To Kill You With a Kiss

Chapter 10

Harry pushed the familiar door to the headmaster's office open with trembling hands. The hideous gargoyle that guarded the door hadn't even bothered to ask him for a password this time; it just gave him a stony, downcast look and sighed as he walked past it.

The Pensieve stood there as before, grey and ancient. Harry scanned the small glass bottles on the shelf above it eagerly. Silver strands of memories glittered and swirled within. There must be more to the memory I visited. I need to find my way back into the memory... AD&GG, AD&GG, AD&AD, AD&AD, TR, TR, TR... But there was no vial marked TR &HP.

Harry stared at the little gleaming glass vials in dismay. How is this possible? The memory I got trapped in before isn't even here any longer. It is as if the memory itself never existed, as if it was nothing but a dream.

He read the labels, again and again, desperately hoping to see the lost memory somewhere. No. Nothing. Oh, Tom, where are you? How will I ever find you again?

He reached out for one of the little vials marked "TR" and poured the contents into the Pensieve. I don't care which memory this is. I have to see you, one way or another. The glittering swirls dissolved into the luminous waters of the Pensieve, and Harry plunged himself into the silvery mist.

The next moment, Slughorn and Tom Riddle appeared before him. Tom was dressed in school robes, and he was gazing at Slughorn with his quicksilver eyes: "What about... horcruxes, sir?"

Harry drew his breath sharply. He knew this memory of course; he had already been inside this recollection in the past. He didn't listen to the conversation between the potions master and the young Tom Riddle this time; he merely gazed at Tom. How beautiful he is... Harry reached out and tried to stroke Tom's dark curls, but there was nothing there to touch.

Tom! Turn around and look at me! I'm here!

But the memory of Tom could not hear him; the handsome schoolboy merely held the potions master's gaze with his own until a slight flush began to spread over Slughorn's cheeks. Slowly, like a man enchanted, the potions master began to speak of horcruxes.

Tom! Why can't you see me? Why do you keep dissolving under my touch? Harry reached for him frantically, but there was nothing but air.

The memory came to an end, and Harry found himself back in Dumbledore's office. He sank down on the floor, trembling. Where did you go, Tom? How do I find the memory of you and me again?

He read the labels on the glass vials yet again. It must be here somewhere? No. There is no recollection of you and me. Nobody remembers us...

But then Harry noticed that a few of the vials were still empty, and a curious idea began to form in his mind. Perhaps that's not true. Someone does remember you and me, after all.

He pulled his wand out and raised it to his head. How do I do this? Perhaps like this... He closed his eyes and let the memories of Tom flood his mind. The sound of your voice, the scent of your skin, the sunlight over the moor... All at once, he felt a strange trembling sensation in his wand, and as he opened his eyes, he saw a delicate pearly mist hover about his wand. My memory. My memory of Tom Riddle. Gently, Harry lowered his wand into one of the empty vials. When he withdrew the wand, the glittering swirl stayed inside the little bottle. He found a small stopper on the shelf and closed the bottle.

Harry stared, mesmerized, at the swirling memory in the vial. I wondered , when I visited the past, whose memory it was that I entered. I never realized that it was mine... Perhaps I should have known? Who else could have remembered you and me? But is this the enchanted memory I visited, where everything was so wonderfully real? Or is what I see in this bottle now merely an echo of the real thing, made up of mist and memories, like all these other recollections?