The Pensieve
The door to the office opened up before Arthur could do anything else.
"Hello, Pendergast." Crouch Jr growled. "Come in, then."
Arthur walked in. He had been inside this office once before in his second year.
It was a beautiful multi-circular room, the outer office being surrounded by glass cabinets with various interesting instruments with the various portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts lined up above them, all now fast asleep with their chests rising and filling gently.
On the round table in this part of the office, the instruments that emitted smoke were now gone and in their place on a stand was a very special item to Arthur. It was a gleaming silver sword with rubies on the hilt. It was the sword that both his ancestors, Godric Gryffindor and Arthur Pendragon had used in their lifetimes. He had used it himself to slay the Basilisk that Salazar Slytherin kept in the Chamber of Secrets.
In the study area of the office was Fudge, who stood beside Dumbledore's desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his lime green bowler hat.
"Arthur!" He said jovially, moving forwards. "How are you?"
"Fine." Arthur lied.
"We were just talking about the night when Mr Crouch turned up in the grounds." Fudge said. "It was you who found him, was it not?"
"Yes." Arthur replied, deciding to let it known that he overheard him being a prejudiced git. "Madame Maxime was nowhere near us. And she wouldn't have done a good job hiding, due to her size."
Dumbledore smiled at Arthur behind Fudge's back, his eyes twinkling.
"Yes, well…" Fudge said, embarrassed once more. "...we're about to go for a short walk in the grounds, Arthur, if you'll excuse us… perhaps if you just go back to your class -"
"I've come to talk to Dumbledore about something important." Arthur cut him off, looking at his Headmaster, who gave him a swift, searching look.
"Wait for me, Arthur." he said. "Our examination of the grounds will not take long."
The three men all trooped out in silence past Arthur and closed the door.
After about a minute, Arthur heard Crouch Jr's footsteps grow fainter in the corridor below.
He then looked and first laid eyes on a familiar creature.
"Hi, Fawkes." He greeted Dumbledore's phoenix, walking up to him and stroking him by the beak.
He stood on a golden perch beside Dumbledore's desk. He was the size of a swan and had magnificent scarlet and gold plumage as he swished his long tail, nuzzling against Arthur's fingers.
Arthur then placed his bag on a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk and went back to staring at what would rightfully be his sword.
He started feeling calm being in the Headmaster's office, knowing he'd be telling Dumbledore about his dreams and hopefully about what he figured out.
Arthur frowned when he noticed a patch of silvery light that danced and shimmered against the blade of the sword.
He turned and found some kind of compartment opening to reveal a stone basin that had whatever caused the silver white light to reflect on the sword.
Wondering what it was, he walked over to it and within the basin, that had carvings around the edge with runes and other symbols Arthur didn't recognise, the silvery light came from within and it was unlike what Arthur had ever seen.
He didn't even know the substance inside was either liquid or gas as it was a bright, whitish silver and moved ceaselessly. The surface looked ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly.
Arthur was baffled as he couldn't figure out what it was exactly.
Not knowing if he was being stupid or not, he felt a need to touch it, just to see what it felt like. He questioned himself because being in the wizarding world for four to five years, he knew that being curious can get you hurt or killed.
So, just to be cautious, he pulled his wand out and prodded the contents of the basin. The silvery stuff inside now began to swirl very fast.
Arthur now bent closer, his head right inside the compartment. The silvery substance now became transparent, looking like glass. He looked down into it, expecting to see the bottom of the stone basin, yet he instead saw an enormous room below the surface of the substance, a room that he seemed to look through a circular window in the ceiling.
The room was also dimly lit. Arthur guessed that it had to be underground because there were no windows, being lit instead by torches in brackets, like the ones that illuminated the walls of Hogwarts.
Arthur now lowered his face so that his nose was just an inch away from the glassy surface and saw rows and rows of witches and wizards sitting around every wall on benches rising in levels. There was also an empty chair that stood in the very centre of the room.
Arthur guessed that it must be a courtroom as the chair gave Arthur an ominous feeling because chains encircled the arms, no doubt to tie down whoever the occupant will be.
Since it had to be a courtroom, it must be in the Ministry of Magic, especially since there were nothing but adults in the large room. They all wore pointed hats and faced in one direction, as though they were waiting for someone.
