Chapter 7
Despite the somber dinner before, the Great Hall was filled with the boisterous anticipation from any first day of class from years past. The first years congregated amongst each other before splitting up and down the tables to find older students for directions.
"Ah, Herbology. You'll go up to the seventh floor, take a left-"
"What are you doing Ron?" Rebecca asked, taking her attention away from the honey she was adding to her oatmeal. "Herbology isn't upstairs, it's not even in the bloody castle."
Ron narrowed his eyes at her, shaking his head slightly.
The tiny first year in front of him frowned. Ron hadn't been helping him, he had been leading him on.
"Is it your first day?" Rebecca asked, moving down the table away from Ron and waving for the boy to follow her and take a seat. "Excited?" Ron scoffed loudly and moved farther away from them.
The boy grimaced, now feeling that he had an older student mad at him. Looking up to try and quiet the noise and keep the tears welling in his eyes from spilling over, what sent him over the edge were the floating candles.
"Come on, mate. Let's sit outside." Rebecca held her bowl with her elbow and gathered up a collection of portable breakfast items on her way out.
"That was really rotten." Hermione shook her head at Ron, disappointed. "You're a prefect. You're supposed to lead, not hurt."
Ron at least had the decency to let his guilt be seen and Harry and Ginny had to keep their heads pointed towards their plates to hide their guilt as Hermione muttered under breath in a very Rebecca-like fashion.
"What's your name?" Rebecca led the boy to one of the benches in the courtyard a corridor over. She swung a leg over the bench and emptied all of the items she brought between them, putting an apple into his hand and waving for him to take anything else he wanted.
"Emmet."
Rebecca smiled and held her oatmeal above her head as if she were tipping her hat to him. "Nice to meet you, Emmet. My name's Rebecca." She nodded her head back towards the Great Hall. "That was Ron, he didn't mean to be an arse--he thought he was being funny." Rebecca took a few bites and set her bowl down, having to correct herself. "Actually, that wasn't true. Someone told him how to get to Transfiguration wrong in our first year. Guess he thought it was his turn."
Emmet didn't laugh, though the shadow of a smile seemed to want to show. "That's still not nice."
"No, no it isn't. But I have a feeling that isn't all that's wrong though." Rebecca raised an eyebrow and took another but.
Emmet tried to figure out why she was asking, why she was being nice to him. "It's so weird here. Magic and wands and robes, it doesn't feel real."
"Muggle parents?" Emmet showed no understanding. "Your parents aren't magic, are they?"
"No, we all thought this was a joke."
They sat in quiet a moment, both trying to figure out what to say around their eating.
"It gets better." Rebecca said at last, patting his knee. "Really, it does. It all seems wrong right now, but you'll find some friends and you'll find your place. Not to mention, magic is pretty bloody wicked." She took her wand out and looked at the orange between them. "Vera verto." The orange transfigured into a matchbox car before turning back into an orange.
"We'll learn how to do that?" Emmet asked in awe.
"All in good time, Mr Greeneway." Professor McGonagall's voice made the boy jump.
"Good morning, professor!" Rebecca greeted her happily. "Ready to start the year?"
"Education waits for none, remember that Miss Potter." McGonagall left without another word.
Rebecca wasn't able to wonder about what she meant because Emmet asked who McGonagall was. Rebecca launched into an explanation for who she was to him as a Transfiguration student and who she was to him as a Gryffindor. Standing up and sending their dishes floating back to a table in the hall, Rebecca shouldered her bag. "I'm headed to the dungeons this morning, so I can't walk you." She checked the time. "Unless we go right now. If we leave now, I can show you to the greenhouses and be back in time. Probably."
"It's okay." Emmet sounded so sad and resigned to having a poor first day, it solidified Rebecca's decision to bring him.
