Chapter 252: The Pensieve

The next day was Sunday; Harry woke early and brought the painting to the headmaster's office door.

The stone statues at the door automatically stepped aside; Harry walked unimpeded into the office, a beautiful circular room lined with portraits of every headmaster of Hogwarts, all asleep.

Dumbledore's portrait hung at the very end, but it was not an ordinary portrait—merely a moving image. It retained a timeless smile, swaying slightly.

"Dumbledore didn't die, did he?" Snape said. "If he had, this portrait would have come alive immediately; the thoughts he infused into it would have stirred."

"Yes." Harry placed the painting on the desk. "Let me explain to you—"

"And he's not inside this painting either." Snape rolled up his sleeve. "If Voldemort were in this painting, so close, my Dark Mark would react."

Harry froze. His mind raced—he had to concoct an excuse, blending time theory with physics wizards wouldn't understand, to fool Snape.

"If you don't want to tell the truth, you don't have to." Snape spoke slowly. "Now, you may look at Grindelwald's memories. I promised him I'd show them to Dumbledore's favorite student."

Snape led him to a black cabinet containing a shallow stone basin. He pulled out a small crystal vial and poured into the basin a silver-white substance, both gaseous and liquid, then stirred it with his wand and gestured for Harry to lean closer.

Harry was instantly captivated by the scene within: a golden-haired boy crouched on the windowsill, strikingly handsome, even enchanting. Inside the room, another beautiful boy smiled at him. It took Harry a long moment to recognize them—Dumbledore and Grindelwald, still boys in this memory.

They were in a barn, hands clasped, forging a blood oath never to harm each other. It was an unbreakable vow; they exchanged blood, their eyes filled with sincere emotion. Harry felt strange—it didn't seem like ordinary friendship.

Before more scenes emerged, the image shifted: the two sat together in the room, discussing something.

"... izarding power grants us the right to rule Muggles, but it also carries responsibility—that is the foundation of all our arguments," Dumbledore said. "When met with resistance, we may use only necessary force—never excess."

"Magic is the favor of the gods; we are born kings, Albus," Grindelwald said. "Power is innate; responsibility is man-made..."

Perhaps this was the origin of all their differences: when discussing dominion over Muggles, Dumbledore always emphasized responsibility, while Grindelwald always emphasized power.

Just then, the scene shifted to an argument. A rough boy—evidently Dumbledore's brother, judging by his blue eyes—shouted that he despised Dumbledore's ambition, that Ariana needed her brother's care. Grindelwald retorted angrily, saying Dumbledore shouldn't be burdened by a weak, unstable sister. The argument quickly escalated into a duel; all three began fighting. An unknown curse struck a girl who rushed out, and she fell dead to the ground.

Grindelwald panicked and fled over the wall. Harry could imagine how heartbroken this must have been for Dumbledore—so much so that even years later, he still deeply mourned his sister.

The scene shifted again: Grindelwald knocked out an old man and seized his wand. Harry recognized it at once—the Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows, once used by Dumbledore.

This was how he gained power, Harry thought. He watched Grindelwald grow stronger, traveling far and wide to build an army, standing on podiums delivering impassioned speeches, crowds cheering in unison, chanting again and again that famous phrase: For the Greater Good.

But now, Harry sensed a different tone: in Grindelwald's mouth, the phrase was an excuse to sacrifice others without guilt; in Dumbledore's, it was self-deception to quiet his conscience.

In an instant, Grindelwald had matured. Harry guessed he had endured much, though he chose not to show it in these memories. Here, the adult Grindelwald faced Dumbledore; when he tried to kill a man and Dumbledore cast a protective charm, their blood oath shattered.

Grindelwald and Dumbledore grappled, and Grindelwald cried out bitterly: "Who else will love you?"

Though the word "love" struck Harry as odd, he admitted Grindelwald was right—perhaps even true for both of them. What followed was their legendary duel, the story Harry—or the world—already knew.

As the two great wizards hurled spells at each other, Harry felt a deep sorrow. Afterward, Dumbledore devoted his entire life to fighting dark magic, scheming tirelessly against Voldemort, living like a saint. For he had truly become a solitary man: people revered Dumbledore, but no one loved him.

In an instant, Grindelwald sat in his cell, motionless in the same posture. Harry suspected this wasn't a true memory, but one Grindelwald had woven: he watched the man on the bed age from middle age to old age, his expression shifting from rage to regret, finally to peace.

The man on the bed suddenly spoke: "I've finally understood one truth: when you pursue a great goal, never forget why you took your first step. If you wish to benefit the world, never make those close to you suffer first. Otherwise, like me, you'll realize too late: I cared more for that one person than for the whole world."

Then another man entered—the man Harry recognized as Rodolphus—bursting in frantically: "Dumbledore has been poisoned; he's now extremely weak. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall wants to secretly kill him to seize the headmaster's position. Students and professors have been bewitched. You are the only one who can save him—I beg you—"

"Shut up." Grindelwald suddenly stood. "Stop your pathetic lies."

"I've seen all your little schemes, Rodolphus. I simply chose not to interfere," he said. "Calling me the First Dark Lord, calling your followers Saints—it's all to unite every force opposing Dumbledore, to serve your master."

"My loyalty to you—" Rodolphus tried to protest, but Grindelwald cut him off.

"I said, I once chose not to interfere," Grindelwald said. "Because I once wondered whether I could still pursue my old ideals, whether they might still succeed. But even if I owned the entire world, who would I share it with? Let those restless ambitions rest. All I want now is to see him one last time, say I'm sorry, and tell him I've finally understood—I still love him."

"I shouldn't have left this cell," Grindelwald took a wand from Rodolphus's hand. "But I have a feeling our story is coming to an end."

"You've been cursed by the Dark Lord—if you plan to oppose him—" Rodolphus suddenly snarled.

Grindelwald flicked his wrist; Rodolphus was slammed against the wall.

"Do you think death is a threat to me?" He shook his head. "I won't kill you. I won't harm anyone. But no one will stop me."

"I leave these memories to Dumbledore's favorite student. Once I thought it would be Newt—but now, perhaps it's Harry." In the next scene, Grindelwald stood in a hidden chamber, drawing silvery threads from his mind. "You have talent. You will soon have power and status."

"I want to give you this warning through my story with Dumbledore: don't walk the path of hatred without turning back. If you hurt someone who loves you, apologize while you still can. A person unloved can never possess this world." He smiled with peace. "As for Rodolphus and his schemes, you'll have to deal with them—after all, the world belongs to the young."

Harry realized Grindelwald was drifting away—but soon he understood: it wasn't Grindelwald moving away; he himself was leaving the scene. He slowly rose into the air, then suddenly stood again in the sunlit headmaster's office.

"You're done," Snape sat in a chair nearby. "I've watched it too. Nothing special."

"Too bad—even if I wanted to apologize, it's already too late," Snape murmured. "But someone else owes me an apology too. And it's too late for that as well."

Harry guessed he meant his parents.

"Your eyes are like your mother's. Your face is like your father's," Snape sighed. "But your temperament? It's like Dumbledore's."

"If you love Zhang Qiu, and the painting's deception is meant to guard against enemies beyond Britain," Snape said sadly, "then you'll eventually realize Ge Xuan is also an enemy Britain must guard against. Grindelwald's warning will hold true."

"But before that, I'll help you defeat Britain's internal enemies—the Death Eaters," Snape concluded. "That's all I want to do. Because I don't want anyone else to owe another an apology."