"Professor, does that mean... does that mean..."
Percy's voice trembled. He could barely string a sentence together.
Though he already had a suspicion, he stared at Dumbledore, desperate to find a definite answer on the old man's face.
Dumbledore looked at him quietly, a trace of pity in his bright blue eyes. That surprised Percy, but it also brought him a little relief.
The Weasley family had always stood with Dumbledore. Perhaps the loyalty of an entire family was enough to make Dumbledore give him a chance.
"If you truly want to know the truth, Percy," Dumbledore said softly, "then look."
Dumbledore rose and walked to the Pensieve. He pressed his Wand to his temple, slowly drew out a silvery strand of memory as fine as spider silk, and lowered it into the basin.
"It's all in there." Dumbledore pointed to the Pensieve.
Percy's legs felt like lead. He pushed himself up from the chair, walked to the Pensieve one step at a time, bent over, and plunged headfirst into the silvery "liquid"—
The next instant, the world spun.
He stood somewhere he had never seen before.
A dark forest. Churning earth. Death Eaters all around. A strange smell hung in the air.
Then he saw Dumbledore, white-robed and white-bearded, his presence reassuring.
At the sight of him, Percy's heart tightened. How can he... This presence is nothing like usual. Is this the real Professor Dumbledore?
Just standing there, Dumbledore seemed terrifyingly powerful.
Facing him was another man Percy knew only from rumor—a man he had once thought consigned to the dustbin of history.
At the sight of Voldemort's pale, snake-like face and scarlet eyes, panic gripped Percy.
Looking around, Percy spotted Harry, covered in wounds, hiding near Dumbledore. Then came a battle that made his blood run cold.
For