"No, impossible I'm afraid. I've decided to bring you and that's that." Rebecca walked alongside him, pointing out quirks and tips as she guided him to the far side of the castle where the path to the greenhouses was clear and speckled with other students. "This is as far as I can walk you and not be-" She sighed, the bells tolling the hour. "Late."
"Thank you." Emmet called after her, needing her to know how he appreciated what she had done for him. "For the short cut, and breakfast. And for being nice."
Rebecca turned and walked backwards so he could see her grin. "No, thank you! A walk in the sun was exactly what I needed before sitting in the dungeons all morning."
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"That is the girls' lavatory!" Professor McGonagall warned down the hall to a very lost Hufflepuff. The corridor was swarmed with students on their way to the first class of the year, though Ron and Harry weren't participating in the madness. They were standing up on a bench against the wall, laughing at the mess they didn't have to join in.
Hermione had left them minutes before, not able to wait for Rebecca's return any longer without risking being late herself and she was not going to let that be Professor Slughorn's first impression of Hermione Granger.
"Potter." McGonagall beckoned, disappointment evident.
"Oh my god, that's the face Rebecca was talking about!" Harry thought, seeing how powerful the look was with his own eyes. "This can't be good." He murmured to Ron, hopping off the bench.
"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" McGonagall's blue eyes pierced through him.
"We-I had a free period this morning, professor."
"Yes, I noticed. I would think you would want to fill it with Potions, unless it is no longer your ambition to become an Auror."
Harry felt his cheeks warm as he had to word his failure to one of the women he looked up to most in his life. "Professor, I had to get an O. I only got an E, I can't take Potions."
"So you did, when Professor Snape was teaching Potions." McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "But Professor Slughorn is happy to accept N.E.W.T. students with Exceeds Expectations."
"Brilliant!" Harry felt himself be recaptured by the hope of a future dedicated to the stopping of dark witches and wizards. "I-I'll head there straightaway!"
"Potter?" Harry turned back. "Take Weasley with you. He looks far too happy." McGonagall left to help a first year who had stepped into the trick stair, shaking her head out of thoughts at the retreating sixth year boys who plagued her so.
Harry grabbed Ron, hurrying them down the quickly emptying hall.
"I don't want to take Potions! Quidditch trials are coming up--I need to practise!" Ron fought against Harry vehemently.
"We told you not to worry about-Do you hear that?" Harry turned his head, both boys listening to the slapping growing closer behind them. "You don't think-"
Rebecca tore out from around the corner, her bag swinging wildly as she sprinted. She slowed when she saw them, but not by much. "Potions-late-first day." Harry fell into a run behind her, shaking his head with a scolding-purse of his lips. "Don't shake your head at me like that, you dick. Only reason I'm late is because I helped that first year!"
"I had nothing to do with that, that was all Ron!" Harry defended.
"You didn't stop him, did you?" Rebecca asked, now at the Potions door. She opened it before Harry could get another word in. However, as she looked into the classroom where every eye fell on them, she realised she forgot to ask why they were going to Potions in the first place.
"Ah, I was beginning to worry!" Slughorn greeted both Potters warmly. "Brought someone with us, have we?"
Ron stepped forward, an idea coming to him. "Ron Weasley, sir. I'm dead awful at Potions, a menace actually. I can just-"
"Nonsense! We'll sort you right out." Slughorn waved them in. "A friend of either Potter is a friend of mine."
"Potter Weasley." Rebecca muttered, walking across the room and taking the seat next to Hermione.
"You'll need your books, all of you." Slughorn announced.
Rebecca set her bag on the floor beside her stool and dug around for it, everything jumbled from her running. Lavender tittered at her rumpled appearance, but Rebecca ignored it entirely.
"I haven't got my book, nor has Ron." Harry explained sheepishly.
"That's alright, get what you want from the cupboard." Harry crossed the room and opened the cabinet, remembering how Rebecca had been stuck on two copies of Advanced Potion Making at Flourish and Blotts. "Strange."
