Lily (HP fan-fiction)

Chapter 3

Walking down the once lovely and comforting halls of Hogwarts, Hermione noticed that the battle wasn't just taking place outside the castle, it was everywhere. Doors had been blasted off their hinges, witches and wizards lay crumpled against the stone walls, either dead or unconscious, and curses and spells were being cast mid air. One witch was suspended high above her head, her hands stretched outwards and her head flung back, in the midst of being tortured by a death eater.

Hermione picked up her pace, wanting to get this done and over with as fast as she could, and nearly tripped over someone lying on the ground.

Oh gosh. She stared into the pale face, eyes closed and covered in dirt and dust. Neville. She broke into a run.

Once she reached the floor Dumbledore's office was located on, she seemed to see less and less of the scattered bodies. There was only one in the hall she now stood in, and thank God it was a death eater's.

She approached the large Gargoyle that guarded the office, and found it had already been opened. Wondering why, Hermione ran up the stairs two at a time and entered through the open wood doors of the office.

Despite all the wreckage going on everywhere else, the Headmaster's office seemed to be one of the only rooms untouched. The walls still lined with bookcases filled with textbooks and novels and every book of every kind. The desk sat abandoned at the back, a bronze birdcage standing next to it with the small door unlatched and swung open. The paintings on the back wall were empty, as the witches and wizards normally contained there were most likely visiting those in the halls, watching the brutal battle and screaming out encouragements. The windows weren't even shattered, and the first lights of dawn were peeking through the window, just waking up after a long night's sleep. 

Other than herself and the furniture, the room was quite empty. As far as she could see, not one other presence was with her. Yet she sensed something off. Why wuoldn't any one at least attempt to take over the office? Maybe they just havn't gotten here yet. She thought and went looking for the pensieve while keeping her wits about her. 

She began to search in the cupboards. After discovering many filled with parchment, ink, books, strange instruments and the occasional potion, she finally came across a large, silver goblet, filled with clean, blue liquid, swirling around in the large bowl.

Hermione felt the vial's weight in her pocket as she stared inside. She wasn't quite sure what she would expect from the memories. Would they help clear everything up, or would they prove to be completely pointless? Would they horrify her and scar her for life? She's heard of people becoming mentally damaged and obsessed from reliving memories over and over again. Would that happen to her? There was no way to make sure. But she needed answers.

Ignoring the risks, she pulled the cold, glass vial from her pocket and held it in her warm and sweaty palm. Taking a quick look over her shoulder, she unscrewed the cork awkwardly and poured the contents into the pensieve. Immediately it began to glow, and it swirled even faster. She noticed faint images through the liquid, but couldn't quite make them out. She leaned in, her nose inches away from the bowl, and was sucked inside. Her head swirling. She felt like she was being pulled though a space vortex. 

The feeling subsided, and she was in darkness. She couldn't tell which way was up, and saw nothing. a faint voice spoke in the distance. She listened carefully, and heard what seemed to be a boys name.

Harry Potter