Small, otherworldly lights blurred his vision. Holding perfectly still, Harry blinked. Darkness faded into a muted mist, from which came snatches of conversations from voices he did not recognize. With a sudden jolt, Harry realized it was frozen. In front of him, his breath crystallized.

"—live forever—"

"—terrible—"

"—will put a stop to this—"

Ginny fumbled forward and Harry followed.

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice.

It was light enough he could see the shake of her head. "Not your fault," she told him. "Merlin, though…"

Figures — vague and formless — appeared to match the voices. Bit by bit, the mist turned into people, all of whom seemed just as oblivious to Harry and Ginny as any other time he'd been in a pensieve. The laughter had stopped, it was only the voices he heard.

Harry shivered, then shuddered.

"You were willing to pay that price? You monster!"

"He died so I might live—"

"A cursed life, a half life—"

"Away with you—"

Abruptly, all conversation stopped. Harry, head whirling, peered around. Things were slithering around just out of sight… the figures were turning back into mist—

The mist coalesced into black snakes and chased them into the hallway— a warm hallway—

Harry stumbled; Ginny barely managed to keep them upright. This was unlike any other memory he'd been in… it was almost as if he were in two different memories at once, with one superimposed onto the other. Straight in front of him, incongruously standing near a large basket of every sort of harvest fruit imaginable, was a trio made up of two professors — Old Bones and Merrythought — and the tall, lean figure of Tom Riddle. Far older now, he had an air of maturity and new jewelry: a nicely appointed ring sat heavy and black on his middle finger.

What they were talking about was impossible to hear, for there was a pair of two shouting at one another, screaming curses, dueling around the cornucopia, and blowing it up.

"What is happening?" Ginny demanded.

"I don't know," Harry said with gritted teeth. He fought through the air, taking them closer to Riddle. If he was being trapped here, he at least wanted to get what he came for.

"—thought I would ask Dippet about teaching here, actually, Professor." Riddle wore a mask of diffidence. "I may have mentioned how much I have appreciated my learnings here at Hogwarts—"

"You don't need to sell to me, my lad," Merrythought said warmly as a pumpkin from her cornucopia exploded. "I would offer you a recommend even if you didn't bring me this wonderful piece of beautiful, edible art—"

Another pumpkin exploded.

"—and you would be an amazing asset to Hogwarts."

"Hogwash," muttered Ginny.

"Look out," warned Harry. The memories had done a fine job of keeping the black snakes away, but they chewed at the edges. The duel grew more frenetic in pace, while Riddle's eyes never left Merrythought's face.

"I take it you're recommending him for the job too, eh?" Merrythought asked, glancing at Old Bones.

"Of course," said Old Bones. "There isn't much I wouldn't do to help him… I've foreseen it."

A chill crept up Harry's spine and he stared, hard, at Old Bones. There was a certain, knowing smirk on his face, and his eyes were hidden by — were those familiar? — glasses—

"Harry!" Ginny cried, clutching his arm.

The snakes were closer now; some of them had merged, becoming longer and thicker, and all that more menacing.

"Through there!" cried Harry, weaving around the incorporeal duelers, and giving Old Bones one last, fleeting look. But they were coming up on a door, and Harry wanted through it. "I think they're eating through them," Harry said, painting, shoving himself at the wooden barrier that ought not to be solid at all. "Merrythought's memories, I mean."

"I think you're right," said Ginny, as they tumbled out into a cold, gray day.

Harry caught himself against the door and slammed it shut. A quick, hurried look told him they were now in Hogsmeade, just in front of the Hog's Head, and Galatea Merrythought was ducking in just ahead of—

"Dumbledore!" Harry cried with relief, before disappointment crashed into him. This Dumbledore was in a past decades removed from the predicament he and Ginny were in. Still, he followed them, managing to slide in behind Ginny just as the door closed.

There were no snakes in here. It was stuffy and musty and smelled of wet goat, but it was reasonably warm nevertheless. Harry took off his glasses, and rubbed them on his robes. Despite the weirdness, despite the danger, his focus sharpened on the scene before him.

"It's like I have to watch," muttered Ginny. Catching his look, she added: "I want to see why. I want to see why they trust him so much… everyone fell for it."

"It was never just you, Ginny," Harry said, guessing at her thoughts. "Never. Dumbledore told you that at the time." Now it was warm again, it was difficult to think of anything but the memories… the other scenes — the odd ones — receded in importance.

Ginny nodded, face pale, brown eyes holding in them a gleam of dark interest that echoed Harry's own thoughts exactly. Putting his glasses back on, he turned his attention to Merrythought and Dumbledore.

"—never guess who I saw today!" caroled Merrythought. "It was Tom, you know. Tom Riddle!"

"Oh?" Professor Dumbledore asked politely, raising his brow.

"He's working for Borgin and Burke's, you see," said Merrythought, with an air of great surprise. "I ran into him just outside Knockturn Alley, it was ever such a shock, you see." She slapped her hand on the table. "Tom Riddle! The brightest student I've seen — and I've seen many, as you know — working for a shop!"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. Harry eyed him; his tone was light and unconcerned, but the blue eyes had sharpened behind his half-moon glasses.

"I'd recommended him for my job, in fact," Merrythought said cheerily. "Was a bit surprised he didn't get it, but I thought it certain he would be snapped up by the Ministry… with a talent that large…!"

