AUTHORS NOTE! :P

Hey guys, how's it going?

As I said in the last chapter, I am sorry for how long it took. Hopefully, this one won't take as long.

Now I shall answer your reviews!

Arkell26: Of course I will :) thanks :D

FlyForever: That's a lot of so's... thanks a lot :D

Random Person: I have a lot of other fanfictions planned, but I won't do more than one story at a time. I read some authors fanfictions, who are doing more than one at the the same time, and they take a lot longer to update. I'd never get a chapter finished if I had more than one story going at the same time!

Guest: I've been thinking about that, and their families will definitely be revealed, more than likely in the sixth or seventh one though.

LoveTheBlade: I'm not going to make any promises :)

Kisa tracer: thanks, I really hope so too!

ChopSuzi: I know...I'd hate to be in the same house as him... *shudders*

signofthemoon: I know, I'm getting slightly more confident now :) thanks :)

Guest/ Cookie Spasms: I know right? What is the actual point? I know there meant to get us prepared for the actual Junior Cert, but seriously they are completely pointless!

Thanks to everyone else that reviewed! Love you guys!

Enjoy the chapter!

-Rach ;)

Max's POV

The door to the office opened.

"Hello, Potter, Ride," Moody said. "Come in, then."

I looked at Harry, then followed him into the office. I had been in Dumbledore's office, back in first year, when they told me and the flock that Jeb was dead, and then I hadn't noticed how beautiful the office was. It was a large, circular room, lined with pictures of previous headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were asleep at the moment, their heads on their chests.

Cornelius Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore's desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak, and holding his bowler hat in his hands.

"Harry! Maximum!" Fudge said happily. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Fine."

"We were just talking about the night when Mr Crouch turned up on the grounds," Fudge said. "It was the two of you that found him, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," I said. Then feeling that it was pointless to pretend that we hadn't heard what they were saying, I added, "And we didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere too. She'd have a hard time hiding as well, wouldn't see?"

Dumbledore smiled at us behind Fudge's back, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Yes, well," Fudge said, embarrassed, "we're about to go for a short walk in the grounds, if you'll both excuse us...perhaps if you return to your class-"

"We wanted to talk to you, Professor," Harry said quickly to Dumbledore, who gave us a swift, searching look.

"Wait here for me then," Dumbledore said. "Our examination of the grounds won't take long."

The three of them trooped out silently and closed the door. After a moment or two, I heard the clunks of Moody's wooden leg growing fainter and fainter. I looked around the office and smiled.

"Hey Fawkes," I said.

Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, was standing on his golden perch beside the door. He was the size of a swam, with magnificent scarlet and golden feathers, and he swished his long tail and blinked at me and Harry.

"What are we going to tell Dumbledore?" I asked.

Harry shrugged. "Everything that happened, I guess," he said.

I sat down in the chair in front of Dumbledore desk and ran my fingers through my hair. "Could they be connected?" I said.

Harry frowned. "Connected how?"

"Well, you saw Voldemort torturing Wormtail for making a mistake... and I felt as if something was going to attack me. What if it was connected?"

Harry sighed, running his fingers over his scar. "I have no idea. Maybe Dumbledore will know more."

I stood up again and started pacing around the office. I looked up at the walls, and saw the glass case that held a magnificent silver sword, with large red rubies in the hilt. I recognised it as the sword that Harry had used to kill the Basilisk in second year. I could still see it, Harry kneeling over me, a giant dead snake behind him, and a large bloody sword beside him.

The sword had used belonged to Godric Gryffindor, founder of our House. I was staring at the sword when I noticed a patch of shimmering light on the case. I looked around for the source of the light and saw a silver-white shining brightly from within a black cabinet behind me, and the door hadn't been closed fully.

"Harry, look at that," I said. Harry turned around from where he was looking at the pictures of the old principals to where I was pointing. He stood beside me and said, "What is it?"

"No idea. One way to find out though," I said and walked towards the cabinet. Harry seemed to hesitate, then he followed me towards the cabinet.

