The Pensieve, Part One
Title: The Pensieve
Author: Thea Witchiepooh
Pairing/Characters: Eventually Draco/Hermione, Ron, Kingsley Shacklebolt
Rating: PG-13 for now
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters.
Summary: Voldemort has been defeated, but Death Eaters still plot from the shadows. Harry Potter is apparently taken captive in an attack and months later the only hope of finding him alive comes in the form of Draco Malfoy and a mysterious Pensieve.
A/N: Feedback will be appreciated. I'm not sure how far I want to go with this idea, so I'm just testing the waters right now. A note of thanks to reetinkerbell for letting me bounce this idea off her and her kind encouragement. Thanks to chanteur_dombre for the beta read.
A crack of Apparition jerked Hermione Granger from another restless slumber. She grabbed her wand from the night table and stumbled out of bed, looking at the clock. It was 3:46 in the morning. She tried to shake the sleep from her eyes and brain as she moved - It seemed in slow motion - despite her best efforts.
"Who's there?" she called into the darkness.
"It's Ron," came a hollow, tired sounding, but familiar voice.
Hermione sighed in relief. "Merlin, you scared the hell out of me." She flicked on a light and found herself temporarily blinded by the sudden, painful brightness. Then the figure of her best friend came into focus. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night, besides trying to give me a heart attack?"
Ron - who had also needed to adjust to the white light, was rubbing his eyes. He looked exhausted. "We have to go to St. Mungo's, right away. Kingsley showed up at the Burrow an hour ago with news on Harry."
"What kind of news?" Hermione asked excitedly. Before he could answer she was rushing to her closet, haphazardly pulling out clothes.
"Don't get your hopes up, Hermione. They haven't found him. But..."
She looked at him expectantly. "Well?"
"They found Malfoy."
"Lucius?"
"No, the ferret," he spat out, not hiding his contempt.
****
A half hour and several cups of black coffee later, Hermione and Ron were sitting in a waiting room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. They already knew as much as Kingsley Shacklebolt and the other Aurors who had gathered in the ward. Which wasn't much.
On a tip from an informant, Draco Malfoy had been found - barely alive and catatonic - at a Muggle hotel in New York City. He'd been extradited to London immediately, but because of his condition he was placed in the high security wing of the hospital instead of Azkaban. When they'd found him, he had no belongings save the clothing on his back and a Portable Pensieve.
Already, Ministry officials had taken a cursory glance into the magical device. But the memories it contained were jumbled and confused, perhaps a result of whatever trauma had befallen the dark wizard.
Despite these less-than-promising details, Hermione and Ron had a sense of anxious hope they hadn't felt in the eight months since the attack. Draco Malfoy had been the last person to see Harry alive. He was the missing link to finding their best mate.
Hermione paced the room. She was shaky and hyped up on the caffeine, but light-headed from lack of sleep. Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Tonks were also present. They were impatiently biding their time until the head mediwizard showed up to brief them on Malfoy.
As she had done constantly since that night in December, Hermione replayed the events - at least those she could remember - in her mind. We'd been so bloody stupid, she admonished herself for what seemed like the millionth time.
****
It had been about three months since Harry had triumphed over Voldemort. The celebrations had been both exuberant and endless as the Wizard world felt a sense of giddy optimism that hadn't been present during the nearly five years of blood-soaked war. Everyone became washed up in the euphoria. To some degree this had been necessary given the stress and horror leading up to victory, but it left a gaping hole in the still crucial defences. Even Moody, the Wizard of ever "constant vigilance" had relaxed to a state of "occasional vigilance."
This lapse was a mistake of Ministry-of-Magic-level proportions, because while the crux of evil had been eliminated, its residue lingered, mainly in the form of Death Eaters who had escaped that final confrontation. Chief among them had been Lucius Malfoy and his son. Yet even with such dangerous and powerful wizards still at large, those who had fought long and hard - Harry, Ron and Hermione the most important among them - could not deny themselves a deep breath. Rather than pushing forward and immediately flushing out the dark, they basked in their well-earned glory. Yes, there were criminals that needed to be found, but that could wait. In the moment there had been a sense of blissful ignorance.
And yes, ignorance it was. Because the Malfoys and a number of the Dark Lord's followers were indeed still out there. Watching and waiting for the right moment to steal the glory and renewed innocence from Harry and his friends. To punish them for defeating Voldemort and perhaps begin a new war - one that would be limited to shadows, but just as deadly.
Knowing that the greatest blow to the Wizard world would be to wound the famous trio, the elder Malfoy led an attack against Harry, Ron and Hermione late one night as the three were heading home from another round of partying. Hermione only had vague recollections of the assault. In addition to the two Malfoy men, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Antonin Dolohov had also taken part. She could remember the panicked screams - mostly her own - and the flashes of light that emanated from poised wands... but the rest was a blur. At some point during the battle she'd been knocked out cold. When she came to consciousness a few days later she discovered that like her Ron was injured, but recovering. Harry, however, was gone. While nobody knew the exact details, it appeared Lucius and Draco had escaped with him, leaving behind their fallen comrades.
