Chapter 47 Through the Pensieve
The door to Professor Dumbledore's office was slightly ajar and we could hear voices inside. Harry looked like he wanted to burst into the office but a placed my hand on his shoulder holding him back.
"Dumbledore, I'm afraid I don't see the connection, don't see it at all!" It was the voice of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "Ludo says Berthas perfectly capable of getting herself lost. I agree we would have expected to have found her by now, but all the same, we've no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, none at all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty Crouch's!"
"And what do you thinks happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?" We heard Moody growl.
"I see two possibilities, Alastor," Fudge answered. "Either Crouch has finally cracked -more than likely, I'm sure you'll agree, given his personal history -lost his mind, and gone wandering off somewhere -"
"He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, Cornelius," Dumbledore pointed out calmly.
"Or else - well...well, I'll reserve judgment until after I've seen the place where he was found, but you say it was just past the Beauxbatons carriage? Dumbledore, you know what that woman is?"
"I consider her to be a very able headmistress - and an excellent dancer," Dumbledore replied.
"Dumbledore, come!" Fudge sounded angry. "Don't you think you might be prejudiced in her favor because of Hagrid? They don't all turn out harmless - if, indeed, you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster fixation he's got -"
"I no more suspect Madame Maxime than Hagrid. I think it possible that it is you who are prejudiced, Cornelius."
"Can we wrap up this discussion?" Moody grumbled.
"Yes, yes, let's go down to the grounds, then," Fudge answered impatiently.
"No, it's not that, it's just that the Potters wants a word with you, Dumbledore. They're just outside the door." Harry and I exchanged a confused look before we realize that Moody must be seeing us through the door with his magical eye. The door of the office opened.
"Hello, Potters, Come in then." Harry and I stepped past Moody and into Professor Dumbledore's office. Cornelius Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore's desk, wearing a pinstriped cloak and holding his lime green bowler hat.
"Allison, Harry! How are you?"
"Fine." We answered in unison. Fudge nodded and continued talking. "We were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up on the grounds. It was you, Allison, who found him, was it not?"
"Yes." I answered. "I didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere though, and she'd have a bit of trouble hiding wouldn't she?" I knew that if Severus were there he'd scold me for not minding my own business, I was glad to see that Dumbledore didn't feel the same way. He smiled at me from behind Fudge's back.
"Yes, well," Fudge replied shortly. "We're about to go for a short walk on the grounds if you'll excuse us ... perhaps if you just go back to your classes-"
"I wanted to talk to you. Professor," Harry said quickly.
"Wait here for me, Harry. You're welcome to stay as well Alice. Our examination of the grounds will not take long." I elected to wait in office with Harry while the others left the office.
"Hello, Fawkes," Harry said crossing the room to Professor Dumbledore's Phoenix. I instead began to look around Dumbledore's office. I had been in the office a few times but I knew Professor Dumbledore was constantly acquiring new things to put in his office. Staring behind Dumbledore's desk I saw the Sorting Hat standing on a shelf. When I was sorted my first year I didn't notice how ragged and worn it was. Next to the sorting hat there was a glass case that held a brilliant silver sword with large rubies set into the hilt. I recognized it immediately as the sword of Godric Gryffindor that Harry had pulled from the sorting hat our second year at Hogwarts. Staring at the sword I noticed a patch of silvery light shimmering on the glass case. I looked around to see a white light shining through an opening in a black cabinet behind me.
"Harry!" I called to my brother who was still stroking Fawks. He joined me in front of the cabinet and was obviously as interested in it as I was. "Should we open it?"
"Probably not." Harry answered as he reached out for the cabinet door. Harry opened the cabinet and we peered inside. A shallow stone basin lay there with runes and symbols carved around the edge. The silvery light was coming from the basin's contents. Harry took out his wand and prodded at the gelatinous substance inside the basin. The surface of the silvery substance began to swirl very fast, I watched as Harry bent his face forward to get a closer look. I watched in shock as Harry's full body was sucked into the basin. Reluctantly I leaned forward and followed my twin brother. We landed in a room lit only by torches in brackets, there weren't any windows from what I could see. All around the room there were rows of witches and wizards seated on benches of varying levels. An empty chair stood in the very center of the room, chains encircled the arms of it, as though its occupants were usually tied to it.
"Where are we?" Harry whispered looking about the room.
