William had both lunch and dinner in the Headmaster's office, but Dumbledore had yet to return.
He set down Today's Transfiguration, took a few laps around the office, and then did a round of radio gymnastics to stretch his legs.
The portraits of the former Headmasters watched through half-closed eyes, trying to mimic a few of the poses from this body forging art from the east.
The favorite, by far, was Tai Chi, though a few portraits grumbled that their frames were too small to move about properly.
William couldn't quite fathom how these portraits had so much energy. Clearly, they were dreadfully bored.
Leaning against the window, William enjoyed the cool evening breeze as Hogwarts gradually quieted.
The night was beautiful.
From here, the view of Hogwarts was nearly as spectacular as it was from the high towers of the Ravenclaw common room.
Too bad Dumbledore wouldn't retire for many years; otherwise, William might have liked to inherit this office as Headmaster one day.
As night deepened, even the Aurors posted at the school's entrance left.
Of course, just as on the previous day, Dumbledore and Snape's names had disappeared from the Marauder's Map.
Growing bored, William wandered the room a couple more times and found himself back near the desk.
Suddenly, he noticed a flash of silver in a glass case. Turning, he saw that a black cabinet door behind him had been left ajar, allowing a bright, silvery light to spill out.
After a moment's hesitation, William approached and pulled open the door.
Inside was a shallow stone basin with strange carvings along the rim—symbols he recognized as ancient runes and alchemical signs, though he didn't know their meanings.
Ancient runes wouldn't be an elective until third year, so he hadn't yet studied them.
The silver light was emanating from the contents of the basin, which appeared like liquid silver, flowing and rippling as if it were both water and cloud, softly swirling and moving.
Peering down, William expected to see the bottom of the basin—but below that silvery surface, he saw the interior of a train compartment, as though he were looking down through a round skylight.
He leaned closer, his nose just an inch from the silvery substance.
Inside, a group of young wizards seemed to be arguing about something.
William recognized it—it was the Hogwarts Express.
Leaning even closer, he caught sight of a younger Snape. It was impossible not to recognize him; he had the same intense aura he would have as an adult.
Unable to make out the full scene, William leaned in further, his nose brushing the surface.
Suddenly, the entire office tipped forward as he was pulled headfirst into the basin.
But instead of hitting the bottom, he found himself falling through a swirling darkness, as if he'd been drawn into a cold black whirlpool.
The next thing he knew, he was seated on a bench in that very train compartment, surrounded by the sounds and sights of the Hogwarts Express as it chugged along.
William realized he knew what this was—he'd read about it in an alchemy book.
The Pensieve.
A rare and precious magical object used to view memories.
But this wasn't Dumbledore's memory; it must have belonged to one of the students in the compartment.
A group of rowdy boys were talking, while a girl sat by the window, her face pressed to the glass, clearly crying.
Moments later, a young Snape entered and took the seat across from her. The girl glanced at him briefly before turning back to the window, tears still streaming down her face.
"I don't want to talk to you," she said, voice tight with emotion.
"Why?"
"Penny… she hates me. All because we read that letter to Dumbledore."
"So what?" Snape asked.
The girl shot him a look of disgust.
"She's my sister!"
"She's just a—" He caught himself, falling silent, and the girl, too busy wiping her tears, didn't seem to notice his words.
"But, Lily, we're going!" Snape said, a rare excitement in his voice. "We're actually going to Hogwarts!"
Lily gave a small nod, brushing away her tears and managing a faint smile.
"You'd better end up in Slytherin," Snape added, heartened by her slight smile.
"Slytherin?"
A dark-haired boy across the compartment, who had been ignoring them, turned to look at Snape when he heard the name.
This boy had a striking resemblance to Snape but carried a privileged air that Snape completely lacked.
"Who would want to end up in Slytherin? If that's your plan, maybe I'll just find another seat. Are you coming?" the dark-haired boy asked lazily, glancing at the boy lying across from him.
The other boy didn't smile.
"My entire family has been in Slytherin," he replied.
"Oh!" said the dark-haired boy. "Then you must be, too!"
The boy grinned.
"Maybe I'll break that tradition. If you had a choice, which house would you choose?"
The dark-haired boy mimicked drawing a sword from thin air.
"Gryffindor! The house of the brave! Just like my dad!"
Snape gave a small, derisive snort, which caught the dark-haired boy's attention.
"You have a problem with that?" he asked.
"No," Snape replied, though his sneer said otherwise. "Only if you don't mind being all brawn and no brain…"
"Oh? And which house would you pick, then? You don't seem like you're all that impressive either," another boy chimed in.
The dark-haired boy burst out laughing, and Lily stood up, her face red with anger as she glared at them.
"Let's go, Severus. We'll find another compartment."
"Ooh…" The two boys mimicked her cold tone, and as Snape passed, the dark-haired boy stuck out his leg to trip him.
"See you later, Snivellus!" one of them jeered as the compartment door slammed shut.
But the scene didn't end there.
This meant the memory didn't belong to either Snape or Lily.
The dark-haired boy turned to the others and said, "I'm James Potter. Just call me James. And you are?"
"I'm Sirius Black," replied the boy across from him, and they shook hands.
William blinked in surprise—this was Harry Potter's famous father, and the other was the alleged traitor Hagrid had mentioned.
"What about you?" James asked the remaining boy.
A pale, ragged boy replied, "Remus Lupin. Just call me Remus."
The boy beside James was about to speak when James threw an arm around him, laughing. "This is Tywin—he's my friend."
Tywin's face flushed, showing both discomfort and a touch of happiness at the affectionate gesture.
Only then did William recognize the young Tywin. As Hagrid had mentioned, in his youth, Tywin was entirely ordinary.
Neither his appearance nor his demeanor hinted at the man he would become. He lacked the usual calm, constant smile that his older self wore so well.
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