Once again the Wizard world was on high alert and a massive global manhunt was launched. So far it had come up empty, as if Lucius, Draco and Harry had never existed. There were no other attacks, but the elation of the victory over Voldemort was replaced by unknowable dread.
Hermione and Ron were addicted to any possible information on Harry's whereabouts, like junkies jonzing for smack. And because they'd gone so long without a fix, they had become the walking dead.
****
Randolf Emery, the tall head Mediwizard entered the waiting area and Ron sprang to his tired feet next to Hermione. Both nearly jumped the reluctant looking wizard.
"Can we see him?" asked Hermione, at the same time as Ron blurted out, "Is that bastard talking?"
The Mediwizard put up his hands, "Hold up folks, I would try to answer your questions, but you'd be disappointed. Mr. Malfoy's condition has stabilized, but he hasn't spoken one word since his arrival. There doesn't appear to be anything physically wrong with him, but he's completely unresponsive."
"Can we see him?" Hermione asked again.
"No. Besides, I'm not sure what good that will do for you or Mr. Malfoy," said Emery, his voice wary. "We need to give it a few days, perform more tests and see if his condition improves. At this point you'd just be looking at a void."
"But Harry may not have a few more days!" cried Hermione, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," Emery said. "But you won't get anything out of him now, you'll just be wasting your time and energy and it's obvious to me you're both in short supply. If there is any chance of reaching him, you need to give it some time." He looked around at the others. "I suggest all of you go home." With that, he left the room.
Kingsley had moved next to Hermione, who gaped at the empty space where the terse mediwizard had just stood. He took her reassuringly by the elbow. Tonks had done the same for Ron. They led the two shell-shocked friends back to a group of couches in the middle of the room. Both followed quietly, their manic queries quickly traded for sullen defeat.
"I feel so helpless," sighed Hermione.
The older wizard looked at her thoughtfully. "Don't be," he said. "Even if Malfoy is useless, that Pensieve is a bit... odd... but it may hold secrets that can help us find Harry. But you need to get your rest. I knew that you and Ron would kill me if I didn't tell you about this right away and so I did, but now I'm ordering you both to go home and sleep."
"How can you expect that of us?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes still swimming with tears.
Kingsley glanced at Tonks and Moody, questioning them silently. When he had his answer, he turned back to Hermione. "I'm asking this of you because I need you strong and well-rested for what I'm going to ask of you later."
"And what's that?"
His expression was as serious as she'd ever seen. "I need you to go inside Draco Malfoy's memories."
Part Two
Author: Thea Witchiepooh
Pairing/Characters: Eventually Draco/Hermione, Ron, Kingsley Shacklebolt
Rating: PG-13 for now
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters.
Summary: Voldemort has been defeated, but Death Eaters still plot from the shadows. Harry Potter is apparently taken captive in an attack and months later the only hope of finding him alive comes in the form of Draco Malfoy and a mysterious Pensieve.
A/N: Feedback will be appreciated. I'm not sure how far I want to go with this idea, so I'm just testing the waters right now. A note of thanks to reetinkerbell for letting me bounce this idea off her and her kind encouragement. Thanks to chanteur_dombre for the beta read.
A crack of Apparition jerked Hermione Granger from another restless slumber. She grabbed her wand from the night table and stumbled out of bed, looking at the clock. It was 3:46 in the morning. She tried to shake the sleep from her eyes and brain as she moved - It seemed in slow motion - despite her best efforts.
"Who's there?" she called into the darkness.
"It's Ron," came a hollow, tired sounding, but familiar voice.
Hermione sighed in relief. "Merlin, you scared the hell out of me." She flicked on a light and found herself temporarily blinded by the sudden, painful brightness. Then the figure of her best friend came into focus. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night, besides trying to give me a heart attack?"
Ron - who had also needed to adjust to the white light, was rubbing his eyes. He looked exhausted. "We have to go to St. Mungo's, right away. Kingsley showed up at the Burrow an hour ago with news on Harry."
"What kind of news?" Hermione asked excitedly. Before he could answer she was rushing to her closet, haphazardly pulling out clothes.
"Don't get your hopes up, Hermione. They haven't found him. But..."
She looked at him expectantly. "Well?"
"They found Malfoy."
"Lucius?"
"No, the ferret," he spat out, not hiding his contempt.
****
A half hour and several cups of black coffee later, Hermione and Ron were sitting in a waiting room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. They already knew as much as Kingsley Shacklebolt and the other Aurors who had gathered in the ward. Which wasn't much.
On a tip from an informant, Draco Malfoy had been found - barely alive and catatonic - at a Muggle hotel in New York City. He'd been extradited to London immediately, but because of his condition he was placed in the high security wing of the hospital instead of Azkaban. When they'd found him, he had no belongings save the clothing on his back and a Portable Pensieve.
Already, Ministry officials had taken a cursory glance into the magical device. But the memories it contained were jumbled and confused, perhaps a result of whatever trauma had befallen the dark wizard.
