Traveling by Pensieve

AN: Thanks to all the kind folks who have taken the time to review. Your comments mean a lot to me! There have been many comments that folks are missing Snape, I do too, but I promise he'll return before too long.

Special thanks to alert and eagle-eyed reader, Kiwifire, for catching one of my most common typos. I have a that/than problem. Believe me, I know the difference, but I seem to type them interchangeably when I'm hurrying along, and that is a hard one to catch. Thanks Kiwifire!

Biggest thanks to my lovely beta, Vaughn. I tell you, I'd be lost without her!

Disclaimer: They are not mine; I only take them out to play.

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Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair.

-T.S. Eliot 1888-1965

Ron sat in the library of Harry's house, trying not to be impatient. It was a chore for him. Personally, he thought that impatience was his worst fault. The only time he could truly quiet his mind and not rush straight into things was when he was playing chess. Lately, Ron had been trying to apply the way he played chess to other things in his life. It seemed to be having a good effect; he'd been able to stay quite calm during Hermione's discussion earlier in the day.

Unfortunately, chess strategy had little to offer him when all that was required was waiting. Hermione and Harry had disappeared into the Pensieve over a half an hour ago. Though they had invited him to go as well, Ron had never used a Pensieve and was a bit nervous about it. He'd also not particularly wanted a close look at Dumbledore's death to be his first such experience. Knowing that Hermione would be able to fill him in on anything important, he'd declined. His friends had not pressured him, and they'd left him to stand watch over the Pensieve while they were gone. Pensieve travel, if it could be called travel, was very safe. However, Ron wouldn't put it past Kreacher to try to tip the bowl over while Harry was inside. Having sealed the room with various charms to ward it, Ron now sat, bored out of his skull, keeping watch. Perhaps they should have forced Kreacher to remain at Hogwarts, but when Harry had moved into the house, Kreacher had come as well. Hermione still felt sorry for the nasty little thing, so Harry had allowed it to stay.

Watching a bowl full of silvery fluid was not an especially intriguing pastime. True, he'd momentarily been distracted by the silvery light which shone from the liquid after his friends had entered, but after a few moments of that, his interest had waned. Then, he'd tried looking through the Quidditch magazine he'd purchased earlier when he'd gone shopping with Hermione, but he couldn't concentrate enough on the articles to enjoy it.

Now he sat fidgeting, looking about the library, trying to fill his time until his friends returned. Ron liked this room, perhaps not as much as Hermione did, but he liked it all the same. It had several good things about it, not the least of which was that it was completely clean of muss, hexes, and infestations. Some of the other rooms in Harry's house still needed attention. The library was in the best shape, and the kitchen and lavs had been squared away, as had the small drawing room. Harry stayed in what had once been Sirius' room, and Hermione and Ron stayed in the only other bedrooms that had been thoroughly sorted. Hermione, naturally, stayed in the bedroom on the ground floor near the library. It was the same one that she had shared with Ginny when they had all stayed at the house before their fifth year at school. Ron had commandeered the dark, high-ceilinged second floor bedroom that he had then shared with Harry. It was still rather gloomy for his tastes, but it had the unarguable charm of not being infested by anything. On the rare occasions that Remus had stayed over, he'd slept on the sofa in the library. Some of the other bedrooms had indeed been used in the past, but they were anything but comfortable.

That was another nice thing about the library. The furniture was old, but it was sturdy and comfortable. It had the squashy sofa that Remus sometimes slept on, a brace of wing backed chairs, and a padded easy chair near the fire, where Ron presently sat. There was also a desk in the corner and a small worktable, not to mention the floor to ceiling bookshelves that Hermione so adored.

However, it wasn't the furniture that Ron most enjoyed, it was the many objects in the room. An old suit of wizarding armor stood by the door to the hallway, complete with sword and shield. There were several tapestries in the room, and one depicted a long battle in the goblin wars. This particular tapestry moved, and over the course of about three days, it showed the entire prolonged battle in complete detail. Ron had spent hours watching this tapestry, and he still hadn't seen nearly the whole thing. Presently, the tapestry was showing the bitter end of the battle, which was slow moving and without much action. It was just Ron's luck that he was stuck here when the tapestry wasn't showing anything particularly interesting.