The basin was circular and the room was very much in the shape of an octagon. Arthur leaned in closer to see if there's more to be noticed.
The top of his nose touched the substance and Dumbledore's office now gave an almighty lurch. Arthur was now thrown forwards and pitched head first into the substance in the basin.
Yet his head didn't hit the stone bottom. He fell through something icy cold and black, like he was sucked into a black whirlpool.
He then suddenly found himself sitting on a bench at the end of the room inside the basin, a bench that was raised high above the others.
Arthur looked up at the high stone ceiling, seeing nothing but dark cold stone.
Trying to keep calm, Arthur looked around, seeing that no one (as there were around two hundred witches and wizards) was looking at him, downright oblivious to him.
Arthur then turned to the wizard next to him and nearly fell off his bench in shock as he sat right next to Albus Dumbledore.
Seeing that he didn't react, he snapped his fingers right in front of his eyes and next to his ears. When he didn't react, Arthur realised that this must be a memory, similar to how he was pulled into a memory with Voldemort's diary when he was known as Tom Riddle.
Arthur noticed he was staring in the same direction as every other witch and wizard in the room, at a door in the far corner of the room.
Arthur now knew for sure that this room was underground as it felt more like a dungeon and not a room. There was also a bleak and forbidding air with no pictures or decorations in the room at all.
Footsteps were then heard and the door in the corner opened up.
Three beings entered. They were a man that was flanked by two Dementors.
Arthur's heart sank as his insides went cold.
The Dementors, tall, hooded creatures that concealed their faces, glided in slowly towards the chair in the centre of the room, each grasping the mans' arms with their dead and rotten looking hands. The man between them looked like he was about to faint, which Arthur didn't blame him for. Arthur knew well the effect the Dementors had on someone.
The watching crowd all recoiled slightly as the Dementors placed the man in the chained chair and glided back out of the room. The door then swung shut behind them.
Arthur looked at the man in the chair, now seeing that it was Karkaroff. He was most likely about to see him make his deal with Crouch.
Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaroff looked much younger here; his hair and goatee were black. He was also not dressed in sleek furs, instead, he was in thin and ragged robes. He was also shaking.
Arthur then noticed that the chains on the arms of the chair now glowed gold and snaked their way up his arms, binding him in place.
"Igor Karkaroff." A curt voice said to Arthur's left. He looked and saw Crouch standing up in the middle of the bench beside him. His hair was dark and his face was less lined, now looking fit and alert. "You have been brought from Azkaban to give evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us."
Karkaroff straightened himself as best as he could, being tightly bound to the chair.
"I have, sir." He said, Arthur hearing that familiar unctuous note in his voice, despite his voice sounding very scared. "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 Lord's supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can…."
This caused a murmur to spread among the benches. Some of the witches and wizards were surveying Karkaroff with real interest, others being very distrusting.
Arthur then heard a distinct and familiar growl from Dumbledore's side saying "Filth."
Arthur leaned forwards and saw the actual Alastor Moody sitting there, very different to how he's supposed to look in the present. He didn't have his magical eye, having two normal ones. They were both focused on Karkaroff, narrowed in intense dislike.
"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 made a small noise of dissent through his long and crooked nose.
"Ah, I was forgetting… you don't like the Dementors, do you Albus?" Moody said with a sardonic smile.
"No." Dumbledore said calmly. "I'm afraid I don't. I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures."
Arthur felt the same way, they're problematic, no matter what.
"But for filth like this…." Moody said softly.
"You say you have names for us, Karkaroff." Crouch said. "Let us hear them, please."
"You must understand…" Karkaroff said 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, feeling the same as Arthur.
" - 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, turning all of them in." Moody muttered.
"Yet you say you have some names for us?" Crouch asked.
"I - I do." Karkaroff said breathlessly. "And these were very important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes during his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with remorse so deep I can barely -"
"These names are?" Crouch cut him off sharply, finally getting to the point. Arthur was getting antsy from Karkaroff dragging this thing out.
Karkaroff drew a deep breath before he spoke again.
"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." Crouch revealed. "He was caught shortly after yourself.
"Indeed?" Karkaroff said with widening eyes. "I - I am delighted to hear it!"