"As I was saying," Slughorn began again, leaning against a table with a selection of cauldrons. "I've prepared some concoctions this morning. Any ideas what these might be?"
Hermione raised her hand instantly, but Rebecca took a moment to look over the class' occupants first. Pansy was leaning against the wall next to a sullen Draco, and they were both beside a thoroughly confused Crabbe and Goyle. Seamus, Dean, and Neville were side by side behind Lavender who was on the other side of Hermione while Rebecca was right at the front of the class due to her late arrival.
"Yes, Miss..."
"Granger, sir." Hermione walked up to the first cauldron and looked at it more carefully.
At the back of the classroom, Harry and Ron were fighting over the last two copies of the text in the cabinet. One was tattered and old, one practically new. Ron was much taller than Harry and used this advantage to shove Harry out of the way and take the newer one. Harry thumped Ron with his old, worn book before joining the class.
Hermione had identified the first two potions correctly and Slughorn was about to ask for another volunteer when Rebecca raised her hand to give it a go. "Miss Potter! Go ahead!"
Rebecca stood. "Potter Weasley, sir." She wasn't sure why she felt so insistent that this man use both of her last names. Perhaps if had something to do with how he had demeaned Harry and her into collectors' items, perhaps it was because she missed Molly and Arthur, perhaps it was because she missed Fred. But, all the same, something inside of her was adamant he use both or none at all.
"Miss Potter Weasley, then." Slughorn's light mood was untampered and every instant of tenacity Rebecca showed, he was reminded more and more of Lily.
Pansy snorted at the exchange, but said nothing more when Draco turned on her with a sharp look.
Rebecca put her hands on the table and stood taller, glancing at the two potions Hermione had correctly identified: Veritaserum and Polyjuice Potion." This...this is an Aging Potion. Variation number four, right?" Slughorn nodded, impressed. He hadn't thought anyone would guess it at all, let alone which of the ten variations it was. "And this..." Rebecca's face warmed as she peered over the edge into the last cauldron, smelling what wafted off of it. "This is Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world."
"What makes it that?" Professor Slughorn guided, knowing that Rebecca knew the answer by how she stopped to take another smell before returning to her seat.
"Amortentia smells differently to each person, changing based on what one finds attractive." Rebecca smelled deeper, knowing the smell well. "For example, I smell clean laundry, fireworks, and nature--like the forest after its rained." Rebecca stepped back, the replication of Fred achingly perfect.
"Now," Slughorn clapped his hands. "Amortentia doesn't create actual love. That would be impossible. It does, however, create powerful infatuation or obsession." The girls around Rebecca and Hermione inched forward, wishing to smell it for themselves. "For that reason, it is probably the most dangerous potion in the room." He placed the lid on it and shooed those who had left their seats back into them.
Harry put his head on Rebecca's shoulder while Slughorn set up their next exercise. "Y'alright?"
Rebecca nodded. "I'm fine."
"Guess you were right about needing two books after all." Harry waved his sillily, hoping to see her smile. Rebecca only gave him another nod and tried to pay attention.
Hermione shrugged at Harry, watching and listening to their exchange closely. Romilda Vane's voice ended their distraction. "What's in the last cauldron, professor?"
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is a curious little potion." Slughorn reached in and unscrewed the clasp that held the little vial on display. "It is known as Felix Felicis. But it is more commonly referred to as-"
"Liquid Luck."
"Yes, Miss Granger!" Slughorn smiled proudly. "Liquid Luck. Desperately tricky to make, disastrous should you get it wrong. One sip and you will find that all of your endeavours should succeed.
Harry stared at the little vial curiously, wondering if it could help against Voldemort. Draco stared at it too.
"At least, until the effects wear off." Slughorn moved so that he was behind the table of potions they had looked at already before outlining what the assignment was. "That is what I offer you each today: one tiny vial of Liquid Luck to the student who, in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable Draught of Living Death. The recipe can be found on page 10 of your books. I should warn you, only once has a draught of sufficient quality been made to claim this prize. Nevertheless, good luck to you all!" He lowered his raised arm to release them to work. "Let the brewing commence!"
