For Splendid Owlet - part 5
Title: The Pensieve
Challenge: #5 (bonus!)
Author: Shade
Rating: PG
Summary: Minerva, while in her office, looks up a muggle book and spies on the Trio. Harry laughs at Ron and Hermione while Hermione looks down and then shows the boys what she can do (that sounded dirtier than I meant).
Word Count: 1,268
A/N: #1, The Gift; #2, Caroling Ghosts and Pumpkin-Juice Jumpers; #3, Mistletoe and Tulpas; #4, The Shrieking Shack.
Harry looked around. He had thought maybe she was taking them to the lake. They had before made a short habit of walking around it to talk when Ron and Harry weren’t getting along. But the sight before him was not of the lake. The sight before them was, in fact, of the Whomping Willow.
“What are we doing here?” Harry wearily eyed the Willow as the three of them spread out next to each other, looking at the dark mass in front of them. The branches and limbs quivered in what Harry thought might be anticipation of a chance to whomp something.
Hermione turned and gave Harry the type of patient look one would often use when dealing with a St Mungo’s memory-modification-gone-wrong resident. “You’re going through there,” she pointed at the Willow, “and then to the Shrieking Shack. You’ll have the privacy you need if you wish to look at your mother...” she faltered. “Well, look at what Dumbledore gave you.” She made a point of catching Ron’s eyes before turning back to Harry. “Ron and I will stay here and wait for you. You should do this alone, but you’ll nee-“
“No,” Harry said, interrupting her. “You two are coming with me.” He smiled at them both. He realized that his decision, although abrupt, was the right one when a weight the size of Grawp lifted from his chest. Harry looked from one to the other and nodded at Hermione’s questioning look. “Yes,” he said simply.
“Very well,” Hermione replied. Her face twisted with a succession of emotions and Harry knew she was trying not to look too pleased. She picked up a large, fallen branch from the ground and Ron moved to help her. Together they prodded a knob on the Willow’s trunk that left the tree immobile. They stepped aside to let Harry lead the way down into the hole that appeared.
#
In her office were walls lined with books, award plaques and a row of small biscuit-tin towers. Minerva stood in front of one particular bookshelf that was head-to-toe full of Muggle books that Albus insisted on gifting to her on every birthday. The tins were from him as well but she wasn’t on a search for the buttery treat she often indulged in.
She surveyed a particular series of books on myths when she found one that looked promising: Culture-Based Myths, Uses and their Consequences. She removed it from the shelf and flipped it open as she walked around her desk and sat down.
Before examining the contents she paused long enough to pick up her wand. With it she drew a circle in the air to the right of her. “Aperio Speculum,” she said and the air within the drawn circle broke into a series of waves. The waves broke into static and they slowly became something else, fuzzy though slowly tuning sharper, much like a television would.
A scene that was definitely not taking place in her office appeared. Three figures were hurdling down a hole, hitting a very earthy ground before rising to their feet. One of the figures, a mousy-brown haired girl, stood and directed the other two figures, both boys of differing heights and coloring, toward a shabby room.
“That’s clever, Ms. Granger,” said Minerva to no one before turning to focus on the book left open in front of her.
She scanned the pointed index finger of her right hand down a column in the list of contents.
“T-U-L-P-“ and she tapped the paper where her finger stopped. “Tulpa.”
#
Once inside the Shrieking Shack, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in the middle of what could loosely be described as the living room. Neither of the three said a word, choosing to just stand in silence, rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet or casting sidelong glances at each other.
Hermione breached the silence with a grunt as she laid her book sack on the ground at her feet. She rustled through it as the boys stood watching her. Finally, with an “ahh” of satisfaction, Hermione stood. Unfortunately, the presentation of what was in one of her hands was left overlooked, as when she stood up straight, she just so happened to cover the majority of her hair and face with spider webs.
Ron giggled in an octave higher than his natural voice and he shuffled backwards into a web-covered support beam. He twisted to look at what he ran into, hands up as if to brace himself, when he stumbled face first into a spider web, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream of terror.
Harry was torn between which of his friends to laugh at the most. The warning look that Hermione shot him only incited more of the snorting, choking fits as she calmly removed as much of the webs from her face and hair as she could with one free hand. Ron, meanwhile, was lying on the floor, whimpering.He scratchedat his mouth and tongue, clawed wet fingers at his eyes,to try and remove the webs that he dove into.
