Hermione took a deep breath. Ancient knowledge hidden from the world for millennia, here she came! She reached out and touched the liquid… she felt a jerk around her navel, and her world washed away like water on a fast moving car.
She fell. Further and further. It seemed to go on for ever. And then she wasn't falling.
"Hermione!" Sophie glomped onto her. "That was scary!" Hermione nodded, still a little shaken, and took stock of her surroundings. They were in a large forest clearing. All around them, wooden bleachers stretched up and back. Wizards filled those benches all wearing white robes and shouting at each other. It gave the impression of an amphitheatre full of rather scruffy druids.
Justin, Kevin, and Dean stood to one side, gazing up at the cacophony with wide eyes.
Justin turned to her. "They can't see us?"
"Of course, not. This is just a memory." She then noticed a row of wizards and witches off to the side. "Ah!" She walked over to them and eagerly motioned her students to follow. "This is what we're looking for."
"Who are they?" asked Dean. Hermione matched up to the witch at the end of the line. "Recognise her?"
Sophie gasped. "It's Elizabeth!"
Kevin started. "But she's, like, young and all."
"No, it's definitely her!"
"Then…" Justin looked around. "This memory can't be that old! You said it was 1,500 years old! Elizabeth is Daphne's grandmother!"
"She is. And it is. This is Elizabeth's memory of this witch's memory," she pointed to the witch next to Elizabeth—"of this wizard's memory,"—she pointed to the wizard who stood next in line—"and so on, all the way down to the last wizard in the line, who's watching the memory of one of those wizards." She pointed to the assembly of wizards, lining the many benches of the wooden amphitheatre. "This is a copy of a copy of a copy, many times over, of a memory of one of the original wizards who attending this event."
"But, why?" asked Dean.
"Simple," Hermione walked over to the nearest wizard in the assembly who was talking to the wizard next to him. The others followed her. "You try and tell me what he's saying."
Dean leaned towards the man, then leaned back. "Sounds like gibberish to me."
"Exactly. Every hundred odd years, they make a new copy and translate the important bits for the next hundred years."
Sophie grinned. "Genius!" They walked back over to Elizabeth.
Kevin motioned to the arena-like environment. "So, what's going on then? What is this?"
"This, is the Wizengamot in which Merlin, still acting as the first Grand Warlock, unveiled his masterwork to the assembly the Albion Family Magics."
Kevin perked up. "I've heard of that guy before! Merlin was supposed to be right powerful, wasn't he?"
Sophie spun her head around, scanning the crowd. "Yeah, I knew about him even before I learned I was a witch. So, which one is he?"
Hermione pointed to the large, empty chair in the centre of the benches. "He's not here yet." "Oh."
They didn't have long to wait though. Soon, a tall man with a long, flowing beard, carrying a long staff, strolled into the clearing and faced the assembled wizards. The hubbub died, and the man began to speak.
As he did, memory Elizabeth spoke too, reading from a pre-prepared parchment, and occasionally checking the parchment of the witch next to her, presumably to make sure she was in the right place.
Hermione and the others all leaned into the older Greengrass to catch the words, watched as Merlin finished up his speech, and then watched with horrified fascination, as the pre-Hogwarts Wizengamot erupted into full-on, caustic meltdown. Some time later, they all emerged from the pensieve.
Sophie took quick, deep breaths clutched her chest. "That was intense!"
and
"Well, don't get comfy." Hermione indicated the shelf, still full of bottles. "We've got plenty more for today."
They then watched the Wizengamot session announcing the founding of Hogwarts, which had been greeted with a combination of amazement that four families were willing to give away their family's private collections of magic. And distrust over whether the founders had ulterior motives for their children.
They watched the Wizengamot session discussing the foundation of the International Statute of Secrecy, and another discussing the curbing of a Light Lord so invasive and uncompromising as to necessitate the founding of a dedicated wizarding combat force, the aurors. And yet another, this one on the Gringotts banking treaty, which gave the goblins a world-wide monopoly on wizarding banking. In total, they watched eight memories, each starting and finishing with a heart pounding bungee dive and yank. By the time they ended for the day, Hermione felt like Miss fucking Frizzle from the Magic School Bus.
"So, Hermione," started Sophie, who was trying and failing to walk in a straight line. "Same time next week?"
Hermione held the now empty shelf next to the pensieve for support. "Yeah, sure, next week. Yes."
Draco Malfoy walked into the confused Slytherin common room and stopped dead. Everything had changed. Nothing was where it should be. Before, his throne had been on the left side of the right-left divide, with the walking space a straight line from common room door to the descending staircases. Now, the walking space curved in an arc, leaving the right side of the room with far more floor space than the left.
He looked around, annoyed, trying to find his throne.
There! Someone had set up a second pathway at a right-angle from the middle of the main path, cutting the now bigger, right-side of the room in two. This new path lead straight to a chair and collection of sofas of similar size to his own, but clearly more expensive.
His own chair sat to the left of this new and obviously dominant position in the familiar diamond shape with his own familiar sofas. Greengrass's chair and sofa court mirrored his own, but sitting on the new throne's right side.
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