Chapter 33
In the week following their successful retrieval of the prophecy, Harry felt strangely confident he was two steps ahead of anyone who might be opposing him.
The group all met at the Potters Christmas Eve party and collectively decided to try and use Harry’s fathers pensieve for themselves.
There was only one problem.
Nobody knew how to use it.
It was in Harry’s fathers office, meaning they weren’t allowed to be there in the first place and Harry’s dad was most likely to come in at any time and catch them.
The pensieve was hidden behind a bookcase, this was the easy part as Harry had seen his dad open it many times and pulled the correct book back with swaggering confidence when they were all huddled into the office.
“Woah.” They all gasped in awe.
The pensieve appeared from behind the bookcase, when the right book was pulled, the bookcase spun around to show the pensieve in all its glory. It was a wide and shallow dish made of stone, elaborately inlaid with sparkly jewels, runes and strange symbols. In the dish, it looked like there was water and hazy smoke coming out of it but they were all too scared to check.
“Do you know what these symbols mean, Draco?” asked Harry to the only person doing ancient runes in their group.
“These look like modified Saxon runes.” Draco muttered, pointing to the symbols along the outskirts of the dish. “They’re usually drawn in the shape of natural objects but… I’m yet to learn how to read them.”
“The jewels are so pretty.” Pansy sighed dreamily.
“Pensieves are usually very expensive to get,” Blaise commented, “not even my mother has one.”
“S’not my dads, it was my great-great grandfathers or something.” shrugged Harry.
“But how do we use it?” Tracey tutted.
No one answered. Harry rubbed his temples to see if that would help but nothing came to mind. The prophecy was inside the orb with no way to get it out, there wasn’t a lid or a little button and Harry wasn’t sure if smashing it on the ground was a good idea. So really, Harry’s operation was at a stalemate.
“Should we get your dad?” Tracey suggested.
Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t want to ruin his party.”
They were discussing looking through his fathers books to see if they had any instructions when a deep voice came from the office door:
“Or I could help.”
The group wizzed around to see none other than Albus Dumbledore smiling from the doorway.
Harry felt undying rage fill his vision. This was the man who knew his prophecy and kept it to himself, this was the man who almost destroyed his entire family during the first wizard war. The Potter’s had never given their loyalty to Dumbledore since, but for some reason, they still invited him to their parties.
The other Slytherins had an even deeper dislike for their Headmaster that probably went back to more generations than they can count. Dumbledore was very old man so Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he had met several generations of Malfoy.
“Help with what, sir?” Blaise snappishly asked.
“To use to the pensieve.” The headmaster chuckled. “Although it was admirable to watch you try and figure it out for half an hour, I believe my knowledge could come into hand now.”
“Well thank you, Professor Dumbledore.” Tracey grinned.
Dumbledore held out a hand. “Please, call me Albus. No need for formalities the day before Christmas.”
“Any plans for Christmas then, Albus?” asked Pansy cheekily.
“I’ll be watching the Queens Christmas announcement as I do every year and play poker with Professor McGonagall. What of you for the holidays?”
“Presents, of course.” Pansy squealed.
“Of course.” Dumbledore chuckled along.
“Erm… the pensieve, sir?” Harry reminded impatiently.
“Ahh yes. But first, I must be informed in what you wish to use the pensieve for.”
“That’s private, sir.” Draco snapped.
“All in good fun then?” said Dumbledore, quirking an eyebrow.
“Of course.” snorted Crabbe.
“Do you not trust us?” Goyle glowered.
“None of that, boys.” Dumbledore laughed good heartedly. “Very well. To use the pensieve you must pour in whatever vision you wish to see then lower your head into the dish until your nose touches the liquid, you will get a sense of falling inside, but there is no need to fear, once the memory has been re-seen you will return to your normal state.” Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Any questions?”
“How many people can see the- the vision at the same time when it’s in the pensieve?” Harry asked.
“As many that can fit their head into the bowl.” Dumbledore mused.
“So you can move around the pensieve?” Blaise questioned.
“Very easily.”
“Will the vision be destroyed once it’s over?” Harry frowned.
“Memories can be put back where they came from, presumably to be used again, as long as the wizard lives and wants to.”