"It is not so surprising to me," said Dumbledore, thoughtful. "Young Tom has a passion — if one could call it that — for artifacts."

The bright smile on Merrythought's face slipped for a moment.

"He has a particular interest in the artifacts created by the Knights of Walpurgis," Dumbledore continued. Then, after a slight pause: "I do believe."

"Many of our kind do," said Merrythought. "Old Bones, for one, is quite obsessed." Something in her face relaxed. "So that's why you think he's working for the shop, eh? To see if any cross his path?"

"I could not begin to guess at his motives," said Dumbledore. "Here, Galatea, your toddy has grown cold, allow me to warm it…"

"I'd forgotten, too, how fond he always was of Simon Burke," Merrythought prattled, now looking nervous. "Dreadful business, that, and after what happened to poor Myrtle Warren. I suppose he wants to keep an eye on the family…"

"Was he fond of Simon Burke?" Dumbledore asked, nudging the toddy over to the other side of the table.

"He was properly shocked when we found out about it," Merrythought said. "We were working on a project together when Old Bones came in with the news. I don't suppose we'll ever know what happened there, will we? Just like I don't suppose we'll ever know what truly killed Myrtle Warren… the Killing Curse — or worse."

"No," Dumbledore said sadly, "I don't suppose we ever will…"

Harry had been watching too keenly, too intently, that he had forgotten the snakes until Ginny screamed and jerked him away from the cloudy table at which the past figures of Dumbledore and Merrythought sat. The Hog's Head was disappearing into the mouths of the snakes, swirling into their maw, until there was little to see except darkness and mad, red eyes.

Harry roared the first spell that occurred to him: "Protego!"

And everything disappeared, all at once.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

With a sense of relief, Harry realized they were once more in the basement of their new home. The floor beneath him was blessedly solid: For a moment, he allowed himself to press his cheek into the damp stone. It had been strange – this was unlike the Pensieve in Dumbledore's office. Far more menacing, Harry thought, his glasses cutting into his cheek. With a little grunt, he pushed himself upward and opened his eyes.

"We're back, thank Merlin," Harry said. "Remind me never to enter Merrythoughts memories again."

"I will," Ginny promised. "Ugh. Is it always like that?"

Harry thought about that for a second. "No," he said slowly. Never once had he felt trapped like that, trapped in a memory, with something laughing at them like that. There had never been snakes feeding upon the memories. "Never." He paused. "It wasn't like that any of the other times I've been in a pensieve. But i was wondering if maybe something about this one is off…"

"Maybe it's because she – you know – she's pretty elderly," said Ginny. "It reminded me more of Riddle's diary."

Harry grunted, groping blindly for her hand and giving it a squeeze. The mention of the diary seemed to lower the temperature of the already cold basement. Unease crept over him, almost painfully, making his nerves pang. Her palm was dry and cool in his grasp in contrast to his sweaty one. There was something ominous about what had just happened, wasn't there? Riddle and Merrythought had turned to puppets, their strings being pulled by someone hidden.

"Harry." Ginny's voice was low and urgent.

It was then that he noticed the cold. It had settled over him like a blanket, near smothering him. Had the basement been suddenly moved to Antarctica.

"Something… something's still wrong," said Harry.

Blinking in the near darkness – they'd spent hours in the Pensieve? – Harry found that they were not in the hidden chamber, but in the proper basement. Pushing himself upward, brushing the seat of his trousers, Harry peered around him. It had previously been nearly empty: Now it was stuffed with furniture and detritus.

"What?" Harry said blankly, looking at her. In hopes his eyes were mistaken, he took off his glasses and rubbed them on his robes again. "What is this?"

In reply, the same woman they'd seen earlier came creeping down the stairs, her wand lit.

"Who are you?" Harry said loudly, pushing Ginny behind him. It was difficult to speak against the cold. She pushed him back, and came to nestle against his side. "What are you doing here? This is our house!"

But the woman ignored him as completely as if he weren't there. The light coming from her wand slashed first one way and then the other. "Come out," she said, "I know you're there. You're to be taken to the Ministry of Magic for your crimes. Come out now and they might be lenient."

"You're mistaken," Harry said loudly.

But the woman – Craigie? – ignored him. Her light bounced once more before coming to rest on the wall opposite Harry and Ginny. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw the wall was blank and empty.

"You think your tricks will fool me?" The witch bawled out a word and the frame of the door suddenly illuminated, as though a light bright as the sun was flicked on in the hidden chamber. "I know what you're about, I know what you're up to, you monster. Making a Horcrux! And I will take you in for justice–"

A shockwave went through the room. A second later, it was a blast of sound that deafened Harry. He and Ginny were once more flattened on the ground, pushed there by a giant's hand, held down hard enough that Harry would not be surprised if their bodies made indents in the stone floor of the basement.

"You can't stop me, I've already done it!" This voice was low and deep and made the room shiver with menace. "I am now more powerful than you can ever dream–"

"You've made a mistake, is what you've done," Craigie retorted. "Making a Horcrux is an abomination, you'll be thrown into Azkaban for that alone. You've murdered. Your soul is sundered. You'll have an existence of unending pain–"

"I'll have an existence unending."

