bacchusnovels Chapter 509 Pensieve
Chapter 509 Pensieve
Chapter 509 Pensieve
Fleur followed silently behind Professor McGonagall.
Was Professor McGonagall helping her out of a difficult situation?
Or...dumbledore really wants to see her? What does he want? Is he going to ask her about last night? Could it be...?
She was going to repeat Mrs. Pomfrey's examination results in public again.
Or perhaps...
She didn't dare to speak the whole way, and Professor McGonagall remained silent as well.
Finally, they stopped in front of the oak gate.
Professor McGonagall knocked twice on the door, then said softly, "Come in."
The door slowly opened.
Hibiscus walked in—
But he stood there, stunned.
The office not only contained Dumbledore.
Harry, Erin, and her two Beauxbatons classmates, along with Professor Phillips, were all there.
"Did you call me?" she asked.
Dumbledore smiled slightly and nodded, gesturing for her to find a seat.
"Because what happened last night was too horrific, I've asked a few of you to come and question me about what happened, even if it's just a tiny clue. A sound, a scene, a fragment—any of these could be the key to unlocking the truth."
"But Professor Dumbledore..."
Eileen couldn't help but say.
"Weren't we under a forgetting spell? Then... how could we possibly remember anything?"
Dumbledore did not answer immediately, but walked to the side of the room and reached into an old cabinet to take out a silver container.
"What is this?" a Beauxbatons student asked.
"The Pensieve," Sean suddenly spoke, "is an extremely rare magical item that can store and recall memories. For most wizards—"
Following Sean's words, the group carefully examined the silver container.
Sure enough, the rim of the basin was engraved with runes and mysterious symbols, and the basin was filled with a silvery substance that resembled both liquid and gas, like clouds.
The memory of the Pensieve allows one to observe from a third-person perspective.
Because the extracted memories are highly subjective and could be misused, most Pensieves, like wands, are buried with their owners upon their death.
Moreover... only very powerful wizards use them; ordinary wizards keep it a closely guarded secret.
"I will not force you."
Dumbledore looked at the four of them and spoke slowly.
"But I need your permission to try to use the Pensieve to draw out what remains deep in your memories."
While Fleur was still hesitating, Harry was the first to act.
He was the first person to arrive this morning, and the only one present who had used the Pensieve.
In the morning, he used the Pensieve to see some memories—scenes about the Ministry of Magic's trial of the Death Eaters after the First Wizarding War... There were many familiar faces in them, such as Dumbledore, Moody, and Karkaroff.
All they saw was Harry slowly lowering his head into the shimmering silver basin of meditation.
For a moment, only the gentle ripples of the water in the meditation basin remained in the room.
"What did you see?"
no answer.
Much later, Harry's body suddenly jolted.
He seemed to be pulled by a force, and suddenly lifted his head from the basin. His face was shaken, and the scar on his forehead throbbed with pain again.
"I...I saw that dream again."
"The mysterious man is right there."
"6
'
Dumbledore gestured for Sean to come over and observe Harry's dream together.
The scene in my memory was exactly the same as Harry's description. It's just that... different people will always have different insights when observing the same thing.
Dumbledore and Sean's attention was entirely focused on the snake.
After the two of them broke free from Harry's memories, they looked at each other simultaneously.
Sean learned that Dumbledore had confirmed his guess about Horcruxes—and might even have guessed that Voldemort had also turned this snake into one of his Horcruxes.
What he didn't know was... that Dumbledore knew what he knew.
This sentence sounds convoluted, and it really is.
"Does it hurt?"
Eileen bit her lip and glanced at Harry, seemingly encouraged.
"Like a dream," Harry shook his head. "It doesn't hurt."
Eileen nodded, stood up, and slowly walked towards the Pensieve.
"Try to recall whichever memory you want to relive. Don't think about anything else. Focus your attention," Dumbledore reminded him from the side.
As her forehead touched the surface of the liquid, the silvery ripples seemed to gently envelop her.
About half a minute later, she raised her head, her eyes somewhat dazed.