Hermione loudly cleared her throat and Ron stopped pawing at his tongue long enough to focus his attention on her. Harry wiped the tears of laughter from his face and blinked rapidly to dry his eyes.
“If you don’t mind,” she said with all the haughtiness one could muster with wisps of web clinging to the sides of their head.
When Ron and Harry were able to control themselves they obligingly looked at her. Each waited for whatever it was she obviously felt required her to stand over them. She glowered down, with a very McGonagall pinch to her lips, as they made to stand up.
“This,” she said as she narrowed her eyes at them, “is what we’re going to use,” and she handed a rather small bowl to Harry.
He turned it over in his hands. It was hardly bigger than the salad bowls his Aunt Petunia gave to the family at meal times. Though it looked ordinary, it weighed his hands down with a measurable heft, and when he held it out to Ron he nearly dropped it.
“Use for what,” asked Ron, his face screwed up over the detail of inscriptions underneath the base of the bowl. Harry hadn’t thought to look underneath but, and he covered a snort with a choked cough at the thought, neither had Ron, really. Ron only saw the bottom because Harry damn near dropped the thing.
With an air that was condescending with it'spatience, Hermione grabbed the bowl from Ron and traced the tip of her wand around the circle of lip. When the bowl began to shine white, sparks shooting off and around it like a holiday sparkler, Harry grabbed Ron’s shoulder and stepped back. The sparks dissipated, leaving behind a blue-white light that illuminated from within the curvature of the bowl, and the air rang with what sounded like small wind chimes.
“Hermione-“ Harry started. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe her. “Is that a…” His voice trailed off and neither spoke as she waited for the chiming sound to settle into a hum, for the hum to settle into silence.
Harry could only watch as Hermione looked to Ron and found him staring from the bowl to her. Ron’s eyes were wide with knowing but his face, contrastingly, looked puzzled.
“It’s a pensieve,” said Hermione and she placed the bowl-now-pensieve in the center of the roomwhere they all, as one, slipped into kneeling positions around it.
Challenge: #5 (bonus!)
Author: Shade
Rating: PG
Summary: Minerva, while in her office, looks up a muggle book and spies on the Trio. Harry laughs at Ron and Hermione while Hermione looks down and then shows the boys what she can do (that sounded dirtier than I meant).
Word Count: 1,268
A/N: #1, The Gift; #2, Caroling Ghosts and Pumpkin-Juice Jumpers; #3, Mistletoe and Tulpas; #4, The Shrieking Shack.
Harry looked around. He had thought maybe she was taking them to the lake. They had before made a short habit of walking around it to talk when Ron and Harry weren’t getting along. But the sight before him was not of the lake. The sight before them was, in fact, of the Whomping Willow.
“What are we doing here?” Harry wearily eyed the Willow as the three of them spread out next to each other, looking at the dark mass in front of them. The branches and limbs quivered in what Harry thought might be anticipation of a chance to whomp something.
Hermione turned and gave Harry the type of patient look one would often use when dealing with a St Mungo’s memory-modification-gone-wrong resident. “You’re going through there,” she pointed at the Willow, “and then to the Shrieking Shack. You’ll have the privacy you need if you wish to look at your mother...” she faltered. “Well, look at what Dumbledore gave you.” She made a point of catching Ron’s eyes before turning back to Harry. “Ron and I will stay here and wait for you. You should do this alone, but you’ll nee-“
“No,” Harry said, interrupting her. “You two are coming with me.” He smiled at them both. He realized that his decision, although abrupt, was the right one when a weight the size of Grawp lifted from his chest. Harry looked from one to the other and nodded at Hermione’s questioning look. “Yes,” he said simply.
“Very well,” Hermione replied. Her face twisted with a succession of emotions and Harry knew she was trying not to look too pleased. She picked up a large, fallen branch from the ground and Ron moved to help her. Together they prodded a knob on the Willow’s trunk that left the tree immobile. They stepped aside to let Harry lead the way down into the hole that appeared.
