“Sir, I want to ask you something.”
“Ask away then, m’boy, ask away…”
“Sir, I wondered what you know about… about Horcruxes?”
A rather plump man ran his hand nervously through his hair, as he stroked an empty wine glass with his other. He eyed the tall dark haired youth in front of him, “Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?”
The teenager shook his head, “Not exactly, sir. I came across the term while reading and I didn’t fully understand it.”
“No… well…” The large man had a doubtful look on his face, but he continued, “You’d be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that’ll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that’s very dark stuff, very dark stuff indeed.”
“But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you- sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, obviously- I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could- so I thought I’d ask-”
Harry could watch no more, and angrily turned around, stepping out of the memory. Once back in his tiny bedroom, he kicked at the base of the Pensieve. All he received for his effort was a sharp pain that shot through his foot and ended somewhere in his lower leg. The scowl on his face lengthened as he went to his desk and sat heavily in the chair in front of it.
He glanced at the box holding the memories from Dumbledore, only to feel more anger rush through him. He was exasperated that Dumbledore had wasted the few memories he’d left him, by putting in ones he had already shown him in his sixth year. So, why show him something he already knew? Why show him Tom pumping Professor Slughorn for information about Horcruxes? Did Dumbledore actually think that he would forget? Why couldn’t Dumbledore show him something he could use? Something that would show Harry on what he should do next?
It seemed like such a waste of time and memories. He had gone through eight of them and every single one Harry had already seen or been apart of. Well, except for one. And he would never know what that memory contained. That was another reason for his anger, because he was upset at himself for allowing a memory to get away.
Harry didn’t know what had happened, but shortly after Snape had given him the Pensieve he noticed that the vial containing the second memory had leaked out. The silver liquid that was once inside was long gone. Harry could only guess that when he knocked over the case after he first received the gift, it caused the seal to break and the memory to leak out. He was furious with himself for not inspecting the memories more closely, when he had the chance. Since then, he was being more careful with them. He even put a stronger unbreakable and super sealing spells on the precious remaining twenty-three vials.
Harry picked up an empty vial with an eight on the outside. He walked back to the Pensive and pulled the memory from the bowl and into the vial. He corked the bottle, set it in its place in the case and sighed. Only sixteen more memories to go and that was it. This excited and saddened him at the same time.
Harry gently caressed the next vial in line. His finger outlined the shape of a nine, as he wondered what this memory held. Would it finally be one he hadn’t seen? Would it be one that told him what he should do next?
He started to pick up the vial, when he heard a sharp knock on the door. Harry gently set the glass container back in its place and closed the lid. He walked to the door, yanking it open with more force than necessary. As expected, Snape stood on the other side with the usual sour look on his face.
“We need to talk.” Without saying another word, Snape turned around abruptly and marched down the narrow hall disappearing around a corner.
Harry shrugged and followed. After spending almost every waking moment of the last two months with the greasy git, he was actually getting use to Snape’s rude mannerisms. In some ways, it was comforting to know that some things never change.
He followed Snape’s loud footsteps up the hallway and down a creaky flight of stairs, stepping into the large living room below. It once had been a rather cozy sitting area, but now it was used for vigorous training. The furniture pushed to one side and black scorch marks that decorated the bare walls was testimony to this. It was where Harry had spent most of his time in the last eight weeks. He now stood in his usual place at the middle of the room, while waiting for Snape to reveal why he had been summoned. Snape simply ignored Harry, as he rummaged through a small wooden cabinet nearby.
Eight weeks, it seemed like it had been a lifetime. So much had happened to him in such a short period, physically and emotionally. His training had progressed well, or so he thought. It had finally gotten to the point were Snape wasn’t yelling at him every few minutes and insulting his heritage because he couldn’t do anything right. He also felt more confident in his abilities and knew that the next time he met up with any Death Eaters or Voldemort, they would have a nasty fight on their hands.
Emotionally, Harry was still struggling with Dumbledore’s death, but having the memories was a source of comfort for him, because he felt like Dumbledore was somehow looking over his shoulder and reaching beyond the grave to help him one last time.