"I...I think I saw myself. The four of us were standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, with a man beside us, acting crazy...but...who is she?"
Eileen's face turned pale, and she covered her head, murmuring something.
"I'm pretty sure it wasn't a student, it was a man... The voice was very close, right next to me."
Then two other students from Beauxbatons also tried the Pensieve.
Their conclusion was much the same as Eileen's—there was a man standing next to them, but no matter what, they didn't know who he was.
At this moment, everyone's eyes were on Furong.
Dumbledore did the same, not urging her, but simply watching her quietly.
Furong wanted to escape, but if she herself could escape what happened yesterday, then this "blank" would trap her forever, and the gossip would confine her to a dark and gloomy little room.
"I'll do it," she said.
Seeing that Hibiscus had made her choice, Sean felt a little nervous.
It wasn't that he was afraid Furong would recall what happened yesterday—it was Little Barty's doing yesterday, and he, Xiao, knew nothing about it, so it had nothing to do with him. The main thing was that he was worried Furong might think of something she shouldn't.
For example... the second project happened at the bottom of the lake.
Even so, Sean still has a way to deal with it; he still has his biggest trump card to play.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Furong stood up, walked towards the meditation basin, knelt in front of it, closed her eyes, and slowly brought her face close to the silvery, watery surface of the basin.
total darkness.
Suppressed, silent, empty.
There was nothing there.
Where is this? Who is she? Why is she here?
There was no echo, only the resounding of my own heartbeat deep within my consciousness.
Just as loneliness and fear were about to engulf her, a beam of light, as small as a spark, suddenly flashed before her eyes.
Next, the first bunch, the second bunch...
Those lights, like fragments of memory, lit up in her mind, like a film reel being rapidly rewound, as if her mother were softly singing a lullaby and spinning her around while she was learning to speak.
When he was learning to walk, he would fall down and get up again, and his father would applaud loudly beside him.
When she first entered Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she put on her school robes for the first time and twirled in front of the mirror, saying, "I will become the best witch."
The tension of each exam, the misunderstandings that arise, and the proud, head held high each time.
That was her everything.
She is Fleur Delacour. She knows her name, she knows who she is, and she knows—she shouldn't be trapped in this darkness.
Then, a shift in memory.
The scene falls into the water.
Indistinct aquatic plants, a view obscured by bubbles.
really.
Sean's worst fears came true.
"Miss Delacour, how is it?" he shouted.
The people nearby were startled by the shout.
Furong suddenly regained her senses, her face flushed with embarrassment.
Almost.
Thankfully... no one else saw it.
The scene shifts again, landing on this blank timeline.
She stood on the grass, the night wind was cold, and in front of her was the edge of the forbidden forest.
Eileen and the others stood aside. She remembered that Mr. Bagman had sent them to find Hagrid...
But just as they were preparing to move on—
A crazy figure jumped out of the bushes.
The figure and face were unclear.
But... just as the dark figure suddenly grabbed her and pulled at her skirt, she saw it.
I saw it.
Barty Crouch.
That man is Barty Crouch.
Then, as she was on her way to find Dumbledore, a spell suddenly rang out.
"Forget everything, and all is emptiness!"
My memory suddenly blurred, like a piece of cloth being ripped off and torn to pieces.
She couldn't hear who was shouting.
In the blurry light, she only remembered a hand rapidly waving a wand, and then she lost her balance and fell forward.
Consciousness was completely plunged into darkness.
—But before the darkness completely engulfed her, she vaguely heard a second person's voice.
"She can't die."
Then came a muttering sound, like the finishing touches after a spell was cast.
Hibiscus's memories end here.
Just then, in the darkness, the beam of light finally burst open completely, and Furong opened her eyes.
Before the Pensieve, everyone held their breath and stared at her.
Her hand was still on the edge of the basin, her breathing was slightly rapid, and her eyes were dazed but also somewhat clear.
"I—I remember something," she said in a hoarse voice, "that crazy man was Barty Crouch."
"Barty Crouch?" Harry exclaimed instinctively.
Mr. Crouch's name also appeared in his dreams.