He didn't really look like he was and it was clear that this was a real blow to him, that one of his names was worthless.
"Any others?" Crouch said coldly.
"Why, yes… there was Rosier. Evan Rosier." Karkaroff replied hurriedly.
"Rosier is dead." Crouch said. "He was caught shortly after you, too. He preferred to fight rather than coming quietly, and was killed in the struggle."
"Took a bit of me with him, though." Moody whispered. Arthur looked and saw that he was indicating to the large chunk out of his nose to Dumbledore.
"No - no more than Rosier deserved!" Karkaroff said with a real note of panic in his voice. Arthur saw that he was growing worried that his information wasn't of any use to the Ministry. His eyes darted towards the door in the corner, where the Dementors clearly stood by, waiting.
"Any more?" Crouch asked.
"Yes!" Karkaroff said. "There was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber - he specialised 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!"
"Rookwood?" Crouch said, nodding to a witch that sat in front of him, scribbling on a piece of parchment. "Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?"
"The very same." Karkaroff said 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." Crouch said. "Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide -"
"Not yet!" Karkaroff cried out, now looking desperate. "Wait, I have more!"
Arthur could see him sweating in the torchlight, his white skin very much contrasting against the black of his hair and beard.
"Snape! Severus Snape!"
"Snape has been cleared by this council." Crouch replied coldly. "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore!"
Arthur felt so much shock with what he just heard. Snape was actually a Death Eater?
"No!" Karkaroff shouted as he strained against the chains that bound him to the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"
Dumbledore then got to his feet.
"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 and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."
Arthur looked at Moody, who had a look of deep scepticism behind Dumbledore's back. The same scepticism that Arthur felt.
"Very well, Karkaroff…" Crouch then said coldly. "...you have been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime…."
His voice faded as Arthur noticed that the courtroom was dissolving, like it was made of smoke; everything then faded, with only himself staying the same as everything now swirled in darkness….
The courtroom returned and Arthur found himself in a different seat, despite still being on the highest bench. He was now on the left of Crouch.
The atmosphere this time was very different. It was more relaxed, downright cheerful, which confused Arthur.
All the witches and wizards that were around the walls all talked to each other, like they were at some sporting event. A witch halfway up the rows of benches opposite caught Arthur's eye. She had short blonde hair and wore magenta robes. And was sucking the end of an acid green quill.
Arthur growled as he recognised her as a younger Rita Skeeter.
Arthur then noticed that he was sitting next to Dumbledore again, now wearing different robes.
Crouch looked tireder and even fiercer, gaunter. This was a different day… and a different trial.
The door in the corner opened and Arthur was shocked to see Ludo Bagman walk into the room.
Here, he hadn't gone to see, he was actually at the height of his Quidditch playing fitness. His nose wasn't broken; he was also tall, lean and muscular.
Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, though it didn't bind him, like it did to Karkaroff. Taking heart from this, Bagman glanced around at the crowd, waving at a couple of them, forming 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." 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?"
Arthur was very much taken aback. There is now way Ludo Bagman was a Death Eater.
"Only…" Bagman smiled awkwardly. "...well - I know I've been a bit of an idiot -"
One or two witches and wizards in the seats smiled indulgently. Crouch, however, didn't share the same feeling. He just stared down at Bagman with nothing but the utmost severity and dislike.
"You never spoke a truer word, boy." Someone muttered dryly to Dumbledore behind Arthur. He looked to see that it was Moody again. "If I didn't know he'd always been dim, I'd have said some of those Bludgers had permanently affected his brain…."
"Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters." Crouch said. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than -"
This caused an angry outcry from the surrounding benches. Several witches and wizards even stood up, shaking their heads and fists at Crouch.
Arthur now understood what Winky meant about Bagman being a bad wizard and Crouch not liking him. But Arthur was told by Ben Merlon that he was always lax with security and has proven to be a bit dim.
"But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman said earnestly over the crowd's babble, his round blue eyes widening. "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 Quiddich days are over, you know… I mean, I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?"
There were now titters from the crowd.
"It will be put to the vote." Crouch said coldly. He turned to the right hand side of the courtroom. "The jury will please raise their hands… those in favour of imprisonment…."