"Don't know, but it's definitely not Hogwarts." Harry and I continued to look around and I noticed that out of the two hundred or so wizards in the room not one of them seemed to notice the two fourteen year olds who had just materialized.
"Professor!" Harry's whisper interrupted my thoughts. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to -I was just looking at that basin in your cabinet - I - where are we?" I looked over to see Harry talking to Professor Dumbledore but our headmaster, like the rest of the wizards and witches couldn't hear us. They were all staring into the far corner of the room.
"Harry they can't hear us. I think, I think we're in a memory." Harry raised his right hand and waved it in front of Professor Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore didn't blink or move at all. "See!"
"What do you reckon they're all waiting for?" He asked me as he sat down next to the memory of our headmaster.
"Don't know." I replied sitting down next to my brother. The room was bleak, there were no pictures on the walls no decorations just the rows of benches and the torturous looking chair. After a few more moments of silence there we heard footsteps. The door in the corner of the room opened, a man and two dementor's entered the room. I noticed Harry stiffen next to me he was terrified of demementors, I wasn't their biggest fan but they didn't horrify me the way they did Harry. The dementor's chained the man to the chair before gliding out of the room. It was then that I realized the man sitting in front of us was Igor Karkaroff. He looked much younger in his thin ragged robes, he was shaking in his seat.
"Igor Karkaroff," Harry and I whipped our heads to the left to see Mr. Crouch standing up in the middle of our row. Crouch's hair was dark, his face was much less lined, he looked fit and alert. "You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us." Karkaroff straightened himself as best he could since he was tightly bound to the chair.
"I have, sir. I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help. I - I know that the Ministry is trying to - to round up the last of the Dark Lords supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can. ..." There was a murmur around the benches. Some of the wizards and witches were surveying Karkaroff with interest, others whispered their mistrust. Then a familiar growl of "Filth." Came from Dumbledore's other side. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting next to Dumbledore with one noticeable difference on his face. He did not have his magical eye, but two normal ones. Both were looking down upon Karkaroff, and both were narrowed in intense dislike.
"He doesn't have his magical eye yet!" Harry pointed.
"We'll he wasn't born with it! Now pay attention." I commented.
"Crouch is going to let him out," Moody breathed quietly 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's got enough new names. Let's hear his information, I say, and throw him straight back to the dementors." Dumbledore looked at Moody disapprovingly.
"Ah, I was forgetting . . . you don't like the dementors, do you, Albus?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't. I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures."
"But for filth like this . . ." Moody said softly.
"You say you have names for us, Karkaroff," Mr. Crouch spoke again. Let us hear them, please."
"You must understand," Karkaroff began hurriedly, "that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy. . . . He preferred that we - I mean to say, his supporters - and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them -"
"Get on with it," Moody sneered.
"We never knew the names of every one of our fellows - He alone knew exactly who we all were -"
"Which was a wise move, wasn't it, as it prevented someone like you, Karkaroff, from turning all of them in," Moody called in another outburst.
"Yet you say you have some names for us?" Mr. Crouch pried.
"I - I do. And these were important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely -"
"These names are?" Crouch interrupted him. Karkaroff drew a deep breath.
"There was Antonin Dolohov. I - I saw him torture countless Muggles and - and non-supporters of the Dark Lord."
"And helped him do it," Moody murmured.
"We have already apprehended Dolohov, he was caught shortly after yourself." Crouch informed him.
"Indeed? I - I am delighted to hear it!" Karkaroff said though he looked far from delighted.
"Any others?" Mr. Crouch said coldly.
"Why, yes ... there was Rosier, Evan Rosier."
"Rosier is dead," Crouch said "He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle."
"No - no more than Rosier deserved!" Karkaroff said though his voice was giving off a hint of panic.
"Any more?" Crouch asked again.
"Yes! There was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber -he specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!" at the mention of the name Rookwood, the watching crowd began to mutter and whisper.
"Rookwood? Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?"
"The very same." Karkaroff nodded. "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," said Mr. Crouch. "Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide -"
"Not yet! Wait, I have more!" Karkaroff cried desperately. "Snape!" he shouted. "Severus Snape!" At the mention of Severus' name I glanced nervously between Harry and Dumbledore.
"Snape has been cleared by this council," Crouch told Karkaroff disdainfully "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."
"No!" Karkaroff shouted, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!" By now Dumbledore had risen to his feet and he began to speak.
"I have given evidence already on this matter," he said calmly. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall andturned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am." Out of the corner of my eye I could see the skepticism etched in Mad-eye's face.
