The Anger.

"I believe that recovery did, indeed, take place soon after Christmas Day. Would those be the items to which you refer?"

Instead of answering, Dumbledore ignored the question and said, "I had a number of my very private memories taken when the goblins came and took my pensieve that..."

"My pensieve, Albus," interrupted Harry. "It was, after all, clearly marked with the Potter Crest."

There was a slight hesitation from the old man before he said, "Quite. Now, there were a number of my personal and very private memories within - the pensieve when it was taken. I would like to have them back."

"I see," said Harry.

"Now I would like to accompany you to where my - the - pensieve is currently stored, so I may recover my memories as soon as possible," said the old man. "I've rearranged part of my schedule so we may depart here on Saturday morning to journey to - the current location of the pensieve so I may effect recovery."

"Well, you see, Albus," said Harry adopting his own grandfatherly mien. "I'm afraid that won't be possible."

He could see the old man began to bristle slightly so held up his hand in a calming gesture. "Calm yourself, Albus."

"Now, the reason I said it won't be possible, is you are operating under the mistaken belief the memories that were within my pensieve when I first saw it after it was recovered, are still within the pensieve. I do not believe that is the case."

Eyes no longer twinkling, Dumbledore asked, "And where would they be?"

"I may have to ask the goblins," replied Harry. "I asked them to remove them."

With a well-shrouded but still visible panicky look, Dumbledore leaned forward and said, "It is imperative I have my memories returned, Mister Potter. I cannot impress upon you enough that my memories are returned to my person with all haste."

"I understand, Headmaster. I have experience with being upset when that which rightfully belongs to you, is denied you." Pretending to consider the request for a while, Harry said, "Well, I suppose I could contact my Account Keeper within Gringotts and arrange matters with him. I shall organise for your memories to be returned - if, of course, they're still available and haven't be destroyed - and, as you put it, with all haste."

Harry was having quite a bit of fun subtly watching the war of emotions flit over the old man's face as he spoke.

"Yes," said Harry. "I shall send an owl concerning your memories this very evening, Headmaster."

"It would be best, Harry, if we were to head to Gringotts first thing Saturday morning," tried the old man.

"No, Albus," said Harry with a look of sorrow but firm voice. "The goblins were quite upset with me that I did not respond to the many communications they sent to me during my - sojourn in Durzkaban - my little name for the Dursley residence, you understand. And it took me what felt like forever to sufficiently convince them I had nothing to do with the owl mail redirection placed upon my own personal prison or self. Nor, that I knew it was even there.

"So, I find myself quite reluctant to further harm my reborn and budding relationship with Gringotts for what is essentially a matter of importance to you; not to me. No; I cannot risk it, Albus. I shall send an owl and you may await the small delay."

With a long pause before speaking, Dumbledore clearly reluctantly said, "Very well, Harry. I expect to see my memories returned within the next couple of days."

"And I hope you will not be too disappointed if it is discovered the memories have been destroyed," replied Harry. "Something we can both hope for, Harry," said the old man. "Thank you for your time. You may go."

While he had had his fun with the Headmaster, Harry didn't want to push matters too far lest it be discovered the memories were actually up in Harry's trunk in the Ravenclaw First Year boys dorm.

On Saturday morning, after breakfast, Harry sent the small bundle containing the memories in a large goblin-forged jar up to the Headmaster's office via Hedwig. The note he attached only said that he hoped all the headmaster's missing memories were contained within.

Slowly, the icy grip of winter began to give way to early Spring. And the relaxed state of Hermione tightened very quickly into a frazzle where she became very focussed on the end of year exams. The others became very used to her shortened temper and tended to just go with the flow. Some of what she wanted to do to get ready for exams, the group was willing to comply with. They were, after all, good ideas. But, to some of it, they just paid lip service.

During the lead up to Valentine's Day, Harry was more concerned about his gift for Daphne than he was about school work. He even asked the other girls what they thought would be a good gift for her. But, most times they just cryptically said, 'Just be romantic.'

When he asked Neville, the boy just replied, "How would I know?" And when he asked his dorm mates they just snickered and gave him unhelpful, and sometimes ribald, worthless suggestions.

With only a week to go he finally decided to pull out the communications mirror Sirius had given him and taught him how to use when he stayed a couple of days at Grimmauld Place.

Opening it, he whispered, "Padfoot," onto the surface of the glass and waited.

A few minutes later his reflection blurred out to be replaced with his godfather's face.

"Hello, Pup," said Sirius by way of greeting. "It's nice to see you've remembered the mirrors. What can I do for you?"

"I - ummm - need some help in coming up with ideas for Valentine's Day," replied Harry, a little uncomfortable. "For Daphne."

"Well. My godson has decided to ask his dear godfather for help in being romantic for his lady," Sirius seemed to beam. With a mock sniffle and dabbing of his eyes, he said, "This is exactly the sort of thing I dreamed I would be helping you with when I agreed to the honour."

With a groan, Harry said, "Sirius, please. There's only a week to go and I'm at a loss."

"Alright, Pup," his godfather relented. "I would suggest talking with the elves and seeing if you can arrange a romantic dinner for two somewhere within the castle. But, that's for the evening.

"In the morning I suggest you have a rose, or roses, delivered to her at either breakfast with a nice card; or maybe a single rose delivered to her pillow with a nice note by the house elves. Your father did the latter for your mother in their sixth year."

"Alright," said Harry calming down. He began muttering, "A rose - a white rose No, two rosebuds. One red and one white, intertwined and thornless. With a small card. I'll have it left on her bedside table. She'll see it when she wakes up without it being too close."

"An excellent choice," said Sirius. "Do you know the colour and presentation has meaning?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "A red rosebud is symbolic of purity and loveliness, a white rosebud is symbolic of feminine youth, thornless symbolises love, and two intertwined is symbolic of marriage."

"A good combination," said Sirius. "Now, what about for the evening?"

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