A/N: A few comments last week made me ruminate a bit on the nature of the penseive, so I added a few pages to this chapter before I posted it.

Harry raised his head, looking up from the penseive. He looked over at Dumbledore, who was similarly standing up.

"What are your thoughts?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm… not sure what exactly you're asking about, sir," Harry said.

"Mmm." Dumbledore made a noncommittal noise, but gave no indication that he intended to elaborate. Dumbledore clearly thought that how Harry reacted to the memory was just as important as what Harry had noticed. Perhaps moreso. Harry wanted more time to think before he spoke, however, so he tried a different tactic.

"I'm curious to know the penseive works," Harry said. "If this is your memory, shouldn't it have been from your perspective? We could see the opposite side of Mr. Malfoy's body—how would you know what that looked like?"

Dumbledore smiled. "While I admire your curiosity, this does seem to be a collateral matter. Perhaps this is a discussion we could have later?"

"I'm just wondering how reliable the memory is. Does it deteriorate over time, like normal memories?" Harry asked. "Are blank spots filled in by guesswork and assumptions, or is the penseive memory somehow more accurate?"

"Hmm. A worthy question." Dumbledore nodded. "I see why you wish to understand the penseive, before passing judgment. In short, let me say that it can be trusted completely. A penseive creates a perfect reproduction of events, precisely as they actually happened."

"But how?" Harry asked. Now he truly was curious.

"Penseives are rare," Dumbledore said. "And they are not well understood. There are two primary theories, however. The first is that a person's unconscious perceptions are sufficiently detailed to form a complete, three-dimensional world."

"That seems crazy," Harry said.

"Perhaps. But let me ask you this: is my office a noisy place?"

Harry shook his head. It was rather quiet.

Dumbledore gestured around the room. "Consider how many sounds are currently being made in my office: the ticking of the clock, the crackling of the fire, the sound of Fawkes breathing as he sleeps, the rustle of cloth as we move in our robes. While these sounds might not have your attention, they are within your perception. It is from these perceptions that a penseive memory is created… or so the theory goes."

"But that doesn't explain how I could see the opposite side of Mr. Malfoy's body," Harry countered.

"A conundrum which has troubled many penseive scholars." Dumbledore moved back toward his desk and sat down. Harry followed him and sat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk. "The second theory of penseive operation posits that latent magic surrounds a wizard at all times, in a sort of magic aura. The penseive memory is constructed from disturbances in that aura, and therefore is not be bound by the limits of a wizard's direct perception."

"Which do you think is true?" Harry asked.

"I have not been able to make a definitive determination," Dumbledore said. "I am sure, however, that penseive memories are unfailingly accurate. Once, I used a penseive to discover the identity of a student who Spell-O-Taped a 'JINX ME' sign to my back." Dumbledore winked. "Even though I was not able to see behind me, the memory correctly identified the young man who had managed that prank."

"But how do you know for sure?" Harry asked.

"I asked to see the young man's memory of the event, and in exchange he did not receive detention. When I compared his memory to mine, they were identical in almost every respect. The only difference was that my memory allowed me to see further down the hallway." Dumbledore shrugged. "I still do not know whether this is caused by the fact that I possessed a larger magical aura, or by the fact that I am more observant than a typical schoolboy."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "I can't believe anybody would play a prank on you like that."

"Well, your father was a brave man, Mr. Potter."

"That was my dad?!" Harry shouted.

"Encouraged by Sirius Black, of course," Dumbledore said. "Those two were quite the pair."

"Can I see that memory?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps later. We are ranging far afield from the subject of our discussion." Dumbledore leaned forward and clasped his hands on the desk. "Have I satisfied your curiosity as to the function and accuracy of the penseive?"

"Mostly, yes," Harry said.

"Good. Tell me, then, what are your thoughts about the memory you observed? And, please, no more delays." Dumbledore smiled. "I hope by now you have had sufficient time to compose your thoughts."

Harry blushed. He hadn't thought himself so transparent.

