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Chapter 677: The Memory in the Pensieve

It was hard to describe. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid … or like wind made solid…

Harry had the idea to touch it to find out what it felt like, but nearly four years’ experience of the magical world told him that sticking his hand into a bowl full of some unknown substance was a very stupid thing to do.

He therefore turned his head to look at Evan, who must know exactly what this thing was for.

“To put it simply, a Pensieve is an alchemy product used to preserve the thoughts and memories of the mind.” Noticing Harry’s gaze, Evan explained. “As long as we put memory in it, we can use it to re-reflect that memory. In the way of experience, the person who appears in the memory does not exist… “

As he explained to Harry, he gently stroked the Pensieve and studied the huge stone basin in front of him.

Evan was more curious about how it was made than how it was used.

After studying it for a while, he had to give up. It was too complicated. This Pensieve was far from being as simple as it seemed to be.

Unless Dumbledore allowed Evan to chop this thing up, there was nothing to be seen from the outside.

“This Pensieve can actually preserve and reproduce memories!” Harry sighed after listening to Evan’s explanation, “It’s incredible!”

“It’s amazing!” Evan nodded.

“What are the letters on it for?” Harry continued to ask, coming closer.

“If you take the Ancient Runes class, you will know that these are Runics, a type of ancient scriptures, used in alchemy.  As for the complex symbols around the Runes, they are magic characters that can gather and conduct Magic. I’ve never seen this arrangement before. “

Harry nodded, as though he understood, but he couldn’t help asking again, “Evan, what are these strange silver things?”

“It’s memories!” said Evan, using his wand to point at the silver object in the Pensieve.

His wand entered, and the silvery stuff inside the basin began to swirl very fast, becoming transparent, looking like glass.

This was put in by Dumbledore. He must have used it before and had no time to take away the memory.

“Memory!” Harry froze and continued, “but …”

“Come on, let’s go in and take a look and you’ll understand,” said Evan, holding Harry’s right hand directly.

“What?!” Harry was surprised.

The next second, he was dragged into the stone basin by Evan, his head down into it.

The sight was changing rapidly, and Dumbledore’s office gave an almighty lurch.

Harry realized that his head didn’t hit the bottom of the basin as he expected, but entered a strange world. He was falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool…

Then he saw clearly that it was a dimly lit room. Harry thought it might even be underground, because there were no windows around, merely torches in brackets such as the ones that illuminated the walls of Hogwarts, and he saw that rows and rows of witches and wizards were seated around every wall on what seemed to be benches rising in levels. An empty chair stood in the very center of the room.

There was something about the chair that gave Harry an ominous feeling. Chains encircled the arms of it, as though its occupants were usually tied to it.

At this moment, he and Evan were sitting on a bench at the end of the room inside the basin, a bench raised high above the others. 

He looked up at the high stone ceiling, expecting to see the circular skylight, but there was nothing there but dark, solid stone.

The surrounding scene made Harry feel it more like a dungeon than a room. There was a bleak and forbidding air about the place; there were no pictures on the walls, no decorations at all; just these serried rows of benches, rising in levels all around the room, all positioned so that they had a clear view of that chair with the chains on its arms.

What was going on, and how did they suddenly come to this place?!!

Harry was puzzled, but fortunately Evan was still by his side, otherwise he didn’t know what to do.

“Evan, what’s this place?!” Harry whispered, his voice sounding strange.

“As I’ve just said, the Pensieve is a prop to relive memory, and we are now in it … inside a memory.” said Evan, sitting next to Harry and looking around with interest.

That was the Ministry of Magic’s special courtroom, where the Wizengamot was used to trial the sinful Dark wizards. 

In a small room at the back, there was the only Portkey to Azkaban Wizarding Prison.

He had been here before, but the courtroom was limited at that time, and it was far less shocking than now.

In this room, around Evan and Harry, there were at least 200 witches and wizards.

They looked solemn, dressed in ancient exquisite robes mainly in dark colors, giving people an invisible pressure.

“So we’re in a memory now, whose memory is this?” Harry continued to ask softly, his breathing tense and rapid. He looked around, and then he couldn’t help uttering a loud cry of surprise that reverberated around the silent room.

The person sitting next to him was Albus Dumbledore.

“Obviously, this is Dumbledore’s memory,” said Evan. “We are in his memory at the moment. Do you remember my previous explanation about the Pensieve? Here, we are just bystanders. We won’t be noticed by the people involved, and there is no way to change anything. This is just a memory, belonging to Dumbledore. “

Harry nodded, and although he was mentally prepared for it, it was still too incredible. But it was true, because none of the wizards seemed to have heard Harry’s loud voice.

They looked solemn, staring nervously into the far corner of the room, where there was a door.

Dumbledore did the same. He didn’t move or speak, and ignored Evan and Harry.

Harry hesitated, and then raised his right hand and waved it energetically in front of Dumbledore’s face.

Dumbledore didn’t blink or turn his head to look at Harry. He didn’t move at all.

As Evan said, this was just a memory, not a real world.

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