Harry immediately started sprinting off in the direction of Dumbledore's office, hoping that the Headmaster would still be there.
It was maybe important what he had seen need to be reported. It was almost like being a spy in Voldemort's midst...
Harry thought it was odd that he was not inside Voldemort's body, as was he in the fifth year, when Voldemort was trying to possess him.
He found himself in front of the statue guard.
"C-Chocolate frog." Harry gasped.
The statue let him pass, and Harry took the moving steps two at a time. He was about to knock loudly on the heavy wooden door, but caught himself; there were voices discussing inside.
"Honestly, Dumbledore, there's too much pressure on me these days-"
"Cornelius, I have faith in you, you can do this." Dumbledore was saying.
"But you don't understand - "
"Ah, you are quite wrong there. Remember when you branded me as an old senile fraud? I do believe that I was under quite a lot of stress also, much more than you appear to be shouldering at the moment."
"But I'm the Minister for Magic." Fudge squeaked.
"And he's the headmaster of Hogwarts," Moody's growling voice retorted. "How do you think Dumbledore felt when you forced him to leave this school, eh?"
Harry could almost hear Fudge cringe.
"Yes, well...I was quite rash at that time...the Daily Prophet, you know."
"Which you manipulated," Moody said harshly. "Anyways, could we wrap up this discussion, please?"
"Yes, I must really be heading back to the Ministry." Fudge mumbled.
"No, it's not that," Moody said. "Potter apparently wants to see you, Dumbledore."
Harry suddenly had a strong sense of deja-vu. This was very similar to an experience he had in his fourth year, where he also had a dream about Voldemort, ran up to Professor Dumbledore's office. There, he had secretly eavesdropped for a while on a conversation (also between Moody, Dumbledore, and Fudge), until Moody(as Crouch jr.) had invited him in.
The door opened.
"Hello, Potter." Moody said. "Come on in, then."
Deja-vu struck again. That, unless Harry was very much mistaken, was what the fake Moody had said to him in the fourth year.
Dumbledore smiled at Harry. Moody clasped his shoulder and showed him to a chair. Fudge looked apologetically at Harry, shrugged guiltily, and became very interested in the office carpet.
Harry knew why the Minister for Magic was acting this way; it was he who had portrayed Harry as a show-off, he who had acted so harshly towards Harry, and who had tried not once, but twice to get Harry expelled last year.
Harry simply nodded at him coolly.
"Harry, please wait here and be patient," Dumbledore said. "Cornelius, Alastor, and myself need to see to business at the Ministry. I promise you that I will not delay in my return."
Harry nodded.
Moody, Fudge, and Professor Dumbledore stepped into the emerald fireplace, and with three whooshes, they were gone.
Harry was left sitting alone.
It was then that he noticed the Pensieve on Dumbledore's desk.
The sense of deja-vu grew stronger.
Harry walked to the pensieve, and prodded the contents with his wand.
Harry watched the thoughts inside the Pensieve swirl very fast. A picture started to form, and Harry peered closely at it, his breath fogging the surface.
He looked around nervously, and decided to jump into the memory, since Dumbledore was considerably more forgiving than Snape.
Harry took a very deep breath(which was more instinct really, since he could breathe inside the memory) and dived headfirst.
Dumbledore's office disappeared in a haze of gray-out as Harry was hurled into whatever memory, and he found himself standing near a tree.
He sat down, knees shaking, and tried to get a bearing of where he was.
Harry could see that he was in the Hogwarts grounds, in summertime. He was in the middle courtyard, which he knew was very close to the Quidditch pitch, only a five minute walk.
Harry looked around. Where was Dumbledore? This was his memory, after all...
Sure enough, Harry saw him. This event couldn't have been long ago, because Dumbledore was still silver-haired, and had a very long mustache and beard.
It was then that Harry noticed that there was a storm of students, all of them extremely excited. They were either dressed in red or blue.