I pulled open the cabinet door, and a shallow stone basin lay there, covered in odd markings around the edge: runes and symbols that I didn't recognise, even with the couple of runes I already knew from Hermione. The silvery light was coming from the basins contents. I couldn't tell if the substance was liquid or gas. It was bright, whitish silver, moving ceaselessly.

I wanted to reach out and touch it, but after four years of the magical world, and ten years in a scientific lab, I knew that sticking my hand in some unknown substance wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Beside me, Harry pulled out his wand, then gently prodded the substance.

The surface of the silvery stuff inside the basin started to swirl very fast.

Me and Harry bent closer, our heads inside the cabinet. The silvery substance was becoming transparent; it looked like glass. I looked down into it, expecting to see the stone bottom of the basin- but instead I saw a large room, and it seemed as if I was looking at the room through a circular window.

The room was dimly lit, like it was underground. There were no windows, just torches in brackets like the ones that light the corridors in Hogwarts. I looked over at Harry, and realised how close we were. We were nearly nose to nose. My cheeks went pink and I looked back to the basin. I lowered my face so that my nose was nearly touching the glassy substance, I saw that there were rows and rows of witches and wizards sitting around every wall on what seemed to be benches rising in levels. An empty chair stood in the middle of the room. There was something about the chair that made me feel very ominous. Chain encircled the arms of it, as if the people that sat on it were usually tied up.

I lifted my head again. "What is this place? It's definitely not Hogwarts," I said.

Harry shook his head. "No. Most of those people are adults anyway. Besides, I've never seen a room like that here."

I looked back into the basin, and noticed that they all seemed to be waiting for something. Each of the adults were facing the same direction, and none of them were talking to each other.

With the basin being circular, and the room being square, I couldn't see what was happening in the corners of the room. I leaned forward slightly, trying to see into the corners of the room-

The tip of my nose touched the substance.

Dumbledore's office gave an almighty lurch- I was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the basin, I could hear Harry shouting my name-

But my head didn't hit the stone bottom. I was falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being thrown into a dark whirlpool...

Suddenly, I found myself sitting on a bench at the end of the room inside the basin, a bench raised high above the others. I looked up at the high, stone ceiling, expecting to see the circular window that we were looking through, but there was nothing there but dark, solid stone.

A second later, I felt something falling beside me. I looked to my right and saw Harry sitting beside me, looking around the room. "Harry! How did you get here?"

Harry looked me, looking slightly relieved. "Same way you did. I just touched the silvery stuff after you disappeared."

"Have you noticed that no one is paying us any attention? We're two teenagers that just dropped from the ceiling, and no one is even looking at us," I said, looking around at all the adults. None of them were paying us the least bit of attention.

I wheeled around when I heard Harry's cry out in surprise. My eyes widened when I saw that he was sitting beside Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor!" Harry cried. "I'm sorry- we didn't mean to- We were just looking at that basin in your cabinet- I- where are we?"

But Dumbledore didn't move or speak. He didn't even blink. He ignored the two of us completely. Like every other wizard, he was staring off into the far corner of the room, where there was a door.

I stared at Dumbledore, then around at the silently waiting crowd. Then it dawned on me...

"Harry," I said. "Remember the last time we were somewhere where no one could see or hear us?"

"Yeah, when we went into Riddle's diary," he said. I tried not to shudder at the mention of the diary. "We were in his memory."

"I think we're in one of Dumbledore's memories," I said quietly.

Harry seemed to hesitate, then he waved his hand energetically in front of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore didn't blink, or jump, or even turn around to look at Harry. He didn't even move at all. That seemed to settle the matter. Dumbledore wouldn't just ignore anyone like that. We were inside a memory, more than likely Dumbledore's. Yet, it seemed like it wasn't that long ago. The Dumbledore sitting beside us was still silver-haired, just like the present-day Dumbledore. But what was this place? What were all the wizards waiting for?

