1996

For the first time in weeks, Harry felt rested. He had spent the past six weeks in his small bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive; each night tossing and turning on top of Dudley’s old worn blanket, trying to force his mind to let go of the image of his godfather falling silently through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. The attempts had been futile and Harry had mostly given up trying to sleep at all, though he did routinely find himself in his bed for a couple of hours each night, doing his best to let the memories go.

It wasn’t until Dumbledore had collected him and brought him, without extraneous conversation, to the Burrow that Harry finally found elusive sleep. And that was only due to Mrs. Weasley’s rather strong Sleeping Draught, which had put him to sleep the instant his head hit the pillow after dinner.

Mrs. Weasley had stuffed him almost to bursting with an assortment of delicious foods and immediately following his last bite had ordered him firmly to bed, ignoring all protests from Ron and Ginny. Too exhausted to argue, Harry had followed Mrs. Weasley obediently up the stairs and into the cot made up for him, not even bothering to change his clothes.

Mrs. Weasley had fussed over the pillows and blankets before handing him the potion and telling him to “Drink it down, there’s a good boy”. Harry drank it without protest, and as he laid his dark head on the soft pillow, he felt a gentle hand smoothing over his brow before drifting into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

Harry moved his head to the side and fumbled for his glasses on the stand next to his cot without opening his eyes. He settled the black-rimmed spectacles on the bridge of his nose and found Ron staring at him from his own bed against the opposite wall. Harry blinked, letting his early morning brain adjust to the site of the tall redhead peering at him.

“Morning, Ron.”

Ron grinned and pushed himself up from his bed. “Come on, mate. Even I’m not this lazy. Mum’s made us wait breakfast for you, so get up!” he commanded and shoved Harry lightly on the shoulder as Harry sat up.

Harry swiped at Ron, but his friend dodged him easily on his way out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Jiffy up, Harry. Hermione’s here and she’s right anxious to see you,” as he slipped out the bedroom door. Harry grinned, his heart feeling a bit lighter with the news that Hermione was waiting, presumably with Ginny. It felt great to be back with his friends.

After Harry had hurriedly changed clothes, he padded down the stairs toward the kitchen. Harry’s face nearly cracked with the force of his smile at the sight that awaited him. Not only were Ron, Ginny and Hermione waiting for him, but Fred and George and Remus, were gathered around the breakfast table as well; their own grins matched Harry’s as they watched him walk toward them.

Mrs. Weasley allowed no time for greetings though, as she chivvied Harry into a chair in front of a plate full of eggs and bangers. She loaded some buttered toast onto the already overflowing plate and filled a large glass with pumpkin juice and then shushed all those around the table, telling them to leave Harry to his breakfast.

They didn’t, of course. As soon as Mrs. Weasley left the table, Fred and George grabbed at Harry with enthusiastic glee, pumping both of his arms simultaneously while he tried frantically to stay on his chair. When the twins finally stopped shaking him, Harry righted his glasses and grinned around the table at his friends.

Ginny and Ron were laughing at their brothers’ antics, while Hermione was smiling indulgently at all of them. Remus was smiling as well, though his eyes seemed sad as he watched Harry. Harry felt a pang then and a sudden surge of guilt as he thought of the friend Remus had lost and yet another stab as he realized he hadn't spared much thought for the pain Remusmust have been experiencing these past few weeks.

Harry smiled tentatively at his father’s old friend and promised himself that he would talk to Remus right after breakfast.

“Harry, how are you?” It was Hermione’s voice that interrupted Harry’s study of Remus, and he turned in relief toward his friend.

“Brilliant… now that I’m here,” he assured her quickly, knowing she would press him for details later and trying to let her know that he was okay. Hermione nodded seriously at his statement and Ron rolled his eyes behind Hermione’s back, making Harry work quickly to suppress a laugh. He turned his attention to the twins again to distract himself from Ron’s antics. “How’s the joke shop?”