The door opened. There, illuminated by a bright light, stood a silhouette. It was a wizard carved out of a shadow. Behind him was the Pensieve, its runes glowing red, dripping down into each other like blood running from a goblet. Stomach twisting, Harry wished with all his might to be free of it. But the Pensieve seemed in no hurry to free them – maybe they were trapped – it was trapping them – and now the witch and wizard were dueling, their wands slashing fast enough there was a constant whistling sound in his ears. Then, with a mighty crack, the wall behind them crumbled inward–

Beside him, Ginny bawled out an incantation.

And then they were at Hogwarts again. Warmth slashed over him, nearly painful in its intensity.

"What the fuck," Harry breathed. "What was that? Was that another memory? How did that get in here?"

"Was the bowl empty?" Ginny asked, biting her lip.

"I… think so?" Harry asked. It had looked empty. "It looked empty to me, but maybe…"

"Maybe some other memories have seeped into the pensieve itself," Ginny suggested, troubled. "At least it's warmer here…"

But Harry didn't feel much warmer.

The cold had seeped into his bones now, even though it was warmer. Shivering, Harry peered around. It was Hogwarts again, but a part of it he had rarely seen: The teacher's staffroom was full of nicely wrought furniture and decorated for Christmas. A tree the size of Hagrid sat in the corner, twinkling lights covering it. Galatea Merrythought hummed a little as she directed tinsel to wrap around the tree.

"What the fuck," Harry repeated, though his heart was calming in his hand, and his grip on Ginny's hand loosened. "We're here again?"

Ginny was staring at him, wide-eyed. In her brown eyes, he saw his own anxiety reflected back at him. Dumbledore had always been the one to come to his rescue, hadn't he? Even Snape had pulled him out of the Pensieve… were he and Ginny doomed to wander through Merrythought's chaotic memories until someone came looking for them? Sirius knows where we are, Harry thought, ignoring the now-familiar pang of disquiet when he thought of his godfather. Sirius did know where they were. And perhaps Arthur would look for them…

Or Peter. Peter might tell Arthur they had gone to the basement in search of hidden treasure. Pain blossomed in Harry's head, there and gone again in a moment.

Wouldn't he?

"...miss it?"

A familiar voice jerked Harry out of his thoughts. Previously, Merrythought had been alone in the staffroom. Someone had joined her quietly: It was Old Bones, far younger, and with a mustache that loomed on his face, turned upward at the ends. Despite himself, Harry was amazed… even Uncle Vernon's walrus-like mustache had not been nearly as large as this.

"Miss what?" Merrythought asked, blinking, and lowering her wand from the tinsel.

Old Bones gestured around them. "The school, of course," he said gently. "And even if you don't miss us, we will surely miss you." The words were kind, even the tone, but there was a smugness about him that surprised Harry, even as his next words did not. "I have seen at least seven signs that you would be leaving us."

"I had no idea the tea leaves had any interest in me," Merrythought said dryly. Shaking her head, she said, "You truly do have a gift."

There was no mistaking the smirk on Old Bones's face. "So people have said," he allowed. "But are you entirely certain you wish to leave, Galatea?"

The lines of her face softened. "Hogwarts has been my home for many years, but I have felt it's… time for something new." She caught a bauble in her hand, laughing a little. "I know, at my age, something new… but the Ministry's been looking for someone to help along some of the staff in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – oh, no, not the Aurors! Merlin! I'm much too old to take on that task. It's–"

"-they would be entirely lucky to have you," said a new voice.

Harry jolted toward the open door. There stood Tom Riddle, taller than he was in the last memory, just as handsome as he had ever been. There was a thin sliver of light coming from the window, and it illuminated the prefect's badge upon his chest. A small, charming smile did nothing to ease the coldness in his eyes.

"Tom!" Old Bones said, surprised.

The bauble dropped and nearly hit the floor before Merrythought tugged it back up toward her as though it was attached to the edge of her wand with an invisible string. Her reflexes, Harry appreciated, were quite fast.

"It is selfish of me," said Tom, smoothing his robes, "but I would rather have finished my NEWTs with your guidance, Professor Merrythought."

Merrythought flushed. "I hadn't really – you know, it isn't set in stone – I haven't even accepted the job!" She drew herself up to her full height, chin pointed upward. "It's just something I've thought about – it wouldn't even happen for a couple of years. It won't be until after you graduate, Tom. And," she repeated, "I've only thought about it."

"Thought about quite seriously if my omens are speaking to me correctly," Old Bones pointed out, giant mustache quivering.

Merrythought cut a glance to Tom Riddle, lips pressed together. "Perhaps," she said gently, "we could speak of this later? It isn't something I am prepared to speak of just yet." Her laugh was a bit nervous. "I don't want Headmaster Dippett to seek out another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher before I'm ready to leave."

"He won't find one as knowledgeable as you," said Tom.

Frustration writhed in Harry's belly, making him forget where they were and that they were trapped in a Pensieve. Tom Riddle stood there, tall and handsome, and charming two of his professors with his words, successfully hiding the darkness within him. The atrocities he would commit were not far in the future, but here he was, standing before Old Bones, one of Harry's favorite professors, exuding charm.

A glance at Ginny showed absolute loathing as she looked at her former tormentor. "That's the Riddle I met first," she said angrily. "The charming one."

"Oh, Tom," Merrythought said with great fondness, "You do know how to flatter a witch."

Distracted, Harry looked back at the memory unfolding before them.