"You mean Mr. Crouch did it?" Dumbledore frowned.
"No, no." Fleur shook her head. "Mr. Barty Crouch seems to be mentally unstable. He said he did something wrong and sent me to find you. On the way, I was knocked unconscious by a spell."
"6
'
Harry then recalled the scene he had witnessed in the Pensieve earlier:
That trial of the Death Eaters by the Ministry of Magic!
Mr. Crouch at that time sat upright and was impartial, while the young man sentenced to Azkaban was also named Barty Crouch.
For some reason, a chill ran down Harry's spine and up to his head.
"Where is Mr. Barty Crouch now?" Erin suddenly asked.
Dumbledore and Sean exchanged a glance and both shook their heads.
It was Sean who spoke first, since he and Crouch were somewhat colleagues.
"It's been a long time since I've seen him." He paused. "Yesterday I received a message from some people at the Ministry of Magic that Mr. Crouch hasn't been back for a while. Since the first project ended, nobody knows where he's gone."
"So... he's gone missing?" Eileen pressed.
"Hmm...you could say that." Sean nodded.
"But if he's missing, how did he suddenly appear in the Forbidden Forest outside Hogwarts last night?"
'
Sean knows the answer to this question, but he can't answer it.
Silence lingered in the air, like an invisible pressure weighing on everyone's shoulders.
Eileen's question is correct, and it's also the question that shouldn't have an answer.
Crouch's appearance itself is illogical.
He has already "disappeared".
The Ministry of Magic has not released any information.
What appeared in the Forbidden Forest was a mentally unstable and disheveled "madman".
Is there something in this that has been deliberately concealed, or even manipulated?
Dumbledore pondered for a moment, then suddenly turned to look at Sean, who had remained silent.
"Professor Phillips, would you like to try the Pensieve?"
Several pairs of eyes in the room turned to look at him.
Sean raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment: "Of course."
After saying that, he walked to the Pensieve without any hesitation. He didn't speak or make any preparations, but slowly lowered his head and submerged his face in the silvery-white liquid.
In an instant, the room fell silent.
Fleur, Harry, and Irene all stared at him, their expressions complex. Dumbledore, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes slightly, as if waiting for something he had long anticipated to happen.
—A few tens of seconds passed.
There was no churning or unusual activity in the Pensieve.
A minute or two passed.
The meditation basin remained as still as a mirror, without the slightest ripple.
Just when everyone thought it was over, "gulp!"
A tiny ripple suddenly appeared on the surface of the silver liquid, which then spread out in concentric circles, as if a pebble had been thrown in.
"—What happened?"
The crowd instinctively moved closer.
Suddenly, a silver light rose from the meditation basin, and a scene slowly appeared on the surface of the liquid.
Sunshine, stage, applause.
Everyone was stunned—this wasn't Hogwarts, but a novel launch event.
Sean Phillips stood on the platform, dressed in a crisp, dark gray wizard's robe, holding a copy of "A Year with the Tibetan Yeti".
The audience below the stage was densely packed.
Wizarding fans were excitedly waving wands, handkerchiefs, and the book itself, pushing and shoving to the front row just to catch a glimpse of him.
"Mr. Phillips!"
"You stayed in the Yeti tribe for a year, did you really eat mushroom soup every day?"
"May I ask about your experience over the past year...?"
'
"They don't make mushroom soup every day," Sean said with a gentle smile on stage, "it's just that the mushrooms taste different every day."
A burst of laughter erupted from the audience.
"In Chapter Five of the book, that snowman you call Amos—does it really know how to distinguish the four potion ingredients?"
"Not only could he tell, but he also made me a simple but effective remedy when I had a cold," Sean chuckled and shrugged. "It tasted like a mix of rotten pumpkin and canned herring, but it really worked."
Laughter erupted from the audience, followed by a burst of enthusiastic applause on screen.
A commotion erupted. Reporters swarmed in, their camera shutters clicking incessantly, and a wizarding media host enthusiastically proclaimed, "Professor Phillips' new book has topped the Daily Prophet's bestseller list for four consecutive weeks!"