Pensieve

December arrived quickly. By the time the first snow of the term had changed from scattered flurries into heavy snowfall, most Hogwarts students were still in Tierra's Dark Magic Classroom, with no chance to witness the arrival of the first snow.

At that moment, a basin of silvery-gray water floated in midair at the center of Tierra's Dark Magic Classroom.

The basin was incredibly thin, like a Mirror. If not for the occasional ripples trembling across its surface, it would have been indistinguishable from one.

Any student above the fourth year was extremely familiar with this pool of water—

The Pensieve.

But now, the entire classroom was empty.

Inside the Pensieve, however, things were bustling.

At the beginning of the lesson, Tierra had brought out the Pensieve. Then, under Tierra's direction, everyone in the classroom lined up one after another and stepped into it like dumplings being dropped into a pot—

They approached the Pensieve, dipped their faces into the cold surface of the memory, and fell into darkness.

A few seconds later, their feet finally touched solid ground.

"That's Dumbledore," Tierra said briskly, pointing at the tall figure ahead of them as he crossed the road toward a horse-drawn carriage.

Most of the students were still dazed. Only a few upper-year students reacted quickly enough to look in the direction Tierra was pointing.

The young Albus Dumbledore still wore his hair short and had a full beard. Both his hair and beard were auburn, and he looked haggard and hurried.

After reaching the side of the road where Tierra and the students stood, the young Dumbledore strode briskly down the pavement. His elegantly tailored velvet clothes drew countless curious glances.

"Students." Once everyone had recovered their senses, Tierra stretched out a hand and poked the space before him—

Everything