Dumbledore came in about ten minutes later. I'd already replaced the bottle of memories, but Harry was still looking in the bowl. As Dumbledore noticed Harry snooping, I gave him a look like, What can you do? Dumbledore smiled calmly, crossed the room to Harry, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"I think. Harry, it is time to return to my office," He said.
Harry started and looked around. "Professor! I know I shouldn't've — I didn't mean — the cabinet door was sort of open and —"
"I quite understand," said Dumbledore. He lifted the basin, carried it over to his desk, placed it upon the polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He motioned for Harry and I to sit down opposite him. I did so, glancing over at Harry, trying to see if there was any sign of his memories returning, but he gave none.
Harry sat down, too, staring at the stone basin. The contents had returned to their original, silvery-white state, swirling and rippling beneath his gaze.
"What is it?" Harry asked shakily.
"This? It is called a Pensieve," said Dumbledore.
"Oh, right! A Pensieve!" I blurted. Realizing I'd just interrupted Dumbledore, I backpedaled. "Sorry. Grandma'am has one of those and I couldn't remember what they were called. Please continue."
"I sometimes find," Dumbledore said, unbothered, "and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind."
"Er," said Harry uncertainly.
"Yes," I said emphatically.
"At these times," said Dumbledore, indicating the stone basin, "I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."
"You mean . . . that stuff's your thoughts?" Harry said, staring at the swirling white substance in the basin.
"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Let me show you."
Dumbledore drew his wand out of the inside of his robes and placed the tip into his own silvery hair, near his temple. When he took the wand away, hair seemed to be clinging to it — but then Harry saw that it was in fact a glistening strand of the same strange silvery-white pearly substance that filled the Pensieve. Dumbledore added this fresh thought to the basin, and I saw my own face, along with Harry's, swimming around the surface of the bowl. Dumbledore placed his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it, kind of similar to how a gold prospector would pan for fragments of gold. I saw our own faces change smoothly into Snape's, who opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling, his voice echoing slightly. "It's coming back... Karkaroff's too... stronger and clearer than ever..."
"A connection I could have made without assistance," Dumbledore sighed, "but never mind." He peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles at Harry and I. "I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting and put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention."
"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Curiosity is not a sin," he said. "But we should exercise caution with our curiosity... yes, indeed..."
Frowning slightly, he prodded the thoughts within the basin with the tip of his wand. Instantly, a figure rose out of it, a plump, scowling girl of about sixteen, who began to revolve slowly, with her feet still in the basin. She took no notice whatsoever of anyone in the room. When she spoke, her voice echoed as Snape's had done, as though it were coming from the depths of the stone basin.
"He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir, I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday..."
"But why. Bertha," said Dumbledore sadly, looking up at the now silently revolving girl, "why did you have to follow him in the first place?"
"Bertha?" I whispered, looking up at her. "Is that — was that Bertha Jorkins?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore, prodding the thoughts in the basin again; Bertha sank back into them, and they became silvery and opaque once more. "That was Bertha as I remember her at school... So, Harry, before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."
"Yes," said Harry. "Professor — I was in Divination just now, and — er — I fell asleep."
He hesitated here, probably wondering if a reprimand was coming, but Dumbledore merely said, "Quite understandable. Continue."
"Well, I had a dream," said Harry. "A dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail... you know who Wormtail—"
"I do know," said Dumbledore promptly. "Please continue."
"Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like, Wormtail's blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn't be fed to the snake — there was a snake beside his chair. He said — he said he'd be feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail — and my scar hurt," Harry said. "It woke me up, it hurt so badly."
Dumbledore merely looked at him.
"Er — that's all," said Harry.
"I see," said Dumbledore quietly. "I see. Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?"
"No, I — how did you know it woke me up over the summer?" said Harry, astonished.
"You are not Sirius's only correspondent," said Dumbledore. "I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place for him to stay."
