Chapter 62: Memories
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 62: Memories
The diary felt so heavy in his hands, like grabbing onto a boulder.
Harry sat on his bed while pressing the worn leather cover with his fingers.
He turned the page with trembling hands, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting.
"I have been at Hogwarts for three weeks now. I have made friends. I have made enemies. And I have come to suspect that nothing in this world is what it seems."
"The Dursleys...Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley are not the people they were in the books that I became so familiar with. They are kind. They are loving. They took me in when they didn't have to. They treat me like their own son."
Harry paused, his brow furrowing. "The Dursleys...." The name felt familiar, but the fog in his head was still thick. He remembered a house...a small, neat house on a street called Privet Drive. He remembered a large man with a pink face, a thin woman with a long neck, and a boy with a round face and a gentle laugh.
'It's as Draco told me...they were my family,' he realised. 'My real family.'
He continued reading. The next entries were written around Christmas, when he spent a lot of time alone in the castle.
"I have discovered the truth about my parents, thanks to some strange book written by my Grandfather."
"James Potter was not a hero. He was nothing more than Dumbledore's executioner. They called him the Grim Reaper. He hunted Muggle-borns. He tortured prisoners. He was a monster."
Harry's stomach lurched as the memories reformed in his mind.
He remembered the photograph he found at the vault, the laughing couple depicted on it, so happy, so in love. It had all been a mask. Just a lie...
"And my mother… was she as bad as my father?" He wondered.
Harry pressed his eyes shut, a wave of nausea washing over him. His father had been a killer. His mother could have been complicit. They must have served Dumbledore willingly, and they had died for it.
'I am not them,' he thought. 'I will never be them.'
He forced himself to read on with the urgency of someone desperate to take back everything that had been stolen from him.
With every word he took from the diary, a new piece of his broken mind seemed to get mended. With every page he turned, the fog was driven away, further and further.
"I have discovered the truth about Dumbledore. He is not the kindly grandfather he pretends to be before the students. In reality, he is a tyrant, a manipulator, and a murderer."
There was a lot of bitterness when writing about the Headmaster.
"He killed Alistair Parkinson!" He had added at the end of the page.
"Alistair Parkinson...of course. Pansy's brother." Harry's breath caught. Reading the name suddenly triggered a flood of images.
Harry turned the page, his eyes scanning his own handwriting.
"I have been investigating the ghost that has been following me. It appears in empty corridors, in the library, at the edge of the lake. It whispers my name. It points towards the water."
"I think it wants me to find something. I think it wants me to find its body."
Harry's breath caught. He recalled the ghost now...the tall figure with long black hair, the desperate eyes, the way it had appeared and vanished like smoke.
He remembered the whispers in empty corridors, the cold breath on the back of his neck, the shadow at the edge of his vision.
He remembered the first time he had seen it clearly. The figure had been standing in the corridor, blocking his path. He had been terrified back then.
And then the ghost had spoken, or had tried to speak. Its voice had been broken, barely a whisper.
"P-Potter… hhhhh… hhhh…"
He had thought the ghost was saying his name. But he had been wrong. It was trying to say the word "water".
The ghost had been trying to lead him to the lake the whole time.
"I told Draco, Crabbe, and Pansy about the ghost. They didn't believe me at first. They thought I was imagining things. But then Pansy described her brother, Alistair, and everything clicked into place."
Harry remembered that moment. The look on Pansy's face when she realised the ghost was her brother. The tears in her eyes. The desperate hope that she might finally find out what had happened to him.
"We decided to investigate the lake. But we couldn't just dive in. The water is freezing, and the lake is deep. We needed a way to breathe underwater and stay warm."
"That's when I decided to consult the Potter Grimoire."
Harry paused, his mind racing. "The Grimoire! That's right!"
He just recalled the book...the one with the dark leather cover and the symbol of the cloaked stag. He remembered the moment it had bonded to him, sinking into his chest like a second heartbeat during his visit to the Potter Vault.