I heard footsteps, and the door in the corner of the the room (although it looked more like a dungeon) opened, and three people came in- well, at least one man, flanked by two dementors.

My insides went cold. The dementors- tall, hooded creatures whose faces were concealed- were gliding slowly towards the chair in the middle of the room, each grasping one of the man's arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The man looked like he was going to faint, and I really couldn't blame him... I knew the dementors couldn't affect me in a dream, but I still remembered their powers only too well. The crowd of wizards and witches recoiled slightly as the dementors placed the man in the chair and glided back towards the door and out of the room. The door swung shut behind them.

I looked down at the man in the chair and saw that it was Karkaroff.

Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaroff looked much younger; his hair and his goatee were black, he was not dressed in his usual furs, but in thin and ragged robes. He was shaking. Even as we watched, the chains on the arm suddenly glowed, and they snaked their way up his arms, binding him there.

"Igor Karkaroff," said a curt voice. I turned around and saw Mr Crouch standing in the middle of the bench beside us. Crouch's hair was dark, his face much more less lined, he looked fit and alert. "You have been brought here from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us reason to understand that you have information for us."

Karkaroff straightened himself in his chair as much as he could, still tightly bound to the chair.

"I have sir," he said, and although his voice was very scared, I could still hear the familiar unctuous tone in it. "I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I want to help. I- I know that the Ministry is trying to round up the last of the Death Eaters. I am more than eager to help in any way I can-"

There was a murmur from around the benches. Some of the wizards and witches surveying Karkaroff with interest, other with plain mistrust. Then I heard a familiar voice growl, "Filth."

I leaned forward so that I could see past Dumbledore, and saw Mad-Eye Moody- except I could see a considerable difference in his appearance. He didn't have his magical eye, but two normal ones. Both of them were trained on Karkaroff, but narrowed in dislike.

"Crouch is going to let him out," Moody whispered to Dumbledore. "He's done a deal with him. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he gives him enough names. I say we hear his information and throw him back to the dementors."

Dumbledore made a strange noise through his long, crooked nose.

"Ah, I was forgetting...you don't like dementors, do you Albus?" Moody said with a sardonic smile.

"No," Dumbledore said calmly, "I'm afraid I don't. I have long felt that the Ministry is wrong in using them as allies."

"But for filth like this," Moody said softly.

"You say that you have names for us, Karkaroff," Crouch said. "Let's hear them, please."

"You must understand," Karkaroff said hurriedly, "that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named always operated with the utmost secrecy...He preferred that we- I mean to say, his supporters- and I regret now, deeply, that I ever counted myself with them-"

"Get on with it," Moody growled.

"-we never knew the names of every one of his followers- He alone knew exactly who we all were-"

"Which was a wise move on his part, as if prevented people like Karkaroff, from turning them all in," muttered Moody.

"Yet you say you have some names for us?" Crouch said.

"I- I do," Karkaroff said breathlessly. "And these were important supporters, mind you. People I saw with my own eyes doing the Dark Lords bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully renounce my old ways, and him, and am filled with so much remorse so deep that I can barely-"

"These names are?" Crouch interrupted.

Karkaroff took a deep breath.

"There was Antonin Dolohov," he said, "I- I saw his torture countless Muggles and- and non-supporters of the Dark Lord."

"And helped him do it," murmured Moody.

"We have apprehended Dolohov," said Crouch without hesitation. "We caught him shortly after yourself."

"Indeed?" Karkaroff said, eyes widening, "I- I am delighted to hear it!"

But he definitely didn't look it. I could tell that this news had come as a real blow to him- one of his names were worthless.

"Any others?" Crouch asked coldly.

"Why, yes...there was Rosier," Karkaroff said hurriedly. "Evan Rosier."

"Rosier is dead," Crouch said. "He was caught shortly after you too. He preferred to fight than to come quietly and was killed in the struggle."

"Took a bit of me with him though, didn't he?" Moody whispered behind me. I looked around at him, and saw him pointing to the large chunk that was missing from his nose to Dumbledore.

