A Past Self
The next morning, Harry woke up happily to a day free of strange dreams, though his mind buzzed with the events of yesterday. Curiosity about the new teacher and the mysteries of the transformed and shadow figure lingered. Luckily, the anonymity of the hippogriff's escape remained sealed, but the day was still young. Harry grabbed his round glasses and secured them to his face. Once his vision refocused, he saw that Ron's bed was empty. He figured he had either left for breakfast or classes. Harry got dressed for the day when he saw a crisp, pristine letter resting on his night stand. It didn't look like something Ron would leave him. Harry opened the letter to discover that it was a polite summoning from the headmaster. His heart sank; he feared it had something to do with the missing hippogriff. He tucked the letter into his robe pocket and left the Gryffindor common. The young wizard traveled down the tower of shifting staircases, walls covered completely by animated portraits. They conversed with each other, their faces and frames aglow by soft candlelight. A few ghosts floated along, greeting him good morning. The atmosphere, a blend of magic and history, felt more like home than the oppressive house in Little Whinging.
Once Harry reached the bottom floor, he moved in the vast, curved hallways with the flow of Hogwarts students, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins alike. He saw some familiar faces either going to classes or conversing with friends. The one he still saw no trace of belonged to the handsome Hufflepuff who haunted his dreams. Harry made his way to the Gargoyle protecting the winding staircase to Dumbledore's office. Once the stone sculpture elevated him to the top, Harry paused just before the door. He heard someone speak to Dumbledore, someone he unfortunately recognized all too well.
"Have you ever considered that you ask too much? That you take too much for granted? Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that these risks may be … too great?" said Severus Snape, the infamous, daunting potions master of the school and one of Harry's biggest critics next to Draco Malfoy, to the headmaster. Neville had every right to fear him. Professor Snape was harsh, cold, and damn near unapproachable. One sarcastic quip from him would zap the spirit of any student, and Harry would know, he seemed to have a personal vendetta against him. For that same reason, Harry never trusted him.
"The circumstances are too great. We need all the help we can get," responded Dumbledore, perhaps one of the very few people comfortable enough to be around him,
"He's arrogant, unpredictable, and-"
"And given a second chance, don't tell me you stopped believing in them now," Dumbledore answered for him. Harry could not make out the rest of the conversation, not until Dumbledore dismissed Professor Snape. "I will not negotiate with you, Severus," the headmaster concluded calmly, yet firmly. Harry backed away from the door when he heard huffy footsteps grow louder. Snape jerked the door open only to pause abruptly upon spotting the chosen one, sending him a seething glare with his pitch black eyes. Harry returned the favor and did not back down nor look away. Silently, Snape strode past him, unblocking the threshold.
"Ah, Harry, I see you got my message. Come in." said Dumbledore warmly next to Fawkes. He stroked the bird's rich red feathers seemingly unfazed by his previous conversation.
"How are you?" he asked.
"Fine, Sir." said Harry.
"Enjoying your classes?" asked Dumbledore kindly.
"Yes, Sir."
Dumbledore peered over his glasses with a gleam in his eyes. "Even this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class?" he probed. Harry thought for a moment, remembering most of his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes throughout the years.
"Yes, Sir. It's no stranger than the last I'm afraid," Harry jested. Dumbledore hummed a chuckle.
"What about your activities outside the classroom?" Dumbledore asked, standing up from his desk. Harry grew nervous. He thought for certain that the headmaster knew something about Buckbeak. Perhaps that was the conversation between him and Snape.
"Sir?" Harry asked.
"Well, I noticed you spend a great deal of time with Miss Granger. I can't help wondering if… "
"Oh, no, no. I mean… She's brilliant, and we're friends, but... no," Harry answered hastily with a bit of relief. Dumbledore smiled.
"Forgive me. I was mainly being curious. But enough chit chat. You must be wondering why I summoned you here tonight," replied the headmaster. Harry nodded. Dumbledore walked over to an intricate and ornate cabinet. He opened the hexagonal prism doors so they spread wide, showing off the vials and vials of memories in the shelves. At the very center was his pensieve, a shallow metal basin nested in stone with strange symbols carved into it. It was filled with a silvery substance that could be mistaken for a cloudy gas or liquid, where memories of people could be siphoned into it. The pensieve was a very rare and powerful magical item used to store and review memories, only advanced wizards ever used them. This light from the large shallow bowl was bright, whitish silver, cloud-like, and moved ceaselessly. Harry always thought the content in the basin looked like light made liquid, or wind made solid.