"It's hardly flattery when it is true," said Tom, with a nearly natural-looking bow. The wrongness of it struck Harry again, seeing the young Lord Voldemort in this room, surrounded by holiday decorations, face lit rather warmly by the twinkling lights upon the tree. All three laughed a little; had Harry not known better, he might even call Riddle merry. "And of course, I would never tell." Hand over his heart, Riddle let his smile widen.

"I trust you," said Merrythought. She cut a glance at Old Bones, who was smiling genially. "I trust you less," she said playfully, taking another bauble out of an ornate wooden box and gesturing it toward the top of the tree. "I know how well you like to discuss your omens."

"Ah, but I know when to keep a secret," said Old Bones. "Have I not been keeping secrets these last few weeks?"

At those words, silence fell. Merrythought's shoulders slumped, and her wand fell to her side. "We all have been," she said, hardly louder than a whisper.

"If you believe what our friend Albus has to say," said Old Bones, revealing a healthy measure of doubt. "I still say what happened was an accident of some sort, not any hint of anything nefarious happening."

"One of Dippett's own gargoyles was turned to stone–"

"Aren't gargoyles already made of stone?" Old Bones asked, chuckling a little.

"But it's lost the ability to speak–"

"I've seen nothing in the omens that would indicate that one of the school's gargoyles being silenced is anything serious… I myself suspect a prank…"

Riddle was looking from one professor to the other, eyebrow slightly raised.

Old Bones cleared his throat. "But we've neglected to ask what we can do for you, young man," he said. The tension dissipated once more. Indulgence wreathed his smile for Riddle. "Surely you have come for some purpose other than to hear about a creature already made of stone being petrified?"

Riddle laughed a little. "Indeed," he said, smiling again. "And I promise that nothing I've heard in this room will leave it. However, I wished to ask about a symbol I've seen…" Now addressing Merrythought specifically, he said: "Last year – my fourth year – you mentioned the Knights of Walpurgis." Old Bones stirred, making a sound that abruptly cut off. "The symbols you mentioned… are they commonly used? Are they replicated? If one comes across a magical artifact with the symbol etched upon it, does that mean it was actually created by the Knights of Walpurgis?"

Christmas-tree decorating forgotten, Merrythought perched upon the chintz sofa across from Old Bones's armchair, and straightened her shoulders. "That has a more complicated answer than you'd expect, Tom," she said wryly. "See, the Knights of Walpurgis were united in purpose – they plumbed the depths of our most esoteric mysteries: death, time, love… we've spoken of this before, of course."

"Of course," murmured Riddle.

"Don't forget," said Old Bones, an uncharacteristic note of bitterness in his voice, "They created truly splendid tools of Divination."

"And divination," said Merrythought, casting him a thoughtful glance.

An elbow nudged Harry in the side. Ginny caught his eye and jerked her head to the door of the staffroom, through which a wisp of black fog appeared, like the smoke coming from a small candle. It was the harbinger of one of those damned snakes…

His heartbeat quickened. Much as he was unnerved at being trapped here in the Pensieve, his attention had been caught by the odd tableau of Merrythought, Old Bones, and Riddle. But now – whatever had happened before was happening again.

"-like every group, though, the Knights of Walpurgis were made up of people," Merrythought was saying with a great deal of empathy. "United as they were in their intellectual and magical pursuits – and, again, our Charms professor would know better about them – they approached their own creations very differently. Some replicated and sold them, others hid them away in the most secret of places, still others kept them within their own family, passing them on as heirlooms–"

"Or hoarding them," Old Bones muttered, mustache quivering with indignation. "My own family hoards its treasures."

Smoke was now drifting to the ceiling. Harry watched it, grip on Ginny's hand tight once more. The snakes would appear again.

"If an object," said Riddle, oblivious to the smoke now surrounding him, "has the mark of the Knights of Walpurgis, is it possible it is an amateurish replication, or–"

"No," said Merrythought. "Even those who replicated their artifacts would be sure to maintain their integrity. It was a tightly guarded secret, you see, making that mark. It won't come off, it can't be altered, and no one who was not one of the original Knights – for there have been revivals of that society over the years, some of which with truly evil aims – could create the mark."

"Fascinating," said Riddle, eyes lit.

"If you see a quill–"

But whatever Old Bones was about to say about a quill was interrupted by the smoke flowing into his mouth. The sclera of his eyes turned immediately black, swallowing all the light. His mouth gaped open into a rictus grin that turned Harry's stomach. "Not again," Ginny moaned beside him.

Through his mouth slithered out a snake, tiny now, but was eating furiously already, belly growing with the memory…

Old Bones turned and looked directly at Harry—

"What have you done to me?" It was Old Bones mouthing the words, but the voice – cruel and frightened at once – was not that of the kindly professor. For the first time since Harry had been in a Pensieve, he had the impression that Old Bones was not only looking at him but seeing him. Whatever it was about this cursed pensieve, it was getting stronger the more memories they encountered.

Harry said nothing, but backed away, further discomfited by how real everything felt. The branches of the Christmas tree brushed along his back… he could smell the pine exuding from the branches.

"Quick," muttered Ginny. "Through here." She tugged on Harry's arm.

The door was solid under his hand, and locked. Dumbfounded but determined, Harry pointed his wand at it. The door within the memories should not be locked; it should not be solid under his palm; there should not be a snake eating through Merrythought's memories.

"Alohamora," he tried. The door shook, but the lock did not click. Then, furious, he shouted: "Bombarda!"