"No- no more than Rosier deserved!" Karkaroff said, a hint of panic setting into his voice. I could that he was starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry. His eyes darted toward the door in the corner, behind which the dementors stood waiting.

"Any more?" Crouch asked.

"Yes!" Karkaroff said. "There was Travers- he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber- he specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood, he was a spy! He passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!"

I could tell that this time, Karkaroff had struck gold. The crowd were all murmuring together.

"Rookwood?" Crouch said, nodding to a witch sitting in front of him, who began scribbling upon her piece of parchment. "Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?"

"The very same," Karkaroff nodded eagerly. "I believe he used a network of well-placed wizards, both inside the Ministry and out, to collect information-"

"But Travers and Mulciber we have," Mr Crouch said. "Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will returned to Azkaban while we decide-"

"No! Karkaroff cried. "Not yet! I have more!"

I could see him sweating in the torchlight, his pale skin contrasting strongly with his black hair and beard.

"Snape!" he shouted. "Severus Snape!"

"Snape has already been cleared by this council," Crouch said. "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."

"No!" Karkaroff cried desperately, straining against the chains on the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"

Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"I have already given evidence on this matter," he said calmly. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall, and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. Now, he is no more a Death Eater than I am."

I turned and looked at Moody. He was staring at Dumbledore with great skepticism.

"I have to tell you, I'm not really surprised," I said to Harry. "I always knew there was something evil about Snape."

Harry nodded and said, "I wouldn't be surprised if he still was one."

"Very well, Karkaroff," Crouch said, "you have been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime..."

Crouch's voice faded. I looked around; the dungeon was dissolving as though it was made of smoke...everything was fading...all I could see was my own body- everything else was swirling darkness...

And then the dungeon returned. Me and Harry were sitting in different seats, still on the highest bench, but now to the left of Mr. Crouch. The atmosphere seemed very different: relaxed, even cheerful. All of the witches and wizards around the walls were talking to each other, laughing, almost as if they were at some sort of sporting event. I noticed a witch halfway up the rows of benches on the opposite side. She had short blond hair, was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end of a lime-green quill. It was, unmistakably, a younger Rita Skeeter. I looked around; Dumbledore was sitting beside Harry again, and I was beside Mr. Crouch, who looked different...he looked more tired, and somehow fiercer, gaunter... we were in a different memory, a different day...a different trial.

The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room, his eyes focused on his shoes the entire time.

It was not, however, the same Ludo Bagman I knew. This was clearly the Ludo Bagman at the height of his Quidditch career. His nose wasn't bent, and he was tall, lean and muscular. Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, but the chains didn't bind him to it. Probably taking heart from this, Bagman finally looked up around the crowd, waved at a couple of them, and offered a small smile.

"Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here to the Court of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters," Crouch said. "We have heard the evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgement?"

I couldn't believe it. Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater? What the hell?

"Only," Bagman smiled awkwardly, "well- I know I've been a bit of an idiot-"

A few of the wizards in the seats smiled. Crouch didn't seem to share their feelings. He was staring at Bagman like someone would stare at a gone-off chicken.

"You've never spoken a truer word, boy," someone beside Dumbledore said. I looked around, and again saw Moody. "If I didn't know that he'd always been dim, I would of said that those Bludgers permanently damaged his brain."

"Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing on information to Lord Voldemort's supporters," Crouch said. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than-"

But there was an angered outcry from the surrounding benches. Several of the witches and wizards stood up, shaking their heads and Crouch.

"I've already told you! I had no idea!" Bagman called. "None at all! Old Rookwood was a friend of my dads...never crossed my mind that he was a Death Eater! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a career in the Ministry in a few years... once my Quidditch career is over, you know? I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life!"

There were mutters from the crowd. I turned to Harry, and raised an eyebrow. He just shrugged, looking as dumbfounded as I felt.

