harry potter book of crimes

"Professor Snape?"

In the deserted corridor, Snape and Maka walked forward one after another. Maka only shouted once during the journey, and seeing that Snape had no intention of responding, he said no more and just followed.

Following in his footsteps.

Just judging from the route, Snape should be taking him to the principal's office.

When the two arrived at the door of the principal's office via the spiral escalator, Snape paused for a moment, then took out his wand and tapped the crack of the closed door.

Soon, with the sound of a mechanism, the door to the principal's office, which was obviously locked, slowly opened.

Seeing Snape take steps to walk in, Maka immediately followed him. But as soon as he stepped onto the floor of the principal's office, his eyes were attracted by a flash of red like flames.

That was Fox, the phoenix. He was standing on the bird stand as usual, lowering his head casually and gently arranging the feathers under his wings with his pointed beak.

Maka, who was usually used to Fox, stared at its posture a few more times this time, with a strange look on her face.

"Professor Snape, now that we are here, we should tell you what happened, right?" Maka turned her head and looked at Snape, who was standing in front of the principal's desk with her back to him, and said, "Next

It will definitely be very busy in the next few days, as you know."

"Um."

Snape snorted lightly, then turned around and handed the small glass tube to Maka.

"Dumbledore asked me to give this to you."

After hearing this, Maka reached out and took it, put it in front of her eyes and looked at it.

In that small glass tube, there were some pure silver flocs stored in it, entangled into a ball.

"This is...memory?"

He had never seen such a materialized memory before, so he seemed a little hesitant.

"Probably!" Snape said calmly, "Dumbledore didn't leave any explanation."

"Professor..." Maka shook the glass tube, then raised her eyes to look at Snape, "How did Dumbledore die... No, I want to ask, did Dumbledore die?

die?"

"Didn't you check it yourself?" Snape did not give a positive answer.

"But -" Maka looked at the Phoenix Fox on the shelf, then at the glass tube in her hand, frowned and said, "Before this, I had a vague feeling that Dumbledore was on the path of magic.

Another step forward...how could he just..."

"I know the reason for his death. It was just to convey the news of his death to the outside world." Snape said casually, "You are not stupid, you should be able to figure it out, right?"

After Snape mentioned this, Maka nodded thoughtfully.

Dumbledore's death was quite unexpected to everyone. This was true for his own people, but also for outsiders.

Although Voldemort spoke so easily and complacently in the stone chamber, if someone asked him if he dared to attack Hogwarts Castle now? He might immediately kill the idiot who asked the question.

No matter whether Albus Dumbledore is dead or alive, he is enough to make people dare not to act rashly. This is the powerful power accumulated by the greatest white wizard of our time.

Seeing Maka lost in thought, Snape waved his hand and then pointed to the glass tube in his hand.

"As for his real thoughts, I have never been able to figure it out anyway. Let me tell you... you should first take a look at what he left you! Maybe there are clues in it, isn't there?"

In fact, Snape would become quite impatient whenever the topic of Dumbledore was brought up.

Although he was indeed a double agent placed by Dumbledore on Voldemort's side, the relationship between him and Dumbledore was only maintained through a certain transaction.

Now that Dumbledore is dead, Snape's thoughts are even more complicated.

"……Too."

Maka weighed the glass tube in her hand, sighed softly, and then walked straight to the cabinet where the pensieve was placed.

"Come back to my office after reading this," Snape said as he walked towards the door. "I feel uncomfortable talking here."

Watching the door to the principal's office slowly close, Maka shook her head slightly, and then reached out to open the cabinet door.

The silvery light of the Pensieve soon filled the air from the cabinet. Maka unplugged the oak stopper on the glass tube, poured the pure silver floc inside, and stretched out her palm over the shallow basin.

Shaked.

Those flocs quickly and silently dissolved under the influence of magic.

When Maka saw this, she immediately lowered her head and thrust her face into the silvery water-like mist.

…

hazy.

The first thing Maka felt was a haziness like being in steam or a thick fog.

Can't see anything clearly, can't touch anything.