The door exploded outward with the force of a small bomb. Squeezing Ginny's hand, they rushed forward. Harry did not particularly want to find out if they, too, could be victim to whatever those snakes were doing to the memories. This room would give them some distance—

There was a veil just beyond the door. It parted like spiderwebs. And they were standing in Merrythought's small office, watching her and Old Bones in discussion once more.

"—it's just been a difficult few years at Hogwarts for him," Merrythought was saying seriously. "What with Myrtle Warren's death, and Simon Burke's… poisoning, shall we say? And he was such good friends with Burke. Perhaps he needs some time, old friend."

"Riddle was the one who put a stop to Rubeus Hagrid," Old Bones said staunchly. "He may be young, but he is ready."

"If he just had more experience away—"

Old Bones snorted derisively. "He knows more about the Dark — the Defense Against the Dark Arts profession than anyone — excepting you, of course."

"I know that, but I rather thought he might wish to be an Auror—"

"What a waste, to send a mind like that to the Ministry." Light flickered oddly on Old Bones's face, giving him a nearly sinister look. "He would do an incredible job here, and you've spoken of retirement for years. All I ask is that you write a letter of recommendation. He needs it from you especially."

"But I'm not sure I—"

"Ah, Galatea," said Old Bones, "I hate to do it, but — here, look just here." He held out a piece of paper to her. Harry squinted at it. It was entirely blank. "This is from Dumbledore. It's his letter of recommendation. All Tom needs is three. You, me, and Dumbledore. That's it."

"That's blank, though," said Ginny, hair swinging forward as she looked closer. "What does that mean?"

"Dumbledore would never," Harry said firmly. What was Old Bones playing at? Or had he been unwittingly influenced by Tom Riddle?

"He must be Confunded?" Harry said.

Ginny gave him a quick nod even as Merrythought's eyes grew unfocused. "Dumbledore's written this?" she murmured slowly, almost as confused as Harry was. "He thinks Tom's ready for — for — this responsibility?" Her words came slowly.

"Oh yes," said Old Bones. "He does. He's earned the Award for Special Services to the school, after all…"

"Shit," said Ginny, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. "We've got a problem.

There, wriggling through the door, after them, was the black snake. But it was transforming before their eyes into a wizard — the wizard from the basement, who dueled with the Auror… they had been seeing his shadow this entire nightmare trip through Merrythought's memories. Harry recoiled from him. The wizard was short, round, and blonde. Nevertheless, there was a waxen familiarity to him, as though he could be a relative of Voldemort's as he looked just as he came out of the cauldron in Harry's long ago and far away fourth year.

The snake man leered at him. "I have you now…" His hand jerked out. To Harry's astonishment, he felt the wind from its passage, and cold fingers brushed against him.

This time, it was Ginny who roared: "Protego!"

Then, without warning, without any warning at all, the scene around them disappeared, leaving them once more in the basement, where the fight between the Auror and the madman continued.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

They were back in the frozen basement, though Harry was not foolish enough to think they were safe. He wrapped his arms around Ginny, letting their warmths mingle. "He — it — touched me," he said. The danger they were in had increased by an order of magnitude. If that snake man could touch him — they were not immune to the dangers. The snakes could—

But his stumbling thoughts were interrupted by two figures appearing in the room as suddenly as though they Apparated.

"Think you such a failed fool of a wizard could make a Horcrux?" The woman — the Auror — was screeching now. "Takes more brains than that—"

"Oh, I have the brains." The cringing wizard tried to sneer. "You're just like my — oh, you don't know — I've fooled everyone—"

"If you've fooled everyone, then why am I here?" the Auror demanded. "You've left a fairly brightly lit trail, idiot—"

"You're the fool!" This shout of outrage blistered Harry's ears. The homely wizard looked quite mad now, the evil red glyphs swirling in the pensieve reflected like tracks of blood upon his face. "I lured you here — I wanted you to see — to understand—"

"I already understand."

That made one of them. When Harry looked at Ginny, her face was just as blank. A flow of thought went between them, a single question: What is happening?

"You don't. If you did, you never would have dared come here at all…"

"I understand you murdered — you split your own soul — you made a Horcrux—"

The wizard shrieked. "I will endure forever—"

"You've cursed yourself, you fool—"

Three things happened at once. The witch and the wizard raised their wands, both giving a shout to shake the rooftops of the house. Harry wrapped his arms even tighter around Ginny. And then — by some miracle — a hand came down and clasped his shoulder. Harry nearly flung it away, but its grip tightened. And then — like the other times Harry had been drawn out of the pensieve in Dumbledore's office — Harry found himself flying upward. There was black smoke twining around his ankles and Ginny's. His stomach could do no more than clamp with fear before a voice — a familiar voice — muttered a spell.

And they were freed, flying upward, fleeing the cursed memories, saved by Arthur Weasley who had arrived for their appointment at last.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

His teeth were still chattering. Arthur wrapped a conjured blanket first around Ginny and then around Harry. Had he ever been so cold in his life? It had felt like he'd been trapped within those cursed memories for years… decades, even. Harry was slow to regain his sense of time; it was not until he had forced himself to focus on the slow ticking of the clock – tick, tock, tick, tock – that he became himself again, bit by bit.

"-had no idea it was there, of course," Arthur was saying. "It wasn't until you were late for our meeting that I grew worried… I cast the spell – you know, homenum revelio – and I knew you two were here–"

"Is that how you found us?" Ginny asked in a hoarse voice.