"It will be put to a vote," Crouch said coldly. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. "The jury will please raise their hands...those in favour of imprisonment..."

Not one of them raised their hands. Many of the other wizards and witches began to clap. Once of the witches on the jury stood up, wringing her hands nervously.

"Yes?" Crouch barked.

The witch took a deep breath. "We would just like the congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match again Turkey last Tuesday," she said breathlessly.

Crouch looked furious. I thought he was going to throw the table over any second. Bagman got to his feet, beaming and bowing.

"Despicable," Crouch spat to Dumbledore, watching as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. "Rookwood get him a job indeed...the day Ludo Bagman joins us will a very sad day for the Ministry..."

And the dungeon dissolved again. When it returned, I looked around. I was sitting in the middle of Harry and Dumbledore, and to Harry's left was Crouch. The atmosphere couldn't have been more different from the last memory. There was complete silence, sometimes interrupted by the loud choking sobs of a frail looking woman in the seat beside Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands.

I looked at Crouch more closely, and noticed that he was looking paler and gaunter than before. There was a nerve twitching in his temple.

"Bring them in," he said, his voice echoing across the empty dungeon.

The door in the corner opened again. Six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. I saw the people in the crowd turn to look at Crouch, whispering to one another.

The dementors placed the four people in the four chairs with chains of the arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch; a thinner and more nervous looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd; a woman with thick, shining black hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as if it was a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-coloured hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The fragile little witch beside Crouch began rocking backward and forward in her seat, whimpering pathetically into her handkerchief.

Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four of them, nothing but pure hatred on his face.

"You have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law," he said clearly, "so that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime heinous-"

"Father," said the boy with the straw-coloured hair, "Father...please..."

"-that we have rarely heard the like of within this court," Crouch said, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son's voice.

"We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror- Frank Longbottom- and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-"

"Father, I didn't!" shrieked the teenage boy. "I didn't, I swear it. Father, don't send me back to the dementors-"

"You are further accused," Mr Crouch bellowed, "of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, Alice Longbottom, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong . I now ask the jury-"

Crouch stopped talking when the door in the corner opened, and an older looking man walked quickly in towards Crouch, and when he got to Crouch, he whispered urgently into his ear, and handed him a file. Crouch nodded and the man walked off again, after giving the four tied to the chair filthy looks.

I stared at Crouch curiously, wondering what the man had told him, and what was in the file. Crouch was flicking through the file, and the wizards and witches around the walls starting whispering to each other. Crouch closed the file, and took a deep breath.

"According to this new evidence, it seems as if on top of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank and Alice Longbottom, that two of you helped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the torture and murder of Grace Collins, almost a year ago."

Everything seemed to dim around me. I stared at the four people sitting in front of me. Which of them helped Voldemort killed my mother? Did it say in that file? I stood up, ready to walk over to Crouch and take the file, but Harry took my hand.

"What?" I said, turning around.

"You can't do anything, Max," he said.

"Of course I can do something!" I snapped. "Two of them tortured my mother!"

"And this was about thirteen years ago, Max! For all we know, they're in Azkaban. Just sit down, and we'll see what they say," Harry said. I stared at him and said quietly, "I never even knew that she was tortured. All Sirius told me was that Voldemort killed her. She was tortured, Harry! I can't let that go!"

"I'm not asking you to let it go," Harry said, "I'm just asking you to sit, and we'll figure this out later. There's nothing we can do now. Please, Max."

I stared into his eyes, brown meeting green, and nodded, sitting down. Of course, no one noticed our little conversation.

I looked back to the four Death Eaters, and noticed that ever since Crouch brought up my mother, the woman had been grinning, her dark eyes glinting. She had to have been one of the ones that tortured my mother.

Meanwhile, the teenage boy was in hysterics. "Mother!" he was screaming, and the wispy witch sitting beside Crouch began to sob loudly, still rocking forward and backward. "Mother, stop him! Mother, please, I didn't do anything! It wasn't me!"