Rebecca opened her potions text and reached down to her bag, pulling out the book she had collected all the Potions know-how she had come across over the years. Some was from little notes Snape had left on the board, more were from things she, Fred, and George had stumbled upon while prank-making. At the very back of the book was her favourite part of the little project: a list of Snape's best insults.
At the very top was "Boy-Potter-Twin-Shadow," but not because it was the greatest insult. No, Rebecca only had a vague idea of what he had been trying to say, but his face had turned the brightest shade of red they had ever seen it when she had annoyed him to incoherence.
Harry opened his aged book prepared to find tattered pages and spilled brews, not the cursive scrawl claiming, "This book is property of the Half-Blood Prince." His surprise was only given a short life as Rebecca slid off the high chair and brought her two resources to the ingredient closet. He didn't want to fall too far behind Rebecca since they usually worked together. Having a solo assignment the first day wasn't going to give him the best start, he feared.
Rebecca set her workspace up beside Hermione and across from Harry and Ron, calmly beginning to work. Potions class was working its way up to being a much different experience with Slughorn instead of Snape. Rebecca hadn't been insulted yet, the room was light enough to actually see the words in front of her, the room didn't stink of terrified children.
Potions with Slughorn could actually be enjoyable.
The Sopophorous bean was the first ingredient, a bouncy escape-artist of a legume that desperately tried to not be cut to bits. Rebecca couldn't blame it, but she knew it was better to slice it partially in a lattice and then bend it backwards so the juice went into the cauldron.
Professor Slughorn had hardly enough time to raise his hand up to catch the bean Crabbe sent at his face, and another student across the room fell to the ground holding a hand to their ear.
In Harry's book, the Half-Blood Prince said to crush the bean under the flat of his knife.
"How did you do that?" Hermione demanded of Harry before looking at Rebecca as she, too, moved onto the next step.
"Crush it, don't cut it." Harry explained.
"I cut it in slivers and fold it back, like this so it goes right in." Rebecca emptied the last massacred bean into her cauldron.
"The instructions specifically say to cut it into squares." Hermione objected, returning to her attempts.
Goyle lifted his spoon out of his potion. The end was gnarled, blackened, and smoking. Seamus ignored Dean's advice and looked into his cauldron as he sprinkled in the powder. Exactly as Dean had predicted, a small explosion left Seamus darkened with soot. Pansy's potion hopped out of her cauldron and crawled away, scaring a screaming Romilda climbing onto their shared table.
Rebecca and Harry were working side-by-side progress-wise, but neither of them noticed. Rebecca was referring back to years' worth of lessons, remembering and reading when Snape had passed along the most efficient way to prepare each ingredient. Harry was following the margin-scribbled notes to the letter, finding his potion work the best it had ever been without Rebecca or Hermione as a partner.
Hermione's hair grew larger and larger with frizz as she grew more and more agitated at her failures. Rebecca and Harry succeeding so wildly beside her wasn't helping either. Especially when she was following the instructions in the required text word for word to no avail.
"You can look at my notes from the shop and-"
"No!" Hermione ducked, sparks flying out of her cauldron. "I'll use this year's text, this book!"
Rebecca rolled her eyes at Hermione's stubbornness and continued to work. Before long, she was putting the final touches onto her potion.
"Time!" Slughorn called, checking his pocket watch at the front of the class. He slowly made his way around desks, tutting and gasping in shock at some of their work. "Miss Parkinson," Slughorn said when he reached her empty cauldron. "You'll find that I caught your creation and disposed of it properly." She glowered at the public admonishment, though Slughorn hadn't meant it to be one at all.
"Oh my!" Slughorn glanced between Rebecca's and Harry's cauldrons. They were almost identical. "Class? Gather around, observe."