"Yes," said Arthur, mopping his forehead, looking relieved.

"It's a good thing you did," said Harry, wrapping the blanket more tightly around himself. "We were lost in there…"

"Yes, well," said Arthur, sitting back on his heels. There was a serious look on his face. Harry had not seen that expression from Arthur before, who was generally convivial. "That was… a very cursed object indeed."

"We should have–"

"You couldn't have known," said Arthur, shaking his head. "If it's… what I think it was, you couldn't have known." He scrubbed his face, muttering. "I never thought I would see anything like it. A Horcrux… good God"

Harry exchanged a fleeting glance with Ginny.

"What's a Horcrux?" Ginny asked, tentative.

Arthur shook his head, "It's bad luck to talk about them… you two are still in school…"

"They were talking about them," he said. "In the memories. In a lot of the memories, I think," he said, exchanging a glance with Ginny. If anyone would be interested in such a cursed object at the age of fourteen, it would be Tom Riddle.

Arthur gave a nod, then conjured three glasses and a carafe of hot chocolate, then added a bit of firewhisky to each glass. Harry sipped his at once, warmth slashing through him like relief.

"Well," said Arthur, "Unless I've missed my guess, that – that pensieve is a Horcrux." He winced when he said the word, took off his glasses, and mopped his face. "I never thought… we're briefed on them when we join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, especially those of us dealing with artifacts. But the Ministry likes to keep their existence quiet… what most people see as an abomination, some would see as a challenge. Or a temptation."

A long look passed between Harry and Ginny. They had seen Tom Riddle ask Galatea Merrythought about them. He had been very good at projecting the image of a curious, nimble-minded boy, who had stumbled upon a reference while reading, and had come to ask a professor about it. If Harry had not previously seen the snake inside the boy, he might have believed him akin to Hermione, with a thirst for knowledge that outpaced his age.

"-have to report–"

"No!" Both Harry and Ginny said this loudly at once.

Arthur blinked at them. "We can't leave one of those sitting here in your home," he said.

"Can't we tell Dumbledore instead?" Harry leaned over his knees, his nearly empty glass threatening to spill the last drops of firewhisky and hot chocolate onto the scarred wood floor. "It's just that… well, we've heard that certain things don't stay secret."

Arthur looked from one to the other, his face set. "You're worried that your name will get out," Arthur said.

"Exactly," said Ginny. "We just don't want any attention drawn to us."

"You might be right," Arthur said sadly, finishing the last of his drink with one swallow. "There are certain parties who are almost assuredly keeping watch on this type of news."

"Do you trust them?" Harry asked.

"I want to protect Muggles," Arthur said simply, avoiding their eyes. "I want to raise my family in as much safety as I can. But it isn't always the Ministry that's going to make that possible. I think you're right… I think it may be better that we contact Dumbledore over this. Just in case."

"Thank you," said Harry.

Movement caught his eye and he jerked his head to find them being stared at by the ghost who had once warned them to stay out of this very same basement. He could not argue with the wisdom of her words, but he would rather not have this cursed object lurking beneath his floorboards… No, it was better that they had discovered it.

"It was you," he said to the ghost. "You fought him."

"And died," she said stonily.

Beside him, Ginny drew in a shaky breath. "Why?" she asked. "Who was he? Why would he make such a thing?"

"And why… why did we see you two fighting?"

"Horcruxes," she said, affecting the tone of a teacher, "take on some of the properties of whichever object they are attached to. The pensieve took on the blasted bit of soul, and you saw moments from his life, I assume." There was a coolness to her voice. "The wizard was a fool, that is why he created a Horcrux. When I lived, there was a spate of such fools. It was my job to track them."

"And he killed you," said Ginny. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." The ghost floated closer. "He did not survive our encounter either." She pointed at the pensieve. "That is what's left of him. I expect you'll want to destroy it." Her lips tightened. "And at last, my work is finished."

"It was like… it was like the memories we poured in were being eaten," said Ginny.

"I expect they were."

Harry touched his temple, settling his glasses straighter on his face.

"Horcruxes can be fed," the ghost continued, coming even closer.

A sense of familiarity scratched at Harry for a moment, and then was gone again. "So… they… what? What would have happened if Arthur hadn't rescued us?" And thank Merlin he had… only Peter had known they were there in the basement. Sirius would have come looking for us eventually, Harry reminded himself.

"Had you not been rescued, my assumption is that you would have come to death," she said.

Harry's stomach tightened. Ginny squeezed his hand tightly enough to hurt. It hit him that they might have lost each other. He blew out a long, slow breath, trying to release his anxious thoughts with it. They had not died. Arthur had found them and rescued them.

"We owe you our life," Harry told him quietly.

Arthur shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. The gesture reminded him so much of Ron that his stomach clenched again, and he felt oddly, horribly close to tears. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and waited for the moment to pass before he cried in front of his girlfriend and her unknowing father.

"It was my pleasure," said Arthur, with a nod.

"It's a bit beyond your duties here," said Ginny with a weak chuckle.

The other two chatted a moment as Harry stared at the pensieve. He did not think he would ever casually enter one again, not even the one in Dumbledore's office. He shook his head. Even the runes around it seemed sinister somehow, as though the Horcrux had changed them, turned them into something as evil as it was.

