Natural Magic: A Tale of Awakening

Chapter 1: The Pensieve Predicament (Or: How Harry Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Magical Chaos)

Harry Potter was having one of those days where the universe seemed determined to prove it had a sense of humor - albeit a rather twisted one. First, his attempt to find a quiet place to practice Defense had led him to a room full of chamber pots (which he was certain was the Room of Requirement's idea of a joke). Then, after finally getting the room to provide a proper practice space, he'd tripped over his own feet and face-planted directly into what turned out to be a Pensieve.

"Well," he muttered, picking himself up and adjusting his now crooked glasses, "at least no one was here to see that." He paused. "And now I'm talking to myself. Brilliant."

The Pensieve sat innocently on its pedestal, its silvery contents swirling in what Harry could have sworn was a mocking manner. He'd had enough experience with magical objects to know that when something appeared this conveniently, it usually meant trouble. Then again, his curiosity had always been stronger than his common sense a fact that Hermione never failed to point out with increasingly creative analogies involving moths and flames.

"Right then," he said to the empty room, "let's see what potentially life-altering revelation you've got for me today. Because clearly, my life isn't complicated enough already."

He leaned over the basin, noting with resigned amusement that his reflection in the silvery surface made his hair look even more chaotic than usual. "At least some things never change," he muttered, then added, "Though knowing my luck, this memory's probably about to prove me wrong about that too."

The familiar sensation of falling into the memory took hold, and Harry had just enough time to think that he really should start keeping track of how many times he'd literally fallen into trouble before the scene materialized around him.

He found himself in the Headmaster's office, but not as he knew it. The usual whirring silver instruments were there, but they seemed somehow more... purposeful. Less like eccentric decorations and more like tools being actively used. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, and Harry's initial relief at seeing the familiar grandfatherly figure quickly gave way to unease. The twinkle in those blue eyes wasn't benevolent it was calculating.

"The Potters are becoming too independent," memory Dumbledore was saying, addressing a portrait Harry didn't recognize. "James in particular is asking far too many questions about the restrictions we've placed on their movements. And Lily..." He sighed, but there was no real regret in it. "Her research into natural magical flows could undo centuries of careful control if left unchecked."

Harry's stomach lurched. He wanted to dismiss this as some kind of trick or false memory, but years of experience had taught him to recognize truth even when he didn't want to. And the calm, methodical way Dumbledore was discussing his parents' sent chills down his spine.

"Peter will ensure Voldemort learns their location at precisely the right moment," Dumbledore continued, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "The boy must be properly positioned from the start. Moldable. Dependent on guidance."

"Murderous old goat," Harry muttered, his attempt at humor falling flat even to his own ears. "Couldn't just send a strongly worded letter about their parenting choices, could you?"

The scene shifted, showing more meetings, more careful manipulations. Harry watched with growing horror and increasingly hysterical internal commentary as Dumbledore orchestrated the events that would leave him an orphan. The old wizard had planned everything from ensuring the Dursleys would raise him with just enough neglect to make him desperate for acceptance, to positioning the Weasleys to guide his introduction to the magical world.

"You know," Harry said to the memory Dumbledore, who naturally couldn't hear him, "for someone so obsessed with control, you really should have considered what might happen if I ever found out about all this. But I suppose megalomaniacs aren't big on contingency planning."

The final memory showed Dumbledore discussing Harry's first year at Hogwarts with Snape. "The boy must be tested," he was saying. "Each challenge carefully calibrated to shape his development. The stone will provide an excellent opportunity..."

"Oh, brilliant," Harry muttered as he felt himself being pulled out of the memory. "My entire life has been one elaborate personality modification experiment. And here I thought I was just spectacularly unlucky."

He emerged from the Pensieve to find himself alone in the Room of Requirement, which had helpfully provided a waste bin just in time for him to lose his lunch. As he knelt there, trying to process everything he'd seen, he couldn't help but laugh - a slightly unhinged sound that echoed off the walls.

"Right," he said, straightening up and vanishing the evidence of his distress with a wave of his wand. "Not exactly the quiet practice session I was looking for. Though I suppose this explains why Defense Against the Dark Arts never covered 'What to Do When You Discover Your Mentor is Actually a Manipulative Megalomaniac.' Bit of an oversight in the curriculum, really."

The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside made him freeze. With practiced ease born of years of getting into exactly these sorts of situations, Harry quickly disillusioned himself and pressed against the wall beside the door. The footsteps drew closer, then stopped. After a moment's pause, a familiar voice spoke:

"Potter, I know you're in there. We need to talk."

Snape. Because of course it would be Snape. Harry briefly considered maintaining his silence, but recent revelations suggested that keeping quiet and following others' plans hadn't worked out particularly well for him so far.

