After class the next day, Roy took the two items he had picked up from the Ancient Dark Wizard's base straight to Dumbledore's office. He lined them up on Dumbledore's desk, and the knowledgeable Dumbledore immediately understood why Roy had come.
"Where did you pick these up this time? I've lived in Hogwarts Castle for over seventy years. How come I never found good stuff every day like you do?"
Could everyone's drop rates possibly be the same? On that point, Roy had more authority than anyone.
"Of course not. Loot runs are a skill, after all. Hey, take a look at this robe. Let me use your Pensieve."
Dumbledore's Pensieve sat alone on a separate table, surrounded by tiny transparent glass bottles. Silvery-white magical mist flowed slowly through the bottles like liquid, every wisp of it a memory.
They were all Dumbledore's memories. As an old man over a hundred years old, he had experienced too many sorrowful and joyful moments throughout his eventful life. The bottles holding the memories he had extracted had piled into a pyramid. Roy had once asked Dumbledore about it, and Dumbledore said separating those memories made his mind clearer. Roy had his doubts about how true that was.
But the Pensieve fragment in Roy's hand differed from the memories Dumbledore extracted with magic. A memory-storing Pensieve fragment would not disappear the moment it was poured into a Pensieve. The memories inside could be viewed repeatedly, and they never expired.
Standing before the Pensieve, Roy tossed the little stone in his hand into the basin that was slowly giving off silvery-white mist. The mist immediately churned and boiled upon touching the memory-containing fragment, spilling over the rim and flowing across the floor like dry ice.
When the Pensieve reacted, Roy rose onto his tiptoes