"I now ask the jury," Crouch shouted, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"

At the same time, the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd began to clap as they had for Bagman, their faces full of triumph. The boy began to scream.

"No, Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!"

The dementors glided back into the room. The boys three companions rose quickly from their seats; the woman with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at Crouch and called, "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! We'll wait for him in Azkaban! When he rises again, he will come get us! We alone are faithful! We alone tried to find him!"

But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though I could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd were cheering, some of them even on their feet, as the woman was swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle.

"I'm your son!" he screamed at Crouch. "I'm your son!"

"You are no son of mine!" Crouch bellowed, his eyes bugling. "I have no son!"

The witch beside Crouch gave a gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted, and it looked like Crouch hadn't even noticed.

"Take them away!" Crouch roared, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and let them rot there!"

"Father! Father! I wasn't involved! Please Father! No! No!"

"I think, Harry, Max, it's time to return to my office," came a quiet voice from beside us.

I started, and looked around.

There was an Albus Dumbledore sitting to my left, watching the dementors dragging away Crouch's son- and there was an Albus Dumbledore sitting on my right, looking right at me and Harry.

"Come," said the Dumbledore on my right, and he put his hand under me and Harry's elbows. I felt myself rising into the air; the dungeon was dissolving around me- for a moment, there was only blackness, and then I felt as if I had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing on my feet in Dumbledore's sunlit office. The stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of me, and Albus Dumbledore was standing beside me and Harry.

"Professor," Harry gasped. "I know I shouldn't've- we didn't mean to- the cabinet door was sort of open and-"

"I understand," Dumbledore said. He lifted the basin, carried it over to his desk, placed it on top of his polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He motioned for me and Harry to sit down opposite him.

I sat down, staring at the stone basin. It's contents had returned to it's original, silvery -white state.

"What is it?" I asked.

"This? It's called a Pensieve," Dumbledore said. "I sometimes find, and I am sure the both of you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my head."

I stared at Dumbledore. It was almost as if he knew what it felt like those few months after escaping from the School, the consent fear that we would go back, all of the thoughts and memories of what had been done to us there, of what Donovan did to me, of all the nightmares.

I didn't say anything, I just stared at the Pensieve, waiting for Dumbledore to continue.

"At these times," he said, pointing to the Pensieve, "I use this. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from ones mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at ones leisure. It becomes easier to see patterns and links in this form."

"So that stuff is your thoughts?" I said, staring at the swirling white substance in the basin.

"Certainly," Dumbledore said. "Let me show you."

Dumbledore drew out his wand out of his robes and placed it to the tip of his silvery hair, near his temple. When he took the wand away, it looked like there was hair sticking to it- but then I saw that it was same shimmering substance that filled the Pensieve. Dumbledore than added the new thought to the Pensieve, and I was astonished to see mine and Harry's faces swimming around in the bowl. Then our faces faded, and they were replaced by Snape's, who opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling.

"It's coming back...Karkaroff's too...stronger and more clearer than ever..."

"A connection I could have made without much assistance," Dumbledore muttered. "But never mind that." He peered over the edge of his half-moon spectacles at me and Harry. "I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting and I put it away quite hastily. Obviously I didn't close the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention."

"Sorry," we both mumbled.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Curiosity is not a sin," he said. "But we should always exercise with our curiosity...yes, indeed..."

Frowning slightly, he poked at the thoughts with his wand. Instantly, a figure rose from the Pensive, a plump, scowling girl of about sixteen who began to revolve slowly, her feet still in the basin. She took no notice of us at all, but her voice echoed around the office just as Snape's did. "He hexed me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir. I only said that I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses on Thursday..."

"But why, Bertha?" Dumbledore said sadly. "Why did you have to follow him in the first place?"

"Bertha?" Harry said. "That's Bertha Jorkins?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, prodding the thoughts in the pool again. Bertha sank back into the basin, and they became silvery-white again. "That was Bertha as I remember her at school."