Arthur looked to the right hand side of the courtroom and saw that no one had raised their hand. A lot of the witches and wizards around the walls began to clap. One witch on the jury even stood up.
"Yes?" 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.
Crouch looked utterly furious as the courtroom now rang with applause with Bagman getting to his feet and bowing, beaming at everyone.
"Despicable." Crouch spat at Dumbledore as he sat down when Bagman walked out of the courtroom. "Rookwood get him a job indeed… the day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a very sad day for the Ministry…."
Arthur was just stunned to see just how much Crouch hated Bagman as he did a good job of hiding it whenever Arthur saw them together.
The courtroom dissolved once more.
When it came back, Arthur looked and saw that he and Dumbledore were now sitting beside Crouch, but the atmosphere was jarringly different. There was absolute silence, which was broken by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy looking witch in the seat next to Crouch.
Arthur knew immediately that it was Crouch's wife. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands. She looked like she was truly on death's doorstep.
Arthur then looked up at Crouch and saw that he now looked more gaunt and greyer than never before. A nerve was also twitching in his temple.
"Bring them in." He said, his voice echoing through the silent courtroom.
The door in the corner opened up and six Dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four.
Arthur looked at the people in the crowd, who turned to look up at Crouch, a few of them whispering to each other.
The Dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the floor.
One of them was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch. A thinner and more nervous looking man, whose eyes darted around the crowd sat next to him. Then there was the only woman of the four, who had thick, shining black and heavily hooded eyes. What disturbed Arthur was that she sat in the chained chair like it was a throne, clearly being purely devoted to Voldemort. And the last of them was a boy in his late teens, looking nothing short of petrified. He was shivering with his straw coloured hair all over his face and his freckled skin milk white.
Arthur knew that it must be Crouch Jr, and that gut feeling he had when he first saw Tom Riddle talk in that memory in his second year. He was putting on an act, one that didn't fool Arthur.
He then noticed that Crouch's wife was now rocking back and forth in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief.
Crouch himself stood up, looking down on all four of those in the chained chairs with a look of pure hatred on his face.
"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law…" He said clearly. "...so that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime so heinous -"
"Father." His son said. "Father… please…."
" - that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court." Crouch said, speaking louder to drown 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!" Crouch Jr shrieked. "I didn't, I swear it, father, don't send me back to the Dementors -"
"You are further accused…" Crouch now bellowed out. "...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!" Crouch Jr now screamed, making her sob as she rocked back and forth. "Mother, stop him, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"
Arthur was disgusted by his rather desperate attempt to take advantage of his mother's state to try and seem innocent, when he wasn't. And Arthur was horrified to hear of what happened to Neville's parents.
"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."
And then in unison the witches and wizards along the right hand side of the courtroom raised their hands. The crowd around the walls now started to clap, like for Bagman, their faces full of savage triumph.
Crouch Jr now started screaming.
"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 other three next to Crouch Jr rose quietly from their seats.
The woman with the heavy lidded eyes then looked up at Crouch saying "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!"
Crouch Jr tried to fight the Dementors off, despite the fact that the Dementors cold, draining power was starting to affect him.
The entire crowd jeered, some on their feet as the woman was swept out of the courtroom. Crouch Jr still struggled.
"I'm your son!" He screamed up at his father, making one last attempt to put up his act. "I'm your son!"
"You are no son of mine!" Crouch bellowed, his eyes now bulging. "I have no son!"
His wife beside him gave a great gasp before fainting, which her husband didn't notice.
"Take them away!" he roared at the Dementors, spit flying from his mouth, Arthur thinking he looked like a true madman. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"
He must've really loved his wife to even sneak his son out if she did demand it.
"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"
"I think, Arthur, it is time to return to my office." A quiet voice said in Arthur's ear.
Arthur was snapped out of his stunned trance and looked to see Dumbledore sitting on his right, watching Crouch Jr being dragged away, while there was another on his left, looking right at him.
"Come." He said, putting his hand under Arthur's elbow and Arthur felt himself rising into the air; the courtroom dissolving around him.
For a moment, there was nothing but darkness before, as though he did a slow motion somersault, he landed flat on his feet back in Dumbledore's office. The stone basin now shimmered in the compartment in front of him, with Dumbledore standing beside him.
