Harry had not seen Malfoy look so gleeful since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid.

“I didn’t know,” he said, leering at Harry, who knew his face was burning. He would have given a great deal to be able to shout the truth at Malfoy—or, even better, to hit him with a good curse.

“Well, Draco, what is it?” asked Snape.

“It’s Professor Umbridge, sir—she needs your help,” said Malfoy.

“They’ve found Montague, sir, he’s turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.”

“How did he get in there?” demanded Snape.

“I don’t know, sir, he’s a bit confused.”

“Very well, very well, Potter,” said Snape, “we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening.”

He turned and swept from his office. Malfoy mouthed, “Remedial Potions?” at Harry behind Snape’s back before following him.

Seething, Harry replaced his wand inside his robes and made to leave the room. At least he had twenty-four more hours in which to practise; he knew he ought to feel grateful for the narrow escape, though it was hard that it came at the expense of Malfoy telling the whole school that he needed remedial Potions.

He was at the office door when he saw it: a patch of shivering light dancing on the doorframe. He stopped, and stood looking at it, reminded of something… then he remembered: it was a little like the lights he had seen in his dream last night, the lights in the second room he had walked through on his journey through the Department of Mysteries.

He turned around. The light was coming from the Pensieve sitting on Snape’s desk. The silver-white contents were ebbing and swirling within. Snape’s thoughts… things he did not want Harry to see if he broke through Snape’s defences accidentally…

Harry gazed at the Pensieve, curiosity welling inside him… what was it that Snape was so keen to hide from Harry?

The silvery lights shivered on the wall… Harry took two steps towards the desk, thinking hard. Could it possibly be information about the Department of Mysteries that Snape was determined to keep from him?

Harry looked over his shoulder, his heart now pumping harder and faster than ever. How long would it take Snape to release Montague from the toilet? Would he come straight back to his office afterwards, or accompany Montague to the hospital wing? Surely the latter… Montague was Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Snape would want to make sure he was all right.

Harry walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths. He hesitated, listening, then pulled out his wand again. The office and the corridor beyond were completely silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his wand.

The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. Harry leaned forwards over it and saw that it had become transparent. He was, once again, looking down into a room as though through a circular window in the ceiling… in fact, unless he was much mistaken, he was looking down into the Great Hall.

His breath was actually fogging the surface of Snape’s thoughts… his brain seemed to be in limbo… it would be insane to do the thing he was so strongly tempted to do… he was trembling… Snape could be back at any moment… but Harry thought of Cho’s anger, of Malfoy’s jeering face, and a reckless daring seized him.

He took a great gulp of breath, and plunged his face into the surface of Snape’s thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping Harry head-first into the Pensieve…

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Harry looked at her incredulously.	\|	He was falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went, and then—

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