"Will we be drinking them?" Rebecca asked curiously. She hoped they weren't supposed to have found the antidote because she hadn't even thought of it.
"Drink them? Good heavens, child!" Slughorn reached into his robe pockets and pulled out two leaves. "These look so perfect, I daresay a single drop would kill us all." He dropped them into the cauldrons at the same time, the students watching as the leaves ignited and turned to ash along the surface. "But, there can only be one winner." Slughorn looked between the cauldrons and then between the twins. "Mr Potter, I do believe your draught is one shade darker and, therefore, more potent."
Rebecca didn't see a different between them and wanted to know how she could have made it better, even if Harry still won. "Prof-"
"There we have it." Slughorn ignored her and led Harry to the front of the classroom. "As promised, one vial of Felix Felicis." Harry went to grab it, but Slughorn pulled it out of his reach. "Us it well." Harry gave a smile as it reached his hand and faced the weak applause of the class. Rebecca seemed to be the only one clapping without boredom or malice. "That will be all for today, class. You are dismissed."
Rebecca stuck her books back into her bag and fell in step alongside Ron on the way out of the classroom.
"Miss Potter?" Slughorn shook his head, remembering. "Potter Weasley. A moment, if you please." Harry went to follow her back inside, but Slughorn gave him a smile. "Alone?"
Rebecca waved them on, telling them not to wait. "I'll be right behind you." Harry and Ron grumbled something before Hermione ushered them down the hall.
Slughorn waved his wand as she returned to the middle of the classroom, shutting the door behind her. "Rebecca," He looked up from beside her cauldron where he still stood. "May I call you Rebecca?"
Rebecca stuck her hands in the pockets of her trousers, hiding the fidgeting Hermione would have given her a look for. Try as she might though, Rebecca couldn't still herself. "Is there a problem, sir?"
Slughorn laughed a deep, heartfelt laugh that left her feeling slightly chastised for asking. "A problem? No, far from it." He produced two more leaves from his pockets and asked her to step forward and look for any differences between the results of her and Harry's potions.
"Harry's hasn't quite gotten rid of the leaf." Rebecca pointed out. "It's still floating there."
Slughorn nodded and went to his stores before locating a small vial and going to the table with the potions from the beginning of class. "I had a feeling you would not benefit nor desire luck. However, excellence deserves rewarding." He cleared his throat. "Now, my dear, I may be old-" Rebecca shook her head, bringing a chuckle from him. "I am old, there's no use in denying it. But, despite this, I once had love."
Rebecca watched quietly as he spooned Amortentia into the vial, how his cheeks reddened as he smelled the wafting memories.
"Lavender, flour, and cinnamon." Slughorn put the stopper into the vial and held it out to her. "Exactly as I remember her."
"Sir?" Rebecca took it gingerly, not understanding what was going on.
"Do you give me your word that that will not be used for any purpose other than to remind ourselves what we have to miss?" Slughorn scanned her face, prepared to take the reward back if he sensed any trace of dishonesty.
"Yes." Rebecca couldn't help but hold the vial closer, knowing what smell was inside. "You have my word."
"Good, then get out."
Rebecca grinned and hurried out the door, charming the vial to not break or open without intention before putting it into her bag. With the amortentia at her back, Rebecca found herself almost dancing down the hall.
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"Charms was lovely, wasn't it?" Rebecca asked over lunch, still floating from her exchange with Slughorn.
"Yeah, if you count a mountain of homework as 'lovely.'" Ron scoffed and took another sandwich for his plate. "What's the matter with you?"
"Emmet!" Rebecca waved, ignoring Ron. She patted the spot she had saved across from her just for him. "How did your morning end up? Find your second class alright?"
The first year glanced at Ron. The older boy wasn't intimidating at all as he ate like he was starved. "Fine, I guess." Emmet lowered his eyes and sorted his lunch slowly.