"I… don't know what to think," Harry said, finally. "I feel mixed up. On one hand, Mr. Malfoy has always treated me well, and I've never been given any indication that he dislikes me, or resents me, or whatever a former Death Eater would feel about me. And when I consider the explanation that he gave the Wizengamot—the explanation he gave me—I can certainly understand his actions."

"But?"

"But last summer, when he told me about his past… part of me didn't believe it. It wasn't anything I could put into words. There wasn't a moment I could point to and say, 'That was it.' But at the end of the conversation, it just didn't feel right. Mr. Crouch clearly felt that way about Mr. Malfoy's alibi, and I agree with him. And that smile… it was awful."

Dumbledore nodded. "I have spent many long hours thinking about that smile, Harry. It leaves me… troubled."

"Why didn't anybody else see it?" Harry asked. "The room was full of wizards. Why didn't anybody else notice?"

"I think you already know the answer," Dumbledore said. "One factor was Mr. Malfoy's posture and hair, which largely concealed his face. More importantly, though… as you viewed the memory, to whom was your attention drawn?"

Of course. "Mr. Fudge."

"Cornelius was putting on quite the performance," Dumbledore said with a small nod. "It was the beginning of his rapid rise to power within the Ministry. He was a skilled speaker, and he could easily command the attention of the entire Wizengamot. I have reviewed that memory many times, and even Alastor Moody, one of the greatest aurors of his generation, was watching Cornelius speak."

"Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Fudge are friends, aren't they?" Harry asked.

"Not friends, necessarily. More like business associates. Political partners. Their relationship is one of mutual benefit."

"Did Mr. Malfoy buy off Mr. Fudge?" Harry asked. "Is that why Mr. Fudge ended the hearing?"

"There is no evidence of that, Harry."

Harry looked down at the floor. Dumbledore, as always, had spoken carefully. There was no evidence that Fudge had been bribed, but lack of evidence did not mean that the transaction had not taken place. A cascade of thoughts was rolling through Harry's mind. He was overwhelmed, struggling to make any sense of them.

"Am I correct in saying, Harry, that you are having difficulty resolving Lucius Malfoy's actions in the present with his actions in the past?"

Harry nodded. "I've been trying to figure it out ever since the end of last year, sir. I don't believe his explanation, but I also don't understand how the man I know could have been a Death Eater."

"I think there are many explanations for Lucius's actions, Harry. Perhaps Lucius is telling the truth, and Cornelius Fudge has always been correct. Or perhaps Lucius is lying about his past, not because he was a Death Eater, but because of some other embarrassment that he wishes to remain secret." Dumbledore paused, and his blue eyes twinkled. "Or perhaps Lucius was once a Death Eater, and he lies about his past because he has become a changed man, ashamed of his former actions. It would not surprise me, Harry, if that change has been brought about by knowing you."

"Is that what you really think, sir?"

"I think it is a possibility," Dumbledore said.

"And that's why you let me visit every summer. Even after the Chamber of Secrets."

Dumbledore nodded. "Many good wizards were extremely suspicious of Lucius Malfoy after Voldemort's defeat, and some of those wizards remain suspicious to this day. However, as Sirius Black so recently reminded us, suspicion, no matter how strong, is no substitute for evidence of guilt. Although Lucius Malfoy and I do not agree on matters of social and political policy, those disagreements do not render him a criminal."

"But you'd rather not take any chances," Harry said.

"Which brings our conversation full circle, Harry."

Harry nodded. "I understand. Even if Mr. Malfoy has changed, there's no need to tempt him with hints that Voldemort might return. I'll keep quiet about Sirius and Pettigrew."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I wish, Harry, that a person so young would not be burdened by such considerations. Children should have time for childhood."

"I've never had a childhood," Harry said, thinking of his time in the cupboard under the stairs.

"I would hope that Hogwarts can provide a safe haven for you, and allow you to experience the more fulfilling aspects of your young life." Dumbledore walked back to his desk and picked up the letter he had received from Professor Lupin. "To that end, and at the request of the recently departed friend, I will be owling Sirius Black in the near future in order to obtain his signature on a Hogsmeade Permission Form."

