Hi, sorry this was a couple of days late. I wasn't able to finish writing this chapter on time because the computer it was saved on was having technical difficulties. Luckily those are fixed now, so I'll hopefully be able to post when I say I will. I looked at my stats and was disappointed to see that while almost fifty people had looked at this story, not a single one of them reviewed. I know there was not much to review about, but still, not one out of fifty. I really hope that I get a few reviews for this chapter, if I have the same kind of hits to reviews ration, I probably won't finish the fic because there isn't a point if no one likes it. I would really appreciate it if you guys could tell me if I should keep writing it. Any way, here's the next chapter:

The Road Not Taken, Chapter Two: There Is Always Hope

For a long while, Harry sat on the window sill, silent tears running down his cheeks. At last, he heard one of the other boys stirring. Hastily he wiped the tears from his face with the sleeve of his pajamas. When he was sure he no longer looked like he had been crying, he turned once more to face the rest of the room and saw that it was surprisingly Ron who had woken up. From the expression on the red head's face, he too was thinking rather grimm thoughts. With a yawn and a stretch, he carelessly slid out of bed and pulled over a chair from one of the desks so that he could sit down next to Harry. Sitting backwards and resting his arms and his chin on the back of the chair, the youngest Weasley boy gave a sigh.

"I can't believe we're actually leaving," he said quietly after a few seconds.

"I know," Harry whispered dejectedly, not lifting his eyes from the floor. For a long while, neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The two boys had been best friends since they were eleven years old and understood exactly what each other was feeling. Knowing that he had to do it, but still childishly feeling that if he didn't leave the dorm then he would not have to leave the school, Harry dragged himself away from the window seat and went to get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Ron were standing in the Gryffindor Common Room with their trunks at their sides, waiting for Hermione and Ginny so that they could go all go down and eat their last breakfast at Hogwarts together. During the entire walk to the Great Hall, none of them said a word. They were not the only ones who were acting sullen and depressed. That mood hung over the school as surely as if there were hundreds of Dementors in the castle. The only sounds in the Great Hall were the clattering of utensils and hushed whispers. No one seemed to think it was proper to speak louder than that. The quartet's silence had become so unbearable, that finally Harry tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Hey guys, at least this is the last time we'll have to complain about Ron stuffing his face in the Great Hall." He tried to give them a grin, but even as he finished saying the words, he knew his joke was not going to work. In fact it had an effect completely opposite to what he intended. Ron stopped eating, his fork half way to his mouth and dropped the utensil, letting it clatter on the plate. Ginny stared at the floor and Hermione gave a strangled laugh that turned into a sob.

She covered her face with her hands and for a moment it looked as if she was going to cry, but then she took a deep breath and returned her hands to her lap. "Are you okay, Hermione," a quiet voice asked from her left (Harry was sitting on her right). The quartet all turned in surprise to see Neville Longbottom looking at her with a concerned expression on his face. They had all been so lost in their own thoughts and feelings that they hadn't even noticed the other Gryffindor's arrival.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said with a sniffle, "I just-" Here she cleared her throat. "I am still sort of in shock about what happened over the past few days and the idea that the school might close is a bit hard to handle." Neville nodded sympathetically and explained that he felt the same way.

"I just feel as though I should be doing something," he confessed in frustration. "It's driving me crazy to just sit here when the people that tortured my parents and-" he still couldn't bring himself to say 'Snape' "-the person that killed Professor Dumbledore are still out there. I want to stop them. It's not revenge. It's just that I don't want them to hurt anyone else. I don't want any one else to have to go through what I've gone through, you know." Three of the listening Gryffindors stared in shock. Not only was that by far the longest they had ever heard him speak, but it was also the most Gryffindor-like thing they had heard him say. In fact, it seemed like something Harry might have said.

Harry himself in the meantime gave Neville a solemn smile that spoke of experience that no sixteen year old should have under their belt and said, "I think we all feel that way Neville." The rest of the meal passed in a solemn and thoughtful, if not more than a bit depressed, mood. When at last Neville and most of the other Gryffindor sixth years had gone out side to wander the grounds until it was time to go down to the train, and the quartet could no longer postpone their departure from the Gryffindor table, they got up and reestablished themselves just outside the door.

"There are a few things we have to do before we leave," Harry told his friends in a quiet voice once the last group of people leaving the Great Hall had passed out of earshot, "First, we have to get Gryffindor's sword. Second, we have to take a few memories from Professor Dumbledore's pensive. And third, I need to have a little talk with Professor Slughorn."

"Oh, Harry, you can't take memories from Professor Dumbledore's pensive," Hermione cried, "It wouldn't be right."

"Why do you need to see Slughorn, Harry," Ginny asked almost as soon as Hermione finished speaking.

"And how are you going to just walk out of Professor Du- McGonagall's office with a bloody great sword? Someone's bound to notice it," Ron added. His sister glared at him as if he were an idiot.

"Don't be stupid, Ron, he's not going to walk around with a full sized sword. Obviously he'd have to shrink it," she told him as if speaking to a child. In response, he said nothing, but his ears turned red and he looked at the floor sheepishly.

