Pensive

"Yes? Come in." Dumbledore's voice sounded and Chris pushed the door and entered.

Moody was standing in front of Dumbledore's desk and Cornelius Fudge was standing beside it, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his lime-green bowler hat. Fudge threw a irritated look towards Chris. Chris didn't give any particular expression. Fawkes came and sat on her shoulder. Chris slightly patted him and directly looked at Dumbledore.

"Professor, I wanted to talk to you." Chris said seriously.

"Yes, Christina." Dumbledore said calmly.

"Then I'll take my leave, Dumbledore." Fudge said hurriedly. "I'm taking them with me."

"I still believe, Minister..." Moody started but Dumbledore stopped him.

"Wait for me here, Christina." Dumbledore said to Chris as he got up. "Let's go Fudge."

Fudge was taken aback for a moment then gladly walked out of the office followed by Mad-Eye and Dumbledore.

Chris was thinking how to convince Dumbledore about Bagman, while casually looking around Dumbledore's office. Not getting enough attention, Fawkes flew back to on his golden perch beside the door. Chris was noticing how much the office was different than in her dreams. Other than pictures of previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts, all of whom were fast asleep in their frames, Chris saw the sorting hat, the Gryffindor sword, a metallic structure of a symbol.

"Deathly Hallows!" Chris whispered looking at it.

'But why would Dumbledore like to keep a this big metallic structure of a old story? Is that mean they're real? There are three Hallows like the story?'

Chris had finished the story book Luna gave her last year, the Tales of Beedle the Bard. It was a nice story book, but now Chris thought there's more to these stories. When she noticed a patch of silvery light, dancing and shimmering on the glass case. Chris looked around for the source of the light and saw a sliver of silver-white shining brightly from within a black cabinet, whose door had not been closed properly. Without hesitating, Chris pulled open the cabinet door and saw a shallow stone basin lay there, with carvings around the edge: runes and symbols. There was signs of: Unknown, Memory, Wishdom, Logic, Knowledge, Connection, Experience and Enlightenment.

The substance inside it wasn't liquid nor gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid or like wind made solid, it was difficult to make one's mind. After reading this signs and watching the substance inside the basin, Chris had an idea about this thing. It was an ancient Pensive. Chris have read about it, when she was reading about the founders. The pensive was one of the most precious artifact, handed down from one Headmaster/Headmistress to another.

Chris knew it wasn't harmful but peaking inside Headmaster's memory wasn't a wise thing to do. After debating for a moment, she decided to look into it. There's no need to be goody good all the time, is it?

Chris pulled her wand out from inside of her robes, looked at the contents of the basin, and prodded them.

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

Chris bent closer, his head right inside the cabinet. The silvery substance had become transparent; it looked like glass. She looked down into it, and saw the hospital wing of Hogwarts. She saw a figure lying on a hospital bed and he was looking very familiar. Chris leaned even closer, tilting her head, trying to see . . .

The tip of her nose touched the substance into which she was staring.

Dumbledore's office gave an almighty lurch — she was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the basin —

But her head did not hit the stone bottom. She was falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool —

And suddenly, Chris found herself in the Hospital wing, standing beside Dumbledore. He was looking at Madam Pomfrey, who was very nervous because of some reasons. Then he turned towards the another person beside the bed, Mad-Eye. For a moment Chris thought, Mad-Eye will see her but then, his eyes swept past her without any reaction.

"It's just like my dreams." Chris said loudly. "No one can see me or hear me."

As expected no one heard her. Then Chris noticed the man on the Hospital bed. It was Mr Crouch.

"What happened, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"He woke up once Professor. Just now, that's why I called you in. His mind state it really bad but he's very eager to tell you something." Madam Pomfrey replied.

"What do you think happened?" Dumbledore asked.

Madam Pomfrey looked more nervous.

"After checking him, I think... it's either a strong memory charm or...." she stopped.

"Imperious Curse." Moody growled. "I've told you from the start, Albus. Something is terribly wrong here."

"I know Alastor and I can clearly see that." Dumbledore said quietly.

"Professor! Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid came in. "Here... the house-elf."

Filthy, disheveled, little house-elf, peered around Hagrid's enormous legs. It was Winky. Her mouth opened wide as soon as she saw Crouch and then she let out a piercing shriek.

"Master! Master!" She flung herself on Crouch's leg. "You is killed master? You..."

"He's unconscious Winky and we didn't do anything." Dumbledore said. "But someone is trying to harm him and I guess you've the answer."

"I? Winky?" She gasped. "I know nothing."

"Don't you dare to lie elf." Moody growled loudly.

Winky jumped back. She started to shake her head.

"I... keep secrets.... Winky's a good elf.... I... I..." Winky was trembling. "I is not telling you. No..."

Mad-Eye's appearance can make many people tremble with fear but Winky was brave enough to still keep her secret. She was stubborn. She really was a good house-elf.

"It's alright, Winky." Dumbledore said reassuring her. "We're not going to ask you anything, if you don't want to tell."

"But Albus..."

"We should go out Alastor. If anything happens, inform me, Poppy." Dumbledore said stopping Moody. "And let Winky stay here with Barty."

Madam Pomfrey nodded and Dumbledore looked at Mad-Eye, he reluctantly nodded.

Then suddenly the Hospital wing around her, started dissolving as though it were made of smoke; everything was fading; she could see only her own body... all else was swirling darkness. . . .

And then, the Hospital wing returned. Chris was standing behind Dumbledore. Dumbledore was back in the Hospital wing. Mr Crouch was awake and he was mumbling again, this time Madam Pomfrey was Percy. Winky was sobbing hard. Dumbledore gave a wave with his hand towards Madam Pomfrey. She nodded and left.

