Author's Note: Sorry this is later than I said, I got a new laptop, had to transfer files and then I had a birthday and got all caught up in that – so hectic time! It's a bit of a longer chapter than usual so I hope you all appreciate it. I would like more reviews this time please.

It was a Sunday in late August, Hermione was four months pregnant and had been gone for 2 and a half months.

Harry sat in the room he shared with Ron at the Burrow, his head in his hands, idly staring out of the window. He watched lazily as Ron charged around the garden chasing a gnome that was just too quick for him. Every time Ron reached to grasp the little wretch, the teasing thing would leap out of his way. It reminded Harry of one of Dudley's birthday parties, when Mrs Figg had been sick. They had gone to the circus, and one of the clowns, the one with the biggest red nose and biggest shoes, had been intent on catching another. Harry remembered laughing at the ridiculous charade, laughing at the clown who was trying and failing to catch his partner. Now he wished he hadn't laughed quite so hard at the big nosed clown's expense. Now he felt more empathic, more sorry for the sad comic, who only wanted his playmate back. Yeah, you and me both pal. Now he felt just like that clown, chasing Hermione's trail around the country, pursuing every possible line to find her. And his classmates had mocked – even Ron thought he was crackers and was probably laughing at him as mercilessly as he himself had laughed at the clown. There was karma for you, Harry thought wryly, bringing his thoughts back to the futile chase Ron was still engaged in regarding the pesky gnome. He still hadn't caught it, rather the gnome was leading Ron in circles.

Harry was fed up. He'd looked everywhere he could think of for Hermione and she was nowhere to be found. He thumped a fist on the window sill in front of him in frustration. Time was running out. In a week he would be starting his new job, in the beginning of September. A letter had come for him yesterday from Oliver Wood, his old Quidditch captain at Hogwarts. Apparently Puddlemere needed a new Seeker, Wood had mentioned something about the current one going on maternity leave.

A temporary post, you understand ,just until Christmas, but you would be very much appreciated. No doubt you've had hundreds of offers from more lucrative companies and probably other Quidditch teams Harry, but I'm appealing to you as on old friend, who remembers how you helped pull his team back to the top to beat the Slytherins. Do you fancy doing that again?

The heartfelt, genuine letter from his old friend touched Harry. The first job offer to Harry, rather than "The Boy Who Lived" or – to use his new moniker, "The Boy Who Conquered." A letter offering him a job on his qualities, rather than reputation. And a job playing Quidditch at that! Encouraged by Ron, who thought it was high time Harry stopped moping after Hermione, he wrote back to Oliver a delighted acceptance.

He had a week to find her. A week. Harry cursed in his mind. He needed her back with him! Couldn't anyone see that? Ron, whilst humouring his quest for Hermione initially had now resigned himself to the fact she had gone and was imploring Harry at every opportunity to start living his own life. Even Molly Weasley, the most devoted matriarch when it came to Harry's well being had looked at him one evening with kind but firm eyes and given him a lecture along the lines of "plenty more mermaids in the lake". But they didn't understand! None of them did! There weren't any more mermaids in the lake for Harry – Hermione was his one and only! He had to get her back! He had to!

Only Ginny had been anything different. She had listening to him like the rest, yet instead of telling Harry to get over it or find someone else she had sighed, her eyes suddenly taking on a wistful look as her hands had fidgeted in her lap. "I'm really sorry Harry," she had said. "I'm really sorry." Harry appreciated this; it seemed as though Ginny knew what he was going through, as if she knew that clichés about mermaids in the lake and moving on to pastures new wouldn't help. He remembered giving her a slight smile for that. "Thanks Gin," he had said. She had responded funnily to that, getting up and turning her face away from him. In a choked voice he had strained to hear, she whispered "Don't thank me Harry." Harry felt guilty at this recollection. Of course he had been insensitive. He realised then that Ginny must be missing Hermione almost as much as he was. After all, he reasoned, if not for Ron and I, Hermione and Ginny were almost best friends.

Feeling an urge to pace, Harry left his seat by the window. His gaze fell upon a stack of his birthday presents. Might as well sort them, he thought bitterly, realising that most he had not even opened yet. Reluctantly he set to organising his opened presents into new homes, the act reminding him of Hermione's tidy mind. After some time, he was left with a pile of unopened presents. With an increased vigour he ripped the paper off a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Enjoying the sensation of ripping the paper he reached for the next one, paying little heed to the contents he greedily ripped and tore the happy looking paper into shreds. He had got through a couple of presents and was half way through the third when he realised that there was a Muggle style gift tag attached the wrapping paper. Squinting to read the small, neat handwriting he read the card.

Harry,

When my mind does not know where to look, I find looking at my mind a good place to start.

Wishing you a very happy birthday,

Albus Dumbledore

Discarding the wrapping paper, Harry diverted his attention to the gift, wondering what Dumbledore could have meant. He opened the box and reached inside, his hand curling round a hard rim. He pulled the object out gently and gasped: Dumbledore had given him a Pensieve.

Thinking for some time on just how he could use a Pensieve to help in his search for Hermione, Harry studied the magical object. Looking deceptively like a stone basin, for now it was empty. However Harry knew that with a thought in it the basin would fill with a silvery substance, and would enable him to watch his own thoughts in a way more detailed than a hazy memory alone. He reread Dumbledore's card. It was evident from the message that it was intended to help him find Hermione. Feeling grateful for this bit of covert help from a very unexpected source, hope began to fill Harry again. Maybe, just maybe, one of his memories would hold a clue.