"What is it?" Rebecca looked up and down the table for Nigel, hoping he would be willing to bring Emmet to his afternoon classes if they were apart from hers. "Homework already?"
"What's a mudblood?" Hermione dropped her fork, the clatter dragging Emmet's sad eyes from Rebecca to her. "It's bad, isn't it."
"Where'd you hear that?" Rebecca asked carefully.
"Who said that to you?" Hermione demanded, less calm. "Point them out, right now."
Emmet paled and shook his head quickly. "I don't even remember." He looked down again. "I just wanted to know what it meant."
Rebecca it her lip and laid a hand on Hermione's knee, willing her to calm down. "That's a word some people use as an insult to...to those without magic parents."
Emmet looked over them all, curious especially about Rebecca. "Are you a mudblood?"
"We don't use that word." Hermione explained, far gentler than she had been before. "Muggle-born, that's what you use. What anyone respectable uses."
"But it doesn't matter, not really." Rebecca smoothed over. "Magic is magic is magic, no matter who has it."
With perfect timing, Nigel wrapped his arms around Harry and Rebecca's necks tightly. "Who's the shrimp?" He patted Rebecca's head. "And I don't mean you."
"Ha. Ha." Rebecca pointed from the red-haired fourth year to the little first year. "Nigel, Emmet. Emmet, Nigel." Emmet nodded his head but said nothing, suddenly quite shy.
Rebecca turned around on the bench and found that Nigel had done nothing but grow over the summer. "Bloody hell! What is your mum feeding you?"
"Plenty." Nigel chuckled.
Rebecca hugged him quickly, happy to see him and needing him to do something only Nigel would be able to perfectly. "Would you be able to make sure Emmet makes it to-well, wherever he's off to next? And keep an eye on him, too. Someone's giving him trouble and I want to know who."
Nigel hugged her just as tightly. "Can I help when I do?"
Rebecca let go of him and raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Maybe." She turned back to finish her lunch and was interrupted by a letter being held in front of her face from Nigel. He had, in fact, had a purpose. "You're quite the messenger, aren't you?"
Nigel grinned and backed away. "As long as Fred's not here!"
Ron and Emmet were talking quickly. Ron had found that the boy's quidditch education was as lacking as Rebecca's had been when she made it to the Burrow. "Brooms? In the air?" Emmet asked in awe, all distrust of Ron from the morning forgotten.
Rebecca scanned the latter quickly before pocketing it. "First Dumbledore lesson tonight, Harry."
Harry nodded so that she knew he heard her, but didn't say anything about. He was trying to explain to Emmet what a snitch was in the quidditch sense of the word.
"What'd Professor Slughorn want?" Hermione asked, peering at Rebecca over a cup of tea. With the boys so occupied on either side of them, they were practically in full-privacy.
"Nosy!" Rebecca laughed. "He said..." She reached for her backpack, holding the vial and showing Hermione. "He bottled up some of the Amortentia. For remembering, not for using."
Hermione understood and regretted asking, especially as the sadness flashed brightly behind Rebecca's eyes. "I'm sorry."
Rebecca shook her head and collected herself, bottling up what hurt for later. "I'm not." Rebecca smiled deviously. "Now we're going to figure out what you smell and start searching!"
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"You got my message, come in." Dumbledore waved them to the space in front of his desk, the headmaster seeming quite small and frail in the large seat behind him. Rebecca and Harry stood side by side, their robes replaced with jumpers after classes had ended for the day. "How are you?"
"Fine, sir." Harry answered for the two of them. Rebecca was busy surveying all the curiosities around the room. She hadn't spent much time in Dumbledore's office without horrid reason to be so and the treasures surrounding them proved too enticing to remember her manners.
"Enjoying your classes?"
"Yes, sir." Harry answered again, grabbing Rebecca's arm and pulling her a step closer to his side so she would pay attention.