“What if the wizards perception of the memory is inaccurate?” said Draco.
“I cannot say I’ve had that issue before.” Dumbledore smiled. “But I imagine the accuracy of the memory would be tarnished.”
That seemed to be all the questions the Slytherins had to ask and Dumbledore stood in the awkward silence with a pleased quirk in his lips.
“You can leave now, Dumbledore, you-“
“Have a Merry Christmas, sir!” Harry butted in before Draco made a fool of himself.
“You too, Harry. I do hope everything goes according to plan.” The twinkle in the headmasters eye when he said it made Harry squirm.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Dumbledore turned around at the door. "Professor Riddle arrived at the party a few moments after you left the living room. He wanted to discuss something… important, I believe.”
Harry gave a wide eyed look to Draco who was looking just as shocked.
“Tell him we’ll be down in a moment.” said Blaise.
Dumbledore only nodded his head then left the office, leaving an uncomfortable aura in the small space. Harry only hopes Dumbledore doesn’t tell Riddle where they are.
“What a weirdo.” Draco snorted.
“But he’s a weirdo who’s help us, open the prophecy, Harry.” Pansy begged.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Harry held out a hand with a smirk. “Dumbledore said that not everyone can see the prophecy and since this is my prophecy, I believe I get to decide who gets to see it.”
“We all helped you!” Millicent said, crossing her arms.
“You do know you can use the pencieve with the memory in it more than once.” Tracey reminded them. “Dumble’s literally just said it.”
“Oh right.” Harry laughed awkwardly. “The only problem is that I’m not sure how to open the orb.”
Harry held out the orb to demonstrate that the prophecy is locked inside it forever. Blaise grabbed it and spun it around with both eyes narrowed. Then, he placed the orb gently inside the pensieve and the orb slowly dissolved like a bath bomb.
"Woah.” They all gasped in unison.
“What would we do without you, Blaise?” Crabbe snorted, patting their friend on the back.
“You’d all be dead.”
“Okay, me and Blaise are looking first.” Harry decided. “And Draco.” He added, seeing as there was another spot.
“The dream team, love it.” Blaise laughed, holding out his fist for Harry and Draco to bump.
They each stood on their side of the pensieve. The orb had fully dissolved and now the liquid in the dish was a slightly more turquoise green than its original blue.
“We go down on three…two…one.” Harry counted. On one he, Blaise and Draco dunked their heads in.
The feeling of falling inside was exactly as Dumbledore had explained. Harry felt like he was falling for eternity down the whizzing rabbit hole. He closed his eyes and hoped his glasses stayed on because he was started to get vertigo when, all of a sudden, he landed in the Hogs Head Inn. Harry had never actually been inside this pub before since Hermione told him once of its reputation to bring in a certain type clients; the dodgy kind. It looked much less welcoming and warm compared to the Three Broomsticks, instead it was one small, dingy, and very smelly room that smelt like it had bene used to raise pigs. Harry had no idea how he could smell a memory but this was magic, and magic was unpredictable when it wanted to.
Draco and Blaise were on either side of him, looking as put off by the interior as much as Harry was. But in the far right corner of the room, at a two seat table, sat Albus Dumbledore and Professor Trelawney.
“S. P. T must be Trelawney.” Harry told Draco and Blaise.
Draco rolled his eyes. “That abomination isn’t a seer.”
“Yeah, I thought she was a fake?” Blaise snorted.
“As did I.”
Bringing their attention back to the table, Dumbledore was getting out of his chair with a disappointed look on his face when Trelawney started talking. She looked to be entranced and she was grabbing the headmasters hand with an over powering force.
“Sybil, this is extremely unprofessional.” Dumbledore said.
She mustn’t have heard him or chose to ignore him because she said:
“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies….”
“The prophecy.” Harry gasped.
Blaise taps Harry elbow and Harry turns to see Severus Snape with wide eyes and a hand covering his mouth, having heard the whole thing from only a meter or two away. An old man around the same age as Dumbledore then appeared and started yelling at Snape, then-
Harry lifted his head from the pensieve feeling disorientated. He practically just heard that Voldemort will be coming after him for the rest of his life. And in order for Harry to stop him, Harry must kill him. He’s the only one who can.