Fred rubbed his hands together in glee, while George slathered a piece of crisp toast with butter. “Never better, Harry. We’ve even got ourselves the odd employee or two,” George said in a fine imitation of Percy.

“Have you really?” Harry asked them as he laughed at Percy’s expense.

Fred nodded conspiratorially. “’Course,” he told Harry around the mouthful of toast and eggs crammed in his mouth, and Harry had to move slightly to avoid the bits of breakfast flying at him.

Mrs. Weasley came back in then, scolding everybody but Harry and Remus to get back to their food as she passed the table on the way toward the sitting room. And as Harry began shoveling food into his mouth, his friends lapsed into silence, perhaps in acknowledgment that Harry did indeed need “fattening up,” as Mrs. Weasley had reminded them before disappearing from the kitchen.

After each one of them had eaten their fill, everyone stood up to leave, except Harry and Remus; the others took that as their cue to give them some privacy. Ron was the last to leave, after calling over his shoulder that he, Hermione and Ginny would meet him outside for a game of Quidditch when he’d finished.

Remus broke the silence first. “Are you managing all right, Harry?”
Harry slumped a little in his chair. “Yeah… I haven’t slept much.” The lines etching Remus’ face deepened with concern, so Harry rushed on, “I’m okay, though, Remus, really.” Harry could tell that Remus didn’t believe him, but he nodded anyway.

“You’re not, Harry. But you shouldn’t be.” There was a pause as Remus ran a hand through his graying hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Harry took a deep calming breath. “Remus, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone that night.” Harry wanted to continue, but Remus cut him off abruptly.

“It’s not your fault, Harry. Don’t think that way. Sirius wouldn’t let you blame yourself.”

Harry swallowed hard and nodded, though the guilt continued to weigh heavily in his chest. He reached out a small hand and grasped Remus’ larger hand in his. Remus looked surprised for a minute before squeezing Harry’s fingers gently.

“Are you all right, Remus?” Harry asked thickly.

“I’m working on it, Harry,” Remus said quietly, his own voice rough, and Harry felt another pang for the man’s loss. He nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Harry, you can contact me anytime, for anything,” Remus added with another smile smile. “Professor Dumbledore will know how to find me.”

Harry nodded again, and Remus stood up slowly, patting Harry’s hand again before releasing it completely. He pulled his ragged cloak around his too-thin frame and moved around the large table to the back door. “Take care of yourself, Harry.”

On an impulse, one which he would have been hard-pressed to explain, Harry took the few steps toward Remus and wrapped his arms around the older man. Almost as if the gesture had been a great relief to Remus, Harry found himself engulfed in a crushing hug. He felt his old professor’s chest heaving, and Harry squeezed his own arms around Remus tightly, trying to comfort him as well as he knew how. They stayed that way for what seemed a long time, though when Remus finally released him, Harry wished the strong arms were still around him.

Remus smiled again at Harry and this time, the smile reached his eyes. Harry smiled as well, and then Remus was gone without another word. Harry leaned against the wall next to the door and allowed his thoughts to go to Sirius again, and when they did, the weight in his chest seemed lighter than it had only moments before. Harry smiled slightly to himself and went to join his mates outside.

The remaining weeks with the Weasleys went by much too quickly for Harry’s liking, although of course, he had Hogwarts to look forward to, so he didn’t mind too much. He spent most of his days playing Quidditch and de-gnoming the gardens, and no matter how many times Ginny and Ron complained about the chore, Harry found great delight in banishing the sneaky little creatures from the Weasleys’ yard. He also made a happy habit of Floo-calling Remus every few days, and Harry found himself looking forward to these conversations even more than he did the impromptu daily Quidditch matches.

Almost before Harry was ready, August 31st arrived and Harry was Flooing with the Weasleys and Hermione to Diagon Alley. They met Hagrid there and Mr. Weasley, claiming the need for caution, insisted that he and Hagrid escort Harry to his vault at Gringotts. Hermione came with him while Mrs. Weasley took Ginny and Ron to purchase new robes.

