The Pensieve

'You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law,' he said clearly, 'so that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime so heinous -'
'Father,' said the boy with the straw-coloured 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 sear 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 -'
.
.
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!'
.
.
.
'D'you - d'you know why my scar's hurting me?'
Dumbledore looked very intently at Harry for a moment, and then said, 'I have a theory, no more than that... It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred.'
'But... why?'
'Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed,' said Dumbledore. 'That is no ordinary scar.'
.
.
.
'Did you see Voldemort?'
'No,' said Harry. 'Just the back of his chair. But - there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there? I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he?
But... but then how could he have held the wand?' Harry said slowly.
'How indeed?' muttered Dumbledore. 'How indeed...'
.
.
.
Harry looked into Dumbledore's light-blue eyes, and the thing he really wanted to know spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it. 'What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?'
Dumbledore held Harry's gaze for a few seconds, and then said, 'That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself.'
Harry knew that the interview was over; Dumbledore did not look angry, yet there was a finality in his tone that told Harry ti was time to go. He stood up, and so did Dumbledore.

~THE PENSIEVE, Pg 407