"Professor…." Arthur gasped. "I know that I should've… but the compartment just opened and I -"
"I quite understand." Dumbledore said as he reached the basin and pulled out what looked like a silver bowl that was absolutely full and carried it over to his desk, placing it upon the polished top, sitting down in the chair behind it. He then motioned Arthur to sit opposite him.
Arthur did so, staring at the silvery substance. It now returned to its silvery white state, swirling and rippling beneath his gaze.
"What is that stuff?" He asked.
"This? It is called a Pensieve." Dumbledore replied. "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 sometimes feel like that." Arthur replied, experiencing that whenever he tried connecting dots together when solving mysteries.
"At these times…" Dumbledore said, indicating to the Pensieve. "...I use the Pensieve. One simply syphons 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."
"And what I just saw were your own thoughts." Arthur stated with confidence.
"Certainly. Let me show you."
Dumbledore drew his wand out and placed the tip onto his silvery hair, near his temple. When he pulled the wand away, a glistening strand of the same silvery white substance that filled the Pensieve clinged to the tip.
Dumbledore added it to the basin and Arthur, completely transfixed, watched his face now swimming around the surface of the bowl.
Dumbledore then placed his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it, like a gold prospector swirling for fragments of gold. Arthur's face then smoothly changed to Snape's, who opened his mouth, speaking to the ceiling with a slightly echoing voice "It's coming back… Karkaroff's too… stronger and clearer than ever…."
Arthur knew that was about what Karkaroff had on his forearm that he showed to Snape. Snape must have the same thing.
"A connection I could have made without assistance…" Dumbledore sighed. "...but never mind." He then peered over the top of his half moon spectacles at Arthur, who glared at Snape's face, which continued to swirl around the bowl. "I was using the Pensieve when Mr Fudge arrived for our meeting, and put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not properly close the compartment. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention."
"I'm sorry." Arthur apologised, yet Dumbledore shook his head.
"Curiosity is not a sin. But we should exercise caution with our curiosity… yes, indeed…."
He frowned slightly and prodded the thoughts within the bowl with the tip of his wand. This instantly made a figure rise from it, a plump scowling girl of sixteen years of age. She revolved slowly, with her feet in the bowl. She didn't notice Arthur or Dumbledore.
When she spoke, her voice echoed like Snape's, like it came from the depths of the bowl. "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…."
It was clear, based on what he heard of her, that this was Bertha Jorkins.
"But why, Bertha…" Dumbledore said sadly, looking at the now silently revolving girl. "...why did you have to follow him in the first place?"
"That was Bertha Jorkins when she was a student?" Arthur asked.
"Yes." Dumbledore said as he prodded the thoughts in the bowl again, making Bertha sink into them, now becoming silvery and opaque again. "That was her as I remember at school."
The silvery light illuminated Dumbledore's face, letting Arthur sink in the fact that he looked very old. He knew this, of course, that Dumbledore was getting on in years. But he never really saw him as an old man. He always seemed like an ageless being.
"So, Arthur." Dumbledore said quietly. "Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."
"I did." Arthur nodded. "In Divination just now, I… uh… fell asleep…." He then said guilty.
"Quite understandable. Continue." Dumbledore said, instead of reprimanding him.
"I had a dream." Arthur said. "Voldemort tortured Wormtail. I'm sure he tortured him for allowing Crouch to escape, after breaking through the Imperius Curse. But Voldemort said that he is now dead, thanks to an owl sent to him by his faithful servant. He told Wormtail that he won't be fed to Nagini, his snake, instead saying he'll feed me to it. Then he used the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail." He explained. "When that happened, my scar hurt so bad that I woke up."
Dumbledore looked at him.
"It was just like the dream I had in the summer." Arthur added. He ultimately didn't mention that Crouch Jr is disguised as Moody, being worried that he'd be told that he was wrong.
"Yes. Both Benjamin Merlon and Sirius told me about this." Dumbldore then said quietly.
"Sirius?" Arthur questioned.
"You are not Sirius' only correspondent. 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."
He then got up and walked up and down behind his desk. Every once in a while, he'd place his wand tip to his temple, removing anothing shining silver thought, adding it to the Pensieve. The thoughts inside started swirling so fast that Arthur couldn't make out anything, merely being a blur of colour.
