“There are still a lot of people left!” Hermione comforted him.
“Yeah, there are a lot of people left,” said Harry, his mood didn’t seem to have improved much. What he really cared about was that Ron and Cho didn’t go. “During the eting last evening, we practiced the spells that Evan had taught before. Everyone did pretty well.”
There was a mont of silence, and anyone could tell that Harry’s mood was not very high.
“Sirius, I ca here today because I wanted to talk to you…”
Boom, a violent vibration ca from the fireplace.
“What’s this sound?”
“It’s Fred and George. I asked them to help buy so ti for this eting,” said Harry nonchalantly. “’I don’t know what they’re planning to do, probably setting off custom fireworks and firecrackers. They think since Dumbledore isn’t at school, they don’t need to follow the rules, so starting four days ago, Hogwarts has been filled with Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes magic fireworks, running rampant everywhere.”
“Oh my …, don’t the professors do anything?”
“The Heads of Houses haven’t intervened, and no one can catch them. I don’t know how they did it, but these fireworks are hard to dispel and only seem to be multiplying. “
“They’ve cast a lot of counter-curses on the fireworks. For example, if they’re hit by Stupefy, they’ll explode directly; if Evanesco is used, the fireworks will increase tenfold,” said Evan with interest. “Fred and George have great ideas, and the prank fireworks they created are amazing. Of course, using so advanced spells will still solve them…”
Hermione glared at him. It was not sothing to be proud of.
“Harry, you just said you wanted Fred and George to buy ti for you?”
“Yeah, I need them to cause a diversion so that I can smoothly enter Umbridge’s office and use her fireplace. Oh, this is now the headquarters for the Inquisitorial Squad. As you know, all the other fireplaces in the school are monitored by the Ministry of Magic and cannot be used, except for Umbridge’s,” said Harry. “She left herself a backdoor to her office.”
“You can’t do that,” said Hermione imdiately.”You’ll get into big trouble.”
Harry ignored her, still looking at Sirius. “Sirius, I want to talk to you about my dad.”
“What do you want to say?” Sirius looked at him, having remained silent until now.
“Last night, I went to Snape’s office for tutoring. Malfoy suddenly burst in and called him away. They seed to have found the missing Montague jamd inside a toilet on the fourth floor. It was done by Fred and George,” said Harry quickly, his breathing gradually getting faster. “After Snape left, I couldn’t help but look at the Pensieve he left behind. Before teaching Occluncy, he always keeps so mories in there…”
“Did you see sothing about Jas?” Sirius looked at him. “In Snape’s mory.”
“Yes,” Harry nodded, his expression becoming increasingly lancholic. “Listen to , Sirius!”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
At this mont, Harry was the only one left in Snape’s office, and the silver-white substance was ebbing and swirling in the Pensieve not far away.
Harry knew those were Snape’s thoughts, things that Snape didn’t want him to see if he accidentally broke through his defenses.
Harry gazed at the Pensieve, curiosity welling inside him… What was it that Snape was so keen to hide from Harry?
He took two steps toward the desk, thinking hard.
Could it possibly be information about the Departnt of Mysteries that Snape was determined to keep from him?
Or was it related to Voldemort?
Look at what he did in the school after the headmaster, Evan and the others left, colluding with Lucius Malfoy.
The more he thought about it, the more Harry felt that there was a possibility that maybe he would discover so great secret.
He looked over his shoulder, his heart now pumping harder and faster than ever.
How long would it take Snape to release Montague from the toilet? Would he co straight back to his office afterward, or accompany Montague to the hospital wing? Surely the latter … Montague was Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team; Snape would want to make sure he was all right…
Harry walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths. He hesitated, listening, then pulled out his wand again. The office and the corridor beyond were completely silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his wand.
The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. Harry leaned forward over it and saw that it had beco transparent.
He was, once again, looking down into a room as though through a circular window in the ceiling; he was looking down upon the Great Hall…
The Great Hall? It was different from what he initially expected. What was going on?
For a mont, Harry felt torn. Reason told him not to continue. Snape could be back at any mont … but Harry thought of Evan and Hermione’s departure, of his anger towards Ron, of Cho’s incomprehension, and … of Malfoy’s jeering face.
The next mont a reckless daring seized him.
He took a great gulp of breath and plunged his face into the surface of Snape’s thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping Harry headfirst into the Pensieve…
He was falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went, and then … he was standing in the middle of the Great Hall.
But the four House tables were gone. Instead there were more than a hundred smaller tables, all facing the sa way, at each of which sat a student, head bent low, scribbling on a roll of parchnt.
The only sound was the scratching of quills and the occasional rustle as sobody adjusted their parchnt.
Doubts arose deep within Harry, it was clearly exam ti.
Sunshine was streaming through the high windows onto the bent heads, which shone chestnut and copper and gold in the bright light.
Harry looked around carefully. Snape had to be here sowhere… This was his mory.
And there he was, at a table right behind Harry.
Harry stared. Snape-the-teenager had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. His hair was lank and greasy and was flopping onto the table, his hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the parchnt as he scribbled.
Harry moved around behind Snape and read the heading of the examination paper:
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS —
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL
So Snape had to be fifteen or sixteen, around Harry’s own age. His hand was flying across the parchnt.
The questions didn’t seem to trouble him; he wrote quickly, without hesitation. He had written at least a foot more than his closest neighbors, and yet his writing was minuscule and cramped.
It seed that young Snape, like Hermione, was the type to excel academically, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was a subject he was good at.
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