So, it was a Quidditch game. Red and blue meant that Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were playing. Harry, careful to keep Dumbledore in sight, headed for the Gryffindow change room.
He passed ghostlike through the tent flap, and took a good look at each of the players.
There were only two girls on the team, a brunette and a blond, both tall. Harry didn't recognize them, so he looked at a boy sitting next to them, who he also didn't recognize.
Harry glanced at the boy sitting to the far right, tying up his shoelaces for his Quidditch boots. He had his head down, but the flyaway black hair was familiar...
The boy looked up, and gave a thumbs-up to another boy who seemed of the same age, at the far bench. Harry's stomach felt light.
It was unmistakeably a very young Sirius, probably in his third or fourth year. And if this one was Sirius, then the boy at the far end must be...
As Harry suspected, it was his thirteen year-old father, grinning at Sirius. The blonde girl stood up, and it was obvious that she was the captain of this team.
"Alright, Black...I want a good game, not goofing off. I've seen you play before, and if you decide the game matters...you put all your skill in. Well, this game matters.
"Potter-( Here Harry spun around instinctively) - I want you to be looking for the snitch ALL YOU CAN. You've got good reflexes, but bad concentration."
"Righto, Amanda." James said cheerfully. Sirius nodded in agreement.
"OK," Amanda said to the rest of the team at large. "Just do your best, play clean...good luck."
They stepped outside, right through Harry. He cringed, but he knew that he wouldn't feel a thing. Still, it felt highly uncomfortable to be treated like an invisible ghost.
Harry "floated" through the tent, glanced around, and spotted Dumbledore. He had been near enough to allow Harry's dream form to wander into the tent, as he had seated on the top seat, in the column closest to the Gryffindor change room.
Harry wondered if he could fly.
He tried to jump, and willed his mind to soar...
Harry opened his eyes and found him wandering around in midair, and by accident or coincidence, James flew right in front of him. Harry followed in the warmup.
Finally, James touched down for the broom kick off.
A rather strong-looking Gryffindor second-year touched down on Harry's left. Harry did a double-take before he realized he was staring at an extremely young Ludovic Bagman, clutching a Beater bat. There were changes, though...Bagman's face was determined, his nose was not squashed, but the round, pink, boyish demeanor still resided on his visage.
An unfamiliar man stumped onto the pitch, carrying a crate, a broomstick, and a whistle. "Mount your brooms!" He roared.
Most people were already mounted anyways.
The man released the balls.
Harry followed his father.
Immediately, Harry started looking for the snitch, even though he was not playing. James was in front of him, his hazel eyes darting all over for the snitch.
Sirius was heading toward the goalposts.
Why hadn't he told Harry that he was once a keeper? It made Harry's heart seem too big for its membrane.
A bludger streaked towards Sirius, but Bagman easily caught up and slammed it very hard towards a Ravenclaw chaser.
"ALL RIGHT, SIRIUS?" Bagman yelled.
"SWELL, LUDO!" Sirius replied.
Harry returned to the game, not a single point had been scored.
He noticed that James was diving at a golden glimmer near the west stands.
Harry did not need to see that James had caught the snitch, as there was a very loud cheer from the Gryffindor end, with a loud groan from the Ravenclaws.
James zoomed, doing a victory lap, holding the snitch and kissing it. Harry grimaced; his father was showing off again.
If Harry had been up there, he would have just landed, showed his teammates the snitch, confirm to the referee, and run for the change room.
He tried to follow the team, but felt himself being pulled backwards.
A second later, he found himself planted firmly in the top stands. There were two Dumbledores. Both were silver-haired, and smiling. One was watching his father's victory lap, and one was looking at him.
"I see that you are enjoying yourself, Harry?"
"Yes, Professor....sorry, I just wanted to see - "
"Quite understandable, Harry. I see that you have learned how to freely traverse the world of memory..."
"You mean when I was flying?"