"Very well, Karkaroff," Crouch began once again "You have been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime. ..." Mr. Crouch's voice faded away and the walls began to dissolve as if they were mad of smoke. Without warning the room returned Harry and I were now seated on a different seat on the highest bench, but next to Mr. Crouch. The atmosphere was relaxed and much less solemn than it was at Karkaroff's trial. The witches and wizards around the room were talking pleasantly with one another.
"I wonder who is on trial this time." I said to Harry with a worried look. The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room. This Ludo Bagman was seemed much younger than the Triwizard judge I was used to seeing around Hogwarts. He was tall, lean, and muscular. Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, but it did not bind him as it had done to Karkaroff. This seemed to relax Bagman instantly he bagan to glance around the crowd waving at a few of the witches and wizards, he even managed a small smile.
"Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters," Mr. Crouch addressed Bagman. "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 judgment?"
"Only," Bagman smiled awkwardly. "well - I know I've been a bit of an idiot -" One or two wizards and witches in the surrounding seats smiled, Mr. Crouch did not appear to share their feelings. He was staring down at Ludo Bagman with an expression of the utmost severity and dislike.
"You never spoke a truer word, boy," Moody muttered behind Dumbledore. "If I didn't know he'd always been dim, I'd have said some of those Bludgers had permanently affected his brain. ..."
"Does Moody like anyone?" I asked Harry. He shugged at me in response.
"Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters. For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than -" Before Crouch could finish his statement there were angry outbursts throughout the room. Several of the witches and wizards around the room stood up shaking their heads and even their firsts. .
"But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman called out."None at all! Old Rookwood was a friend of my dad's . . .never crossed my mind he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on ... once my Quidditch days are over, you know ... I mean, I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?"
"It will be put to the vote," Mr. Crouch responded coldly. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. "The jury will please raise their hands . . . those in favor of imprisonment..." Harry and I turned to the jury where no one person raised their hand. One of the witches in the jury stood up.
"Yes?" Mr. Crouch barked.
"We'd just like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match against Turkey last Saturday," the witch said breathlessly. Mr. Crouch looked furious. The dungeon was ringing with applause now. Bagman got to his feet and bowed, beaming.
"Despicable," Mr. Crouch spat at Dumbledore, sitting down as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. "Rookwood get him a job indeed. . . . The day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a sad day indeed for the Ministry. . . ." The room began to dissolved for a second time but when it returned there was nothing but total silence. The silence was broken only by the dry sobs from a frail wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands.
"Bring them in," Crouches voice echoed through the room. The door in the corner of the room opened again, six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. The witches and wizards seated in the benches around the room all turned their attention to Crouch. The dementors placed each of the four people in were pushed into a chair with chained arms like we had seen before. 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 dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face.
"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," he said clearly, "so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous -"
"Father," the boy with the straw-colored hair begged. "Father. . .please . . ."
"- that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," Crouch contiuned, 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!" Crouches son shrieked. "I didn't, I swear it. Father, don't send me back to the dementors -"
"You are further accused," Crouch continued to bellow."Of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, 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 -"
"Mother! Mother, stop him. Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"
"I now ask the jury," Mr. Crouch was shouting now. "To raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!" In unison, the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd around the walls began to clap as it had for Bagman, their faces full of savage 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!" Crouches son was begging violently. The dementors were gliding back into the room. The boys' three companions rose quietly from their seats; the woman with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at Crouch and hollered "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"
"I'm your son! I'm your son!" The young boy screamed as he was dragged out of the room with the others.
"You are no son of mine!" Mr. Crouch bellowed, his eyes bulging suddenly. "I have no son!" With those final words Crouch's wife fainted. Crouch pretended not to have noticed. "Take them away, take them away, and may they rot there!"
"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"
"I think. children, it is time to return to my office." A quiet voice said from behind us. Harry and I whipped our heads around to see Professor Dumbledore standing behind us. He grabbed each of us by the elbow and pulled upwards. The scene began to dissolve around us as we soared up. The three of us landed flat on our foot in Professor Dumbledore's office. The stone basin was shimmering in front of Harry and I, Professor Dumbledore was standing behind us.
"Professor, I know I shouldn't've - I didn't mean - the cabinet door was sort of open and -" Harry began to ramble as he had before.