There were also several wizard paintings in the room. Harry had moved the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black down from Ron's bedroom. Phineas was a rather dour character with a cutting wit that reminded Ron uncomfortably of Severus Snape. Possibly the two men had been distant relations; there was definitely a certain resemblance between the two. At any rate, Phineas was worth keeping handy, no matter how unpleasant he could be. Having once been a Hogwarts headmaster, he knew a lot of interesting information. Phineas also spent a great deal of time at his other portrait in McGonagall's office, and would keep them informed of the latest news when he was in a good mood. Because of this, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all went out of their way to try and be pleasant to the grumpy old sod. Today, when even Ron would have welcomed a chat with the man, Phineas had gone off to Hogwarts. He was probably gossiping with Albus, as both portraits were terrible busybodies. Ron wouldn't have minded, if only Phineas would show up and entertain him with the latest rumor.

Hermione herself had brought a welcome change to the library. In addition to the many books she kept buying for the already over-stuffed shelves, Hermione had brought in a new ceiling light fixture and several table top lamps and floor lamps. Older wizarding homes relied on torches and gaslights. These more modern fixtures used a derivative of the Bluebell Flame spell. Thus they burned cleaner, brighter, and much steadier than other wizarding lights. The lights had empty glass bulbs that had been spelled with the bright, bluish light. When the long-lasting spell eventually wore off, one could either re-spell them oneself or buy pre-spelled replacement bulbs. With Hermione around, they'd never need to buy replacements. She'd always had a knack for portable, waterproof fire spells and she'd easily learned this version of the Bluebell Flame. Though it had taken Ron some time to get used to this non-flickering light source, even he had to admit that it was a great improvement on the gaslights that had been in the room when they moved in.

Suddenly, and with a flash of silvery light that made Ron's eyes water, Harry and Hermione reappeared out of the Pensieve. While Hermione looked lost in thought, Harry looked as though he was about to be ill.

"I'll go and make some tea," Ron said, giving Harry's shoulder a comforting squeeze. After taking a moment to pull down the wards, Ron headed for the kitchen in the basement.

When Ron returned to the room, he found that Harry had taken his place by the fire and Hermione was sitting cross legged on the sofa, staring at the blue light of the ceiling fixture but looking as if she was not actually seeing it. Quietly, Ron poured tea for them all, with lots of sugar for Harry and him and only a bit of milk for Hermione. Setting the cups into his friends' hands, Ron sat down next to Hermione on the sofa and waited for his friends to be ready to speak. Finally, Hermione did.

Looking at Ron, she said, "Draco didn't want to kill Dumbledore, I mean, he really didn't. Even when the other Death Eaters arrived to back him up...and they were yelling at him and egging him on...even then he couldn't do it."

Considering this for a moment, Ron then said, "He's like Snape was, isn't he? All nasty talk, but not much bite. Sure, we all hexed one another, but he never actually hurt anyone, did he?"

"No," Harry said, moving to join them on the sofa. "I always thought that he was an evil little bastard. We always fought, we always despised each other, but even when we were fighting, he never went too far, did he?"

"Sweet Merlin," Hermione sighed. "I never thought that I'd feel sorry for the ferret, but how can I not? Can you imagine, growing up with a dad like that? What would I do if I was told that if I didn't kill someone, then Voldemort would kill my whole family? Damn, boys, I'd give my life for the cause--if it was necessary--but how could I sacrifice my whole family?"

"He's probably killed people by now," Harry said solemnly. "He's really with the Death Eaters now."

"I know," replied Hermione, "but it seems like such a waste! Now I feel that...if only something had been done to help him, or to encourage him, then maybe things might have ended up differently."

"I know what you mean," said Ron. "I never liked the little ferret; I don't think I ever would have. But now that you've pointed out the difference between your basic git and folks that are truly evil, I'll be damned if I don't feel sorry for the bastard. What else did you learn?"

