Harry smiles. He's no longer The Boy Who Lived. He's no longer Saviour of the Wizarding World.
He's just Professor Potter, or as most students like to call him, "Chaser Weasley's boring husband".
He looks upon the Pensieve fondly, coaxing the shimmering memory out with the tip of his wand. Out of all of them, this is still his favourite.
Suddenly Harry's back in the hallway, a familiar feeling of dread creeping up his spine.
Someone whispers something under their breath about Voldemort and Mary, a second year Hufflepuff, scowls.
"Who cares Sarah? He still gave us homework over break!"