"I quite understand," Dumbledore smiled. He lifted the basin, carried it over to his desk, placed it upon the polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He motioned for Harry and I to sit across from him. We crossed the room Harry sat down as I gazed at the basin with intrigue.
"What is it Professor?" I asked staring at the contents which were once again swirling.
"This? It is called a Pensieve, I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind."
"Yeah." I nodded knowing exactly what he meant.
"At these times, I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."
"You mean . . . that stuff's your thoughts?" I asked mesmerized by the swirling silver. Harry said nothing looked on with excitement.
"Certainly let me show you." Dumbledore drew his wand out of the inside of his robes and placed the tip into his hair, near his temple. When he took the wand away, hair seemed to be clinging to it, but a closer examination revealed it to be the same silvery substance that filled the basin. Professor Dumbledore added this new thought to the basin, and i could see mine and Harry's faces now swirling around. Dumbledore placed his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it, like a gold prospector would pan for fragments of gold...mine and Harry's faces disappeared we're replaced by Severus'. Severus' memory spoke to the ceiling his voice echoing slightly.
"It's coming back . . . Karkaroff's too . . . stronger and clearer than ever..."
"A connection I could have made without assistance, but never mind." Dumbledore sighed looking up from the Pensieve. Harry was staring at Severus' face in the Pensieve while Dumbledore addressed us. "I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting and put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention."
"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled but professor Dumbledore shook his head.
"Curiosity is not a sin, but we should exercise caution with our curiosity. . . yes, indeed ..." This seemed to prompt something in the old man's mind and he prodded at the memories with the tip of his wand. Instantly, a figure rose out of it, a plump, scowling girl of about sixteen, who began to revolve slowly, with her feet still in the basin. She took no notice our company what so ever. When she spoke, her voice echoed as Severus' had done, as though it were coming from the depths of the stone basin. "He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir, I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday. . . ."
"But why. Bertha, Why did you have to follow him in the first place?" Dumbledore sadly asked the girl.
"Bertha?" Harry repeated "Is that - was that Bertha Jorkins?"
"Yes," Professor Dumbledore said as he prodded the thoughts in the basin again; Bertha sank back into them, and they became silvery and opaque once more. "That was Bertha as I remember her at school. So, Harry, before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."
"Yes, Pofessor - I was in Divination just now, and - er - I fell asleep." He hesitated as if he expected Dumbledore to reprimand him for this. Professor Dumbledore on the other hand only shrugged.
"Quite understandable. Continue."
"Well, I had a dream, a dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail…you know who Wormtail-"
"I do know, please continue."
"Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like, Wormtail's blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn't be fed to the snake - there was a snake beside his chair. He said - he said he'd be feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail - and my scar hurt, it woke me up, it hurt so badly." Now I understood why Harry had been running to Dumbledore's office and why he had pulled me out of muggle Studies. Dumbledore merely looked at him.
"Er - that's all," said Harry.
"I see, I see. 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 questioned.
"You are not Sirius's only correspondent," Professor Dumbledore informed Harry.
"I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place for him to stay."
"And you Alice? Has this ever happened to you?" It was dark, a snake was winding its way down a path. The path leads to a small house in a small village. I've never been here before and I didn't recognize the village either. In the kitchen an old man starts tea. He's either a muggle or a squib because he is making tea without magic. Through the window we can see another house, with a light shining through. This old man must be some sort of a caretaker, he grabs his keys and we walk towards the second house. We walk upstairs in search of the light, all the while the old man mumbles something about meddlesome kids. For the first time at the base of a set of stairs, I hear a familiar voice and it was not a voice I considered friendly.
"Move me closer to the fire Wormtail." My heart pounds out of my chest at the sound of Voldemort's voice. Knowing that Peter Pettigrew has joined him is no comfort either. Still the old man continues forward, and so do I.
"I did not mean to insult you my Lord, I had only meant that perhaps is we could do it without the children…"
"NO! The Children are everything! It cannot be done without them." From a crack in the door, the old caretaker and I can see the shadows of three figures. I do not recognize the voice of the third man when he speaks.
"I will not disappoint you my lord." The same snake from before winds itself through the caretakers feet, into the next room. The tone of the three men change as Voldemort and the snake engage in a conversation in Parseltongue. They are too far away for me to understand but I catch words like "muggle" and "Death". My heart pounds faster as if it intends to give us away.