The silvery light from the Pensieve struck Dumbledore's face, and it struck me how very old he looked.

"So, Harry, Max," Dumbledore said quietly. "Before we get lost in my thoughts, you two had something you wanted to tell me."

I looked at Harry, who nodded, then I turned back to Dumbledore. "Yes, sir," I said. "We were in Divination just now and- er- Harry fell asleep. And I nearly passed out."

"Quite understandable," Dumbledore said. "Carry on."

"Well, I had a dream," Harry said. "A dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail...you know who Wormtail-"

"I do know," Dumbledore said. "Please continue."

"Voldemort said something like Wormtail's blunder had to be repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn't be fed to the snake- there was a snake beside the chair- he said he'd be feeding me to it instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail- and my scar hurt," Harry said. "It woke me up, it hurt so much."

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a few minutes, then turned to me. "And what happened to you, Max?"

"Er," I said, wondering what was the best way to describe what happened. "Well, I was just about to fall asleep, but then I started feeling really panicky and scared, and I kept thinking that someone was in the Divination room, about to attack everyone that in there. I couldn't breath, or see properly." The more I was talking about it, the more I was remembering about what I actually felt after I fell to the floor. "My body was sore. My head and chest hurt the most, but my entire body felt like it was on fire."

Dumbledore stared at me.

"Er...that's it," I said.

"I see," Dumbledore said quietly. He turned to Harry and said. "Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?"

"No, I- how did you know it woke me up over the summer?" Harry said.

"The two of you aren't Sirius's only correspondent," Dumbledore said. "I have also been in contact with Sirius since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I that suggested mountainside cave in Hogsmeade as the safest place for him to stay."

He looked at me. "And have you ever felt that before? Have you ever felt like that, when there was absolutely nothing there to harm you?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I'd definitely remember if I felt that before."

Dumbledore got up and began pacing behind his desk. Every now and then, he'd place his wand to his temple and withdraw another memory, adding it to the Pensieve. The thoughts inside began to swirl so fast I wasn't able to make any of it out- it was all just a blur of colour.

"Professor?" I said after a few minutes.

He stopped pacing and stared at me and Harry.

"My apologies," he said quietly, sitting back at his desk.

"D'you- d'you know why my scar is hurting me?" Harry asked.

"Or why that just happened in Divination?" I added.

Dumbledore looked intently at us for a minute. "I have a theory," he said after a minute, "no more than that...It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near, and when he is feeling a particular strong surge of hatred."

"But...why?"

"And that doesn't explain what happened to me. Or why Harry actually saw what was happening," I said.

"I'm sorry, Max, but I have no idea why you felt what you did. I believe that Harry's scar hurts, and he sees those things, because there is a connection between Harry and Lord Voldemort by a failed curse." He turned to Harry. "That is no ordinary scar, Harry."

"So do you think...that dream...really happened?"

"It is possible," Dumbledore said. "I would say probable. Harry- did you actually see Voldemort?"

"No," Harry said. "Just the back of a chair. But- there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there? I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he? But...but then how could he hold a wand?" Harry said slowly.

"How indeed?" Dumbledore said. "How indeed..."

None of us spoke for several minutes. Dumbledore was staring at the other side of the room, occasionally adding a new memory to the Pensieve.

"Professor," I said at last. "Do you think he's getting stronger?"

"Voldemort?" Dumbledore said, looking at me over the Pensieve. It was the characteristic, piercing look that Dumbledore had given us on countless occasions, and always made me feel as if Dumbledore was looking right through me in a way that Moody's magical eye couldn't. "Once again, Max, I can only give you my suspicions."

"Well, what do you suspect?" I pushed.

"The years of Voldemort's ascent of power," Dumbledore said, "were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jorkins has vanished from the place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch has too vanished without a trace...within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I am sad to say, are taking no interest in. A Muggle, by the name of Frank Bryce. He lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up, and he has not been seen since last August. You see, unlike most of my Ministry friends, I read the Muggle newspapers."