"I hear Professor Slughorn is most impressed with the two of you!"
Harry smiled sheepishly. "I think he overestimates my abilities."
"Do you?" Dumbledore asked Rebecca, smiling not only because she was startled out of a concentration, but because of the curiosity so clearly filling her.
"No, sir. Not for me at least." Rebecca grinned at Harry's awe that she would be so plain in her abilities--so anti-Rebecca. "Practised nearly all summer at the shop."
"Yes, and I have been quite impressed by your work." Dumbledore nodded. "The Pastilles are positively splendid. What about your activities outside the classroom, Harry?" He emphasized the 'your.'
"Sir?"
"Well, I noticed you spend quite a lot of time with Miss Granger. I can't help wondering if-"
"Oh no!" Harry answered so emphatically that Rebecca turned towards him and crossed her arms. "No, that's not what I-she's brilliant, and we're friends, but no." Rebecca accepted his acknowledgement of their friend's greatness and turned back to Dumbledore.
"Forgive me. I was merely being curious." Dumbledore winked at Rebecca so she knew that she wasn't the only one amused by Harry being so flustered by the question. "But enough chit chat. You must be wondering why I summoned you here tonight."
"It's not for tea and gossip?" Rebecca frowned. "Da-I mean, what a shame."
"No, not quite." Dumbledore pushed himself to his feet shakily, walking them down the stairs to the lower section of his office. He stopped them in front of a golden, ornately detailed cabinet. "What you're looking at here are memories. In this case, pertaining to one individual--Voldemort, or as he was known then, Tom Riddle."
Dumbledore looked through the memories, searching for a certain one. Rebecca saw that each one was labeled with a date and title. "This vial contains the particular memory of the day I first met him." He met Harry and Rebecca's eyes. "I'd like you to see it, if you would."
Harry nodded his head at Rebecca, asking her to take it from Dumbledore's outstretched hand. He didn't trust that he could without revealing how his hands were shaking.
Rebecca did take it, and she put her arm through the crook of Harry's and followed Dumbledore to the large, silver-filled bowl on the table behind them. She took the top off and held the vial over the pool before looking to Dumbledore. He nodded and Harry's arm tightened hers against him. The bottom of the vial to the ceiling, the memory inside spread throughout the basin like ink; dark and mysterious.
Rebecca leaned forward, ready to fall like she and Harry had once before. The wind rushed past their faces, and their surroundings had to solidify around them. The memory itself seemed grey, aged. Dumbledore's age showed through the details.
As the final layer of memory settled into place, a wrought-iron fence lurked around a bleak building. The name over the arch at the entrance named the misery as "Wool's Orphanage."
Dumbledore, their Dumbledore, prodded them forward as the younger Dumbledore of the past walked under the gates to meet the woman waving him in. "I admit some confusion upon receiving your letter, Mr Dumbledore. In all the years Tom has been here, he's never once had a family visitor."
Harry and Rebecca hurried up the stairs as the matron's fast-pace brought young Dumbledore further into the children's home.
"I must warn you, sir." The lady looked over her shoulder, almost afraid to continue. "There have been incidents with the other children. Nasty things."
Dumbledore motioned for her to bring him to the child, not letting her warning stop him. She knocked on a door a little farther down the black and grey hall; never once did they pass a child.
"What kind of orphanage doesn't have children?" Rebecca whispered to Harry.
"The other children..." The lady explained, answering both Rebecca's question and past-Dumbledore's quizzical looks around. "They don't come up here. He's one of the only occupants of this hall."
"How do you do, Tom?" Young Dumbledore stepped into the room while the lady held the door open. She then ducked down the hall, needing to get out from under Tom's soul-staring gaze.
Rebecca looked over the boy inside curiously. He looked almost normal. Harry pulled her back when she went to get a closer look. Memory or not, she wasn't leaving his side. Harry looked to the window Tom had been staring outside of before they entered, seven shells were lined up on the windowpane. It was the only sign that someone lived in the room.