"Hermione," Harry began, "we need those memories. They're the only things that might tell us more about what Riddle did. And to answer your question, Ginny, if Slughorn knew haw to make you-know-whats, then he probably knows how to destroy them too." She frowned, still feeling that it was wrong to be stealing a dead man's memories, but she acknowledged that it was necessary. "So," he continued, "the first order of business is to find out how to get into Professor McGonagall's office. I have an idea, but we need to go somewhere where we won't be seen or overheard." That of course meant the room of requirement.

Fifteen minutes later when they were all seated on a pair of couches in the room of requirement, Harry snapped his fingers and called out, "Dobby, would you please come here?" An instant later, there was a crack and the house elf appeared.

"What can Dobby do for Harry Potter," he asked.

"Dobby, I was wondering if you know if Professor McGonagall had changed the password to her office yet."

"Yes sir, Dobby knows. The headmistress has not changed the password to her office. It is the same password that the great Professor Dumbledore used," the elf replied dutifully.

"Thank you, Dobby, you may go now. And have a good summer." Dobby returned the farewell and disappeared with a second crack. Turning to his friends, Harry pulled an old folded up piece of parchment from his robe pocket and unfolded it. Pointing his wand at it, he said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." When he looked up at them, he saw that Hermione looked absolutely scandalized that Harry had just summoned Dobby as if he were Harry's house elf. He hated to imagine what she would do if she knew that he owned Kreacher. Neither of the Weasleys seemed to mind. "I brought, this," he explained, "because I figured that if we're going to sneak into Professor McGonagall's office, then we might as well know where she is at all times." He paused and looked at the map. "Right now she's in her old office. It looks like the coast is clear. Let's go and let's hope she didn't lock the pensive up.

Having heard the right password, the gargoyle stepped aside for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to enter what only days ago had been Albus Dumbledore's office. Looking around, Harry realized that the new headmistress had not touched as single thing in the office. The cabinet in which the pensive was stored was still unlocked. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry opened it and looked down into the silvery pool of liquid. From his pocket, he pulled a glass vial in which to store the memories. Taking a deep breath and concentrating very, very hard on the memories he wanted to take, Harry touched the tip of the wand to the surface of the liquid. A moment later, he exhaled loudly when he saw two whisps of silver clung to the end of his wand. He put them in the vial and sealed it. Then he closed the cabinet doors and turned to see that Ron and Ginny had already succeeded in lifting Gryffindor's heavy sward from it's shelf on the wall and Hermione was currently shrinking it. When she had shrunk it down to the size of a pencil, she handed it to Harry who put it in a small silver scabbard, which was surprisingly exactly the right size.

"Harry, where did you get that," Hermione asked, curiosity and even surprise evident on her face.

"In the room of requirement," he explained, "when I wished for somewhere to talk, I also wished for something to carry the miniaturized sward in."

"But Harry, look at what it says." His brow furrowing in confusion, Harry looked down at the small object to see what the big deal was. When he read the inscription, his eyes widened momentarily before he realized that he should have expected it. After all, he hadn't asked for something to put just any sward in. He had asked for something to put Godric Gryffindor's sward in. It only made sense that the room would give him the scabbard that was made for it. Shrugging, Harry stuck the now miniature sward in the ankle of his boot since it would look ackward in his pocket.

"Well that's taken care of," Ginny said, "We should probably get going if you plan to talk to Slughorn into answering that question for you, Harry." He nodded and the quartet exited the office with Harry in the rear. The other three had already passed the gargoyle, but Harry, who had been a bit slower in leaving, was just about to close the door behind him when suddenly he heard his name.

"Harry." He spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, his pulse racing. His heart plummeted as he realized it was only the portrait. "Harry," the likeness of the former headmaster said, in the same tone his corporeal counterpart had used in life, "A word before you go." Letting go of the doorknob and crossing the room to where the portrait hung on the wall, Harry asked in a strained voice,

"What is it, sir?" The portrait smiled kindly at him.

"Don't let misery and doubt overcome you, Harry. Remember there is always hope. There is always aid for those who truly need it, if only they search hard enough. And don't be too miserable about my passing, my boy. After all, death is just the next great adventure."

"Harry!" Hermione's voice interrupted. Harry looked over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

"Well go on," portrait-Dumbledore said, "You'll need to hurry if you want to talk to Professor Slughorn. And by the way, a little hint, Horace always did have a soft spot for flattery." He gave the Gryffindor a wink and with his eyes twinkling brightly, he nodded in the direction of the door, as if to say 'What are you waiting for?' Harry looked at him for one moment longer and then managed to push out a quiet

"Good bye Professor." Portrait Dumbledore smiled again and instead of saying good bye, he said,

"Good luck, Harry." As hard as it was to turn away, Harry knew he had to go and so, calling up all his Gryffindor strength, he turned away without looking back, strode out the door and closed it behind him with a determined finality.

Coming Soon (within the next three or four days): Chapter Three: Leaving Home: Harry's conversation with Slughorn, the departure from Hogwarts and, Harry hasan interesting encounter with the mysterious Ravenclaw ghost. In this chapter, some old memories begin to surface and Harry has an overwhelming sense of Deja Vu.