CHAPTER 7

Memories, Part 1

After exposing the facts to Harry, Voldemort had retreated into the potion laboratory, and stayed there for several hours. Navigating Maupertuis thanks to the map he had shown him, the Boy-Who-Lived decided to explore some more, for there turned out to be several doors he had missed on his first stroll. One of them led to a room marked as Pnsv. Room, which intrigued him very much; it was lit by a watery blue flow emanating from a basin in the middle of the room. Countless labeled vials containing mysterious light-blue or silvery liquids were stored in shelves that covered the walls.

Leaning over the ornate basin (the circumference was sculpted to resemble - what else - a snake), Harry noticed that instead of his reflection, it showed an entirely different scene; it showed two boys in Hogwarts robe, standing in front of a larch gate. The picture was moving, though that was a sight he'd gotten used to. More interestingly, it appeared to be gaining in clarity and three-dimensionality as he moved closer and closer to the limpid surface; he could begin to make out garbled noises that were probably human speech. Suddenly, he shivered; he'd leaned so much that he had eventually plunged his face into the water. When he opened his eyes however, it was as though he were standing in front of the scene, and his eyes were not in pain from the wetness. Whatever this magic was, it was fascinating, and he dared not move or blink, for fear of dissipating the illusion that he was now carefully observing.

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it."

The dark-haired boy turned to the plumper, red-haired one and said:

"Albus, do you realize what this means?"

"This means a lot of trouble when Headmistress Merrick finds out, if you ask me", Albus answered.

"Oh, come on. We just found the entrance of a never-before-seen part of Hogwarts, and you say we're going to be in trouble. Why?"

"Because it'll be dangerous! It always is, with you! And if we get out of this one in one piece, we'll be blamed for putting ourselves in danger and exploring ourselves instead of telling a professor!"

"Albus, is that the Gryffindor speaking? I thought I was supposed to calculate risks while you ran headfirst into danger."

Without leaving time for Dumbledore to answer, the dark-haired boy walked through the large stone gate, his friend swiftly following along. Once they had both entered the new room, the wall closed back behind them, leaving them with no other option than to go forth. Suddenly, the dark-haired boy stopped and turned around:

"Did you hear that, Albus?" he said quickly, under his breath. Albus only stared at him. To him, so far, that creepy corridor had at least been silent.

After a short wait, they both resumed walking. The wall stones were bare, with no inscription, no windows, no paintings — and no torches; the darkness was only pierced by the flickering light of both young wizards' Lumos spells.

The dark-haired boy once more heard the whispers. Come closer, come, come, come closer, friends, the voice said, prompting him to fasten his pace to satisfy his burning curiosity. Panting, Albus was barely keeping up with him, and he asked:

"What's the hurry, Tom? I can't follow you!"

"Don't you hear?" replied the boy called Tom. "There's someone here!"

Then the picture went blank. He was once again aware of having his head plunged in a basin of cold water, which he immediately pulled himself out of. He noticed an empty vial, identical to those on the shelves, sitting on one side of the basin. Its label read:

Explr. Slyth. Ch. with A.D. - Hogw., 01/21/1896

That was when he understood. Those were memories, however that worked; you could pour the liquids into the basin to view them, like movies or holograms. And of course, those were the memories of Voldemort. The plump boy, Albus, must have been a 15-years-old Dumbledore; which meant the dark-haired boy, Tom, had to be Voldemort. He was surprisingly handsome compared to the skeletal snake-man he'd just met; then again, he should have known that Voldmeort couldn't have always been that way. The thought of a baby with that face was too frightening to consider. But there were more pressing matters to consider. A century-long lifetime was sitting on those shelves, and he was going to take advantage of it.

Using a silver ladle he found atop one of the shelves, he retrieved the memory and bottled it. Then be began to look for other interesting bottles. The best thing would have been the second part of the exploration, if it was there at all, and soon he stumbled upon a bottle marked:

Arg. with A.D. about Hrcx. - Hogw. 02/21/1896

He poured its contents in the basin and dove inside.

The two boys were sitting at a table in a pub of some kind, wearing black cloaks.

"Never!" Dumbledore was yelling. "Never!"

"Why?" Tom answered. "He showed us the way. Here", he took a piece of paper from inside his pocket, "I had it all written down. We won't make any mistakes. It's safe. I promise."

Albus seemed desperate to convince his friend: "It's not that! I trust you to complete that blasted ritual successfully… but it's the very endeavor I'm disagreeing with! Murder!…"

"Albus… You know there are evil people in the world… People whose fate is already sealed… A Muggle will do, you know! And they still have death sentences… We could slip into a muggle jail and kill a man who was to be hanged in the morning! What difference would it make for him? While we…" Tom's eyes were gleaming. "…we would be invulnerable…"

"No, Tom… The soul is not to be tampered with, it's a law of magic!"

"It's a stupid, unfair law! Unfair laws deserve to be infringed upon! Albus - don't you want to live forever?!"

Dumbledore rose from his seat and said boldly:

"NO! No, I, do, not! Life is followed by death, such is the natural order. You can't just become immortal — it's the worst kind of hubris, Tom! It's evil! Especially if you have to kill another man for it!… Come on, Tom - it's Salazar Slytherin himself who invented this ritual! It can't be good!"

"Oh, so that's the problem, eh?" Tom said coldly. "Slytherins can't be trusted, eh? They can't be good, can they? A Slytherin idea has got to be a bad idea. I thought you were above such moronic beliefs, Albus. But if that is the case, then you can't trust me, and we don't have anything to tell each other… Gryffindor."

Dumbledore had sat down on his chair while his companion was speaking; it was now Voldemort who was standing up and readying himself to leave the pub. As he was about to cross the threshold, he bowed ceremoniously:

"My mortal friend, I bid you farewell."

Dumbledore, tears in his eyes, looked as though he was about to get up, to come after Tom; but already the dark-haired boy had closed the door behind him and disappeared into the night.