"Barty! Barty! I'm here." Dumbledore shook Crouch by his shoulder. "Tell me. Tell me what you've done."

"No... No... Don't say anything master... please..." Winky sobbed harder.

"Barty! Look at me." Dumbledore said ignoring Winky. "Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore!" Cried Crouch suddenly. His eyes were still unfocused but he heard Dumbledore's name. "I've done terrible things... must tell... Dumble... dore."

"Master you're not fine." Winky said coming in front of Crouch. "Don't talk please."

"Winky!" Crouch looked at Winky and panicked. "I was wrong, Winky.... I shouldn't have sacked you... I should've handed him over... he should be the one... he did terrible things... he is doing terrible things...."

"He... who? Who, Barty?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Dumbledore! Albus!" Crouch just noticed Dumbledore. He grabbed Dumbledore's robes and pulled him closer. Crouch's eyes were red. "He's alive Albus... He's alive... He conjured the... mark... the dark mark... He's helping You-Know-Who... stop him... Albus stop him.."

He suddenly turn around and stared at the empty space.

"Weatherby, I'll introduce you to my family tonight. Come for tea at my house. My son just graduated from Hogwarts. I'm very proud. Very proud indeed..." He started mumbling.

"Barty!" Dumbledore called him again. "Tell me who's alive? Who's helping Voldemort?"

The name 'Voldemort', made another change in Crouch.

"He... He was... torturing me... Voldemort have gained power... people are helping Voldemort... people are helping Him... and it started... because of my mistake... I saved him... hide him for years...."

"Barty! Who?" Dumbledore said placing a hand on Crouch's shoulder, trying to calm him.

"He's out there... I saved him from Azkaban... Barty... Crouch... my... son..." he whispered and suddenly his eyes rolled back and he was motionless.

Dumbledore straighten up. He looked in deep thought. Winky shrieked and started crying louder than ever. Madam Pomfrey hurriedly came in, maybe hearing Winky's shriek.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Check him, Poppy." Dumbledore said quietly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded and started checking Crouch.

Again the Hospital wing started to dissolved and Chris fell into a room. The room was dimly lit; there were no windows, merely torches in brackets such as the ones that illuminated the walls of Hogwarts. Chris saw that rows and rows of witches and wizards were seated around every wall on what seemed to be benches rising in levels. Four empty chair stood in the very center of the room. Chains encircled the arms of the chairs, as though their occupants were usually tied to it. Chris looked around and saw she was sitting beside Dumbledore at the highest bench. There was a bleak and forbidding air about the place; there were no pictures on the walls, no decorations at all; just these serried rows of benches, rising in levels all around the room, all positioned so that they had a clear view of that chair with the chains on its arms. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands. Chris looked up at Crouch and saw that he looked gaunter and grayer than ever before. A nerve was twitching in his temple.

"Bring them in," he said, and his voice echoed through the silent dungeon.

The door in the corner opened yet again. Six dementors entered flanking a group of four people. Chris saw the people in the crowd turn to look up at Mr. Crouch. A few of them whispered to one another.

The dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms. 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 handkerchief.

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

".... that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," said Crouch, 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 boy in chains below. "I didn't, I swear it, Father, don't send me back to the dementors ..."

"You are further accused," bellowed Mr. Crouch, "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!" screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. "Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"

"I now ask the jury," shouted Mr. Crouch, "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. 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!"

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 called, "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!"

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

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

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

The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed.

"Take them away!" Crouch roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"

"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please! Mother! Save me! Mother! Please!" He screamed as the Dementors took them away.

He was still screaming but soon his voice faded. No one made anymore sounds in that room, all eyes were fixed on Mr Crouch, who still was staring at the door. Dumbledore sighed.

"I don't know if you did the right thing or not, Barty." He said quietly.

Again the place started to dissolved but then it returned into the very same Dungeon. Chris was still sitting beside Dumbledore at the highest bench; but the atmosphere was completely different. It was relaxed, even cheerful. The witches and wizards all around the walls were talking to one another, almost as though they were at some sort of sporting event. Mr. Crouch looked more tired and somehow fiercer, gaunter. The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room.

This was not, however, a Ludo Bagman gone to seed, but a Ludo Bagman who was clearly at the height of his Quidditch-playing fitness. His nose wasn't broken now; he was tall and lean and muscular. Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, but it did not bind him there, he glanced around at the watching crowd, waved at a couple of them, and 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," said Mr. Crouch. "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," said Bagman, smiling awkwardly, "well .... I know I've been a bit of an idiot..."

One or two wizards and witches in the surrounding seats smiled indulgently. 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," someone muttered dryly to Dumbledore behind Chris. She looked around and saw Moody sitting there, except that there was a very noticeable difference in his appearance. He did not have his magical eye, but two normal ones. "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," said Mr. Crouch. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than...."

But there was an angry outcry from the surrounding benches. Several of the witches and wizards around the walls stood up, shaking their heads, and even their fists, at Mr. Crouch.

"But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman called 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 Quidditch 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 titters from the crowd.

"Always a opportunist." Chris snorted.

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

Chris looked toward the right-hand side of the dungeon. Not one person raised their hand. Many of the witches and wizards around the walls began to clap.

Chris rolled her eyes and decided to came out of this memory. After watching those terrifying memories, this was rather stupid. Chris started to rise up from there, and then the dungeon dissolved around her; for a moment, all was blackness, and then she felt as though she had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing flat on her feet, in what seemed like the dazzling light of Dumbledore's sunlit office. The stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of her.

"You'll be the first student, who was able to came out of it on her own." Said a voice behind her.

Chris turned around and saw Albus Dumbledore sitting in his chair behind the desk.

"Professor... I was...." Chris started but Dumbledore stopped her.

"I didn't pull you back for a reason." He smiled. "So there's no need to explain."