𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟔 - 𝟕

"It's so easy for them to get to you two!" Hermione fumed as she read the latest edition of the Prophet and walked down the corridor with Potter and I at the same time. "You're bloody lucky you weren't killed. You have to realize who you both are." 

"I know who I am, Hermione, alright?" Potter snapped. Then he looked at her and mumbled, "Sorry." I stayed silent.

We turned around a corner to see Weasley and Lavender, sitting on a window seat together. Lavender was giggling atrociously and Weasley was smiling, but it looked like it was taking him some effort. 

"Lav, come on. Of course I'll wear it," Weasley said reluctantly.

Lavender squealed and clasped a silver chain around his neck that bore a charm reading Won-Won + Lav. 

"That's my Won-Won," she squealed, then hugged his arm like a two year old.

"Excuse me, I have to go and vomit," Hermione muttered, turning away and walking back where we came from.

"Bye," I said to Potter grimly, who was watching the scene in front of him with something very much like terror on his face.

He turned to me, suddenly looking pale. "You'll never give me a necklace that says Har-Har + Alexandra, right?" He asked. 

I managed a small laugh. "Let's hope we never get to that point." Then I went to follow Hermione, making sure she wasn't actually throwing up. The possibility was probable. 

I was sitting on a couch in the slowly emptying common room, waiting for Potter to get back from yet another meeting with Dumbledore. I waited for him every night to hear how they went, but it was always the same. Tom Riddle in the orphanage, Tom Riddle tormenting children, Tom Riddle killing a little girl's rabbit. Just the usual. 

Today, though, when Potter rushed in, he looked around frantically for me. Immediately I knew something new had happened. Dumbledore had shown him another memory—an important one.

"Alexandra," he gasped. It looked like he had run all the way back. "Dumbledore's told me what I need to get from Slughorn."

And so for the next hour we talked about Dumbledore's most recent memory. Potter told me that Tom Riddle and multiple other boys were sitting around a table in Slughorn's office, much like we had during the dinner parties Slughorn had with us this year. Tom Riddle was sixteen.

Potter said that the sixteen year old version of Voldemort had stayed after the dinner, talking about an "odd bit of rare magic" he had found in the Restricted Section of the library. Tom Riddle had began to say what the piece of magic was called, but then his voice went muffled, like he was speaking underwater. 

Slughorn apparently started shouting, saying that he had never heard of the magic and that he never wanted Tom Riddle to speak of it again. Then the memory ended. 

After Potter had viewed the memory, Dumbledore explained that it was one of Slughorn's own, and it had been tampered with. Potter asked why, but Dumbledore wouldn't give him a straight answer. Then he told Potter that he needed to persuade Slughorn to give him the real memory, and the meeting was over. 

"That's terrible," I finally said when Potter finished. "He wouldn't even tell you why you couldn't fail getting this memory? He just said the weight of the world was on your shoulders, don't mess up?"

"Pretty much," Potter agreed grimly. "But tomorrow, I'm going to figure it out. Tomorrow I'll go and get the memory from him, and this can all be done with."

"I hope it'll be that simple," I said, but we both knew that was wishful thinking.

For a few minutes the two of us simply sat with each other, staring dejectedly into the dying fire. Potter had an impossible task. If he found a way to succeed, it would only benefit Dumbledore. If he failed, he would be blamed completely. It wasn't the most ideal situation.