He cannot feel his own weight, and there is no feedback from various senses. Only by "feeling" can he clearly discover his own existence.

Suddenly, he felt as if he "saw" something - it was a looming figure, slowly walking towards him.

One step after another, unhurried and unhurried, as if on a journey without any destination.

With every step that figure takes, the "haziness" around him will flow and converge into an actual scene.

In Maka's "vision", it was like seeing an extremely broad oil painting, slowly approaching him. In that dream-like oil painting, every touch of oil paint was constantly extending.

Come and spread.

As the scene gradually became complete, Maka soon discovered that it was a western street covered with a thin layer of snow.

The weather seemed to be at night, and the street lamps along the street were all lit up. The faint light was much brighter under the reflection of the white snow.

On both sides of the street, most of the scattered houses have their doors and windows closed, and even the curtains are not opened.

As Maka looked at the increasingly complete scene in front of her, the illusive figure gradually became clearer.

Long white beard and white hair, silver-gray floor-length nightgown, wrinkled and weathered face... and those blue eyes that are always hidden behind half-moon-shaped lenses.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

Maka wanted to speak, but found that she couldn't even find her mouth.

Dumbledore came slowly and stood still in front of Maka's consciousness.

"Maka, you're here..."

He smiled and opened his mouth, but Maca only felt that Dumbledore's voice sounded directly in his consciousness.

"How about it? Isn't this place wonderful?" Dumbledore said gently, "You don't need to speak...because you can't say it, and I can't hear it..."

"I know you must have a lot of problems, but those are not important...well, at least to me, they are not important anymore..."

"Because the bonds you have with everyone, and the efforts you have made for those bonds, allow me to be myself - the self who knows how to be 'selfish'."

Maka finally understood the implication of Dumbledore's words.

Because of Maka's existence, Dumbledore finally had time to continue to understand the true meaning of magic, and successfully took another step forward.

"This irresponsible old man!"

After thinking about this, Maka couldn't help but want to roll her eyes and show him.

"You must be a little angry when you hear me say this, right? Of course, then..." Dumbledore had a naughty smile on his face, and he paused before continuing, "Then, I'll just go ahead and

Let me tell you something you want to know most right now..."

"Well, if I'm wrong, don't blame me..." Dumbledore said with a smile, "Yes, for you, I am already 'dead', already 'dead' to the core."

"But for myself, I am obviously not 'dead' yet...or in other words, there is still a long way to go before I am truly 'dead'!"

Maka was stunned when he heard it, and then immediately "looked" around again. But the surrounding scenes were no different from the "reality" he knew, and there was nothing special about it at all.

"Limbo?"

In Maka's consciousness, a strange yet familiar word flashed past.

In the magical world, this word has not existed since ancient times. It is a completely Muggle coinage. The so-called Limbo can be interpreted as "the edge of hell", which is the place closest to death.

But Maka didn't know that the concept itself actually originated from the magic world.

"It doesn't matter if you don't understand. I called you here this time just to introduce this place to you..." Dumbledore said softly, "Do you still remember the sentence I have been emphasizing? For a wizard, death is...

Just another great adventure."

"I have been looking for the door leading to 'adventure', but there are some past events in my heart that I can't let go of..."

Dumbledore said, looking towards him as if he could see Maka.

"But Maka, your appearance made me gradually understand that those strands of ties are just me troubling myself. Watching every step you take, watching you move forward without hesitation.

, I knew where I was wrong.”

"So now, I'm back on my path - no longer dwelling on past mistakes, no longer blaming myself for Ariana's death, no longer treating Ariana's wishes as my own...

…”

"So, I can finally retire."

The "Ariana" Dumbledore spoke of was his sister who had died long ago.

Although Maka also knew that Dumbledore had been regretting what happened back then, she did not expect that that strong and deep self-blame was the direct reason for him to become the principal of Hogwarts.

"Ariana and I both love the whole world deeply, but I have always understood that the 'love' between me and her is never the same form."

When he said these words, Dumbledore looked so energetic, as if even his old appearance was dozens of years younger.