/𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒\ [𝒔. 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌]

𝟏.𝟘.𝟢

part one - the cloud of dust

"I shall be telling this with a sigh / somewhere ages and ages hence" ~ Robert Frost

"Ahhh, you've found the memories of Miss Artemis Blake, have you?" Dumbledore said calmly, eyeing up the Pensieve. "Yes, I've been... keeping them safe... for a little while now."

"Why?" Harry asked, curious about the snippet of a scene he'd witnessed. "Who is she?" Dumbledore's eyes took on a misty look.

"She was a good friend of your parents back in the day. A very good friend. Close with all of them- the 'Marauders' and their friends, I mean." Dumbledore stared almost wistfully towards the memories in the pensieve.

"But why does she want you to have her memories?"

At this, Dumbledore's eyes grew unusually bright, but he didn't look away from Harry's face. It was starting to make Harry feel rather uncomfortable. "She wanted me to have them... because of you," Dumbledore said at last. Harry was confused.

"Why?"

"She wanted you to see your parents. To see the life they lived and to see how much they loved you. She told me-" Dumbledore dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. "-She told me knows it's not the same as having them here with you, but that it's better than nothing."

"So she gave them to you? Like, for good?"

"Think of it as a copy of the ones in her mind. She still has them, I just possess the duplicate."

Harry took a tentative step towards the Pensieve. "So, could I- maybe- see them?" At this, Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling.

"Of course you can, Harry. That's the whole point. They were made for you." Dumbledore gestured encouragingly towards the Pensieve. "Go on."

Harry stepped forward and slowly tipped his head towards the swirling silver liquid again. He got one last look at the office, at Dumbledore's smiling face, before he was yet again plunged into darkness.

He fell through the swirling liquid, his heart rate speeding up until he landed gracefully in the tiny, messy kitchen of an unfamiliar house. The sun was shining outside the window, but the trees shook violently in the wind. The tiny house felt cozy, but unkept. Harry turned around to the kitchen island where three stools sat facing the rest of the room. In the middle stool, a small girl with messy dark brown hair and baggy shorts and a t-shirt sat by herself. Harry recognized her immediately as the girl from the memory under the trees. It was Artemis Blake.