The commotion on Privet Drive was still ongoing, and far away, within the ancient castle hidden among mountains and lakes, the atmosphere had also become unusually tense.
Hogwarts.
Whispers echoed through the corridors of the castle.
Portraits leaned together and murmured among themselves, and suits of armour clattered even louder than usual whenever anyone passed by.
Even the staircases seemed to be turning more frequently than before, as though the old building itself was growing restless.
At that moment, the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts seemed unusually crowded.
This spacious circular room, where Dumbledore usually sat alone reading and drinking tea, with only the occasional professor coming in to report something, had always had more than enough space.
But today, the room that was usually so roomy clearly felt a little cramped.
Professor McGonagall sat in the chair to Dumbledore’s left, her lips pressed tightly together as she looked at the open book in her hands.
Snape stood beside the fireplace, his expression somewhat gloomy.
He, too, was holding a copy of the same book.
Hagrid sat on a stool that obviously couldn’t bear his weight, his huge body curled in on itself.
He alone took up more than half the space in the Headmaster’s office.
In his enormous hands was the same book as everyone else’s.
On the cover, a little boy wore round glasses, and the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was clearly visible.
It was Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Part One.
This was already the fourth copy in the Headmaster’s office.
No one knew where Dumbledore had managed to get four copies all at once, but when the professors had come in earlier, he had handed one to each of them.
For nearly three hours, the room had been silent except for the sound of pages turning, occasionally mixed with a sharp intake of breath or a low, suppressed “Merlin.”
After everyone had finished reading, McGonagall was the first to speak.
“Albus, who is Allen Wayne?”
Dumbledore leaned back in his high-backed chair.
Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes flickered faintly.
His fingertips were pressed together, making him look like an old professor quietly listening to a student’s answer.
But his expression did not hold its usual ease.
Clearly, this book had troubled him greatly.
Hearing Professor McGonagall’s question, he could only shake his head to show that he did not know either.
Then Dumbledore turned his gaze toward the fireplace.
“Severus?”
Snape slowly raised his eyes, his tone faintly unreadable.
“This book… describes my behaviour in Potions class in far too much detail.”
He paused, then added,
“It even includes some of my thoughts and feelings.”
McGonagall turned her head sharply.
“The internal parts?”
Snape did not look at her.
He merely stared at Dumbledore.
“The book says, Harry caught Seamus’s eye, and Seamus winked.
Snape, of course, was not pleased.”
“You know what that means, Dumbledore—”
Snape stared at Dumbledore, his lips moving silently.
Naturally, Dumbledore understood what Snape meant.
What Snape had mouthed was: Occlumency.
Hagrid did not notice the brief exchange between Dumbledore and Snape.
He sniffed and said, “Same with me.
The book wrote about Harry’s uncle calling Dumbledore a crackpot old fool.”
“I really was furious at the time.
I wanted to turn his son into a pig without thinking.”
“The book even described that I used that pink umbrella.
You all know…”
He did not finish, but everyone understood perfectly well what that umbrella was.
For a time, the Headmaster’s office fell into silence.
Only Fawkes, the phoenix, occasionally rubbed his beak uneasily against his perch.
After a moment, Hagrid said in a rough voice, “But, mates… what if this book just happened to guess some details right?”
Snape cut him off.
“But what about thoughts?
Can those be judged through observation as well?”
McGonagall’s lips moved, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, it only turned into a soft sigh.
Dumbledore had been listening quietly the entire time, his eyes lowered, his fingertips still lightly pressed together.
At this moment, he stood and slowly walked to the window.
Outside was Hogwarts at dusk.
The surface of the Black Lake shimmered with a dim light, and in the distance, the Forbidden Forest stretched long shadows beneath the afterglow.
“This book is only the first volume.
Perhaps, no, certainly—there will be a second,” he said, his voice carrying a rare trace of weariness.
“Which means,” McGonagall continued, her voice carrying a chill, “the author of this book, or rather, the recorder, is still obtaining information.
Perhaps even now, as we are speaking—”
“He may be watching,” Snape said.
Hagrid’s face turned pale.
“You mean… someone’s watching us now?
Right now?
Like someone peeping in through the window?”
“Worse than peeping,” Professor McGonagall said gravely.
“If he can even record inner thoughts, then this ‘observation’ may not be observation in the ordinary sense of sight.”
“Legilimency?” Snape said slowly.
“It doesn’t seem like it,” Dumbledore shook his head.
“Legilimency requires direct eye contact.”
“Forgive my lack of modesty, but I am quite certain that no author could use Legilimency on me without my noticing.”
He returned to his desk.
Under everyone’s gaze, he picked up his own copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Part One and gently turned it back to the first page.
“Perhaps we need to return to that time once more…” he murmured.
“What?” Hagrid asked, puzzled.
Dumbledore put the book down and drew his wand from the pocket of his robes.
“Yes.
We need to go back again.”