"But the Ministry still thinks he's a fugitive!"

"It is not the purview of the Ministry to accept or reject a guardian's signature on a Hogsmeade permission form," said Dumbledore, grinning mischievously. "That power lies with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and you can rest assured that Mr. Black's signature will prove satisfactory."

Harry smiled broadly. "Thank you, sir."

"You are quite welcome, Harry. Now, unless there is something else…" Dumbledore began to stand.

"Actually, sir, there is."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, then settled back into his chair. "Yes, my boy?"

"How did you know to take a closer look at this memory? If everybody's eyes were on Mr. Fudge… I mean, were you really that suspicious of Mr. Malfoy, that you went back and looked, just in case?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I was well aware that Cornelius had political aspirations of the highest order, and such machinations were of no interest to me. I kept my attention on Lucius Malfoy because I was, and I remain, concerned about the possibility that Voldemort will rise again."

Dumbledore's words fired through Harry's head like a bolt of lightning. The Dark Lord will rise again… "Er… Professor? I… um…" Harry swallowed deeply.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Yesterday, before things got really crazy, Professor Trelawney said something strange."

"I imagine that Professor Trelawney has said many strange things throughout the year," Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye. "I suspect that this particular something is unique for another reason?"

"Just after my Divination final, when I was the only one in the room, her voice got really deep and she said…" Harry paused. "I can't remember it exactly. But she said something about a servant who had been trapped for twelve years setting out to rejoin the Dark Lord, and helping him rise to power again."

Dumbledore sat very still. "Harry. Why didn't you come to me about this immediately?"

"I'm sorry, but it seemed so ridiculous! Everything she's said all year has been completely absurd. She told me I was going to die on the first day of class!"

"Professor Trelawney possesses an extraordinarily powerful ability to predict the future," Dumbledore said. "However, her foresight is also extraordinarily infrequent." Dumbledore shook his head. "Peter Pettigrew has escaped, and that cannot be changed. However, our knowledge of the prophecy will allow me to prepare for the future. Thank you for telling me this, Harry."

"You're welcome," Harry said. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. I've just trained myself to ignore anything that Professor Trelawney says."

Dumbledore smiled, and the twinkle returned to his eyes. "I believe that this is the second legitimate prophecy that Professor Trelawney has ever given. Perhaps she deserves a raise…"

Harry snorted. "Hardly."

"Am I to understand that you are, shall we say, less than thrilled with your Divination class?"

"Should have taken Ancient Runes or Arithmancy," Harry grumbled.

"I could… transfer you, if you wish." Dumbledore reached into his desk and removed a piece of parchment. "It would require you to take a correspondence course this summer, including an additional examination to ensure that you have adequately understood your lessons, but at the start of next school year, you could join fourth year Ancient Runes or Arithmancy."

"I never thought that more homework would sound so beautiful," Harry said. "Where do I sign?"

"Just here," Dumbledore said, pointing at the bottom of the page. "Which course would you like to take?"

Harry pondered for a moment. He didn't know much about either course, other than their reputation for difficulty. Unfortunately, he hadn't paid much attention to Hermione's homework when they had studied together. "Which would you suggest, sir?"

"Ancient Runes will assist you in research into spell origins and spell theory, while Arithmancy will increase your understanding of the power of numbers. Ultimately, both will help you in spellcrafting."

Spellcrafting…

"Sir? Did Professor Lupin tell you how Sirius Black was getting into the castle?"

Dumbledore nodded. "An amazing feat, becoming an animagus at such a young age. Sirius is a very skilled wizard, Harry, as was your father."

"And these classes will help me become a better wizard?"

"Yes, in the strictest sense of the word. But there is more to being a great wizard than the ability to cast and craft spells, Harry."

Harry had stopped listening at "yes". "I want to take both classes," Harry said. "I'll drop Care of Magical Creatures, as well."

Harry enjoyed Hagrid's class, but it was more like a trip to the zoo than a real education. If Harry's dad had managed to become an animagus at such a young age, Harry's education was far behind and he couldn't waste any time catching up.

