"Those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly." For Iris Potter, these words defined her whole life. Born with a natural talent for Legilim...
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It took Iris less than five minutes to reach Dumbledore's office. She had run across the castle after reading that note, more scared than she probably should have been. Iris practically yelled the password at the stone gargoyle. She then hurried through the gap in the walls and stepped onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upward as the doors closed behind her, taking her up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker.
Iris knocked rapidly on the door but got no response so she reached out a twisted the knob, peeking her head inside. She didn't see anything at first but then she noticed someone standing off to the side of the room, leaning over. It was Harry. Confused, Iris stepped inside, walking up behind him to see what he was doing.
A shallow stone basin lay there, with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols that Iris did not recognize. A silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, which were like nothing Iris had ever seen before. She could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid — or like wind made solid — Iris couldn't make up her mind. Harry had his face submerged into the basin, but Iris figured he wasn't drowning.
She cautiously invaded his thoughts, watching as a film ran by her eyes. It was strange... a courtroom, Karkaroff, Barty Crouch, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody. There was lots of pain and fear among the crowd in the courtroom. Four people with chained arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch; a thinner and more nervous-looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd; a woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-coloured hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white.
Iris knew immediately that these were bad people, and the audience's reaction to them proved her assumption. Images flew across her vision, and she was enraptured in the horrors taking place.
She was only pulled from Harry's thoughts when a soft touch fell upon her shoulder. Blinking heavily as her eyesight returned to Dumbledore's office, she turned to see the man himself standing beside her, looking weary. She wondered if something must have happened, for the elder headmaster did not often have this look about him.
"I need to speak with you... it's urgent," Iris told him lowly.
Dumbledore nodded and with perfect timing not a moment later, Harry's head popped out of the basin. He was breathing a bit heavily, obviously startled by what he had just witnessed.
"Curiosity's not a sin Harry, but you should exercise caution," Dumbledore told him wisely.
Harry stared at the basin in shock and glanced to Dumbledore for answers, "It's a Pensieve, very useful if like me you find your mind a wee bit stretched. It allows me to see what small things I've already seen." Dumbledore began pacing around the room, "You see Harry, Iris, I've searched and searched for something, some small detail. Something I might have overlooked, something that would explain why these terrible things have happened. Every time I get close to an answer it slips away, it's maddening".