"Nagini tells me that the Muggle caretaker is standing just outside the door!" Voldemort declared to his two followers. Step aside Wormtale so I can give our guest a proper greeting. AVADA KEDAVRA!" There is a blinding flash of green before I wake in a cold sweat.
"Once this summer, I had a dream after the World Cup." I the recounted the dream to Harry and Professor Dumbledore. "After that I remember waking up sweating but I don't remember if my scar hurt or not." Professor Dumbledore got up and began walking up and down behind his desk. Every now and then, he placed his wand tip to his temple, removed another shining silver thought, and added it to the Pensieve. When he didn't say anything after several minutes Harry tried to get his attention.
"Professor?"
"My apologies," Dumbledore responded quietly.
"D'you - d'you know why my scar's hurting me?" Harry asked him.
Professor Dumbledore looked very intently at Harry for a moment, and then said, "I have a theory, no more than that. ... It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."
"But. . . why?" Harry asked.
"Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed, that is no ordinary scar."
"But professor my scar didn't hurt during Muggle Studies, though I suppose it might have after my dream this summer."
"Perhaps being asleep strengthens the connection as well?" Our headmaster suggested as he pulled another strand of memory from his head.
"So you think . . . that dream . . . did it really happen?" Harry questioned.
"It is possible, I would say - probable. Harry - did you see Voldemort?"
"No. Just the back of his 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 have held the wand?"
"How indeed? How indeed . . ." Dumbledore muttered. The old man became lost in thought again and began to star absent-mindedly across the room.
"Professor," I hated to interrupt his important thoughts process but there was something I wanted to know, something I knew I could never ask Severus. "Do you think he, Voldemort is getting stronger?"
"Once again, Alice, I can only give you my suspicions." Professor Dumbledore sighed again. "The years of Voldemort's ascent to power, were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jorkins has vanished without a trace in the place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch too has disappeared…within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I regret to say, do not consider of any importance, for it concerns a Muggle. His name was Frank Bryce, he lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up, and he has not been seen since last August. You see, I read the Muggle newspapers, unlike most of my Ministry friends. These disappearances seem to me to be linked. The Ministry disagrees - as you may have heard, while waiting outside my office." I nodded with understanding. A silence fell between us again for several minutes before Harry spoke.
"Professor?" he said again.
"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore looked in Harry's direction but seemed to be looking right through him.
"Er . . . could I ask you about. . . that court thing we were in ... in the Pensieve?"
"You could, I attended it many times, but some trials come back to me more clearly than others ... particularly now.."
"You know - you know the trial you found Alice and me in? The one with Crouch's son? Well...were they talking about Neville's parents?" Professor Dumbledore gave Harry a very sharp look.
"Has Neville never told you why he has been brought up by his grandmother?" Harry and I both shook our heads. "Yes, they were talking about Neville's parents. His father, Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort's whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you heard."
"So they're dead?" I whispered.
"No, Dumbledore replied with a surprising hint of bitterness."They are insane. They are both in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, with his grandmother, during the holidays They do not recognize him."
Poor Neville! I thought to myself. "The Longbottoms were very popular. The attacks on them came after Voldemort's fall from power, just when everyone thought they were safe. Those attacks caused a wave of fury such as I have never known. The Ministry was under great pressure to catch those who had done it. Unfortunately, the Longbottoms' evidence was - given their condition - none too reliable."
"Then Mr. Crouch's son might not have been involved?" Harry questioned.
"As to that, I have no idea." Dumbledore replied.
"Er, Mr. Bagman…" Harry began again.
"Has never been accused of any Dark activity since." Professor Dumbledore assured him. Professor Dumbledore and I both knew what Harry was going to ask next. I watched the slow swirling of the pensieve and hoped my brother hand more sense than to voice his next question. Though he hesitated for a second Harry did open his mouth.
"And...er..."
"Nor has Professor Snape." Dumbledore replied shortly.
"What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?" Harry asked. I leaned forward slightly wondering what Professor Dumbledore would tell Harry. Our headmaster gazed at him for a moment as if trying to decide the same thing.
"That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."
"Come on Harry, we've got to get back to class."
"Right yeah." Harry rose to his feet but I could tell he was still thinking about Severus.
"Harry," Professor Dumbledore said as we neared the door. "Please do not speak about Neville's parents to anybody else. He has the right to let people know, when he is ready."
"Yes, Professor." Harry said crossing the room the rest of the way."
"And Alice..." I glanced back over my shoulder. "Good luck with the third task."
"Thank you Professor."