"Are you certain, Harry? This is quite a lot of work for the summer. Perhaps you should take the opportunity to rest. Go outside. Enjoy yourself."

"I'm certain, sir. The best thing about summer is when it ends."

"Very well." Dumbledore removed a second form from his desk. "Sign twice, and I will make speak with Professors Vector and Babbling regarding an independent study correspondence course."

"Thank you, professor," Harry said. He leaned forward and signed both papers quickly.

"I did not know that you had such an interest in spellcrafting, Harry," Dumbledore said. "If this is where your interests lie, why did you enroll in Divination this year?"

Harry glanced down at the floor. "Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are hard," Harry said. "Draco told me that Divination and Care of Magical Creatures were easy O's. We're both near the top of the class, and we wanted to stay there, so… we took the easy classes."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Don't let that worry you," the older man said. "I have heard those words, or variations thereof, for as long as I have been employed at Hogwarts. I am glad to hear that you are pursuing a path that is true to your heart, even if it is more challenging academically. Some of life's greatest challenges lie in the choice between doing what is right and doing what is easy." Dumbledore glanced at his clock. "And now, perhaps you should return to your dormitory," he said, gathering the transfer papers. "I imagine that you still have packing to do?"

Harry nodded. "I meant to do it last night, but I got a little distracted."

"I quite understand," Dumbledore said. He stood and walked to the door of his office with Harry. "Have a pleasant summer, Harry. I look forward to seeing you again in the fall."

It wasn't until Harry reached his dormitory that he realized that Dumbledore had not asked a single question about Harry's experience with Hermione's time turner.

*!*!*

Harry shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Draco and Pansy during the trip to King's Cross Station from Hogwarts. In the past, Harry and Draco had spent the train ride making their summer plans, and Harry had desperately cast a final few spells before the summer's restriction on underage magic went into effect.

This year, however, Harry spent most of the trip staring out the window, watching the landscape rush past as the train chugged toward London. He couldn't stop thinking about the events of the last few weeks. Pettigrew was alive, a servant of Voldemort, and free. Black was innocent, a fugitive, and his godfather. Mr. Malfoy was taking him to the quidditch world cup, was his best friend's father, and was a former Death Eater. How was anybody supposed to figure out what was going on in the world?

Draco had noticed that Harry was unusually quiet, but hadn't pressed Harry beyond a question or two. Pansy, talkative as ever, was more than willing to carry the conversational load, chatting with (and sometimes at) Draco for the majority of the trip. As the Hogwarts Express neared the station, Pansy stood and collected her trunk.

"You'll write this summer, won't you, Harry?"

"What?" Harry looked back into the compartment. Pansy had said something to him, but he wasn't sure what.

"I said, 'Write me this summer.' You've got that beautiful owl. You should make sure that she gets her exercise."

"Oh… okay. Sure I'll write."

"Good. I'm going to go say goodbye to Daphne before she gets off the train. Have a nice summer, boys."

Harry and Draco waved as Pansy left the compartment. The boys stood and began collecting their things.

"So I'll see you for the World Cup?" Draco asked.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," said Harry.

"Great. England has a chance this year, but the smart money's on Ireland."

Harry smiled. "I'll keep that in mind. Write before you come to get me this summer, okay? After the way I left the Dursleys' the last two years, they won't be happy if a wizard shows up unannounced on their doorstep."

"Why are you going back to stay with them, anyway?" Draco was pulling his trunk out of the compartment, and Harry followed. "You could stay the whole summer with me. I'm certain Dumbledore could find somewhere for you to be put up, as well, if he weren't such a barmy old coot. You'll be fourteen before the end of the summer; it's not like you're a kid any longer."

Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore thinks that family is important, I guess. He wrote my aunt and uncle last fall and essentially ordered them to take me back. They aren't happy about it, I'm sure."

As Harry and Draco exited onto the platform, Harry saw Hermione talking to a pair of adults. Based on the older woman's hair, they were Hermione's parents. Harry walked over to say hello. After a moment's hesitation, Draco followed. Mr. Malfoy wasn't on the platform, and nothing was more embarrassing than standing around and looking as if you didn't belong somewhere.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said. "Just wanted to say goodbye before you left for the summer."

