Chapter 135: The Pensieve
“A first-year Gryffindor girl is looking for me, and she's waiting in the corridor now?” Jon couldn't help but repeat.
Eloise Midgen nodded. “Yes, she said it's urgent.”
“I’ll go take a look!” Jon stepped out of the common room and climbed out of the wooden barrel.
“Jon!”
Hearing the familiar voice, his hunch was confirmed—it was Natalie Pavlov.
“You’re actually a Hogwarts Champion!” Natalie exclaimed excitedly. “That’s incredible, isn’t it!”
“I suppose so.” Jon’s tone was cool and distant. “What is it you need?”
“Yes, yes!” The little girl quickly rummaged through her pocket and finally pulled out a slip of paper, handing it to him.
The handwriting on it was familiar and concise:
“7 PM, Milk Toffee.”
“I was wandering around the eighth-floor corridor when Professor Dumbledore suddenly appeared behind me and told me to bring this to you!”
Natalie rattled off quickly, almost breathless.
“I was so nervous—it was the first time Professor Dumbledore ever spoke to me... Oh, and Jon, what does the note mean?”
“Professor Dumbledore wants me in his office at 7 tonight for detention... The rest is the password.” Jon explained while glancing at his watch.
It was already a quarter to seven.
If he didn’t leave right away, he’d be late.
“But that means it’s almost time!” Natalie said anxiously. “When I passed through the Great Hall just now, it was already past 6:30!”
Her voice dropped slightly. “Why don’t we head upstairs together now? Professor Dumbledore’s office is on the eighth floor, right? I need to go back to the Gryffindor common room on the eighth floor anyway.”
“Alright, let’s go together.” Jon couldn’t think of a reason to refuse and nodded.
...
As they walked up the stairs and along the corridors, they occasionally heard people pointing and whispering.
Jon Hart had been at Hogwarts for over two years, but this was the first time he’d ever received this kind of attention.
“Is that Jon Hart...? Unbelievable, he looks so young without the dragon-hide coat.”
“He must be the youngest champion in the history of the Triwizard Tournament...”
“Should I ask him for an autograph?”
All along the way, passersby from every year and every house whispered about him.
Natalie, unlike her usual chatty self, walked quietly beside Jon, only asking him the occasional question.
When they reached the fourth-floor staircase, a familiar figure appeared, coming directly toward them.
Before Jon could react, Natalie called out loudly, “Big Sis... Astoria Greengrass!”
Astoria Greengrass’s eyes were slightly red and puffy, as though she had been crying.
She gave the little girl a somewhat forced hug before lifting her head... and locking eyes with Jon.
Jon wasn’t sure what to say.
“Hello.” Astoria gave him a stiff nod, clutched her books tightly, and hurried past them.
“Jon… Professor Dumbledore is still expecting you!” Natalie whispered, stopping Jon in his tracks just as he was about to follow.
...
After saying goodbye to Natalie, Jon reached the eighth floor and stood before the the grotesque stone gargoyle.
“Milk...”
Before Jon could finish the password, the stone creature moved aside on its own, yawning as it greeted him: “Long time no see, kid!”
Climbing the spiral staircase, Jon entered the circular room of Dumbledore’s office.
The office looked just as it always did: the slender-legged desk was crowded with delicate silver instruments, spinning and puffing out little wisps of smoke.
The portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses on the walls seemed to watch him, though most had their eyes closed. Only Headmistress Dilys Derwent had hers open, sneaking Jon an encouraging glance before quickly feigning sleep again.
Dumbledore’s magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, perched on a branch behind the door, gazing at him with keen interest.
“Professor Dumbledore!” Jon called softly.
“Here I am!” Albus Dumbledore emerged from a side chamber. “You’re as punctual as ever, Jon.”
The professor’s face was lit with a smile, not at all like someone speaking to a student in detention—if anything, his tone seemed even kinder than usual.
From Dumbledore’s expression, Jon’s earlier suspicion seemed correct.
“Professor, may I ask what I need to do tonight?” Jon asked cautiously.
“Of course. Come this way.” Dumbledore waved to him as he stepped back into the chamber.
It was a small room with only a black cabinet. The door was ajar, and a bright silver glow spilled out from within.
Inside was a shallow stone basin, its rim etched with letters and symbols Jon didn’t recognize.
The silver glow came from the substance within—something strange, neither liquid nor gas, yet flowing continuously.
Jon immediately knew what it was... Dumbledore’s Pensieve.
“Come.” Dumbledore had already produced a crystal vial, into which he poured some of the floating silver-white substance. “Tonight, your task is to help me find something.”
“Just dive in, like this.” As he spoke, he drew a deep breath and plunged headfirst into the silver substance.
...
Jon felt his feet leave the floor of the office.
He fell through swirling darkness, down and down, until suddenly, blinding sunlight forced his eyes shut.
When he landed again, it was on solid ground, though the dazzling sunlight still stung his eyes.
Looking around, they found themselves on a country lane lined with tall hedgerows. In the distance, a mountain loomed.
About ten paces ahead sat a rather handsome young man, no more than twenty, perched on a rock and reading intently.
“Professor?” Jon cast a questioning look at Dumbledore beside him.
“Sometimes my mind becomes too crowded with thoughts and memories,” Dumbledore explained with a smile. “I extract the excess thoughts and pour them into the basin, to revisit when I have the time.”
“So this is your memory?” Jon asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Of course.” Dumbledore nodded. “Memories from my youth...”
Jon glanced at the handsome young man ahead, then at the old man beside him... and couldn’t help couldn’t help but smirk.
“At this moment, I was at the foot of the Karkonosze Mountains in Poland,” Dumbledore said with a slight frown. “I should have been waiting for a friend...”
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