Harry also still had trouble dealing with the fact that he was actually working with Snape and putting so much trust in him. This was a man he had vowed to catch up to and make pay for Dumbledore’s death, but instead he was working with him and putting his very life in the murderer’s hands. He couldn’t quite understand why he was doing this. Why he hadn’t already turned the git in and had him sent to Azkaban where he belonged? The whole thing just didn’t sit right with him, especially since he couldn’t understand why Snape would make an unbreakable vow with Dumbledore to protect someone he hated so much. Since their odd truce, he had asked Snape on several occasions why he had taken the vow. But every time, Harry’s question was met with silence, or a harsh bark to concentrate harder on his studies. He just hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake, but Dumbledore seemed to know what he was doing. So Harry decided to work with Snape and see where things led.
Snape finally spoke, breaking into Harry’s thoughts, “I must leave immediately and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. While I’m away, use this to continue your studies.” He had pulled out a small leather covered book from one of the cabinet’s dusty drawers and handed it to Harry.
He looked at the other man, one brow raised slightly, “I don’t understand. Where are you going?”
He replied by lifting up his left sleeve revealing the twisting snake and glowing skull on his flesh.
Harry’s eyes narrowed, “What does he want?”
“I don’t know, but I must leave immediately and there’s no telling when I might be back. Stay here. I’ll contact you as soon as possible,” he then disapparated from the room.
Harry was left looking at the empty space that was just occupied by his professor with a frown on his face. He held the leather book in one hand and absentmindedly stroked the gold locket around his neck. What was Voldemort up to now? He hoped that Snape would bring back some useful information. Even with Snape acting as an inside man, the information on Voldemort’s movements had been sketchy at best. It seemed that Voldemort was being very quiet of late and that only meant one thing. He was definitely up to something. The question was what?
The cup…the snake…something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s. Harry had been lying on his lumpy mattress for the better part of an hour, staring at the ceiling wishing for sleep, but none came. His mind was racing with too many distractive ideas to allow any rest. The main thing occupying his mind was his search for the Horcruxes, or rather the lack of it.
He had spent the last two months with Snape in training, which was good. He had to admit that everything he’d learned up to this point was very helpful, even if he was learning those things from a total git. But doing this required most of his time and energy and left very little to dedicate to the mission he had set upon himself to do. This bothered Harry more than he could admit. He had to continue his search and soon.
Another thing that bothered him, was what to do next and where to go in his search. After finding the locket, Harry felt like he’d hit a brick wall. He had no idea how he was supposed to go about destroying the Slytherin heirloom, and he was pretty sure the answer wouldn’t be lying around in a book somewhere. As for the other Horcruxes, he had no clue where to begin to look for them. Harry was starting to sorely miss the guiding hand of Dumbledore. Up until recently, he had never realized how much he’d relied on the old man for support and counsel.
In frustration, Harry rolled over to his side. He noticed the Pensive resting in the far corner and sat up abruptly. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well do something useful with his time. He walked over to the desk, taking the ninth memory from the case. Harry poured the memory into the basin and watched as the whirling silver mass revealed Dumbledore walking down a sloping rocky hillside. Without thinking twice, he leaned into the bowl and was immediately sucked into the depths of time.
Harry found himself standing on an overgrown path, with large hedgerows lining the trail. He turned just in time to see the edge of Dumbledore’s robe whip around a sharp corner ahead. He walked briskly to catch up with the professor. When he rounded the corner, Harry finally recognized where he was. This was the path that lead to the old Gaunt house. The familiar expansive view of the town of Little Hangleton lay before him. Harry could see the patch of dark trees that hid the little house up ahead. Dumbledore was already entering the shadowy overgrowth. Harry picked up his pace to a jog, Dumbledore moved quickly for an old man.
Once inside, it took a minute for Harry’s eyes to focus in the dark room, but when he did he saw Dumbledore staring thoughtfully at the far wall, stroking his long white beard. He was curious to know what the Headmaster found so interesting about the wall, but he knew it was pointless to ask. So Harry waited, hoping that Dumbledore would give some clue to why he had come here in the first place. Then it suddenly dawned on him what was going on, the ring. Dumbledore had told him he had found the ring at the house. This must have been when he had found it.