"Harry," Hermione said, turning to face him, "you always said that Dumbledore begged for his life. He didn't."

"He did so! Didn't you hear him?" Harry replied hotly. "He said 'Severus' and then he said 'Severus, please', and he was begging, Hermione! Didn't you hear it in his voice?"

"Oh, he was begging Snape to do something, Harry, but he never said exactly what! I admit, he looked and sounded pitiful...all slumped and weak...but did you look in his eyes? His voice might have sounded pleading, but there was nothing pleading about the way he looked at Snape!"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Snape got there, and then he locked eyes with Dumbledore. The headmaster was the perfect picture of a begging supplicant, except for his eyes. They were steady and almost commanding. It seemed clear to me that something was fishy about it. It just wasn't your typical 'here I am all helpless and begging for my life' scene. Dumbledore was weak, certainly, but the expression in his eyes said that he was still in command of the situation."

"Maybe that was because he trusted Snape not to kill him!" Harry practically shouted.

"No, I don't think that was it, Harry. His expression did not change when Snape raised his wand, and the only change in his eyes when Snape began the spell was one of relief!"

"You're having me on!" shouted Ron. Looking to Harry, Ron expected his friend to protest. Instead, Ron was absolutely gobsmacked by the look of pure guilt that clouded Harry's features. "Harry? All right?"

"Hermione is right. Albus did get a look of relief in that last moment. That's always haunted me, because it must have been my fault," Harry finished softly, tears in his eyes.

Rising from the sofa, Hermione then knelt before Harry and put both of her hands gently on each side of his face. "Harry, how could it have possibly been your fault?"

"The cave," Harry whispered brokenly. "It was my fault what happened in the cave...and...maybe, well...maybe because of what I did, Albus hurt so much that he was relived at any thought of it being over. Even if he had to die."

"What happened in the cave, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice soft and kind.

"There was a potion...in a big bowl," Harry began, his voice coming in stops and starts. "What we thought was the locket Horcrux was at the bottom of the bowl...and you couldn't reach it...not through the potion...and Albus...he made me promise!" Leaning forward, Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione and pressed his face into her neck. Sliding closer to his friends, Ron wrapped his arms around them both, making it an awkward three way hug.

"What did he make you promise, Harry?" Hermione encouraged, her voice still soft and calm.

"He had to drink it...to get the locket out..." Harry said into her neck. "He made me promise to keep him drinking it, force him if I had to. I did, Hermione! I forced him to drink that vile stuff when he faltered. I lied to him and told him it would make him feel better! It hurt him; he begged me to stop, but I didn't. That's why he was so weak when we got back. That's why Snape could kill him so easily. It was because of me!"

By this time, Harry was weeping into Hermione's neck. She could feel his tears running down and soaking into her shirt. Pushing Harry away slightly, she once again cradled his face in her hands. "Harry, I want you to listen to me carefully. If Dumbledore made you promise to force him to drink that potion, then he must have known very well how vile it was. You promised him. That was his decision to make, not yours. You promised him and you kept your promise. It's not your fault, what happened. You promised to do what he asked of you!"

"But it got him killed, Hermione," Harry whispered.

"That isn't your fault. The headmaster was brilliant; he must have known the dangers. Yet he thought it important enough to do, so he did it."

"But it wasn't even the real Horcrux! He died, and it was for nothing!"

"No, Harry," Ron said. "It wasn't for nothing. Because of that fake locket, and the note from Sirius' brother, we found the real Horcrux. If Dumbledore hadn't made that sacrifice, we never would have had the clues we needed. Because he did, that Horcrux is now destroyed."

"That's true," Harry said. Untangling himself from his friends' embrace, he scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Dry eyed, he looked at Hermione, his sorrow still apparent in his expression.

"Harry," Hermione said, "I know that you'll feel badly about this for a long time. That's understandable. It was a horrible thing that Dumbledore made you promise to do. But when you feel badly about it, remember this; hard as it was, you did the right thing. You kept your promise, even though you hated it."

