Chapter 130. The Truth of the Blue Gem
The second Sunday after the start of term.
The busiest period had passed, and Adrian Wesson finally had time to study the blue gem and the parchment he had obtained over the summer.
First, to view the memory inside the blue gem, he needed to borrow the Pensieve.
A Pensieve was a very rare magical object that allowed one to observe memories placed within it from a third-person perspective.
Because of the Pensieve's special nature and its ease of misuse, most Pensieves, like wands, were buried or destroyed upon their owner's death.
Hogwarts' Pensieve was an exception; it belonged to the school and had therefore been passed down from generation to generation.
Carrying the blue gem and the parchment, Adrian made his way to the door of the Headmaster's office at the very top.
After trying several passwords, Adrian succeeded in persuading the statue to move aside.
This time the password was "Fizzing Whizzbees."
The stone figure shifted slowly, revealing the spiral staircase rising and revolving behind it.
When he reached the door, Adrian realised there were voices in discussion inside the office.
"Albus, I must raise it again—Gilderoy Lockhart may not be suited…"
"Ah, Minerva, give the young man one more chance…"
It seemed Professor McGonagall was discussing with Dumbledore the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor who had been driven out of his classroom by Cornish pixies.
Although Lockhart insisted it had been training the students' ability to respond to emergencies, the whole affair had already spread through the school.
Adrian rapped lightly on the door, and the conversation inside fell silent at once.
"Come in," came Dumbledore's mild voice.
Pushing the door open, Adrian saw Professor McGonagall standing before the desk while Dumbledore sat in a high-backed chair, a stack of files upon the table.
"Well then," Professor McGonagall sighed when she saw Adrian, "let's hope Lockhart applies himself more to Defence Against the Dark Arts… I must be off; I think it's time I marked the students' homework."
With that, Professor McGonagall turned and left the Headmaster's office.
As she passed Adrian, she gave him an approving smile.
If only Lockhart were as reassuring as Adrian was…
When the office door closed softly, only Adrian and Dumbledore remained in the room.
"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore."
Adrian came to stand before Dumbledore.
"Do sit down, Professor Wesson," Dumbledore said, fingers interlaced, looking at him with interest. "What brings you to my office on such a lovely Sunday afternoon?"
"In fact," Adrian's gaze slid to a small basin in the corner, "I'd like to borrow Hogwarts' Pensieve."
The Pensieve was kept in Dumbledore's office because Dumbledore often needed to sort his memories.
"The Pensieve?" Dumbledore looked surprised and cast Adrian a curious glance. "Professor Wesson, I should have thought you weren't yet at the age to require such a thing. Have you begun to worry about your memory?"
"Someone sent me a memory," Adrian answered honestly. "I need to see what's in it."
Dumbledore nodded and gave his wand a gentle flick; the Pensieve drifted from the corner and settled onto the desk.
Adrian peered into the basin: within lay a silvery substance that looked both like liquid and like mist.
"Ah, those are mine," Dumbledore said. "Sometimes I use it to find sweets I've mislaid—only last week a box of Chocolate Frogs escaped from my memory." He flicked his wand again, and the silvery substance ran into a small vial at the side. "That should do. Please, go ahead, Professor Wesson."
Adrian nodded and drew the blue gem from his pocket.
"That is…"
Dumbledore, seeing the gem filled with silvery memory-stuff, paused for a moment.
"You recognise this gem, Professor Dumbledore?"
Adrian had keenly noticed Dumbledore's reaction; his fingertips unconsciously rubbed the gem's fractured surface.
"No," Dumbledore shook his head slightly, though his eyes remained on the gem in Adrian's hand, "but the workmanship of this stone is… highly unusual."
"And," he paused before going on, "this method of storing memory is very old. I should think it is at least five centuries out of date."
"Looks like it has quite a history."
Adrian shrugged, came to the Pensieve, and drew his wand.
He set the wand-tip lightly to the crack in the blue gem. The silvery substance within began to draw out like strands of thread and, under his guidance, flowed slowly into the Pensieve.
The memories coursed within the basin and gradually wove themselves into a mist.
When every last thread had entered the Pensieve, Adrian looked to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore made a small gesture of invitation.
Adrian nodded and bent over the Pensieve.
The next instant, Adrian felt the world spin as though he had been sucked into a whirlpool.
When he came back to himself, his sight had arrived in an unfamiliar room.
He looked around: rough stone walls were inlaid with blue runes Adrian could not read; constellations were projected across the ceiling; and, tellingly, the wall to his left was lined from end to end with bookcases crammed with rolled parchments.
In the centre stood a heavy oak desk with a candle upon it—and a familiar blue gem beside a roll of parchment.
At that moment, the heavy oak door swung open and a woman with black hair and black eyes entered. She went straight behind the desk and took up the gem and the parchment.
Adrian could not help but look at her face—exactly the same as he had seen in Nicolas Flamel's prophetic crystal ball and again in the Albanian forest.
This was the third time he had seen this woman's face.
Although Adrian felt certain he had seen her somewhere before, he could not place it—surely it was a memory from long ago.
The woman spoke, and her first sentence made Adrian's pupils contract.
"I am Rowena Ravenclaw," came Ravenclaw's stern voice, her gaze seeming to pierce time itself. "This is one of my memories."
Adrian's breath almost stopped. At last he knew where he had seen this woman's face.
During his school years, he had once snuck into the Ravenclaw common room.
There, in the Ravenclaw common room, stood a statue of Rowena herself.
After a careful comparison, Adrian finally realised that the woman before him looked exactly like that statue.
In other words, what he was watching now was a memory belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw herself!
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