Chapter Twenty: Pensieve

Tom stood outside the door to the Transfiguration classroom, furtively watching to be certain he had not been observed. He cupped the tip of his wand as if it housed the secrets of the universe—in a way, it did. At least the secret to his own. The teardrop he'd wiped there earlier remained intact.

Seeing that he was completely alone, he slipped quickly inside and shut the door, locking it. He knew that Dumbledore kept a pensieve in the back room because the man had shown it to him on more than one occasion.

He knew for a fact that Dumbledore and the other teachers were in a staff meeting discussing the upcoming Halloween festivities later that night, so he should have plenty of time to do what he'd come here for.

Surreptitiously, lest some object was not what it seemed, Tom made his way into the back room. With a wave of his wand, he brought forth the oblong shaped pensieve so that it sat upon a pedestal the Professor kept just for it. Another wave caused the bowl to fill with water, and then he gave three shakes of his wand above it, and the teardrop fell, breaking the smooth surface.

Tom dunked his face into the swirling liquid and felt it take hold, pulling him into the memory he'd so carefully collected and preserved. He felt only a very small twinge of guilt over having gone to such lengths. He needed to know what Hermione was so upset about, and he could think of no other way to find out.

Even before he began to see images swirling, her emotions assailed his senses, gripping him in their painful grasp. Hermione stood with two boys—fellow Gryffindors, and they were talking quietly together. He stood listening to all they said.

"Harry, Ronald, I am not going to keep passing messages back and forth between the two of you again," Hermione complained. "Besides, we have more important issues to deal with. I was in the library, and I think I've found something very interesting, It's an old year book, and I believe I have found a picture of—of him. You know, V-Voldemort."

"Don't say his name," gasped the red haired boy. "Do you want to call him right to us?"

"He can't come to Hogwart's, Ron," she scoffed. "Don't be a git."

Ron's face turned a deep shade of red. "Sorry, I forgot. I've been calling—him—You Know Who my whole life. It's difficult to stop now."

"Well, you're going to have to," Harry said. "If we're going to stop him, we have to get rid of every horcrux he's made. Only then would he truly be gone."

"Dumbledore told you more?"

"Yes, he did," Harry said seriously. "He and I are going somewhere tonight—I don't know where and I can't tell you much more about it, but I believe we're off to find another horcrux."

"Just don't get yourself killed, Harry," said Hermione as she gave him a hug.

Tom's gut clenched, and he felt his hand reaching for his wand to hex the dark-haired boy, He stopped himself, remembering that he couldn't hex a memory.

The scene swam before his eyes, shifting. He stood with Hermione outside the castle. She was crying, and a huge crowd had gathered around.

The boy, Harry, was shouting as he ran away, chasing after a large group of people who ran. A woman with a squeaky, shrieking voice was cackling as she ran ahead of a dark wizard who stalked rather than ran as he went. Tom wanted to follow them, but found he could not leave the sphere of Hermione's memory to do so.

He turned around, wanting to see what made Hermione cry. Along with all the others, she'd lifted her wand high in the air, emitting light from it. He looked into the center of the circle the people had formed, and saw a much older Dumbledore lying dead.

The red haired boy took Hermione into his arms, and she took comfort in his embrace. The two walked off together into the school. Tom followed.

Again the memory shifted, to a conversation being held in another place—someone's home.

Hermione said, "You mean they're gone? Just like that? They didn't even stay for the wedding."

"Hermione, calm down," said a man as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Ron and Harry left you here to keep you safe. They didn't want to risk it. If you were to get killed hunting horcruxes, the whole Order would suffer. We need a smart witch like you if we're ever going to end this war."

"So, what am I supposed to do now?" she inquired as tears sprung up in her eyes. "Why did they not even say good-bye? I thought they cared about me."

"Hermione, that's not it," the man insisted. "I wish I could stay to help you deal with this, but the moon will be full within three days. I don't think I'd be of much help to you then."

It was then that Tom noticed the long scar all down his cheek. A woman came to stand by his side.

"And then, once you 'ave finished with your monthly trouble, we can 'ave our wedding," she said as she embraced his side.

"And you're sure about it, Fleur? You're not frightened by the prospect?" he asked, looking worried.

"I love you for everything you are, Bill," she said with her heavy accent. "I always will."

"Hermione, dear, you must come away from the window," said a matronly woman with hair as red as that Ron boy's. Something about her made Tom think she must be his mother. "You're not going to call them back with wishes. They've only done what is right, and now you must accept it, and return to school in the fall. We're going to need your eyes there."

They went to the dinner table, where more red haired people sat talking. An older man said, "Yes, but you've all seen him. He's become a monster—he looks as though he's combined with a serpent. Such a vile creature does not deserve a trial. Harry's got the right of it. Once all the horcruxes are found, he'll see the deed done. I'm certain of it."

"Remus, are you feeling all right?" asked a concerned woman as she grasped the shoulder of the man beside her.

"It's just the moon, my dear," he said. "You know how cranky I get right before it's full."

The other man who had been speaking cast a sympathetic glance his way. The matronly woman came to sit by his side, while Hermione took a seat between twin red-heads, both young men, and cast a smile to each in turn. One gave her a bowl of mashed potatoes while the other gave her a bowl of gravy. They continued with their solicitous behavior as the meal commenced.

"You know that until the boys complete their mission, our hands are tied, don't you, Arthur?" the matron asked.

"Yes, Molly, dear, but I'm certain our boys can get the job done," he answered as he pat her hand. "Harry Potter is not the chosen one for nothing. You'll see."

Abruptly, Tom was pulled out of the memory. After a moment of disorientation, he shook his head and looked around, getting a feel for the here and now again. Then, remembering he was on borrowed time, he waved his wand to put the pensieve back and quickly left again, checking the hall for anyone who might see him, and emerging when it seemed free and clear.

He did not see Abraxas Malfoy watching from a nearby alcove as he disappeared down the hall.