Dumbledore looked at us very seriously.

"To me, these disappearances are linked. However, the Ministry don't agree with me- as I'm sure you heard, while waiting outside my office."

Silence fell again for another few minutes, and even though I felt as if we should of left, I still had one thing I need to talk to Dumbledore about. Thankfully, Harry brought it up before I had to.

"Professor?" Harry said.

"Yes?" Dumbledore said.

"Er...could I ask you about the court thing we were in? In the Pensieve?"

"You could," Dumbledore said. "I attended it many times, but more memories come back clearer than others... especially now..."

"Crouch said that two of those Death Eaters helped Voldemort torture and kill my mom," I said, the sentence rushed. "Was it true?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so. However, I have no idea which two. It was never released, or confirmed. But even before that case, I had heard rumours that Lord Voldemort had two of his Death Eaters with him at the time."

"Does Sirius know?" I asked, my voice thick.

"That your mother was tortured? I'm not sure. I haven't told him," Dumbledore said. "As far as I know, Sirius just thinks that your mother was killed by Voldemort quickly. A simple Killing Curse."

I opened my mouth, but closed it again, at a lose of what to say.

"You know- you know the trial that you found us in?" Harry said, and I felt so grateful that he changed the subject. "The one with Crouch's son? They were- they were talking about Neville's parents, weren't they?"

Dumbledore gave us both a sharp look. "Has Neville ever told you why he lives with his grandmother?" he asked.

I shook my head, wondering why over the four years I've known Neville, been friends with him, I've never asked him.

"Yes, they were talking about Neville's parents," Dumbledore said. "His father Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife, Alice, were tortured for information about Voldemort's whereabouts shortly after he lost his powers, as you've heard."

"So they're dead?" I said quietly.

"No," Dumbledore said, a sudden tone of bitterness in his voice. "They are insane. They are both at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them at the holidays with his grandmother, but they don't recognise him."

I sat there, completely horror-struck. Never, not in four years, did it ever cross my mind that not once did Neville talk about his parents, or why he lived with his grandmother. Sure, he talked about his grandmother, but never why he actually lives with her.

"The Longbottom's were very popular," Dumbledore said. "The attacks on them came very shortly after Voldemort's fall from power, just when everyone was starting to think they would be safe. Those attacks caused a wave of fury I'd never seen the like of before. The Ministry was under great pressure to find those who did it. Unfortunately, the Longbottom's evidence wasn't very reliable- given their condition."

"Then Mr. Crouch's son mightn't have been involved at all?" Harry said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "As to that, I have no idea."

I sat in silence, watching the contents of the Pensieve swirl. There were still some things I wanted to know...

"Ludo Bagman..." I said.

"Has never been accused of being a Death Eater since," Dumbledore said.

"Right," I said, "and...er..."

"Snape?" Harry finished for me.

"Neither has Severus," Dumbledore said calmly.

I stared into Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes, and the question I really wanted to know just came out before I could event think about it. "What makes you so certain that he just suddenly stopped working for Voldemort?"

Dumbledore looked between me and Harry and said, "That is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."

I knew this little interview was over. Dumbledore didn't look angry, but there was a finality in his tone that told me it was time to go. I stood up, and so did Harry and Dumbledore.

"Harry, Max," Dumbledore said when we reached the door, "do not speak of Neville's parents to anyone. He will let people know when he is ready."

"Of course, sir," I said.

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"And-"

We both turned around. Dumbledore was standing by the Pensieve, his face lit from beneath by it's silvery contents. He stared at Harry for a minute, before saying, "Good luck in the Third Task."

Whoo! It didn't take me as long as the last chapter did! Yay :D

Anyway, sorry if it sucked, and a bit rushed... yeah, sorry :( but it is reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaly long, so that should make up for it :D

anyway, I hope you all still enjoyed it :) there aren't many chapters left in this story (7 to be exact) but I still haven't decided if there will one of two extra chapters at the end... hmmmm...

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