"Yes, quite so. You see, it takes a thought strong of will to do that."
The present Dumbledore stood up, took Harry's arm, and led him back up into the real world.
Harry sat back down, tiredly. Dumbledore circled around, sat down gingerly on his wooden chair, and leaned forward.
"Now, I believe that you had something to tell me before I departed with Alastor and Cornelius."
"Yes, professor. Er, I was in History of Magic, and I fell asleep..." He looked nervously at the headmaster, who shrugged helplessly, and nodded for him to continue.
Harry continued, trying to remember every single detail.
"Well, I was in a large dark room...Avery was there, and so was Voldemort. Avery was telling Voldemort something, but Voldemort said that he will take care of it, whatever it was. Avery stayed, and asked Voldemort what was to happen with someone called Farulen. Fred Farulen, or something. And Voldemort said that he'd killed Farulen. Avery was anxious that the Ministry would notice...but Voldemort dismissed it, and said that he was only worried that you would find out. And something about the Emerald Knight was mentioned."
Harry looked up. With a start, he realized that Dumbledore was angry. However, the anger was not directed at Harry, but at the desk. But the anger receded, leaving a older Dumbledore than Harry had ever realized.
"I see," Professor Dumbledore said wearily. "I see...now, from which point of view did you see this?"
Harry immediately replied. "I wasn't in Voldemort's body...I was watching from the windowsill. Is this a good thing to know?"
"It is," Dumbledore said, staring at him curiously. "It might be a sign that Voldemort has ceased to attempt possessing you. This might be because that you are feeling extremely positive feelings to one or more of your friends recently..."
"Hermione." Harry grunted. His face felt like it was glowing red again.
"Ah, I really shouldn't be suprised." Dumbledore seemed to relax slightly.
Harry grunted again, embarrassed.
"Now, remember when I told you that last year that very positive feelings for your friends is your 'greatest strength'?" The headmaster asked.
"Yes." Harry said tersely.
"Well, that applies to Voldemort only, and his Death Eaters. He is full of greed, corruption, and hate. You are filled with the exact opposite; that makes you his equal. Remember the prophecy, he would mark you as his equal."
"His equal?" Harry said incredulously. "I can't be, I can never fight the way he did last summer - "
"Which brings us to the next part..." Dumbledore said quietly, and Harry shut up, listening.
"There was another prophecy made about you and Voldemort, but, er...more general in the fact."
If the human mind could chew gum, Harry's would have been blowing bubbles. He gripped his chair arms, listening.
"It stated that the last heir of Gryffindor will either kill or be killed by the last heir of Slytherin. And knowing what the Lost Prophecy stated...neither can live while the other survives, for one must die at the hands of another. And knowing that the heir of Slytherin is Voldemort..."
Harry's mind blew a very large bubble, which popped.
"You mean....no, you can't be saying that," Harry croaked. "I'm the heir of - "
"Gryffindor, yes." Dumbledore said.
Harry nearly fell off his chair.
"How?" He squealed with such pitch that Lavender Brown would have been put to shame.
"Ah, now...I was afraid you might take that reaction." Dumbledore sighed worriedly. "About your inheritance, didn't you ever wonder how all that gold got in there?"
Harry nodded, his throat no longer working.
"Well, Godric left quite a fortune to your parents, which you inherited. James was originally the heir of Gryffindor, but seeing as he is dead, and you are his son..."
Dumbledore sighed, very heavily. "Remember in our second year, I told you that only a true Gryffindor could've pulled the sword out of Godric's hat?"
Harry nodded again.
"I was trying to give you a hint, there. Godric was very protective of his sword, and therefore left it to his last heir. I was originally planning to let you have a crack at it in your seventh year, but Fawkes came with Godric's hat when all your hope was lost. Fawkes - (he stroked the phoenix) - was originally a very valued friend of Godric's. He sensed that you were in danger in Salazar's chamber, and he came to your aid."
Harry nodded.