Immersing himself in the Pensieve, Wyzett felt that familiar rush of weightlessness—like falling through silver mist, the world spinning away beneath him until he plunged into someone else's memory.
"Whoa! This is brilliant!" the Weasley twins exclaimed together.
Fred grinned, eyebrows raised. "We've got to remember this feeling! Doesn't it feel a bit like dreaming?"
George was just as animated. "Exactly! I've got an idea—what about a magical gadget that lets you daydream on command? Think of the possibilities!"
They high-fived, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Perfect for zoning out in class!"
Despite their excitement, their presence didn't disturb the memory's true owner.
The protagonist was a witch, seated in a rustic wooden hut. She sat on a creaky chair, wand in hand, shaping a lump of clay into a teacup with a spell. Wyzett noticed her magic was fascinating—somewhere between Transfiguration and Charms, elegant and deft, the work of a true expert.
Once satisfied with the shape, she picked up a carving knife, inscribed runes into the cup, and filled the grooves with a strange powder. Pressing her wand to the powder, she incanted, "Dentessorium!"
Under the spell, the powder fused together. She covered it with another layer of clay, hiding the inscription, then fired the cup in magical flames—completing her creation.
For once, the twins were silent, watching every move with rapt attention, their usual grins replaced by focus.
The witch stood, flicked her wand, and her robes shifted into a plain dress with a ruffled apron. Her pointed hat became a simple headscarf.
From her clothing and the humble furnishings, Wyzett guessed this was the Middle Ages.
Once ready, the witch left her hut, following a cobblestone path toward the village square.
Crowds of villagers ringed the square, craning their necks toward the center, where a makeshift gallows stood. In the middle, a thick wooden stake had been erected, a frail, unconscious girl bound to it, surrounded by stacked firewood.
The three exchanged glances and quickly understood. "Looks like a witch-burning. This must be the witch hunts."
Fred frowned. "That magical teacup—what's she planning?"
George speculated, "She changed her disguise… maybe she's here to sabotage the execution?"
The disguised witch moved quickly. She slipped in as a servant, swapped the original teacup for her magical one, poured some herbal tea, and presented it to the judge presiding over the execution.
The judge, face twisted with fury, gestured wildly as he read out the girl's "crimes"—dark magic, cursing the village, causing droughts and livestock deaths.
The villagers, whipped into a frenzy, hurled mud and stones at the girl. A few faces in the crowd showed hesitation, but any voice of protest was drowned out by angry shouts and the threat of being driven from the square.
The disguised witch joined the torch-bearing executioner on the platform. She smiled as she handed the judge his tea. Under his terrified gaze, the rim of the cup sprouted sharp teeth and clamped onto his nose, refusing to let go.
Chaos erupted. Militiamen swarmed the stage, binding the witch to the stake alongside the frail girl.
With blood streaming down his face, the judge, now missing a sizable chunk of his nose, screamed for the executioner to light the pyre.
Flames roared, engulfing both the disguised witch and the girl.
The crowd's furious shouts mingled with the crackle of burning wood. But there were no screams of agony—no sound of flesh burning.
Wyzett and the twins passed through the flames, witnessing the disguised witch shielding the girl. Neither was harmed. In fact, the witch looked positively delighted. "Ah… that tingling, fizzy sensation—absolutely addictive!"
The frail girl looked up at her, voice trembling. "Sister… are you really a witch?"
The witch ruffled her hair. "Of course! Want to come with me?"
The girl gazed into the fire, as if searching for someone beyond the flames. "Maybe if I'm gone, they'll be better off…"
The witch smiled gently. "I'll take that as a yes." She closed her eyes, savoring the fire's embrace a moment longer.
With a sudden pop, the scene shifted—from the village square to the shore of a vast lake, a towering castle—Hogwarts—rising in the distance.
They watched as the witch and the girl walked toward the castle gates. Then the memory faded, and the three of them surfaced from the Pensieve.
Fred rubbed his eyes, grinning broadly. "The secret to the nose-biting teacup! That's a trade secret if I ever saw one!"
"Right, Wyzett!" George nodded enthusiastically. "How did you find a place like this? A Pensieve and memories like that—it's incredible!"
Wyzett waved a hand, sounding a little helpless. "Honestly, I'm not sure. They seem to love… riddles, I guess?"
While the twins were obsessed with the magical teacup, Wyzett found himself far more fascinated by the real history—the witch hunts. After all, this was exactly what he'd been studying in History of Magic. If he was right, this memory belonged to Wendelin the Weird.
According to the textbook, Wendelin had a taste for being burned at the stake—she'd disguised herself dozens of times, relishing the flames that Muggles thought would destroy her.
But from this memory, Wyzett realized something new: she didn't just enjoy the fire—she also rescued innocent, magically gifted children, bringing them to Hogwarts to be trained as wizards.
He couldn't help but wonder—how had Selena acquired this memory? Wendelin the Weird had lived at least five centuries ago, in a completely different era. How could Selena have extracted it?
Puzzled, Wyzett scribbled his questions into Selena's notebook.
Her reply came quickly, as enigmatic as ever:
Not yet time!
Suddenly, Fred slung an arm over Wyzett's shoulder. "So, Wyzett, you interested in making magical gadgets?"
George hooked his arm around the other side. "Now that we've got top-secret info, we should strike while the iron's hot—let's make a nose-biting teacup!"
Wyzett grinned. "Absolutely!"
Fred beamed. "Brilliant! Looks like your job title's not enough anymore… might be time for a promotion!"
George agreed, "Yeah, maybe it's time to make you a partner!"
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