"You know," he said, canceling the disillusionment charm, "just once I'd like to have a life-altering revelation without you showing up immediately afterward. It's becoming a bit predictable."

Snape's expression did something complicated that might have been an attempt to suppress amusement. "If you prefer, I could leave and return with a more dramatic entrance. Perhaps wearing a false beard and speaking in riddles?"

Harry blinked. Had Snape just made a joke? The world really was turning upside down.

"No, that's quite alright," he managed. "I think I've had enough dramatic revelations for one day. Though I don't suppose you're here to tell me it was all an elaborate prank?"

"Hardly." Snape moved into the room, his dark eyes taking in the Pensieve and Harry's undoubtedly disheveled appearance. "I see you've finally discovered what I've been attempting to document for years."

"Attempting to document?" Harry's eyebrows rose. "You mean all those times you were being an unnecessarily dramatic git, you were actually trying to draw attention to Dumbledore's manipulation?"

"Points for finally showing some observational skills, Potter, even if the delivery leaves much to be desired." Snape's tone was dry but lacked its usual bite. "Though I will note that being an 'unnecessarily dramatic git' has provided excellent cover for gathering evidence against one of the most powerful wizards in Britain."

Harry had to concede that point. "Fair enough. Though you might have tried being a bit more obvious about it. Maybe passed me notes in class: 'Dear Potter, the headmaster is evil. Circle yes if you'd like to join the resistance.'"

"Ah yes, because subtlety has always been your strong suit." Snape's eyebrow rose. "Need I remind you of the flying car incident?"

"That was years ago!" Harry protested. "I'd like to think I've developed at least some sense of discretion since then."

"Says the boy who just fell face first into a Pensieve containing highly sensitive information."

"I didn't fall face-first! I... gracefully stumbled upon it."

The absurd exchange helped, giving Harry's mind something to focus on besides the horrifying revelations about his parents' deaths. But reality couldn't be held at bay forever, and his brief amusement faded as he looked back at the Pensieve.

"He really planned it all," Harry said quietly. "Every detail, every 'coincidence' that led me here..."

"Not everything," Snape corrected. "Your tendency to find trouble without actively seeking it, for instance, has been a constant source of frustration in his plans. As has your rather impressive ability to survive situations that should have been fatal."

"Thanks... I think." Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair. "So, what now? I'm guessing you didn't spend years gathering evidence just to have a laugh about it."

"Indeed not." Snape reached into his robes and withdrew a shrunken folder. "There are others who have been working against Dumbledore's manipulation people you'd never expect. If you're ready to learn the full truth..."

"The full truth?" Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You mean finding out the leader of the light orchestrated my parents' murder wasn't the full truth? Brilliant. Just brilliant." He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Well, in for a knut, in for a galleon. Show me."

Snape nodded, moving to restore the folder to its original size. "First, however, I believe we should relocate. The Room of Requirement, while useful, is not as secure as we need for this discussion."

"Right," Harry agreed, then paused. "Though before we go... exactly how many more world-shattering revelations should I expect? Should I start keeping a list? Maybe make a scrapbook: 'Harry Potter's Guide to Discovering Everything You Know is a Lie'?"

"Your ability to maintain humor in the face of crisis is either admirable or concerning," Snape observed. "I haven't quite decided which."

"I find it helps prevent complete mental breakdown," Harry replied cheerfully. "That, and I'm pretty sure hysterical laughter is better than crying in a corner, which is the other option at this point."

Snape's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Indeed. Well then, Potter, shall we proceed with demolishing what remains of your worldview?"

"Why not?" Harry gestured grandly toward the door. "Lead on, Professor. Though I do hope wherever we're going has tea. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

"Tea, Potter? After what you've just learned, I'd have thought you'd want something stronger."

"Are you offering to provide alcohol to a student, Professor? What would Dumbledore say?"

"Given recent revelations, I believe his opinion on proper educational practices can be safely disregarded."

And so, with gallows humor as their shield against the weight of truth, teacher and student left the Room of Requirement to begin dismantling a web of lies that had shaped the magical world for generations. Neither of them could have guessed just how far that dismantling would go, or how much would change once truth began flowing as freely as magic itself was meant to.

But that was a revelation for another day. For now, they had evidence to examine, plans to make, and possibly tea to drink though Harry still held out hope for something stronger. After all, finding out your entire life had been scripted by a manipulative old wizard seemed like a reasonable excuse for a firewhisky or two.

The Room of Requirement, left behind with its revealing Pensieve, seemed to shimmer with satisfaction. It had done its part, showing truth to one who needed to see it. Now it was up to Harry Potter to decide what to do with that truth and knowing him, the decision would probably involve breaking several school rules, defying multiple authority figures, and generally causing the sort of chaos that made for excellent stories.

But then, perhaps a little chaos was exactly what the magical world needed.