Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Chapter 682: Dumbledore's Remorse

Now, only Dumbledore, Evan, and Harry were in the office.

Harry looked somewhat restrained, Dumbledore was tired, and it didn’t seem easy to deal with Fudge.

Evan was well aware that although Dumbledore could ignore the Ministry’s opinion, he would not do so unless he had to.

Since doing so would undoubtedly make everything worse, he would get as much support as possible from Fudge and the Ministry of Magic.

But that was really hard. Fudge was becoming more and more difficult to satisfy and less prone to compromise…

He always seemed to consider his own position and power first, and then others.

“You wanted to tell me something?” said Dumbledore, turning to look at Evan and Harry. “But I suggest that before that, you get something to eat, I think you came over without having breakfast!”

He waved his wand, and milk and sandwiches appeared on the table.

Dumbledore sat down in a chair behind the table and motioned to Evan and Harry to sit opposite him.

As they ate, his gaze shifted to the unclosed cabinet door, and he seemed to have guessed what had happened.

“Professor,” Harry explained hurriedly, swallowing the food in his mouth. “The cabinet door was open when we came in …”

“So we accidentally saw the Pensieve inside,” Evan added, “and your memory!”

“I quite understand. I was using it when Mr. Fudge arrived and put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention,” said Dumbledore calmly, peering at them over the top of his half-moon spectacles. “Curiosity is not a sin, but I have to say that we should exercise caution with our curiosity… especially you, Evan, you might not want to approach things you do not understand so often… yes, indeed…”

“I see!” Evan nodded. But what was Dumbledore referring to?!!

Was it the dangerous Dark magic, the demon in the basement, or the terrible evil god?!!

“Good!” Dumbledore smiled again.

He went over and opened the cabinet door, brought the Pensieve and placed it on the desk in front of them.

The contents of the basin had returned to their original, silvery-white state, swirling and rippling beneath their gaze.

“I think you should know … this is a Pensieve!” said Dumbledore, sitting down again. “I sometimes find that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind, and I need to use it to help me sort it out. One pours the excess thoughts 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.”

With Evan and Harry watching, he placed the tip of his wand into his silvery hair, near his temple.

When he took the wand away, there seemed to be some glistening strand clinging to it, which was of the same strange silvery-white substance that filled the basin.

Dumbledore added this fresh thought to the basin, placed his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it, rather as a gold prospector would pan for fragments of gold.

Gradually, Snape’s face appeared on the surface of the bowl. Snape opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling, his voice echoing slightly.

“It’s coming back… Karkaroff’s too… stronger and clearer than ever …”

“He did come back… a connection I could have made without assistance,” Dumbledore sighed. “Too obvious, I thought he would keep a low profile.”

Frowning slightly, Dumbledore prodded the thoughts within the basin with the tip of his wand.

Instantly, a figure rose out of it, a boy of thirteen or fourteen years old, with pale skin and freckles.

He was a younger Barty Crouch Jr., with his feet still in the basin.

When he spoke, his voice echoed as Snape’s had done, as though it were coming from the depths of the stone basin.

“Yes, professor, I have to gain all twelve Ordinary Wizarding Level certificates. My father asked me to do it. So I want to apply for a Time-Turner…” his face was full of pride and his tone reminded Evan of Malfoy.

“This is Mr. Crouch’s son?!” said Harry, looking up at the boy.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore, prodding the thoughts in the basin again, Barty Jr. sank back into them, and they became silvery and opaque once more, “That was Barty Crouch Jr. as I remember him at school … a very intelligent child, and very polite. Believe me, there were not many students who could work out new spells at this age, and Barty Sr. had high expectations for him. “

“He developed his own spell at the age of fourteen?” Evan asked.

“A very interesting little magic!” said Dumbledore. “His grades were perfect in all courses. He was the best graduate of Hogwarts since Tom Riddle. I thought he was going to work in the Ministry of Magic, and he would inherit his father’s career…”

“Professor, I just saw the memories of that trial, and he was not the same as the other three Death Eaters!” Harry hesitated, “He might have just happened to be there by accident …”

“Nothing happens by chance, Harry!” Dumbledore closed his eyes and said in a tone of remorse, “I didn’t know until later, probably not long after this conversation, he joined Voldemort’s team, became the youngest Death Eater, and soon got attention. I should have noticed and stopped this from happening!”

The silvery light from the Pensieve illuminated Dumbledore’s face, and he looked very old.

Evan seemed to have just realized that the greatest wizard in the world looked really as an old man at the moment.

“I sometimes think that there is a big problem with our educational philosophy,” said Dumbledore slowly. “Only teaching students magic, not teaching humanity, has led to the creation of so many Dark wizards. Especially for Slytherin students, they are all excellent, but it also means that they are more tempted and must be carefully guided …”

Dumbledore was different from other professors. He was very concerned about what students were thinking, and he always did. Especially for those talented wizards, he hoped to lead them to the right path. He thought this was his responsibility.

His purpose was great, although his methods and results were not all so perfect.

Voldemort was the most obvious example. He grew up almost under Dumbledore’s gaze, just to become the most evil Dark Lord.

In the field of magic, the more you knew, the more ambitious you would be; the stronger you became, the more temptations you would get.

Sometimes, what seemed to be the right approach could be counterproductive.

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