Harry started to get excited. He knew that this memory was important. Better yet, it wasn’t one he had already seen. So he soaked in the scene trying to take in as much as he could. He quickly glanced around the room, only seeing dust, rotting wood, and plants taking over the long abandoned house. Wherever the ring was, Voldemort was sure not to leave it in plain sight. It then occurred to Harry what was perplexing Dumbledore. The room had no other doors except for the one he had just come through. If Harry remembered correctly, there should have been two other doors side by side leading to two additional rooms. Where did they go?
“Mmmm… This is strange,” Dumbledore replied quietly. He pulled his wand from his robes and started to mumble a spell.
Harry watched the corroding stone of the wall intently, expecting the missing doors to appear, but nothing happened. That didn’t stop Dumbledore. He continued to chant for what seemed like hours until Harry could see a sliver of blue light erupt from the end of Dumbledore’s wand and slit into two streams. Each stream hit a spot in the stonewall revealing the faint edges of what must have been where the doors had once stood.
A sudden bright burst of light momentarily blinded Harry. When he opened his eyes, the outlined doors were radiating blue. They each appeared to shimmer like pools of water. The light from the translucent surfaces was so strong; Harry had to squint to even look at the doors.
Dumbledore had stopped chanting and stepped closer to the glowing rectangles. He slowly placed a hand into one of the openings, which disappeared in the shimmering light. He then pulled his hand back out. It was unharmed, “Interesting, which one leads to the ring? Stepping into the wrong door could be disastrous.”
Harry was thinking pretty much the same thing. But before he could even contemplate the question further, Dumbledore quickly stepped into the left doorway.
Immediately upon entering, Harry knew Dumbledore had chosen the wrong door. He knew this from the slithering mass of bodies that stretched out as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t far in the dark pit. The light from the doorway behind illuminated an abyss of scaly skin and intertwined reptiles that came to Dumbledore’s waist. He was currently shouting spells to try and repel the snakes, but to little success. There were more than even he could possibly control and they were hungry for a kill.
Harry desperately wished he could help. He knew with his ability to speak Parseltongue, he could at least make a path for Dumbledore to get back to the door, but all he could do was watch. The snakes began to get thicker as they encompassed the old man trying to pull him away from the doorway. They now reached his chest, but Dumbledore’s resolve did not wavier. He continued to shoot spells at the furious reptiles as he advanced against the moving horde, back to the door. The thick mass encumbered his every movement, allowing him to move only mere inches. He was still at least four feet from the door, and it didn’t look like he was going to make it. Dumbledore suddenly stopped moving all together and stood still. The snakes took advantage of this and soon overwhelmed the old man completely.
Harry’s heart clinched in his chest, as he watched the Headmaster disappear beneath the slithering mass. He couldn’t be giving up. He just couldn’t. Fear started to craw up Harry’s spine; as he listened to deafening hissing sounds vibrate off invisible walls. Dumbledore would survive this. He had to. Harry had been there when his Headmaster had died and this was not it.
Without warning, a loud bang sounded and reptile bodies were sent flying in all directions. A thick cloud of scaly bodies and arid smoke filled the chamber, as a startled Harry caught a glimpse of quick movement rush towards the door. A whirling light filled his senses and he found himself back in the living area of the Gaunt home.
He looked to see Dumbledore leaning heavily against the wall. His breathing was coming in loud gasps and his hands shook violently. Dumbledore’s normal rosy complexion was nearly white, except for red punctures covering large parts of his visible skin. A normal person would have collapsed from the trauma, but not Dumbledore. He took a tiny vial from his robes and quickly drank its contents. Some of the color came back to his skin and his breathing steadied, “That won’t last for long. I’d better hurry.” The old man pushed himself from the wall and walked to the other doorway, a look of resolve on his face. He stepped into the light.
Harry again was transported to yet another room, but this one looked to be a normal room, a bedroom at that. He looked around at the decaying furniture. A bed with a moldy mattress stood in one corner, while a broken rocking chair occupied the other. Harry looked down to see a spider scramble over a tattered dress near the foot of the bed. This must have been Merope’s room.
Harry noticed Dumbledore kneeling by the bed. He went to stand behind the professor, as he pried a floorboard up. Underneath, was a small rusted jewelry box. Dumbledore pulled it from its resting place and dusted off the lid. He turned the box carefully around in his hands examining it closely. Harry noticed three knobs with numbers zero to nine on the front of the metal box right away, so did Dumbledore. He peered at the knobs carefully and began to experimentally turn them. A soft click was heard and Dumbledore lifted the lid only to reveal an empty box. “Ahhh… I’ve seen these before. You have to get the combination right in order for the boxes true contents to be revealed.”
