Harry Potter and The Boy Who Had No Choice

The Wrong Choice

Chapter Eight

"-and then when I came to I was back in bed with the diary." Harry breathed after what felt like an eternity of talking.

It was the next day and Harry had rushed straight to McGonagall's office once classes were finished. Harry sat rather uncomfortably in his chair, still not used to the change in decor since Dumbledore was no longer Headmaster. Well, really, not much about the room had changed at all, except for the portrait of Albus Dumbledore himself that hung directly above McGonagall's desk. He stared down at Harry over his half-moon spectacles with a knowing smile.

"Do you have this diary with you?" McGonagall regarded Harry over her glasses, an unreadable expression taking over her face.

"Yes, right here." Harry reached into his bag and pulled out the worn, black, leather-bound book. It landed with a thunk on Professor McGonagall's desk. She tentatively ran her hand over the cover. "Do you think it's dangerous?"

"That's what I'd like to determine, Mr. Potter." Cautiously, she picked up the diary and placed it directly in front of her. Her wand whipped oit of her robes and she began muttering as her wand hovered over the book, seeming to scan it for Dark Magic.

"How long will you need to keep it for, Professor?" Harry ran a hand through his hair. He really hoped McGonagall's search wouldn't take too long; he was eager to learn more about his godfather.

"If my suspicions are correct," she said, her eyes still fixed on the diary. "This shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

Harry sat in silence as McGonagall poured over the book. He certainly felt as though it had been longer than a few minutes, and concern slowly built up in him.

"But what about Tom Riddle's diary?" Harry couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. When McGonagall did little more than peer at Harry above the book, he continued. "His diary showed me memories of the past, except it used those memories to twist the truth, and it ended up being a horcrux!"

"Are you insinuating that this diary is Sirius Black's horcrux?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"No, no, no." He shook his head. There was no way Sirius would ever commit the horrible act necessary to create a horcrux. "But what if this diary is a fake, and someone is just using it to get to me?"

McGonagall put her wand down and looked up at Harry.

"Well fortunately, that is not the case." She passed the book back to Harry, who handled the diary with extreme care. "It is as I suspected. You are well versed in Pensieves Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded. His experience with Pensieves was extensive, given Dumbledore's "lessons" during sixth year and his view into Snape's past.

"Well a Pensieve is merely a place to view memories. For most wizards and witches, that usually entails a sort of dish where memories can be dumped and seen. However," She paused. "Not all Pensieves are the same. Memories can be stored and viewed in a variety of ways. It seems as if Sirius Black's preferred method was through his diary."

"Professor," Harry's brow crinkled. "Are you saying that the diary is a Pensieve?"

"Of sorts," she confirmed. "Sirius used his memories as ink, and made it so those who read the pages could see into his memories." McGonagall stood and began to mutter under her breath. "Talented wizard. Insufferable student, but talented wizard."

"So, it's safe to read?"

"Yes, I should think so Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. "As long as you are careful where you read. It wouldn't be wise to get sucked up in a memory in the middle of class."