He got pulled out of his daze by a concerned Draco shaking his shoulders.
“You okay, Potter?”
“So,” said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him, “so does that mean that . . . that one of us has got to kill the other one . . . in the end?”
Blaise and Draco looked painfully at one another.
“Yes.” Blaise answered.
Harry released an anguished breathe. He had no idea what he was to do now, knowing his one and true fate in life was to die or kill. Dumbledore must’ve known what they were going to look at because he ‘hope{s} everything goes according to plan’. The prick.
“What in all the good names of Morgana are you talking about?” Pansy exasperated.
“The- the prophecy.” Harry got out. “Have a look.”
Pansy, Tracey, and Millicent all had a look, then Crabbe and Goyle. They were only in the pensieve for three minutes but whilst Harry was there, it felt like hours. Each finished watching the memory with very concerned expressions and a hug for Harry. Everything started feeling like pity for him.
“This isn’t- this isn’t fair.” Harry sighed in frustration.
“You were only a baby when the prophecy was made, Harry, this isn’t your fault.” Tracy reassured him.
“But is this what Riddle meant?” Harry thought aloud.
“What Riddle meant by what?” Draco questioned.
“This was the prophecy the fates had for me, Riddle talked about him and Dumbledore being the only people to hear it, before it…changed.” Harry started pacing. “What does that mean?”
“We don’t understand what you’re saying, Harry.” said Blaise.
“I- I remember him saying that the events that guaranteed the beginning of the prophecy did not happen the way the fates predicted and now, because of those events, I’m not in Gryffindor, and I have the friends I have, and my- and my family is alive.” Harry pulled on his hair, trying with all his might to understand how everything could intertwine.
“Harry, please calm down.” Tracey said softly.
“But the only other person who was there was Snape.” Harry muttered.
“Really?” Goyle gasped.
“You didn’t notice him?” yelled Blaise. “You are such a twat!”
“Excuse you-“
“Snape works for Voldemort!” Harry shouted. He remembered very clearly now when he was younger and he asked his mum if she had ever been heartbroken, it was when he was only six but his mum explained that she and Snape were close friends until he started turning horrid, she talked about how she tried to be friends again with him after they graduated but he told her he was working for the bad guys trying to kill them.
Harry may not have known it at the time but looking back, that was the moment Harry figured out the truth.
“It’s Riddle.”
“What’s Riddle?” Pansy frowned.
“Voldemort. Riddle is Voldemort.”
——
Apparently, it is ‘rude’ and ‘anti-social’ for the son of the hosts to miss the speeches before the Christmas Eve feast. Harry’s mum had stormed into the office right after Harry had made the shocking connection and she yelled at them all for going into private rooms and playing with stuff that could be dangerous. The Slytherins were all too dumbfounded to fight back but luckily Remus was behind her and told his friend to calm down or she’ll get grey hairs.
Coming down for the feast and seeing Dumbledore, Snape and Riddle all at the Potter’s dining table in the Potter’s house after all they did to the Potter’s thirteen years ago was quit a scene. Harry must have looked unnaturally pale because his dad asked if he was alright. Harry should’ve screamed no and forced his parents to kick the three men out of their house before they do any more damage, but he kept his chill and said he was fine.
The Slytherins all bunched in the kids corner together and kept their heads down so they didn’t make eye contact with anyone. It was the least talkative they had ever been with each other, and they talked a lot. Tonks was there and she commented on the scary silence, quietly asking Harry if they had had weed in his bedroom. Harry wished. Instead, he had figured out the biggest plot twist in his life and now he had to spend two hours at the same table of all three of them.
“You know if you did have weed, I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Tonks whispered. “I’ve been there. Weed is kind of overrated, in my opinion, and starting so young might bring some health problems for you in the future. But live, laugh, lungs, am I right?”
“Tonks, what the actual fu-“
“Harry! I’ve been meaning to talk to you all evening.” Riddle interrupted. He was dressed in his usual black robes and had a welcoming smile on his face.
“Shit.” Blaise quietly shrieked.
“Shut up.” Goyle kicked his shoe.