Why not Hogwarts? I wanted to ask. Surely there were plenty of hidden rooms where Sirius wouldn't be discovered and still had access to food and stuff. Then he wouldn't be starving and dirty. Harry wouldn't have to send and wait for owls, and Hagrid could take care of Buckbeak in the forest. Everyone benefited from this situation.
Dumbledore got up and began walking up and down behind his desk. Every now and then, he placed his wand tip to his temple, removed another shining silver thought, and added it to the Pensieve. The thoughts inside began to swirl so fast that I couldn't make out anything clearly. It was just a blur of color.
"Professor?" Harry said quietly, after a couple of minutes.
Dumbledore stopped pacing and looked at Harry.
"My apologies," he said quietly. He sat back down at his desk.
"D'you - d'you know why my scar's hurting me?"
Dumbledore looked very intently at Harry for a moment, and then said, "I have a theory, no more than that... It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."
"But... why?"
"Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed," said Dumbledore. "That is no ordinary scar."
"So you think... that dream... did it really happen?"
"It is possible," said Dumbledore. "I would say — probable. Harry — did you see Voldemort?"
"No," said Harry. "Just the back of his chair. But — there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there? I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he? But... but then how could he have held the wand?" Harry said slowly.
"How indeed?" muttered Dumbledore. "How indeed..."
I frowned. "That still doesn't explain something, though."
"And what would that be, Miss McKeon?"
"Why did I see it, too? The first vision, I mean."
"I believe two factors may have influenced that," Dumbledore said. "One would be your parents. Not just your father, but your mother as well."
"Seriously?" I asked. "Oh, yeah... my dad told me she was a Seer too... and the only way she could See was through her dreams, right?"
"Exactly. So that is one factor. And the second reason, I believe, is the closeness in friendship with Harry. The two of you are rather attached at the hip, as they say."
"If we were actually attached at the hip, maybe I'd be able to stop him from doing stupid things more often," I said, smirking at Harry.
"Perhaps indeed," Dumbledore agreed, a lightly amused smile on his face.
"Professor," Harry said, "do you think he's getting stronger?"
"Voldemort?" said Dumbledore, looking at Harry over the Pensieve. "Once again. Harry, I can only give you my suspicions." He sighed again, and he looked older, and wearier, than ever. "The years of Voldemort's ascent to power," he said, "were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jorkins has vanished without a trace in the place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch too has disappeared... within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I regret to say, do not consider of any importance, for it concerns a Muggle. His name was Frank Bryce, he lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up, and he has not been seen since last August. You see, I read the Muggle newspapers, unlike most of my Ministry friends."
Dumbledore looked very seriously at Harry.
"These disappearances seem to me to be linked. The Ministry disagrees — as you may have heard, while waiting outside my office."
Harry and I nodded. Silence fell between them again, Dumbledore extracting thoughts every now and then.
"Professor?" Harry asked. "Er... could I ask you about... that court thing I was in... in the Pensieve?"
Court thing? I decided to ask later.
"You could," said Dumbledore heavily. "I attended it many times, but some trials come back to me more clearly than others... particularly now..."
"You know — you know the trial you found me in? The one with Crouch's son? Well... were they talking about Neville's parents?"
Dumbledore gave Harry a very sharp look.
"Has Neville never told you why he has been brought up by his grandmother?" he questioned. Harry and I shook our heads. I wondered how I'd never thought to ask Neville this.
"Yes, they were talking about Nevilles parents," said Dumbledore. "His father, Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort's whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you heard."
"So they're dead?" said Harry quietly.
"No," said Dumbledore, his voice full of bitterness. "They are insane. They are both in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, with his grandmother, during the holidays. They do not recognize him."
I sat there, horror-struck. I'd never known. Never, in two years, had I bothered to find out...
"The Longbottoms were very popular," said Dumbledore. "The attacks on them came after Voldemort's fall from power, just when everyone thought they were safe. Those attacks caused a wave of fury such as I have never known. The Ministry was under great pressure to catch those who had done it. Unfortunately, the Longbottoms' evidence was — given their condition — none too reliable."