Despite these less-than-promising details, Hermione and Ron had a sense of anxious hope they hadn't felt in the eight months since the attack. Draco Malfoy had been the last person to see Harry alive. He was the missing link to finding their best mate.
Hermione paced the room. She was shaky and hyped up on the caffeine, but light-headed from lack of sleep. Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Tonks were also present. They were impatiently biding their time until the head mediwizard showed up to brief them on Malfoy.
As she had done constantly since that night in December, Hermione replayed the events - at least those she could remember - in her mind. We'd been so bloody stupid, she admonished herself for what seemed like the millionth time.
****
It had been about three months since Harry had triumphed over Voldemort. The celebrations had been both exuberant and endless as the Wizard world felt a sense of giddy optimism that hadn't been present during the nearly five years of blood-soaked war. Everyone became washed up in the euphoria. To some degree this had been necessary given the stress and horror leading up to victory, but it left a gaping hole in the still crucial defences. Even Moody, the Wizard of ever "constant vigilance" had relaxed to a state of "occasional vigilance."
This lapse was a mistake of Ministry-of-Magic-level proportions, because while the crux of evil had been eliminated, its residue lingered, mainly in the form of Death Eaters who had escaped that final confrontation. Chief among them had been Lucius Malfoy and his son. Yet even with such dangerous and powerful wizards still at large, those who had fought long and hard - Harry, Ron and Hermione the most important among them - could not deny themselves a deep breath. Rather than pushing forward and immediately flushing out the dark, they basked in their well-earned glory. Yes, there were criminals that needed to be found, but that could wait. In the moment there had been a sense of blissful ignorance.
And yes, ignorance it was. Because the Malfoys and a number of the Dark Lord's followers were indeed still out there. Watching and waiting for the right moment to steal the glory and renewed innocence from Harry and his friends. To punish them for defeating Voldemort and perhaps begin a new war - one that would be limited to shadows, but just as deadly.
Knowing that the greatest blow to the Wizard world would be to wound the famous trio, the elder Malfoy led an attack against Harry, Ron and Hermione late one night as the three were heading home from another round of partying. Hermione only had vague recollections of the assault. In addition to the two Malfoy men, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Antonin Dolohov had also taken part. She could remember the panicked screams - mostly her own - and the flashes of light that emanated from poised wands... but the rest was a blur. At some point during the battle she'd been knocked out cold. When she came to consciousness a few days later she discovered that like her Ron was injured, but recovering. Harry, however, was gone. While nobody knew the exact details, it appeared Lucius and Draco had escaped with him, leaving behind their fallen comrades.
Once again the Wizard world was on high alert and a massive global manhunt was launched. So far it had come up empty, as if Lucius, Draco and Harry had never existed. There were no other attacks, but the elation of the victory over Voldemort was replaced by unknowable dread.
Hermione and Ron were addicted to any possible information on Harry's whereabouts, like junkies jonzing for smack. And because they'd gone so long without a fix, they had become the walking dead.
****
Randolf Emery, the tall head Mediwizard entered the waiting area and Ron sprang to his tired feet next to Hermione. Both nearly jumped the reluctant looking wizard.
"Can we see him?" asked Hermione, at the same time as Ron blurted out, "Is that bastard talking?"
The Mediwizard put up his hands, "Hold up folks, I would try to answer your questions, but you'd be disappointed. Mr. Malfoy's condition has stabilized, but he hasn't spoken one word since his arrival. There doesn't appear to be anything physically wrong with him, but he's completely unresponsive."
"Can we see him?" Hermione asked again.
"No. Besides, I'm not sure what good that will do for you or Mr. Malfoy," said Emery, his voice wary. "We need to give it a few days, perform more tests and see if his condition improves. At this point you'd just be looking at a void."
"But Harry may not have a few more days!" cried Hermione, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," Emery said. "But you won't get anything out of him now, you'll just be wasting your time and energy and it's obvious to me you're both in short supply. If there is any chance of reaching him, you need to give it some time." He looked around at the others. "I suggest all of you go home." With that, he left the room.
Kingsley had moved next to Hermione, who gaped at the empty space where the terse mediwizard had just stood. He took her reassuringly by the elbow. Tonks had done the same for Ron. They led the two shell-shocked friends back to a group of couches in the middle of the room. Both followed quietly, their manic queries quickly traded for sullen defeat.
"I feel so helpless," sighed Hermione.
The older wizard looked at her thoughtfully. "Don't be," he said. "Even if Malfoy is useless, that Pensieve is a bit... odd... but it may hold secrets that can help us find Harry. But you need to get your rest. I knew that you and Ron would kill me if I didn't tell you about this right away and so I did, but now I'm ordering you both to go home and sleep."
"How can you expect that of us?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes still swimming with tears.
Kingsley glanced at Tonks and Moody, questioning them silently. When he had his answer, he turned back to Hermione. "I'm asking this of you because I need you strong and well-rested for what I'm going to ask of you later."
"And what's that?"
His expression was as serious as she'd ever seen. "I need you to go inside Draco Malfoy's memories."
Part Two