The minutes slowly ticked by, as Harry watched Dumbledore try one combination after another. Each time upon opening the box it would either be empty or contain pieces of jewelry, but not the piece of jewelry Dumbledore was looking for. Harry was starting to get frustrated. Why was Dumbledore sitting here wasting time opening a box when he should get back to Hogwarts and seek medical attention? Whatever that potion Dumbledore had taken earlier was wearing off. Harry could tell by the increasing sweat on the man’s forehead and his skin was turning dangerously clear, but the old man did not seem to notice, or either didn’t care.
“I wonder… would he be so obvious?” Dumbledore said breathing heavily. He turned the knobs one at a time. Each set on the number seven. The familiar click sounded. When the lid was opened, a large gold ring set with a black stone lay inside. Dumbledore took it from the box and placed in on his palm, “So this is Marvolo’s ring. Thank you Tom for being a creature of habit.”
Dumbledore got up from the floor and walked out of the room. Once back in the outer room, he went straight to the fireplace and tossed the ring unceremoniously into it. He stood back and pulled his wand out. He pointed it to the ring and shot a streamed of fire at it. The ring simply sat there unscathed as Dumbledore continued to release blazing hot fire onto it. Soon the stones of the fireplace began to glow from the steady heat, but still the ring stayed intact. The fire could no longer be contained in the small space and it began to spread to the nearby floor and ceiling.
Before Harry knew what was happening, he heard a loud roaring noise come from the fireplace as the fire building up inside turned a vibrant orange and shot out towards Dumbledore, engulfing his wand and arm in bright flames. A loud scream rivaled the roaring of the fire, as Harry raced forward, only to stop in his tracks. He was not part of the memory and could do nothing, but once again watch in helplessness. Harry stood by as he watched the fire grow bigger and brighter by the second. Dumbledore had vanished from sight all together inside the now burning wall of flame. Harry began to panic desperately wishing Dumbledore had brought someone with him to help.
The loud roaring from the fire filled the whole room and shook what was left of the decaying house, causing the floor underneath Harry to convulse violently. He slowly started to back his way towards the open front door, as the wall of fire flooded the whole room. He wasn’t sure if he could get burned from the fire since it was a memory, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He swore he could feel the heat of the flames on his face, as they passed mere inched from him. A piece of burning roof fell and passed through him. Harry looked wide-eyed as he saw the burning wood occupy the same space as him. Well I guess that answers that question. Knowing that he could safely maneuver through the house without being harmed, he stepped forward to find Dumbledore.
Once back near the fireplace, he spotted his old Headmaster, but instead of seeing the man burning, he saw him standing among the flame, the only sign of damage was a burnt arm. At closer glance, Harry saw that a protective shield enwrapped him making a bubble of space that resisted the heat and flames of the fire. Harry watched in relief and awe as the man slowly pushed the bubble outward distinguishing the raging fire all around him, until slowly every flame was gone. Soon all that was left behind was smoking wood and a very tired looking man. Harry looked up to see the blue sky above him. The roof had completely collapsed, leaving partial walls that shook slightly in the stiff breeze. There was only a blackened shell left of the Gaunt home.
Dumbledore paid no attention to this, as he started to shift through the debris with his good arm. He went back to the fireplace and felt around the smoldering wood and stones. A few seconds later, he pulled what he was looking for out of the ruins.
“Strange that it’s cold to the touch,” he replied slipping the ring onto his finger, which now had a large crack through the middle of the black gem.
Dumbledore looked very pale as he turned and carefully picked his way out of the rubble. Moments later, he was clear of what was left of the Gaunt house and began to climb the rocky pathway without looking back.
The memory ended abruptly and Harry was transported back to his bedroom. He stood in a daze as he tried to comprehend everything he’d just witnessed. Slowly, he replayed each detail of Dumbledore’s memory through his mind.
As if struck by lightning, everything suddenly became as clear as day to Harry. He knew that he couldn’t put off the search for the rest of the Horcruxes any longer. The confusion and indecision from before was gone. All that was left was a clear and direct plan. The time for training was over. It was now time for action and he knew exactly what he had to do next.