He seemed to have made up his mind.
Fawkes stood on the perch beside the door and let out a low cry, the sound carrying an inexplicable solemnity.
Dumbledore walked to the Pensieve and placed the tip of his wand against his temple.
Everyone in the room fell silent.
Even their breathing grew quieter.
A wisp of silvery-white, threadlike substance was slowly drawn from Dumbledore’s temple.
It trembled faintly at the tip of his wand, glowing softly.
Then Dumbledore gave it a gentle flick, and it fell into the stone basin.
The silvery memory slowly swirled inside the basin, like a cloud that had been scattered apart.
“This is my complete memory of that night eleven years ago,” Dumbledore said, his voice calm and clear as he looked over each professor present.
“From the moment I arrived at Number Four, Privet Drive, until the moment I placed that letter beside the swaddled child and turned to leave—everything in between is here.”
“We will go in together and see whether, within these memories, there was a pair of eyes I failed to notice.”
Everyone nodded.
McGonagall was the first to step forward.
She straightened her robes and stood beside the Pensieve.
Snape followed, and Hagrid wiped his eyes before rising from that poor little stool and walking over as well.
Dumbledore moved his wand away from his temple, then extended his other hand, gesturing for them to gather around.
“Together,” he said.
His fingers lightly touched the swirling silver substance.
McGonagall’s hand followed, then Snape’s and Hagrid’s.
A stream of illusory scenes flashed rapidly before their eyes, scattered and fleeting.
Then, as if finding an anchor, the scene before them solidified in an instant.
They were standing at the street corner opposite Number Four, Privet Drive.
The light from the streetlamp spilled dimly over the pavement.
All of them were like ghosts floating at the edge of reality.
They could see each other and everything around them, but no one could see them.
“This is eleven years ago,” Dumbledore’s voice sounded.
“My past self should have just arrived at Privet Drive.”
The moment he finished speaking, a streetlamp in the distance suddenly went out.
Everyone looked up and saw, at the end of the road, a tall, thin figure in a purple cloak holding up something that looked like a cigarette lighter.
The others turned to look at the Dumbledore beside them.
A trace of reminiscence flashed in his eyes.
“Ah.
That is me, as I was then…”
Then another streetlamp went out.
Soon, twelve streetlamps went dark one after another, leaving only a pair of cat’s eyes glowing in the darkness.
The Dumbledore in the memory walked over and sat down beside the cat on the wall.
Everyone watched the scene in silence, and the words from the book suddenly surfaced in their minds.
[He didn’t look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.”]
“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall,” the Dumbledore in the memory said before their eyes.
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and turned her head, intending to look at the Dumbledore beside her.
But she was surprised to discover that Dumbledore had somehow already left her side.
Dumbledore had gone to stand beside his younger self and the McGonagall in the memory.
His gaze did not linger on either of them.
Instead, he looked around, searching for any possible hidden watcher.
Seeing this, the other three followed and began observing the surroundings as well.
But reality disappointed them.
There was nothing unusual anywhere around them.
After a while, a deep rumbling sound came from the sky.
A huge motorbike dived down from the clouds, its engine making even the roadside postboxes tremble.
The Hagrid in the memory straddled the motorbike, tightly holding a bundle of blankets in his arms.
He clumsily got off the bike and carefully cradled the baby wrapped in the blanket, as though it were the most fragile thing in the world.
When Hagrid saw the little bundle in his younger self’s hands, he sniffed, his voice muffled.
“That… that’s Harry.”
The Hagrid and Dumbledore in the memory spoke for a while.
Finally, the Dumbledore in the memory held Harry in his arms and placed him on the doorstep.
Then he drew a letter from his cloak and tucked it into Harry’s blanket.
At that moment, McGonagall among the observers suddenly spoke.
“Wait.
This part in the book…”
The moment she said it, the text from the book flashed through everyone’s minds almost at the same time.
[The three of them stood and looked at the little bundle for a full minute.
Hagrid’s shoulders shook.
Professor McGonagall blinked furiously.
Dumbledore’s usually bright eyes were dull and dim.]
And at this moment, the Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Hagrid in the memory were indeed standing there, looking at the little bundle.
After that, they each left Privet Drive.
The scene before them blurred, and in the next instant, everyone found themselves back in the Headmaster’s office.
“There was nothing unusual,” Snape said, shaking his head.
“Indeed…” Dumbledore’s tone carried a trace of regret.
“But fortunately, we have at least ruled out the possibility that someone was watching us then.”
The corners of his mouth lifted, and he spoke with a faint smile.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall suddenly began hesitantly,
“By the way, Albus.”
“What is it?” Dumbledore smiled as he looked at Professor McGonagall.
“I heard… you’re going to be sued?
It seems to be the S.P.U.W.
organization.
They appear to have filed a report with the Ministry, and the Ministry has already begun accepting the case…”
As Dumbledore listened, his smile gradually disappeared.