“Evening, Professor Riddle.” Harry said, trying not to squirm under the mans gaze. “What did you want to talk about?”
“It’s a private matter actually." Riddle nodded his head towards the loud table.
His friends looked more frightened for Harry than Harry felt for himself which made him want to laugh but this was pretty frightening situation so he should probably take it more seriously
“We can talk in the sunroom?” Harry offered.
“Anywhere private is suitable.”
“Perfect, follow me.”
Harry suggested the sunroom because of the windows. The windows were gigantic and got all the morning sun, which suited his mother well who loved to wake up with the sun and read a book on the comfy couches. The windows were also easy to break if Harry had to make a quick sprint, he and Ron had accidentally broken those windows more times than they could count. The sunroom was also not soundproof and if Harry couldn’t break the windows, then he could scream.
“This is a lovely room.” Riddle praised, taking a seat on one of the chairs.
“Yeah, it’s my mums.” replied Harry.
Riddle just hummed and sat back without going on with the conversation. Harry just wanted to leave but his mother raised him right so he tapped his fingers on his knees like he was playing a drum and hoped Riddle would get on with it, if getting on with it didn’t mean killing him.
“Have your holidays been well, Harry?”
“Erm… they’ve been…pleasant enough.”
“My holidays have been pleasant enough too, thanks for asking.” Riddle teased, Harry snorted at the attempt of humour and thought any reaction out of him was better than a wand in Harry’s face.
“What I’ve been meaning to talk to you about is private lessons. Now I know you’re going to say you already do private lessons with your friends but I believe it is in your best interest if we have a one on one session, do you agree?”
Harry wanted to shout out no but he didn’t want to die so he agreed.
“Great! Your parents and Headmaster Dumbledore believe it would be beneficial as well.” Riddle moved forward so he could put his hand over Harry’s. “You will grow to do great things, Harry Potter.”
“That’s what I’m aiming for, sir.” Harry laughed awkwardly at his own joke. This was not good at all.
“Well,” Riddle stood up with a groan, “your family sure knows how to throw a good party. I must be going now but I’m excited to see you back at school.”
“As am I.” Harry stood up as well. They started heading back into the dining room when Riddle put a hand on Harry’s shoulder to stop him. Harry froze.
“I heard a rumour you and your friends were hiding in your fathers study.”
Harry stiffened even more and his eyes widened in fear. “Umm…”
“I know what you were doing in there.” Riddle smirked dangerously.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
“We didn’t- we didn’t mean to, sir.” Harry stammered out.
“Oh I’m sure.”
Harry gulped loudly and hoped one of his uncles walked through the doorway to be his knight in shining armour.
Riddle shook his head in disappointment.
“Doing weed at a Christmas party is the last place you should be doing it.”
“Weed?” Harry gasped.
“It’s alright Harry, your secret is safe with me.” Riddle chuckled.
“You thought we were doing…weed?” Harry gasped again, unable to believe it.
“It was kind of obvious, your godfathers were making jokes before you came down.”
“Oh- oh right, yeah-“ Harry sighed in relief.
Riddle patted his shoulder twice more before walking into the dining room to say goodbye. Harry leaned against the nearest wall and thumped his head against it. Why everyone thought he was doing drugs with his friends when some of the most powerful wizards and witches of the 20th century were downstairs was beyond him but whatever got them off the scent of their actual plan, he would tarnish his reputation as a good kid.
Everyone was finally gone at five minutes to four. Harry wanted nothing more than to sleep until noon but his parents had something else planned.
“Why is everyone telling us you and your friends were doing weed in my office?” His dad asked sternly.
“Umm-“
“I thought I raised you better than that, son.”
“I’m sorry dad.” Harry said guiltily.
“Out of all the places-“
“We won’t do it again-“
His dad huffed. “If anything you could have done it in the laundry.”
“We didn’t mean to do it in the house!” fought Harry. “It just kind of… happened.”
“I’m not mad about you doing weed, darling.” His dad sighed.
“You’re not?” Both Harry and his mum asked.
“I’m mad you got caught! What kind of son of mine gets caught in his own house?” He tutted. “We have more training to do, Harry, and we start bright and early. No better time than Christmas!”
“No!”