"You did the honorable thing, Harry," Ron added, "you kept your word."

"I don't feel very honorable."

"It's like chess, Harry," Ron continued. "Sometimes you don't have a choice between good and bad...sometimes it's just a choice between bad and worse." Deciding to change the subject, Ron turned to Hermione. "What else did you find out?"

"Snape looked terrible when he confronted Dumbledore," Hermione replied, "all angry and disgusted. But there's no way to tell if his expression was about Dumbledore personally, or because of what he was about to do. There was something odd about the Killing Curse, and I can't quite put my finger on it."

"It was a typical Avada Kedavra, Hermione. Believe me, I've seen them before," Harry said bitterly.

"I know that you have, Harry. I've seen it too, when Barty Jr. did that demonstration in class. But there was still something that seemed a little off about this one, and I can't figure out why."

"You'll figure it out, Hermione," Ron said confidently. "You always do. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm absolutely starving! What say we give this a rest and go put a dent in those new groceries?"

Hermione had been a little afraid that Harry wouldn't be able to eat after their upsetting Pensieve trip, but her fear proved unfounded. Certainly, Harry didn't have his usual appetite, but he managed a fair amount of the pasta and salad that they whipped up. Perhaps finally getting his guilt out about what had happened in the cave had been good for him. While he wasn't his usual self, he was much more cheerful than Hermione had expected him to be. In his life, Harry had been forced to bounce back quickly far too many times from the upheaval a distressing situation. That practice had obviously paid off.

While she was chasing the last bit of pasta around on her plate, Hermione brought up a subject that she'd been wondering about for some time.

"Harry, from what I've read, one of the main reasons that Pensieves are good to sort what's truly happened in any given situation is that the person traveling by Pensieve doesn't have to stay especially close to the person whose memories are being viewed. Is that true?"

"Yes, it is," Harry said. "I can't tell you the exact details, but I saw a scene once that had my dad in it. I was able to walk well away from the source of the memory and see what my dad was up to. There is a limit, but it's fairly wide."

"Does the person whose memory you want to see have to be the one to use the spell? Or could a wizard do it on someone else?"

"Not against their will, at any rate," Harry said seriously. "They would have to be voluntarily thinking about the memory in question. But why would you need to? The spell is so simple, practically anyone could use it."

"What if they weren't very good at magic? Could another wizard do it for them?" Hermione asked.

"I don't see why not. As I said, it's a simple spell. We could give it a try after we finish up here, if you want. But I still don't see what use it would be. It has no effect on Muggles, and anyone who has magic should be able to do it themselves."

"What about Hagrid? His magic is always a little dicey. I don't think I'd want him trying that on himself; he might do himself a harm."

"Oh, Hagrid! You're right, Hermione, I don't think that he is up to it. Let's me and you see if it can be done. If so, then we could try it on Hagrid. Folks with giant blood are magic resistant, but it's not an aggressive spell, so it should work. But why do you want to?"

"Remember when we were visiting Ron after the poisoned mead incident? Hagrid told us snippets of an argument he heard in the forest between Snape and Dumbledore. I'd really like a chance to get closer to that conversation and see what was really said."

"I remember you two telling me about that," Ron said. "It seemed really damning at the time. What do you think we'll find out?"

"I don't know for certain," Hermione said solemnly, "but the more I think about the reason why Snape would possibly decide to kill Dumbledore, the more my mind returns to that conversation. Hagrid didn't hear much, and he may have misremembered what he did hear. I think we need to hear it for ourselves."

"Sounds sensible," Ron said. "You and Harry see if the spell can be done by another wizard, and then we can go see Hagrid tomorrow. I think I'll brave the Pensieve and go with you on this one. I've always wanted to hear what really transpired during that conversation."

Shortly, Harry and Hermione found out that a wizard could indeed pull a memory from a willing subject. Their plans in place, the three friends went off to bed, determined to visit Hagrid the next day.