"I think," said Harry, still staring, "that we ought to contact Dumbledore now…"

"Excellent idea," said Arthur. "We haven't an owl here, so why don't I head home and send a message off with Errol?"

Harry nodded, then looked at Ginny. "I just want to get the hell out of this basement."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Three hours later, after Arthur had returned to the Burrow and come back again, Dumbledore arrived at the Apparition point, shoulders sagged, and face lined with exhaustion. He listened to their story with hardly a thought betrayed, piercing blue eyes moving from one to another during their retelling. Harry silently willed him to understand that Harry was not telling him everything, that they had not told Arthur the contents of Galatea Merrythoughts memories; if Dumbledore understood that, he did not betray it.

"It has been quite the night for all of you," said Dumbledore, once they had all said their piece. "Arthur, your quick thinking saved the day. I'm sure these two are praising the day they hired you."

Arthur smiled, abashed. "Anyone would have done it."

"Not anyone," Harry said. "Not just anyone, Arthur. Thank you."

Redness climbed up into Arthur's cheeks, reminding him of Ron, and all the times this man's future son would save Harry's life. Fondness welled up inside him, not just at Arthur saving them, but by Arthur's willingness to not report this to the Ministry. As Ginny echoed her own thanks, Arthur seemed eager to go. He pushed himself off the battered old sofa and stretched his hand out to shake Dumbledore's.

"Stay safe, you two," said Arthur, clasping Harry's hand and then Ginny's. "You know… my mum used to tell me – she was excellent with cursed objects, she had a career with Gringott's, even, before she had children – she used to tell us never to trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

"Good advice," said Ginny, her lips twitching. "She sounds excellent."

"She is," said Arthur. His gaze went to Dumbledore. "You'll destroy it? I'm afraid the Ministry didn't include how to destroy it in its briefing…"

"I will indeed," promised Dumbledore. "Go home to your family, Arthur."

"Thank you," said Arthur. With another wave, he swung his cloak over his shoulders and stepped out into the night.

For a moment, the three of them were alone. Dumbledore held up his hand. "I had best go destroy this," he said. "Immediately. I am certain you have questions—"

"—like how you will destroy it," muttered Ginny. "But I'm sure you can't answer."

"You have to place it beyond all hope of repair," Dumbledore said calmly, proving Ginny wrong. "It is not a simple thing to do. Fortunately"—he gave them a long look—"I have had some practice in this recently." He gave them a sharp nod. "There are some things it is better not to know. I daresay, the existence of Horcruxes is one of them."

Ginny shuddered.

"I expect," said Dumbledore, "That we ought to keep in mind that a long discussion must be had between the three of us. But tonight—"

"—is not the night," Harry and Ginny chorused, then gave each other fleeting smiles.

More seriously, Harry said, "I… saw some things in those memories. About Riddle. About him." Had Riddle been the one to give Old Bones that blank parchment, pretending it was a letter of recommendation from Dumbledore? "You might like to view them—"

"I am certain I would have done so, my young friend," Dumbledore said. "But I'm afraid the memories have been destroyed." He held out the Horcrux pensieve: In it, was a tiny drop of silvery liquid. "But I will be very interested to hear your thoughts. But later." There was an urgency in him that Harry had not seen before. "Later, when… just later. Now, I think you two should go home, go rest, try to put your mind at ease after this ordeal…"

HPHPHPHPHPHP

This was more difficult to achieve than Harry expected.

Later, Harry prowled his bedroom at Sirius's house. The encounter had left him on edge; every few minutes he was forced to consciously unclench his teeth. He wanted never to have to visit a pensieve again; he wanted to be home, at Hogwarts, with Ron and Hermione and especially Ginny; he wanted to not be here. Most of all, the urge to hold Ginny sizzled relentlessly through his veins, and it took all he had to hold himself back from knocking on her door and asking for what he wanted from her.

And so it was a shock to him when she tapped lightly on his door and opened it. His jaw went slack and he let out a breath. There she was, hair neatly braided and hung over her shoulder, eyes wide and bright. He had yet to draw more air into his lungs; instead, he stared at her, noting the sheen on the tender point of her nose, the way she bit her lip, how her chin tilted up, leaving her neck in shadow.

Her shirt, Harry decided, was nicely thin, revealing that she was neither wearing a bra, nor had bothered with a charm to conceal the points of her nipples.

Harry took a breath and reached for her, holding her upper arms, and pulling her toward him. "Thank you," he said fervently, just before he kissed her. She nodded, shut the door silently behind her, then pressed her hand to his chest and pushed him steadily to the bed.

His eyes widened.

"Thank me after," she said, low and fierce.

The backs of his legs hit the bed; willingly, Harry allowed himself to be toppled onto the bed. Ginny climbed after him, landing atop him, settling against him. "Evanesco," she said, and his shirt disappeared. Slowly, deliberately, she vanished all their clothing, one piece at a time. Harry's stomach contracted as her nails swept up his bare chest, swirling around his nipple before pinching it.

Harry let her keep control, but for one adjustment. As she deliberately writhed in his lap, getting him fully hard for her, he scooted them so he could sit up, his back pressed against the headboard. She wanted to ride… fine. But he wanted and needed to hold her close as she did…

"Come here," she said, once they were settled properly. Her head was tilted back, chin level with his chest; her lower lip was worried by her teeth again.

