back from him, attempting to hide behind one another to escape from the coldness of Harry's wrath. A Hufflepuff girl was shaking horribly in the arms of what appeared to be her Ravenclaw boyfriend, who was also sheltering one of their other friends sobbing behind them.

A sudden movement caught Harry's eye—it was when he had first thrown himself on top of Draco. He watched as his classmates leaned back and squinted, as if they had been blasted in the face by a harsh, hot wind. Evidently the coldness of his wrath had turned to hot, searing anger, and his classmates (along with Draco Malfoy) were taking the brunt of it.

He watched as the girls began to panic and scream- screams that he had not heard before, having been so intent on focusing his rage on Malfoy. He watched as Hannah Abott from Hufflepuff and Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin made the first moves and ran forward to try and pull him off Draco, only to be thrown ruthlessly into the wall by some invisible force. Pansy Parkinson and Amelia Zachmeister ran over to see if they were all right, and were both hit with flying stray hexes. Pansy's nose began to bleed profusely, and Amelia's cheek had a running gash that covered its length.

Harry didn't want to watch any more, but found that he couldn't bring himself to turn away. He wasn't even paying attention to himself and Draco's brawl any longer—all he could focus on were his classmates—his gaze was drawn to his classmates that kept getting thrown off when they tried to subdue him, or those that were hit hexes that hadn't connected with their intended recipient. Harry watched, unable to turn away as more and more destruction ensued. He was forced to see his classmates- his friends from the D.A., even, - shrink away and attempt to hide from his rage. It hurt. Harry's memory self hadn't known what was happening behind him, nor even in front of him. All he could concentrate on at the time was Malfoy.

Gazing around the dungeon, he saw people cowering, shaking in fear. Afraid of HIM. Afraid of what he was going to do to the Slytherin that had provoked him. He watched as Ron and Hermione came through the door smiling and laughing, closely trailed by Professor Snape. As soon as they fully entered the room, he saw their looks of laughter turn to looks of horror, and watched as Hermione disarmed Malfoy and Snape disarmed his Memory self. Turning to Ron, he saw not a look of fear, but a look of resolution and determination as he cast the Movatus Nixus charm to ensure that he, Justin and Ernie would be able to hold him down.

I didn't know Ron knew that spell, Harry thought to himself. Did he learn it specifically in case something like this ever happened? No wonder Daphne and Hannah couldn't grab onto me. I was too powerful… exerting too much magical energy for them to get close enough.

The memory was drawing to a close, and Harry found himself once again looking towards people in turn to see their reaction. Hermione was confused, Ron looked as if he was trying not to break down, Ernie and Justin looked as if they were about to have their arms ripped off by Harry's struggles, Snape looked as though he wanted to ring both Harry and Draco's necks, and Dumbledore…

Oh God. He's crying! Harry's brain screamed at him. Wait… but that's not his memory self! His memory self is just standing there looking all… disappointed and confused. But his real self—oh God.

Before Harry could make a statement, the memory ended, and Harry felt himself being pulled up back into the Headmaster's office and into the chintz armchair.

"Sir?" he whispered. "What is it—I—Sir, I'm sorry!"

Dumbledore only shook his head, and slowly wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Oh, Harry, no. Harry, it is I—I—and I alone that should be sorry."