After HP shared the dream, Lao Fu was conquered by me

"Come with me," said the even more ethereal Dumbledore, reaching out to hold Lamia's elbow.

Lamia felt herself slowly rising into the air. The dungeon began to dissipate, and in the blink of an eye, only darkness remained. She felt even more powerless than before.

Then Lamia felt as if she had done a slow-motion somersault, and suddenly her feet landed on the ground. The light around her was blinding, and she was already in Dumbledore's sunny office.

The stone basin gleamed in the cabinet before her. Dumbledore stood beside her, surrounded by Harry and the others.

After Lamia woke up, Hermione hurried over and it was obvious that she was really worried.

"Professor," Harry said in a panic, "Lamia didn't mean to do it. It was Fawkes who bumped into me suddenly, and then—" Harry looked at Lamia's face and paused for a moment, "—I bumped into Lamia again. This is not what we really think. It's all too coincidental."

"I understand," said Dumbledore. He took the stone basin and walked to the desk, placing it on the polished surface. Then he sat down in the chair behind the desk and beckoned the Lamia and the others to sit across from him.

"And believe what you say, Harry. Don't worry, this is not something that needs to be kept secret. I am more worried about your safety than this." Dumbledore said kindly, stroking his beard and tapping his wand casually on the table, conjuring up a few cups of hot milk.

Lamia had already sat down, but her eyes were fixed on the stone basin. The contents of the basin had turned back to its silvery-white state, swirling and rippling before her eyes.

She gradually became absent-minded, and her thoughts returned to what had just happened.

"Professor, what is that?" Harry asked in a trembling voice. He was also frightened by Lamia's reaction.

"Well, this container is the Pensieve, and the contents are my memories," said Dumbledore. "Sometimes I feel my head is overcrowded with thoughts and memories. I'm sure you understand that feeling."

"Hmm." Harry couldn't really say he'd ever felt like this before.

"At times like these I use the Pensieve," Dumbledore said, pointing to the stone basin. "I draw the superfluous thoughts from my mind and pour them into this basin. I examine them carefully when I have time. You see, in this state it is easier to see their forms and how they relate to each other."

"You're saying... this thing is your mind?" said Harry, staring at the silver substance swirling in the basin.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "Let me show you."

Dumbledore drew his wand from his robes and thrust the tip into his hair, close to his temple.

When he pulled out his wand, there seemed to be some hair stuck to the tip, but they soon discovered that it was actually a small wisp of the same silvery-white substance as in the basin.

Dumbledore added this new idea to the basin, and Harry and the others were surprised to see their faces floating in the basin.

Dumbledore took the Pensieve in his long hands and turned it around like a gold prospector turning a sandbox, and Lamia saw his own face gradually transform into Snape's. Snape opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling, with a slight echo.

"It's back, Karkaroff's too, I'm sure, more pronounced and clearer than ever before..."

Snape's voice was filled with unspeakable panic.

"I need no help to see the connection," Dumbledore sighed. "But never mind." He peered at the group from over his half-moon spectacles.

Harry was staring in amazement at Snape's face as it continued to spin in the basin. "I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived. I left in a hurry and must have forgotten to put it away. Fawkes, oh, by the way, I forgot to put that naughty boy in his cage."

"Professor, whatever happens, I'm sorry," Lamia said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Honestly, this has nothing to do with you, Lamia Nocturne," he said, "but no matter what the circumstances, you must remember to protect yourself. This is the first rule of a student."

He frowned slightly and poked the thoughts in the basin with the tip of his stick. Immediately, a human figure rose from the basin. It was a girl of fifteen or sixteen, chubby and with an unhappy look on her face. Her legs were still standing in the basin.

The girl didn't even look at the Lamias or Dumbledore, and when she spoke, her voice echoed like Snape's, as if it came from the depths of the stone basin.

"He used magic on me, Professor Dumbledore. I was only teasing him. I only said that I saw him kissing Florence behind the conservatory last Thursday..."

"But, Bertha," said Dumbledore sadly, looking up at the girl who was now spinning silently, "why did you follow him in the first place?"

"Bertha!" Ron whispered, looking up at the girl. "She's—Bertha Jorkins?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, stirring the thoughts in the basin again. Bertha sank, and the basin turned opaque silver again. "That is Bertha as I remember her in her schooldays."

The silver light from the Pensieve illuminated Dumbledore's face, and Lamia suddenly realized that he was so old. She knew that Dumbledore was old, but for some reason, she never thought of him as an old man. Even in her dreams, Dumbledore was so reliable.

"Harry," said Dumbledore gently, "I suppose you have something to tell me, don't you?"

"Yes," said Harry, "Professor, I was in Divination, and I - I fell asleep."

He hesitated, expecting a rebuke, but Dumbledore said, "Understandable. Go on."

"Well, I had a dream," said Harry. "I dreamed of Voldemort, and he was torturing Wormtail...you know Wormtail—"

Harry told his nightmare to Dumbledore again, and he fell into the panic again.

For a moment no one spoke. Dumbledore stared ahead, occasionally using the tip of his wand to draw a silver thought from his temple and place it into the surging Pensieve.

"Professor," Harry said finally, "do you think he's getting stronger?"

"Voldemort?" Dumbledore looked at Harry across the Pensieve and said that with that unique penetrating gaze. Harry always felt that Dumbledore could see through him completely, which not even Moody's magical eye could do.

"I can only tell you my guess, just a guess," said Dumbledore. He sighed again and looked even older and more tired.

"There have been several disappearances in the years since Voldemort's rise to power," he said. "Bertha Jorkins vanished without a trace in Voldemort's last hideout, and Mr. Crouch disappeared... right here on our grounds. There was a third disappearance, which the Ministry unfortunately deemed insignificant because it involved a Muggle.

His name is Frank Bryce, and he lives in the village where Voldemort's father was born. He has been missing since last August. You know, I read the Muggle newspapers, which is something I do differently from most of my friends in the Ministry."

Dumbledore looked at Harry very seriously.

Hermione and Lamia glanced at each other, knowing each other's thoughts.

"I think the disappearances are connected, but the ministry doesn't think so - and you might have heard it outside the office."