A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Themed | Prompt: Pensieve | Word Count: 549
Albus Dumbledore was tired. With each year he felt his age more acutely, and the past few years had been particularly taxing on his weathered body and mind. He had expected Tom Riddle to return, but he had not anticipated the toll it would take on him. His reflexes were not as quick as they used to be and his mind had lost some of the sharpness that it was so well known for. He looked down regretfully at his blackened hand, which only served to remind him of this.
Soon, his time would be up, but he wasn't too concerned about that; he trusted Harry to fulfill his duty after he was gone. What he was concerned about was giving Harry the knowledge he needed to succeed, which was why he spent much of his limited time with Harry in the pensieve. More than that, though, he wanted Harry to have closure when it was all over. Perhaps it was his guilt for placing such a burden on the boy's shoulders that made him so desperate to make it up to him in some way, but, whatever the reason, he was determined to do this for Harry.
Fawkes appeared in a brilliant burst of flame and Albus's eyes shifted to focus on the bird, who gazed back at him steadily and let out a low, musical sound that soothed him down to his bones. He sighed, looking out the window to find that the sky was already glowing orange as the sun dipped below the horizon, its rays skimming across the lake. He watched the students on the grounds below and felt a pang when he spotted a familiar mop of messy black hair accompanied by a long orange mane. In his many years of knowing and watching Harry, he had never seen him quite as happy as he was with Ginny Weasley, which made it even more painful knowing that Harry's newfound happiness would soon be overtaken by his duties.
Not for the first time, Albus wished that things could be different and that the boy he had come to care so much for could be allowed to have a normal, safe, and happy life. However, Albus had learned early in his life not to dwell on such thoughts, so, mentally shaking himself, he tightened his grip on his wand and brought the tip to his temple and concentrated.
Memories filled his mind—James and Sirius laughing at a prank they had pulled on him while he tried to look stern, conversations with Lily in his office, James and Lily getting married, James and Lily proudly introducing him to their son. He stood there for several minutes, collecting dozens of memories of James, Lily, and their friends before drawing his wand away from his head. A silver thread now clung to the tip of his wand and he carefully placed it into a vial he had set aside, labelled For Harry Potter.
He set the vial in a box, which would be deposited, along with his pensieve, into Harry's vault for him to find when he needed it most. It was all he could offer Harry, a parting gift of sorts, as he knew he would not be able to say goodbye to him before he passed.