Sirius Black's sudden visit took Dumbledore by surprise.
He was about to go to sleep, already dressed in a soft robe and wearing a pointed velvet nightcap, when he encountered a mud-covered Sirius in his office.
"What happened?"
Dumbledore asked with a serious expression, and his mind flashed through countless possibilities in an instant.
Sirius sat across the desk with his lips downturned and eyes full of worry. "Harry just told me he had a nightmare, and his scar was hurting."
Dumbledore: "..."
He interlaced his fingers, looked at Sirius, and after a moment of silence said, "Harry's scar hurting… that's certainly no small matter. What kind of nightmare did he have?"
"He dreamed… dreamed that Lockhart and Gale Troka were being tortured. Harry said the scene in the dream was incredibly vivid… as if it were really happening."
Sirius frowned and added, "Actually, half an hour ago, I saw those two walk into a house and never come out again. I believe what Harry saw is real."
Dumbledore scrutinized Sirius for a while, then said, "It's already night time. It's normal for them to go inside a house to rest and not come back out. Why do you think there's a problem?"
"Because…" Sirius hesitated, then said, "Because they were lured there by Wormtail. That place is a trap… The house looks like it hasn't been lived in for years—something's definitely wrong."
—But those two are fugitives. Isn't it perfectly normal for them to take shelter in an abandoned house?
"I remember when you were tracking Lockhart and the other, it was to find Pettigrew's whereabouts."
Dumbledore asked gently, "So you encountered Peter Pettigrew? You didn't catch him?"
"No." Sirius said bitterly, "I finally found his trail, but he was meeting with an accomplice. I had to hide so they wouldn't notice me. Then both of them disappeared right under my nose!"
Dumbledore sighed.
This kind of situation—seemingly logical but with a subtle sense of nonsense—felt maddeningly familiar.
"Relax, Sirius." Dumbledore drew his wand and pointed it at the wizard across from him. "You've been affected by Voldemort's Forgetfulness Charm. I'm going to lift it now."
—Voldemort?
Sirius thought in confusion: Isn't he already dead?
Then he recalled something he'd heard earlier and was suddenly gripped by a chilling fear that spread from deep within.
Just as Sirius was about to speak about Voldemort's resurrection plan, his entire body was engulfed in the glow of the spell.
Voldemort is a master of curses. The one he cast with full power is extremely complex and powerful—even Dumbledore couldn't break it.
For example, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts had seen a new teacher every year for decades—sometimes even twice in one year. Compared to professors of other subjects who could teach for decades, the turnover rate for this subject was alarmingly high.
But the scope of this Forgetfulness Charm was simply too wide. That, unintentionally, diluted the curse's power and made it less difficult to break. However, even Dumbledore couldn't possibly cast a counter-curse on everyone.
After Wade, Dumbledore successively lifted the spell from other Order of the Phoenix members such as Snape, Kingsley, Moody, and Lupin. Since Sirius had been running around outside, he was still under the effects of the curse.
Once the curse was lifted, the previously foggy mind instantly became incredibly clear—even more clear than usual.
Suppressed memories surged in his mind, even bringing up much older ones, as if a wall called "Forgetfulness" had suddenly collapsed for a few seconds, allowing long-buried memories to resurface with startling clarity.
…
"Sirius, what are you doing here?"
Regulus stepped out from behind the bookshelf and asked softly.
"Obviously, reading,"
Sirius said lazily, then suddenly tossed the book in his hands toward his younger brother.
Regulus caught it reflexively and paused, disturbed by the strange texture.
The book's cover had a dull, flesh-like color, as if it were made from some kind of special leather. On closer inspection, tiny pores could even be seen.
Sirius gave a wicked grin and said, "Know what? The book in your hand is made from human skin!"
He stared eagerly at his brother's face, hoping to see this "proper Black family member" scream and throw the book away in horror—maybe even break down in tears.
But Regulus didn't react that dramatically. He merely turned a little pale, then walked over and placed the book back on the shelf.
"Father said your punishment is over, Sirius," Regulus said slowly. "But he's still angry. You'd better be careful."
Sirius didn't pick up on the concern hidden in his brother's tone. He simply took it as a warning delivered on behalf of their parents.
So Sirius sneered coldly, said nothing, and shoved past Regulus with his shoulder as he walked out of the basement where he'd been locked up for several days.
Regulus, left behind, bumped into the bookshelf with a "thud." He rubbed his shoulder, lowered his head, and quietly followed his brother out.
…
Sirius was lost in thought for a long time before he slowly began to recount everything.
The father's bone… the servant's flesh… the enemy's blood… resurrection… the contents of Harry's nightmare…
He had subconsciously wanted to hide certain details—like the strange perspective Harry had in the dream—but under Dumbledore's all-seeing gaze, Sirius ultimately confessed everything he knew without holding anything back.
Dumbledore stood up and began pacing back and forth in his office. After a moment, he asked, "Are you sure Wormtail called that person 'Barty'?"
"Yes," Sirius replied.
"Barty Crouch?" Dumbledore pressed.
"No… not Barty Crouch. I remember that person's voice—they didn't sound the same," Sirius guessed. "Maybe it was another person named Barty."
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment. "Did the voice sound like Barty Crouch Jr.?"
"Barty Crouch Jr.? I thought he was already dead?" Sirius asked in surprise.
He looked at Dumbledore and began to vaguely understand something. "That guy was a few years younger than me—I don't really remember what his voice sounded like… Maybe you could look into my memory and check."
He placed the tip of his wand against his temple and drew out a shimmering strand of memory. The Pensieve, originally stored in a cabinet, floated over and landed on the desk in front of Sirius.
Dumbledore tapped it with his wand, and the memories in the basin began to swirl. A moment later, a voice emerged from within:
"You've done well, Wormtail….."
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