Dumbledore plucked one of the silver vials from one of the shelves and showed it to him.
"The answer lies here. What you're looking at are memories I have collected over the years. In this case pertaining to one individual," the headmaster explained. Harry Potter took a deep breath.
"Voldemort," he said, readying himself.
"No … Mr. Laufeyson," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye as he held the corked vial in his hand. Harry furrowed his brow staring at the captive memory. The inquiries and theories proposed by Ron and Hermione popped into his head.
"Mr. Laufeyson, Sir? Why?" asked Harry.
"Because I wish to collect him," answered Dumbledore, which confused Harry even more.
"But you already have him as a teacher?" he asked.
"Technically, he is on loan to us, but I would like to make his occupation ... a bit more permanent. I'd like you to see it, if you would," said Dumbledore, handing him the vial. Harry gently took it and unplugged the tiny glass container, pouring its silvery contents into the pensieve. The symbols on the side lit up and extinguished one by one. Harry didn't know what to expect, but he carefully plunged his face into the shallow basin anyway.
The pensieve transported himself into the memory. Harry found himself in a glorious room adorned in metals, gold, and large braziers of fire. A clear path laid out before him where a rich draped tapestry covered the threshold. He could hear a crowd from the other side. The environment felt far more pristine than Hogwarts, except somehow older, like the architecture and decorations of the past had evolved into the future. Despite being in a memory, Harry nearly jumped when he realized he wasn't alone. An unusually muscular man with long blond hair wearing a bright red cape and gold armor stood waiting next to him holding a gold helmet with solid metal feathers crowning at the ears. Suddenly, another person entered from a dark corner of the room. He wore similar armor to the blond man, only it was gold, green and black with a long dark green cape. Atop his head was a golden horned headpiece. To Harry's surprise, he recognized his face. It was Mr. Laufeyson. He stood next to the blond haired man. Harry couldn't decide whether to laugh or be impressed. Their attire looked like costumes.
"Nervous, brother?" he said smugly.
"Brother?" said Harry to himself.
"Have you ever known me to be nervous?" said the blonde man with a proud smile.
"There was the time in Nornheim..." Mr. Laufeyson began to tease.
"That wasn't nerves, brother. It was the rage of battle. How else could I have fought my way through a hundred warriors and pulled us out alive?" retorted the blonde haired man.
Another person with less armor and flowing robes approached with a goblet of wine.
"As I recall, I was the one who veiled us in smoke to ease our escape," said Mr. Laufeyson, continuing the conversation.
"Some do battle, others just do tricks," said the blond haired man in jest, only it did not feel like a light joke.
The person with the wine stifled a laugh. Mr. Laufeyson noticed, clearly not liking the sound. He made a hand gesture towards the goblet in the person's hand. Snakes pour over the sides of the goblet, slithering out and across the terrified attendant's hand. He screamed, hurling the goblet to the ground. Mr. Laufeyson chuckled.
"Was that necessary?" said the blonde man sarcastically. Mr. Laufeyson waved his hand again to the snakes on the ground. They turned back to spilled wine, the illusion shattered.
"Now that was just a waste of good wine," said the blonde man.
"Just a bit of fun," said Mr. Laufeyson, smiling with mischief, a playful facade, but it transitioned into something a bit more real.
"I've looked forward to this day as long as you have. You're my brother and my friend. Sometimes I'm envious, but never doubt that I love you." said Mr. Laufeyson.
The Blonde man searched his brother's face, seeing no trace of irony, believing his words to ring true. He put an appreciative hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Thank you," he said kindly. The two brothers stared into each other's eyes for a moment.
"Give us a kiss," said Mr. Laufeyson, returning to his mischievous self and ruining the heartfelt exchange. The Blond brother smiled, breaking into a laugh, tapping the side of Mr. Laufeyson's helmet.
"Stop." he said in jest.
It was at this point the memory evaporated, and Harry was pulled back into his reality, back in the headmaster's office. He stood in front of the pensieve searching its cloudy liquid for answers.
"Confused? I'd be surprised if you weren't," said Dumbledore. Harry took a beat to think.
"Sir ... what was that?" asked Harry. The flood of information posed so many questions.
"The identity of a person long past. Harry, as you know, Mr. Laufeyson is a complicated man, which is why I am treating this task delicately," said Dumbledore.
"You want me to get to know him better, Sir?" asked Harry.
"Yes … and without divulging any of this information to him, otherwise he may not return to Hogwarts. If you need help, I'd keep spending time with Ms. Granger. I believe she is taking Ancient Runes this year," added the headmaster.