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“What was that?”

“Sounds like a riddle of some sort..."

“Acid pops and lemon drops…wings…it must be the password to the headmaster’s office!” Hermione looked gleeful at her deduction.

 “Well, what is it?” Ron looked at Hermione.

“I think—” Hermione started, but Harry beat her to it.

“Asphodel. Draught of Living Death—I don’t think I’ll ever forget that potion, really.”

Hermione had a strange expression on her face and Harry could see she was working something out, but he didn’t have time to contemplate the why or how.

“Don’t do it, Harry.” Hermione must have seen the determination in Harry’s eyes.

“She’s right. It’s got to be a trap.” 

“Snape abandoned his post. That coward, he abandoned the castle. It’s surely not to let him back—”

“You don’t know what’s waiting for you there,” Hermione said.

“This is Hogwarts. No place is safer…” Harry justified.

“Harry, you of all people—”

“We’re going together, then,” Ron said.

“No. You two need to destroy the cup,” Harry said.

“And you need to find the Ravenclaw object—if it’s even a Ravenclaw item we’re looking for.”

“I’m positive about that. Anyway, there might be a clue in the Headmaster’s office…Dumbledore’s portrait. I have to try! Meet you back here in a bit.”

“Harry, no!”

“Destroy the cup!” Harry shouted as he ran out of the hall.

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“Here goes…” Harry stopped to catch his breath as he reached the gargoyle on the third floor. 
“Asphodel.”

The gargoyle’s wings began to rotate. Harry wiped his palms on his robe as he ascended the staircase. Upon entering, Harry nearly fell as he stumbled into a mound of tattered books. The room was dark, but a single lit torch cast a low light, and a few book titles caught Harry’s eye. Lost Spells of Times Past (and the Attempts to Find Them); The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts; A History of the Unforgivables… Harry shuddered. Who knew what evildoing Snape had been up to.

Harry looked around and was struck by the pang of grief he felt from seeing the familiar place. The last words Dumbledore spoke to him came to mind. Trust me. Trust me.What a tragedy. Dumbledore was so keen on trust it lead him to his death. Harry walked towards the spot where he remembered seeing Dumbledore’s portrait, but the wall was blank. How dare Snape remove his portrait, how dare he!

“You may wish to try a counterspell…” a dull voice came from one of the portraits and Harry realized he must have said that last part aloud.

“Blast you!” Phineas Nigellus jumped in, “The Headmaster was certain to have a reason for doing it. He bloody well had the right.”

Not deterred by the portraits’ bickering, Harry jumped to the task of uncovering Dumbledore’s portrait. “Finite incantatum”, he said and to his relief, the portrait appeared.

“Headmaster!” Harry said, quickly regretting using that title. “Sir.”

“Harry.” Dumbledore’s eyes maintained their twinkle even in portrait. “I must say, I’m quite relieved to see you here.”

“Why did you trust him?” Harry blurted out. “Why? We could’ve—”

Dumbledore held up his hand. “Do not pity the dead, Harry, but take strength in the living, and especially those that still live with love.”

Harry swallowed. He felt he needed to ask Dumbledore something, that there was some additional information that he would need for the final confrontation with Voldemort. But for some reason he couldn't help looking around the office instead. Harry noticed not much had changed. The Sorting Hat, of course, was missing. And Fawkes perch was empty. He wondered what might have become of the phoenix. He then noticed pensieve was out of its closet, so he headed over to it.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Headmaster Snape did not disclose with me the contents of the pensieve.”

Shaking off the bitter flashback of the last time he delved into Snape’s memories, Harry looked between the portrait and the pensieve as a little war between mistrust and curiosity took place in his mind. But before he could make a decision, Dumbledore spoke, his voice so quiet it scared him.

“Harry, there’s something you must know. Something, I think, you may have even suspected…”

Harry looked at the portrait and was taken aback by the amount of compassion and regret conveyed in the painted eyes.

“Once again, I must ask too much of you…”

SsSsSsSsSs

Returning from ascertaining the Dark Lord’s location, Snape rushed to beat him back to Hogwarts. As he approached the grounds, he saw a bluish white glow hovering over the castle in the distance, a glow that was seeping through the night sky, casting the clouds in a ghostly white. Protego Maxima, Finato Duri, Repello Inimicum. Dumbledore had spent much time teaching the Order that spell. Breaking into a sprint, Snape twisted and leapt into flight. If he didn’t make it to the castle before the shield was set, it would be impossible to get through. He heaved through the air, but he could see the shield was coming down fast. Trying to propel himself forward, he gasped as a gust air shot into his lungs. The shield was now almost to the ground. His muscles burned from exertion, but he gave one last push. He wasn’t going to make it.

He managed to halt his flight just as the shield met the ground. His cape swung forward with the momentum and the tail of it singed as it made contact with the shield. With a howl, Snape swung his leg and kicked the ground, then whipped around and receded into the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. There was nothing he could do but wait for the Dark Lord and hope that Harry found the pensieve before Dumbledore’s portrait.