"Then Mr. Crouch's son might not have been involved?" I asked slowly.
Dumbledore shook his head. "As to that, I have no idea."
"Er," Harry said, "Mr. Bagman . .."
"... has never been accused of any Dark activity since," said Dumbledore calmly.
"Right," said Harry hastily.
"And ... er ..."
The Pensieve seemed to be asking his question for him. Snape's face was swimming on the surface again. Dumbledore glanced down into it, and then up at Harry.
"No more has Professor Snape," he said.
"What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?"
Dumbledore held Harry's gaze for a few seconds, and then said, "That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."
I could tell the interview was over. Dumbledore did not look angry, yet there was a finality in his tone that told Harry it was time to go. He stood up, and so did Dumbledore.
"Harry," he said as Harry reached the door. "Please do not speak about Neville's parents to anybody else. He has the right to let people know, when he is ready."
"Yes, Professor," said Harry, turning to go.
I nodded and stood as well, too shaken to speak.
"And —" Harry looked back. Dumbledore was standing over the Pensieve, his face lit from beneath by its silvery spots of light, looking older than ever. He stared at Harry for a moment, and then said, "Good luck with the third task."
We left the office and started down the hall in silence. Before we could get too far, though, Harry stopped.
"What's up?" I asked him.
"The... the court thing wasn't the only thing I saw."
"I still don't know what the court thing was, but I trust you'll tell me later... What else did you see?"
"Last year... in the Hospital Wing..." Harry said. "Merlin, I feel so stupid. I thought you'd been erasing my memories all the time when it was Dumbledore last year!"
My heart jumped into my throat. "It worked?"
"What worked?"
"I'm the one who put those memories in there while you were looking at the court thing. So you saw that part where —"
"Where Sirius told me you were a demigod," Harry said, nodding. "Half-god, half-mortal. I remember everything now. Which god is your... mum? Was it your mum? I don't really understand that part."
It was like a dam broke, and all the water came flooding out. "My mother was mortal. Aileen McKeon, remember? And my dad is Apollo, the god of the sun. But when he was... um... with my mom, he went by Zain Kyros."
"I thought Sirius...?" Harry trailed off.
"He would be my stepdad," I said. "He married my mom after I was born."
"Okay..." Harry nodded. He frowned. "I remember a bow, too... One you'd use in archery? You used it on the train, right?"
"Oh, yeah," I took my keychain out of my pocket and showed him how it turned into my weapon of choice. "Apollo is also the —"
"Woah!" Harry exclaimed, startled.
"Calm down, the arrows can't hurt you," I said, rolling my eyes. "As I was saying, Apollo is also the god of archery." I put it away and laughed gleefully. "Morrigan, I can't tell you how happy I am that the memory thing worked!"
"I'm glad I can remember and it all makes sense," Harry said. "Ash... I think Luke is a demigod, too. Remember how I told you he had a sword after the Yule Ball?"
"Yeah, he's a son of Hermes," I said. "He said he'd seen a monster in the woods and went out to deal with it. He should've waited to get his sword out..."
"Oh, that makes sense," Harry said. We continued to walk, but then Harry stopped again and grinned. "So, wait, you knew you weren't supposed to tell me and poured the memories in there anyway?"
"Uh, well... I figured I technically wasn't telling you... and I also couldn't stop you from telling Ron and Hermione... So I technically wouldn't be the one to tell them."
"How cunning." Harry grinned. "Are you sure you're not a Slytherin?"
I laughed. "I'm sure. I'm too impulsive to be Slytherin-level cunning."
I had something to talk about, but I can't remember what it was
Oh wait now I do. The actual chapter that y'all read before this. That's probably important.
So Harry finally knows! And soon Hermione and Ron will too :D How do you guys feel about that?
Enjoy and comment for more! Bye, y'all :D
~~~~ Kingfisher ~~~~