He reached inside himself, feeling for the familiar warmth. It was still there...faint, but present. The grimoire was still with him, even if he had forgotten.
Harry felt a wave of relief washing over him. At least, this was something that Dumbledore could not take away from him.
His eyes went back to the pages, eager to learn more.
"The grimoire opened for me for the first time. It taught me a potion recipe, the Deep-Water Draught. It would allow me to breathe underwater and stay warm. But I couldn't brew it alone. I needed help from someone who knew about potions, and there is only one person I could think of asking...."
"I asked Daphne Greengrass."
Harry smiled faintly as the memories surfaced. He recalled meeting Daphne in the library...her amber eyes were sharp and curious.
Images rushed into his mind. Images of Daphne in the Room of Requirement. Her hands were steady as she measured ingredients.
"Daphne agreed to help me. She knew about the Black Lake. She knew how dangerous it was. But she also knew what it was like to lose someone."
"We brewed the potion together. She did most of the work...her mother was a healer, and she had inherited her skill. I chopped ingredients and stirred the cauldron. We worked through the night, and by morning, the Deep-Water Draught was ready."
"The potion worked!. Daphne and I dived into the lake together. We found the cave...a hidden entrance beneath the dead tree on the shore. We swam through the narrow passage and emerged in a large chamber."
"And then we found him."
Harry's hands tightened on the diary. The memories flooded back...the cold water, the chains, the body preserved by the water.
"Alistair Parkinson was chained to a rock at the far end of the cave. His mouth was sealed with a parchment covered in runes. The runes were meant to silence him, even in death. That's why he couldn't talk properly to me. Why he had such a hard time asking for help."
He remembered the horror of that moment. The pale dead skin, the dark hair covering his face. The silver prefect badge still gleaming on his chest. The chains that had held him prisoner for so long.
"The ghost appeared. He was trapped in the cave, bound to his body by the runes. He couldn't leave. He couldn't speak. He could only watch his surroundings."
"I removed the seal from his mouth, and he immediately told us what happened. He had been investigating the third-floor corridor...Dumbledore's private chambers. The Weasley twins caught him and dragged him to McGonagall, who sent for Dumbledore."
Harry read the words, the anger building in his chest.
"Dumbledore murdered him. He used the Killing Curse. And then he trapped his spirit in the cave, silencing him with runes."
Harry remembered Alistair's voice...so faint and broken, but clear.
"I was investigating the third-floor corridor. I knew Dumbledore was hiding something there...a prisoner, maybe. I found a hidden door. I was about to open it when…"
"The Weasley twins. They appeared out of nowhere. They were on patrol, Junior Inquisitors, they called themselves. They said I was breaking the rules. They dragged me to McGonagall."
"She didn't hurt me. She just… looked at me. Then she sent for Dumbledore."
"He came. He looked at me with those cold eyes, and he said… he said, 'This one knows too much.'"
"Then I don't remember. There was a green light. And then… I woke up here. Chained to this rock. I couldn't speak...the seal kept me silent. I couldn't leave either...for a long time. Until I found you..."
Harry pressed his eyes shut. He remembered the ghost's final words: "Tell her… tell her I love her. Tell her I'm proud of her."
In the next few entries, he wrote about his friends' return to school and how he explained all his findings to them.
Pansy was, of course, eager to meet the spirit of her brother one last time and say her goodbyes.
Harry, Draco and Crabbe were very eager to help her...however, this was the point where Daphne decided to distance herself from them, after discovering that the Headmaster was involved in what happened to Parkinson.
However, she still helped them make another batch of the potion so they could dive into the lake once more.
Harry turned the page, eager to read about their incursion into the lake, but then...the next entry made his blood run cold.
"We were caught."
"McGonagall and the Junior Inquisitors ambushed us as we emerged from the lake. Magical ropes bound us. The Weasley twins were there, smirking. They confiscated everything."