"Don't." Tom spoke as young Dumbledore went to hang up his coat. "You're the doctor, aren't you?"
"No." Young Dumbledore took a seat on Tom's bed. "I am a professor."
"I don't believe you." Tom's voice took on an insolent tone, a tone that revealed years' worth of hurt. "She wants me looked at. They all think I'm different."
"Perhaps they're right."
"I'm not mad." Tom's voice grew hard, telling both of the Dumbledores, Rebecca, and Harry that this was not a conclusion he was coming to himself. He was being told the opposite, often.
"Hogwarts is not a place for mad people. Hogwarts is a school. A school of magic." Young Dumbledore stared into Tom's eyes as the boy considered what had been said. "You can do things, can't you, Tom? Things the others can't?"
Tom narrowed his eyes, sensing a challenge. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt." Tom's eyes took on a glint. "If I want." The boy sat back in his chair and looked over Dumbledore scrutinously. "Who are you?"
"I'm like you, Tom." Dumbledore smiled like he was sharing a joke with the boy. "I'm different."
"Prove it." Tom spat.
The wardrobe beside Harry and Rebecca burst into flame, the crackles filling the room. Tom looked at the fire hungrily, a sick joy taking over him at the instant inferno.
"I think there's something in your wardrobe trying to get out, Tom."
Tom stood up and went to the door unmarked by the fire that had been there seconds before. The wood wasn't even warm. There was no damage, no smoke, no sign that what he had just seen had actually existed. In the wardrobe was a box, and Tom took it out--inches away from Rebecca and Harry.
Tom spread out the contents on his bed, keeping his head lowered.
"Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom." Dumbledore lightened his tone before standing and gathering his coat. "At Hogwarts, you'll be taught not only how to use magic, but how to control it. You understand me?"
"I can speak to snakes, too." Tom called after the man, young Dumbledore pausing in the doorway. "They find me. Whisper things. Is that normal for someone like me?"
Their surroundings faded back to the inky blots in the liquid they were peering into. Tom's eyes burning being the last thing they saw before they were standing back in Dumbledore's office with wet faces. Rebecca slid her glasses off, wiping at the beads of water with her sleeves while Harry did the same.
"Did you know then, sir?" Harry asked once his glasses were back on him.
"Did I know I'd just met the most dangerous dark wizard of all time? No. If I had..." Dumbledore took a quick breath. "Over time, while here at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle grew close to one particular teacher. Can you guess who that teacher might be?"
Harry glanced at Rebecca. The light shining up from the pensieve made her face look gaunt and scarily white.
"You didn't bring Professor Slughorn back simply to teach Potions, did you?" Rebecca asked, wiping her chin on her shoulder.
"No, I did not." Dumbledore frowned. "You see, Professor Slughorn possesses something I desire very dearly. And he will not give it up easily."
Harry spoke after a moment. "You said Professor Slughorn would try to collect us."
"I did."
"Do you want us to let him?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore looked from Harry and then to Rebecca before answering. "Yes."
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"That's what he's doing with you?" Hermione asked curiously as Rebecca pulled her pajamas on. "To go through memories?"
"Seems it." Rebecca took the vial out of her bag and handed it to Hermione. "Enough about the past, time for the future. Smell."
Hermione took it carefully, taking the top off like explosive-material was inside instead of the Amortentia. She sniffed just as carefully. "Parchment, freshly cut grass, and...spearmint toothpaste." Hermione capped the vial quickly before handing it back.
Ginny snorted before Rebecca could offer her a smell. "No, I don't want to know."
Rebecca laughed, putting the vial aside for the time being. "Scared?"
Ginny put her nose in the air and put on a very posh lilt to her words. "I shalt not bother to smell mineself."
The girls laughed the kind of laughter that only bounces from one subject to another until they drifted off to sleep, their room happy.
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