"Professor?" He asked after a couple of minutes, making Dumbledore stop pacing and look at him.
"My apologies." He said quietly before sitting back down at his desk.
"Why do you think my scar hurts from these dreams?" Arthur asked, hoping he'd have an answer.
Dumbledore looked at him intently for a moment before speaking.
"I have a theory, no more than that…. It is my belief that your scar hurts when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."
"Why?" Arthur asked.
"Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed. That is no ordinary scar."
"So what I saw in these dreams actually happened." Arthur said, as it only made sense.
"It is possible." Dumbledore said. "I would say - probable. Arthur - did you see Voldemort?"
"Not really. Just the back of his chair. And I think he must've found a temporary body to use, otherwise he couldn't hold his wand." Arthur said, dreading to think of what Voldemort looked like right now.
"Interesting…." Dumbledore muttered.
For a while, neither of them talked. Dumbledore gazed across the room, every now and then, placing his wand tip to his temple, adding another silvery thought to the Pensieve.
"He's truly getting stronger, isn't he, Professor?" Arthur asked, feeling dread consume him.
"Voldemort?" Dumbledore said, looking at Arthur. He had that piercing look that he gave Arthur on other occasions, the kind that made Arthur feel like Dumbledore was seeing right through him. "Once again, Arthur, I can only give you my suspicions."
He sighed again, looking older and warier than ever.
"The years of Voldemort's ascent to power were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jorkins has vanished without trace in the place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr Crouch, too, has disappeared, now dead… within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I regret to say, does 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."
"Professor, that dream in the summer…" Arthur said, recollecting that old man. "...I believe that Voldemort killed him."
Dumbledore looked at him very seriously now.
"These disappearances are truly linked. The Ministry disagrees - as you may have heard, while waiting outside my office."
Arthur nodded, dreading the fact that Fudge just might not do what will be needed if Voldemort does come back to power.
Then he remembered what he saw with that last trial.
"Professor, could I ask about that final trial in the Pensieve?"
"You could." Dumbledore said heavily. "I attended it many times, but some trials come back to me more clearly than others… particularly now…."
"What Crouch said… did those four actually torture Neville's parents?" Arthur asked, earning a very sharp look from Dumbledore.
"Has Neville never told you why he was brought up by his grandmother?" He asked.
"Never." Arthur shook his head, never wanting to ask questions that could be too personal for him.
"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."
"Are they… dead?" Arthur was scared of what Dumbledore's answer would be.
"No…" Dumbledore said with bitterness, something Arthur never heard from him before. "...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 recognise them."
Arthur sat there, feeling tears leak down his cheeks, horror struck. That had to be the most heartbreaking thing he could think of for a child to endure. To meet their parents, who no longer recognise their child from being tortured into madness.
"The Longbottoms were very popular." Dumbledore said. "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 conditions - none too reliable."
Arthur sat there with fury at him, remembering how he pretended to be sympathetic to Neville after that lesson where he showed off the Unforgivable Curses. He was beyond disgusted.
"Mr Bagman…."
"...has never been accused of any dark activity since." Dumbledore said calmly.
Arthur nodded subtly, staring at the contents of the Pensieve.
"What about -?"
"No more has Professor Snape." Dumbledore said, as though he read Arthur's mind. Arthur didn't believe him.
"Why would you think he stopped supporting Voldemort?" He asked before he could stop himself.
Dumbledore held Arthur's gaze for a few seconds until he said "That, Arthur, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."
It was clear to Arthur that the interview was over. Dumbledore didn't seem angry, yet there was a finality in his voice that told him that he had to go. So he grabbed his bag and stood up, as did Dumbledore.
"Arthur." He said as Arthur reached 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."
"I understand, Professor." Arthur replied grimly, turning to go.
"And -"
Arthur looked back.
Dumbledore stood over the Pensieve, his face lit from beneath by the silvery spots of light, looking older than ever.
He stared at Arthur for a moment before he said "Good luck with the third task."
Such a revealing chapter. I actually became watery eyed when writing Dumbledore's dialogue about Neville's parents. Such a tragic circumstance for poor Neville.