Hermione smiled. "Hi, Harry! Let me introduce you to my parents, Ian and Michelle Granger. Mom, Dad, this is my friend Harry Potter." As Hermione finished speaking, Draco walked up next to Harry. Hermione hesitated for a beat, then continued her introduction. "And this is Harry's friend, Draco Malfoy."

Harry stepped forward and shook Mr. Granger's hand.

"It's good to meet you," Mr. Granger said. "Hermione has written us so much about you."

"Hopefully it was good, sir," Harry said. Harry glanced over at Hermione, and the young witch blushed. She refused to look away, however, and stood taller under Harry's inquisitive gaze.

Mr. Granger released Harry's hand and turned to Draco. "And… Draco, was it? Good to meet you too. It's nice to see that Hermione is making friends."

Hermione blushed a deeper shade of red. "Dad…"

"What? I'm always worried about my little girl." Ian turned back to Draco and Harry. "She had a hard go of it at primary school, and I wasn't sure how she would do in a castle full of born wizards."

"Ian." Mrs. Granger placed a hand gently upon Mr. Granger's arm. "I'm sure our daughter would prefer a different topic of conversation."

Draco spoke up. "She's doing as well as you could hope for a mu…ggleborn," Draco said. "Harry's one of the most popular blokes in school." Draco was carefully neutral with his words.

"Is he?" said Mr. Granger. "Perhaps my little girl is growing up faster than I thought, hmm?" Mr. Granger raised his eyebrows up and down as he spoke, and Mrs. Granger slapped him lightly on the arm.

"DAD! Augh!" Hermione turned to Harry. "Please, just petrify me now and reenervate me when I'm seventeen. It'll be better than this."

Harry and Draco began to laugh. Hermione, significantly less amused, grabbed her father's arm with one hand and her trunk with the other, and began dragging both of them away. "I'll see you in the fall, Harry," she called over her shoulder as she hauled her father toward the magical barrier setting Platform Nine and Three Quarters off from the rest of King's Cross.

"Bye, Hermione!"

"That was excruciating," Draco said to Harry.

"Meeting Hermione's parents?"

"Yes. I could just feel how un-magical they were. It was like standing next to… next to…"

"Goyle?"

"Yes, a little bit like that." Draco smiled. He always enjoyed Harry's nastier jokes.

"It does mean a lot to me that you'd do that," Harry said.

"Don't mention it," said Draco.

"Really, though. I know it's hard-"

"Harry, I literally mean 'Close your mouth.'" Draco looked up and over Harry's shoulder. "Hello, father!"

"Hello Draco. Harry, it's good to see you healthy after your encounter with the Azkaban guards."

"I'm doing quite well, sir," Harry said. He hadn't realized that news of his battle with the dementors would have spread so quickly. Then again, Dumbledore had to give some excuse to Fudge in order to have the guards withdrawn from Hogwarts, and their unprovoked attack upon the Boy Who Lived would be rather persuasive.

"Will you be joining us for the quidditch world cup?" Lucius asked. "I have not received a reply from Dumbledore."

Harry nodded. "It's going to be the best part of my summer. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

"Harry!" Harry looked past Mr. Malfoy and saw that Hermione had returned to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. "I think you're uncle's waiting for you. He looks like he's about to kill someone."

"Thanks!" Harry waved, and Hermione dashed away again. "Looks like I have to go," Harry said to Draco and Mr. Malfoy. "I'll owl as soon as I have a spare moment."

"So, as soon as you get home?" Draco teased.

"Please don't call that place my home," Harry said. "It's too depressing." The young Slytherin shook Mr. Malfoy's hand and slapped Draco on the shoulder. "I'll see you in a few months." Harry bent down and grasped his trunk, then stood, dreading the reality of the long, slow, silent trip back to Privet Drive.

A/N: And that's the end! Next week I will begin posting Harry Potter and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Check back here for a special preview chapter!