#
In her office were walls lined with books, award plaques and a row of small biscuit-tin towers. Minerva stood in front of one particular bookshelf that was head-to-toe full of Muggle books that Albus insisted on gifting to her on every birthday. The tins were from him as well but she wasn’t on a search for the buttery treat she often indulged in.
She surveyed a particular series of books on myths when she found one that looked promising: Culture-Based Myths, Uses and their Consequences. She removed it from the shelf and flipped it open as she walked around her desk and sat down.
Before examining the contents she paused long enough to pick up her wand. With it she drew a circle in the air to the right of her. “Aperio Speculum,” she said and the air within the drawn circle broke into a series of waves. The waves broke into static and they slowly became something else, fuzzy though slowly tuning sharper, much like a television would.
A scene that was definitely not taking place in her office appeared. Three figures were hurdling down a hole, hitting a very earthy ground before rising to their feet. One of the figures, a mousy-brown haired girl, stood and directed the other two figures, both boys of differing heights and coloring, toward a shabby room.
“That’s clever, Ms. Granger,” said Minerva to no one before turning to focus on the book left open in front of her.
She scanned the pointed index finger of her right hand down a column in the list of contents.
“T-U-L-P-“ and she tapped the paper where her finger stopped. “Tulpa.”
#
Once inside the Shrieking Shack, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in the middle of what could loosely be described as the living room. Neither of the three said a word, choosing to just stand in silence, rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet or casting sidelong glances at each other.
Hermione breached the silence with a grunt as she laid her book sack on the ground at her feet. She rustled through it as the boys stood watching her. Finally, with an “ahh” of satisfaction, Hermione stood. Unfortunately, the presentation of what was in one of her hands was left overlooked, as when she stood up straight, she just so happened to cover the majority of her hair and face with spider webs.
Ron giggled in an octave higher than his natural voice and he shuffled backwards into a web-covered support beam. He twisted to look at what he ran into, hands up as if to brace himself, when he stumbled face first into a spider web, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream of terror.
Harry was torn between which of his friends to laugh at the most. The warning look that Hermione shot him only incited more of the snorting, choking fits as she calmly removed as much of the webs from her face and hair as she could with one free hand. Ron, meanwhile, was lying on the floor, whimpering.He scratchedat his mouth and tongue, clawed wet fingers at his eyes,to try and remove the webs that he dove into.
Hermione loudly cleared her throat and Ron stopped pawing at his tongue long enough to focus his attention on her. Harry wiped the tears of laughter from his face and blinked rapidly to dry his eyes.
“If you don’t mind,” she said with all the haughtiness one could muster with wisps of web clinging to the sides of their head.
When Ron and Harry were able to control themselves they obligingly looked at her. Each waited for whatever it was she obviously felt required her to stand over them. She glowered down, with a very McGonagall pinch to her lips, as they made to stand up.
“This,” she said as she narrowed her eyes at them, “is what we’re going to use,” and she handed a rather small bowl to Harry.
He turned it over in his hands. It was hardly bigger than the salad bowls his Aunt Petunia gave to the family at meal times. Though it looked ordinary, it weighed his hands down with a measurable heft, and when he held it out to Ron he nearly dropped it.
“Use for what,” asked Ron, his face screwed up over the detail of inscriptions underneath the base of the bowl. Harry hadn’t thought to look underneath but, and he covered a snort with a choked cough at the thought, neither had Ron, really. Ron only saw the bottom because Harry damn near dropped the thing.
With an air that was condescending with it'spatience, Hermione grabbed the bowl from Ron and traced the tip of her wand around the circle of lip. When the bowl began to shine white, sparks shooting off and around it like a holiday sparkler, Harry grabbed Ron’s shoulder and stepped back. The sparks dissipated, leaving behind a blue-white light that illuminated from within the curvature of the bowl, and the air rang with what sounded like small wind chimes.
“Hermione-“ Harry started. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe her. “Is that a…” His voice trailed off and neither spoke as she waited for the chiming sound to settle into a hum, for the hum to settle into silence.
Harry could only watch as Hermione looked to Ron and found him staring from the bowl to her. Ron’s eyes were wide with knowing but his face, contrastingly, looked puzzled.
“It’s a pensieve,” said Hermione and she placed the bowl-now-pensieve in the center of the roomwhere they all, as one, slipped into kneeling positions around it.