The quartet made quick work of reaching Gringotts’ big doors, and Hermione oohed and ahhed over the entire experience of flying in the rickety carts down through the dark bank passageways.

When they reached Harry’s vault, he hurriedly exited the cart and had to step back as the burly goblin pulled opened his vault. Harry entered the vault in front of the goblin, with Hermione only steps behind him. Hagrid and Mr. Weasley waited for them outside the door. Harry didn’t spare much time for a look around the large room, though he did notice a wooden chest he had never seen before, half hidden behind a rather large pile of Galleons.

With a glance back at Hermione, who had engaged the recalcitrant goblin in a one-sided debate about Magical Creature rights, Harry paused to roll his eyes before he crossed the short distance to the trunk and knelt gingerly in front of it. Expecting to need a key to open the chest, Harry was surprised when the lid sprang open at his touch.

Harry’s head jerked back as if expecting a curse to come flying from the depths. When nothing happened, Harry slowly tilted his dark head toward the top of the trunk, using his hands to lever himself closer. The trunk was mostly empty, except for a few small trinkets of dubious value. In the middle of the space was a Pensieve.

With a surge of excitement, Harry peered inside the stone receptacle, trying to get a better look at the silver-white substance without actually diving into the memories, but he could move his face no further than the circular rim. Harry pulled his head back in surprise and used an index finger to touch the runes along the rim. He would learn nothing from the ancient symbols, he knew, so he turned his head toward Hermione.

“Hermione,” he interrupted the bushy haired girl excitedly, and Hermione paused in her recitation, for which the goblin seemed most grateful. He backed up a few paces, apparently not taking any chances that the girl would resume the conversation. He needn’t have worried, though. Hermione had immediately recognized the edge of excitement in Harry’s tone and she hurried to his side, dropping to her knees to mimic Harry’s stance.

“Ooh, Harry, it’s a Pensieve! Oh!” his friend cried, delighted at the discovery as much as she would have if it had been a lavishly wrapped present under her Christmas tree.

Just as Harry had done, Hermione peered at the memories in the Pensieve and lowered a hand, but made no move to lower it below the stone rim before looking over at Harry, her excitement not diminished at all.

“Harry, it’s been sealed, I think. It's some sort of stasis field. I can’t tell how long ago it was placed there, though. It must have belonged to your parents.” She smiled brightly at him and Harry nodded uncertainly.

“Do you know how to remove the stasis field?” Harry asked around the lump that was forming in his throat. If his parents had left these memories to Harry, he wanted to look at them straightaway.

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. “I probably could, Harry, if I had the right book to show me how… Mr. Weasley might know,” she suggested quickly as Harry’s face fell.

Harry brightened at the idea, and he moved quickly away from the Pensieve to fill his small pouch with some of his parents’ money, and after stuffing the bag in a robe pocket, he hauled the small Pensieve out of the trunk.

It was heavy, but Harry managed to carry it past the impatient goblin and out the door. Mr. Weasley and Hagrid were waiting for them. At the sight of the Pensieve in Harry’s hands, Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows in surprise while Hagrid made a movement to take it out of Harry’s arms. Harry shook his head, though, not trusting the giant to be careful with it.

“I found it in an old trunk,” Harry said excitedly to Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley stepped closer to the Pensieve, and as Hermione had done in the vault, he lowered his hand until it met the rim. Then he took his wand out and tapped it with the tip. A bluish haze lit the mouth of the Pensieve. He smiled warmly when he looked back up at Harry.

“It’s a stasis shield. I can release it for you when we get back to the Burrow, if you’d like.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically, not trusting himself to speak. Hermione beamed next to him, squeezing Harry’s arm affectionately, and with the Pensieve wrapped securely in his grip, they all boarded the trolley again; it whisked them quickly upward at breakneck speeds.