chapter twelve

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Harry looked around the corridor, recognizing the Headmaster's office. He was a bit disoriented. He tried to reach for memories that would prove something was wrong, but came up short. He sighed.

He rejected the feeling of Wrongness about the situation, deciding his disoriention probably came from getting lost on the way there. He turned to the Headmaster's office, knocking the door twice. He was mildly surprised when it opened, as he remembered being quite sure only moments ago that no one was in there.

"My star pupil," Mcgonagall said, rolling her eyes. "Why aren't you at supper?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Supper? But he'd left for the Headmaster's office before even lunch. He couldn't have gotten that lost, could he?

Dismissing the feeling, he tried to remember what he had come here for. He had been so certian of it just moments before, hadn't he? But, then again, he'd been so certain that the Headmaster's office was empty.

A realization hit him, and he was surprised at how long it took for him to catch on (had he been this oblivious in the past?).

Harry had lost time.

Someone had kidnapped him for a few hours, then put him right back where he was. But that didn't make sense, because he didn't remember it. He recalled a conversation with Draco a while back about a mind-erasing spell.

That left him in a very inconvenient position.

It could happen again, and that was worrying. He could tell Mcgonagall about it, see what she could do, but the words Pristina said to him in the dream spring back into his mind. You know him.

No, he could not afford to trust Mcgonagall, no matter how tempting it was.

Harry smiled up at the professor. "I'm not that hungry," he lied. "But I would enjoy some tea."

Mcgonagall softened her gaze at him, beckoning him into her office, and for a moment when faced with her kindness he felt almost guilty for what he was about to do.

Almost.

He sat down in the chair pulled up to her desk. She prepared tea with a wave of her wand and sat across from Harry. They both nursed their drinks in silence for a moment, McGonagall waiting for Harry to speak.

He supposed that Before he might feel nostalgic over the scene. Mayhaps he would ache for the Headmaster before her he had lost and reminisce on what could've been with sorrow.

But this was After, and Harry felt nothing for the former Headmaster and nothing for the one sitting accross with him now.

"McGonagall," Harry said, remembering the way Draco told him she didn't like to be referred to as the Headmaster in private company, "I want to veiw some of Dumbledore's memories."

"And here I was thinking you visited me just for tea," she chuckled. "Why do you want to veiw his memories?"

Harry let his gaze wander to behind her, faked sadness covering his expression. "I keep hearing about-" he sucked in a breath, "About him. About me. But I can't remember ever knowing him. I can't even know me. I just wanted to veiw some of our interactions- to see who I was and who he was and who we were together, you know? If it's... not too much to ask."

An expression of sympathy flashed accross her face, and Harry knew he'd said all the right things. He did not remember social cues, but lying as one thing that didn't take recollection to perfect at all.

"I will check in the storage room," she said, standing, "I'll see what memories Dumbledore had saved." She tapped her wand againist the wall three times and it opened up to reveal a large cabnit-filled room, room.

Harry waited, counting to ten, before shooting up out of his chair and very silently but quickly making his way around the room, searching for the past records of student attendees. He worries that what he's looking for is not in the office, but in the storage room where Mcgonagall entered, but his worry is short lived.

The sixth drawer of the Headmaster's desk holds a stack of papers, which Harry quickly flipped through, reading the titles of each as fast as possible. He pauses on one that read, "HOGWARTS STUDENT ATTENDEES, FIRST YEARS, 1956." Harry paused, quickly doing the math in his head. That would be the year Pristina and Jackson started Hogwarts. The only other thing listed on the page as a spell, writing beside it explaining that once casted, the file will appear.

What an interesting way to save space, Harry pondered, quickly shoving the paper in his pocket. He quietly shoved the drawer back into it's original position. He sat down at his seat, acting as if nothing had happened.

And not a moment too soon, for Mcgonagall arrived from the storage room twenty seconds after Harry had taken his seat. The storage room closed behind her on it's own.

In her hand, McGonagall held three pieces of paper. "To summon the pensive for each memory," she explained, sitting down and sliding the papers toward Harry, who took them numbly, "just cast the spell listed on the page. You can do them now, if you'd like."

Harry shook his head, burying the strong need to get out of there and show with Draco his findings and of the Lost Time he'd experinced before he came here. "I'd rather have some privacy while I do it, if you don't mind."

She smiled softly. "Of course, Harry. Rediscovering who you are must be so difficult, but I'm glad you're coping well."

"Thank you," Harry replied, plastering a smile on his face, "I am, too."

Harry finished his tea, then dismissed himself from the corridor. He walked toward the library (or at least, where he thought the library was. He had no certianty in anything) before deciding againist the idea. Draco likely still wouldn't be there, since it's past supper time and he'd left him at the library god knows how long ago. He'd hopefully be in the Hospital Wing, though, since they both slept there.

He debated on which way he was supposed to go for a moment, before deciding on going right. He walked slowly for a few seconds, picking up speed without realizing it, and before he knew it he was in an all out run.

For all he knew, he had valid reason to be running.

a/n
ooop showing off Harry's slytherin tendicies aye

we are also Trending so cheers to that shit. 15 in #drarry is that good shit, so thank you all

not to be dramatic but you guys might literally rip me limb from limb because of the ending i have planned

also thanks for over 1k reads?????

N E WAY self promo time~~
My book Plagued is pretty fucking dope. Uhhh fucking check it out it if you like my writing style, i put a lot of effort into it.

word count: 1078

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