Chapter 32: The Pensieve
Knock, knock...
"Come in."
Melvin pushed the door open as two translucent silver figures floated past him.
Lady Grey glanced at Melvin and gave a slight nod a faint gesture that could barely count as a greeting. The Bloody Baron followed silently, his expression blank and distant.
The two ghosts exited the office gracefully. They were unusually polite spirits; unlike the others who drifted straight through walls, they chose to leave properly through the main door out of respect for the Headmaster. In contrast, other Hogwarts ghosts treated solid matter like air, moving in straight lines through walls and floors. It wasn't uncommon to suddenly see a cold, pale head rise out of the ground in the middle of a corridor.
Melvin entered and instinctively glanced at Fawkes, who was nestled in the folds of the Sorting Hat. He nodded and smiled at the phoenix.
"Chirp!"
The phoenix responded with a small sound that resembled a sparrow's tweet no one knew where it had learned it.
"Good evening, Melvin," Dumbledore greeted warmly, smiling as he poured tea. "If you don't mind, I was just about to have something sweet."
"Then I came at the perfect time," Melvin replied, sitting down and pulling two small boxes from a paper bag. "Here lemon flavor. It's a new product from Florin's Ice Cream Shop in Diagon Alley."
Dumbledore opened the brown box. The ice cream shimmered white, mist curling from its surface. The cool, fresh aroma drifted through the air, making him smile.
Melvin opened his own chocolate one. "Headmaster, I actually came to ask for your help. Could I borrow your Pensieve?"
"The Pensieve?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"Do you remember what we discussed in New York?" Melvin asked. "I want to write stories about wizards to explore magical drama as an art form. I went to Diagon Alley to find magical filmmaking equipment but couldn't find anything suitable. Then I met a wizard familiar with Muggle technology who suggested that memories could be used to make films. The Pensieve, as it turns out, could serve as the perfect projection device. That's why I want to borrow it for study."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, like those Muggle movies, yes?"
"You know about movies?" Melvin asked in surprise.
"Don't picture me as some old hermit wizard hiding in a castle all day," Dumbledore said proudly. "I'm no pureblood traditionalist. You may not believe it, but I have the entire London Underground map tattooed on my left knee."
Melvin blinked. "...I see."
He didn't dare ask for proof worried the old Headmaster might actually show him.
"Decades ago, someone tried to open a cinema in Godric's Hollow," Dumbledore mused as he spooned some cream. "It never succeeded. Still, your idea is fascinating. In theory, it could work. But the Pensieve has its flaws. Viewers must immerse their heads inside it hardly practical for public viewing. The stone basin is only the vessel; the silver mist is the true medium. You might redesign the container perhaps something inspired by the Mirror of Erised. You could call it... the Mirror of Memory."
Melvin's eyes lit up. "I'll consider that."
He mentally noted every word.
Dumbledore's lips curved into a kind smile. "Lately, I haven't needed the Pensieve much. You may borrow it, and I'll give you some notes on its properties. If you manage to create this 'magical film,' I'd very much like to see it."
"Of course!"
Melvin scooped a spoonful of chocolate ice cream the rich sweetness and icy magic blended perfectly.
Dumbledore watched him with quiet approval. The more he saw, the more convinced he was that hiring Melvin had been the right decision. "One more thing," he added. "The package you sent earlier contained traces of dark magic. Filch handed it straight to Professor McGonagall unopened. You'd better have a good explanation."
Melvin laughed nervously. "I was testing protection measures," he said quickly. Then, seizing the chance, he explained his new "educational project." "I plan to recreate a kind of magical Chamber of Secrets or rather, a Muggle-style haunted house. Something like the Shrieking Shack, but without actual ghosts. The environment, lighting, and limited enchantments would create fear-based pressure to help students Potter included overcome fear."
"Potter?" Dumbledore repeated mildly. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, feigning ignorance. "But I must admit, I quite like the design. There are plenty of old wizarding ghost tales across Britain I'll share some. They might be useful for your concept."
Melvin cleared his throat. "And... about the cost of props and materials "
Dumbledore turned his gaze away with serene detachment. "Financial approvals go through the Deputy Headmistress. You'll need to speak with Minerva."
That meeting didn't go well.
Professor McGonagall deemed Melvin's purchases "personal," not educational, and therefore ineligible for reimbursement.
Melvin, naturally, objected.
"The materials haven't even been used yet! How can you know they're not for teaching?" he argued. "Even if they remain my property, the school could at least pay a rental fee!"
His reasoning was solid but the expense request still failed. McGonagall claimed it was part of Dumbledore's personal project, meaning any rental should come from the Headmaster himself.
"Leaders take the credit, subordinates take the blame..." Melvin muttered bitterly. "Hogwarts bureaucracy is something else."
He looked at the defective dark magic props on his desk, then at the Pensieve nearby, his expression conflicted.
The Pensieve alone was worth tens of thousands of Galleons Dumbledore had lent it freely. And yet, they refused him reimbursement for a few simple tools.
Enough hesitation. Time to study it.
Melvin stepped closer to the shallow stone basin. It appeared carved from a single block perhaps granite. The edges were rounded with age, and faint runes circled the rim, some legible, others eroded beyond recognition.
Inside, a silvery substance swirled not quite liquid, not quite gas. It rippled and flowed like a cloud, shining faintly with crystalline light.
Unlike rare artifacts like the Mirror of Erised, memory vessels like this were fairly common though few matched the sophistication of the Pensieve.
Melvin touched his wand to his temple, drew out a thin silver thread, and dropped it into the basin. The thread dissolved into the mist, glowing softly as shapes began to form a blurred image of a water serpent coiled around a tree, its silver-white eyes gleaming without pupils.
As he leaned forward, his consciousness was drawn inward. The world spun and when his vision cleared, Melvin found himself standing beneath the shadow of a massive snakewood tree.
A horned water serpent spoke in a low, resonant hiss:
"Melvin... leave the school. I can see your future and it is not here."
"..."
(End of Chapter 32)