"As long as I don't come now, right?" Harry murmured. He was nowhere near it, though he was increasing distracted by the movement of her naked body against his, the tickle of her hair, and the obvious wetness.

"You better not," declared Ginny, tossing her plait over her shoulder. "Not yet."

"I won't," Harry promised. One hand slid up her thigh, and the other went around to cup her bottom. Giving it a gentle, fond squeeze. Her own hand went between her legs, where she rubbed in such a way that his breath caught in his chest again. For a moment, he watched. Then, unable to help himself, his hand went to hers. "Let me?" he said.

Ginny had never once stopped him from stroking her clit, and this early morning was no exception. Harry dallied with it, stroking circles around it, not trying to make her come, but coaxing her arousal to greater heights. Harry was ready — his penis was throbbing rather cheerfully — but it wasn't until heard the ragged way she drew in a breath that he knew—

She rolled forward, trapping his hand between her bodies. She touched him, tickling his balls, then gripping his shaft. With an aching slowness, she lowered herself onto him as he held himself completely still underneath her.

"Like that?" she asked, when just the head of his penis was encircled by her slick heat.

Harry grunted, stroking her back and cupped the back of her neck. It took some maneuvering and shifting, but if he hunched over her a certain way, they could kiss as they had sex like this… Her mouth was warm and inviting as he kissed her, licking into it, rubbing his tongue against hers. Her response was to lower herself further. With his hand still trapped, he rubbed her clit.

"Fuck, Harry," she swore.

"Yeah," he said.

Both of them moaned when she'd finally taken in all of him. She shifted in his lap, wriggling in such a way that he began to sweat. It was always like this when Ginny rode him; it was easy to lose himself in her rhythm, just barely remembering how much she liked it when he stroked her clit as she did so… how easy it was for them both to come.

Their bodies pressed together, both made quiet sounds of delight. There was no more talking; both of them were distracted. Harry, especially, found his thoughts focused on everything — the feel of Ginny's hard nipples pressed into the top of his abdomen, the silky heat of her under his thumb, surrounding his penis, the erotic moans that came from her lips faster and faster — and nothing.

Finally: "I am going to come now." His warning came out in a grunt.

"Me too." Her legs were clamped down tightly, her fingernails pressed into his back. It goaded his pleasure. When she was about to come — like this — she held him so tightly — like there were only the two of them, merged together.

Harry held her just as tightly as his orgasm swamped him. His cry was cut off by the clapping of her hand over his mouth, but he could feel her rippling around him, her hips stuttering against him, her breath hot on his chest.

After a moment, utterly spent, Harry collapsed on his side, taking care to roll her with him. Perhaps it had been the long, long week since they were last able to do this, or perhaps it was the ordeal they had had earlier, or perhaps it was the fact they really ought not to have risked having sex in this house, but the pleasure tonight had been higher than he had known could be possible.

"Thank you," Harry said fervently, once his heart had stopped beating quite so hard.

Ginny rose on her elbow, her plait nearly undone, and pressed a fierce kiss on his lips. "Thank you," she said.

HPHPHPHPHPHPH

The next morning, over their last breakfast together living in the same house, Sirius gave Harry a quick glance as he stuttered into the dining room. There were sandwich rolls on a platter in the center of the table; Ginny was already there, picking at one, looking supremely unconcerned.

By unspoken agreement, neither Harry nor Ginny had mentioned their ordeal of the day before. Therefore, Sirius spoke of light things during the next minutes. Relief welled up inside Harry. His thoughts had never fully articulated why, precisely, they wished to keep their sexual relationship private, but whether Sirius knew Ginny had ventured into Harry's room in the small hours of the morning — which Harry rather thought he did — he did not say anything.

Instead: "I'll be working quite a lot with Dung again, but we have those two-way mirrors." His gray eyes were warm.

Harry had nearly forgotten that Sirius was working with Dung on secretive things. Perhaps that was the reason for the odd, late night conversation Sirius had been having with seemingly himself.

"If you need anything, anything at all…" Sirius sounded nearly wistful.

For a moment, Harry felt a surge of need to tell Sirius everything. Not about Ginny, but everything else they had done in the last six months: telling Dumbledore about the diary and the basilisk, destroying it with him, that dangerous trip in the pensieve, and everything they had learned about Tom Riddle. It was on the tip of his tongue.

His thoughts conjured up the picture Dorcas Meadowes had drawn for him: Perhaps this was what she meant by extending his hand to Sirius.

"And let me know, too," Sirius added with great compassion, "when… you know, the end comes for Old Bones. I know how much he means to you as a professor. I know how much he meant to me."

Harry's desire to tell Sirius everything was punctured, then, as though with a sharp jab of Dorcas Meadowes's quill. He'd mentioned a fortune-telling quill in the pensieve, hadn't he?

Distracted, suddenly, and confused, Harry just nodded and focused his attention on his breakfast roll. It was much too early to be dealing with such complexities.

Author's note: This chapter goes out to Fizzy, whose expertise saved it.

Additionally, ffn is having difficulties with emails. If you didn't get an alert that this story updated (thanks for being here anyway), you may have to go into your account and fidget with stuff in order to resume service as usual. I had to go into my gmail and add the ffn bot as a contact as opposed to the way it's been done the last twenty two years of me being on this website. I guess they've had a lot of issues being counted as spam? Not sure what's going on.

Just in case, I will be updating this fic on Sunday and again on Tuesday for your reading enjoyment.