Annabeth Chase and Things Are Getting Intense

Chapter Eleven

That Saturday, Annabeth met Harry outside of Dumbledore's office for their first lesson, and they went up together. The spiral staircase rotated slowly like an escalator as they climbed it. Dumbledore called them in the second Harry knocked.

"Ah, good evening, you two," Dumbledore said as they entered. "Sit down. I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry said.

"You must have been busy, Harry. A detention under your belt already!"

"Er..."

"I have arranged with Professor Snape that you will do your detention next Saturday instead," Dumbledore said.

Harry sighed in relief while Annabeth looked around the office for any sign of what they would be doing. The office didn't look any different than it had been last year; small silver instruments sitting on their low tables, puffing their little huffs of smoke. The portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts were sleeping in their frames (or pretending to). Fawkes the phoenix was sitting on his perch next to the door. There was no indication of what Dumbledore would be teaching them.

"So," Dumbledore said in a short, serious voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these—for want of a better word—lessons?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said respectfully.

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information."

Annabeth frowned. "You didn't tell us everything last year," she guessed.

"I told you everything I know," Dumbledore said placatingly, like he was talking to an angry dog. "From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into the thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, I may be as woefully wrong as Humfrey Belcher, who thought the time was right for a cheese cauldron."

"But you're confident in your theories," Annabeth said crossly. "And you didn't think to share them, even though you said you'd be completely honest with us last year."

"Yes," Dumbeldore said. "But as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being—forgive me—rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."

"Sir," Harry said, glancing at Annabeth nervously, "does what you're going to tell us have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me... survive?"

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," Dumbledore said. "And I certainly hope it will help you both to survive."

Dumbledore stood up and walked around his desk, past Harry and Annabeth, and bent over the cabinet next to the door. He straightened up, holding a large, stone basin filled with what looked like liquid silver. There were strange markings around the rim, what looked like runes and greek letters.

"You look worried," Dumbledore said to Harry (who was eyeing the thing nervously) as he set the basin on his desk."This time, you enter the Pensieve with me... and even more unusually, with my permission."

Annabeth eyes the thing suspiciously. She'd never seen anything like it before, and she didn't trust it.

"And what, exactly, is this thing?" She said.

"This, Annabeth, is the Pensieve. It allows us to enter the memories of those who were willing to allow us to. We will be able to examine details people may often have missed the first time around. Today, we are going for a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane." He pulled a little vial filled with some swirling silvery substance.