"We were dragged to the cells in the dungeons. Pansy was separated from us. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what they were planning."
"Then McGonagall came. She told us that Pansy had lost her last credit point. She had only one to begin with because the children of convicted criminals start with one point."
"She was sent to re-education."
Harry's hands were shaking. He remembered that night...the cold cell, the damp hay, the fear that had gripped him. He remembered the guilt that had nearly crushed him. He had led Pansy into the cave. He had put her in danger. And now she was gone.
"I was taken to Dumbledore's office. He told me I would lose two credit points. I would have one left. One more mistake, and I would join Pansy in re-education."
"He also told me that I would attend weekly meetings with him. 'Rehabilitation sessions,' he called them."
Harry remembered the cold knot in his stomach. He remembered the fear he had felt back then, sitting across from the Headmaster, knowing that the man was not what he seemed.
"I knew, then, that Dumbledore was the person Alistair had been investigating. I knew the third-floor corridor held Dumbledore's secrets. But I didn't know what they were just yet."
"I had to find out. I had to find out what Alistair had discovered. I had to find out what Dumbledore was hiding."
The next entries detailed the months that followed. Harry's investigations. His growing suspicion of Dumbledore. The strange feeling that he was being watched.
"I heard Snape and McGonagall talking about the 'guest' in the third-floor corridor. They mentioned moving 'him' before the end of the year."
"There is a prisoner in the third-floor corridor. Someone Dumbledore wants to keep hidden."
"I need to find out who it is. I need to find out what Alistair discovered."
Harry turned the page, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting.
"I received a package today. Wrapped in brown paper. No note. Inside was an Invisibility Cloak."
"The note said to wait until the last month of the last trimester. The Headmaster will be away. Then act. Use this wisely."
"The handwriting matched the book my grandfather wrote. The same person who hid it in the library. Someone is helping me."
Harry remembered the cloak. The silvery fabric, the weightlessness, the exhilaration of being unseen. He remembered hiding it in the Room of Requirement, waiting for the right moment, and he also remembered giving it to Draco at the end of the year.
"Right...Draco...he told me I had left him two things. One was the diary, and the other one...must be the cloak." The memories were becoming very clear now. The fog was pushed aside.
He turned the page again, and the final entries detailed the attack on the Ministry, Dumbledore's departure, and Harry's infiltration of the third-floor corridor.
"The attack on the Ministry happened tonight. Dumbledore and McGonagall are gone. The castle is under heightened curfew. I knew it was my chance."
"I used the cloak. I made my way to the third-floor corridor. I opened the door."
"I found the chamber. The jars. The blood. The torture tools. And the prisoner."
"His name is Tom Riddle."
Harry remembered the green flames, the explosion, the desperate escape. He remembered the Dark Lord's final words: "You are a very interesting boy, Harry Potter. I hope we will meet again in the future."
He had set Tom Riddle free. He had destroyed Dumbledore's laboratory, and freed all the spirits of the students that Dumbledore had been collecting for decades.
The Headmaster had been furious.
Harry turned the page, his hands shaking.
"I know Dumbledore will find out. He will know it was me. And when he does, he will destroy me."
"I gave Draco my diary and my Invisibility Cloak for safekeeping. I cannot risk Dumbledore finding them."
"I don't know what the future holds. But I know one thing for certain: I will not let Dumbledore control me. I will not let him use me. I will find my own path, and I will fight for what is right."
"No matter the cost."
Harry's mind was getting clear now. He remembered everything that happened during the past year. The lake, the cave, the ghost, Pansy, the weekly meetings with Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, the green flames...
But then...he realized there was still something left. Something very important.
The diary still contained one last entry.
"I am going home tomorrow. To the Dursleys. Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley. They are the only family I have left, and I love them more than I ever thought possible."
"I will protect them. I will keep them safe. No matter what it takes."
Harry stared at the words, tears streaming down his face.
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