Short Stories

The Pensieve - Drop_Of_Inspiration

Title: The Pensieve
Category: Fanfiction (Harry Potter)
Weird geeky author: Drop_Of_Inspiration
Credits: The song Careful by Paramore, which inspired me :) and maybe Max Schneider, because that boy is drop-dead gorgeous <3
Btw: errrrrrrr, #HarryPotterNextGen

Albus had explored the object before. His mother had mentioned its name once. It was called a Pensieve, and it sat in his father's study, sitting on letters from the Auror Office and Albus' school, Hogwarts. After researching Pensieves at the Hogwarts Library, however, Albus had discovered it was far more useful than he had thought. It intrigued him. So Albus had enlisted the help of his cousin Rose, being extremely smart and handy with a wand. Though Rose was, as per usual, reluctant to do something that could get them into trouble, she decided to help him. After all, she owed him, since Albus had saved her little brother Hugo from falling off the Astronomy Tower one time. Albus and Rose plotted how they would go about with what they were going to do, until the plan was laid out perfectly.

Over the summer holidays, when Albus and Rose were with the rest of their family for a gathering, Rose bewitched the coffee of Albus' father, Harry. With this simple spell, the caffeine had the opposite effect, creating drowsiness rather than awareness. Then she took Harry's wand and drew memories from him, coming out of his skin in wisps of silver. Apparently, Rose had found a way for the Ministry of Magic to not detect underage magic from her - Rose and Albus were only fourteen, not nearly old enough to do magic out of school legally. Albus wasn't sure how she did it, because she refused to tell anyone she believed would use it irresponsibly. When it came to Albus' troublemaking older brother James, Rose hadn't revealed that she could do it at all, since he would beg her and probably threaten to tell on her.

Upon arriving Albus' room, doing the secret knock and him letting her in, Rose wordlessly held up the wand, from which dangled a glowing, stringy, gas-like substance. Giving her a nod of acknowledgement and thanks, he took the wand and gingerly tapped it against the side of the Pensieve so that what he knew were his father's memories flowed into the shallow basin. As soon as it hit what Albus had thought was the surface, the basic seemed to expand until the bottom was so deep that neither cousin could fully discern it. The memories expanded along with the basin, until it swirled around in circles in some state between liquid and gas.

Albus had read what to do next. He gave Rose a quick glance, not sure whether he was reassuring himself or her. It was probably the former, and Rose looked like she knew this, because she gave him the most comforting smile she could muster. Albus returned it, then looked down to the Pensieve. He knew his father's generation, including Rose's parents, had been in the Second Wizarding War. However, his family had been hesitant to tell him the story of what had happened. He only knew a few basic details, like that Voldemort returned in 1995, the war ended in 1998, and his uncle Fred died in the Battle of Hogwarts, after which the entire school had to be rebuilt. The war had surely been scarring, but Albus hated being kept out of the loop. He wanted to know what had happened. That was why he wanted to look into his father's memories; of course, he wanted to see what Hogwarts was like in his day, but that wasn't the main reason.

Albus took a breath, not sure whether he needed to or not, then put his head into the Pensieve. Of green and black, almost like ink, shapes emerged. And the next thing he knew, out of nowhere, everything started to hit him at once.

Pain.

Unbearable pain in his forehead, burning like nothing else did. Albus realised the pain was coming from the same place his father's scar was. It felt worse than the time Albus had put his

More pain.

He looked down to the back of his hand. In a startling red colour was "I must not tell lies". He had seen the words on his father's hand, but they had been white and pale pink. At this point of time, wherever - whenever - Albus had found himself in, the words were fresh. The sight of blood made him feel uneasy, but it was the smell of it, like strong-smelling metal, that made him feel sick.