As the last chapter told, Harry heard the name "Grindelwald" and was inwardly astonished.
Isn't this the fiend who brought chaos to the magical world? And he's an old acquaintance of the Professor?
He looked closely. That Grindelwald was handsome, with an arrogant air, and possessed a fine mastery of spells. In just a few words, he had charmed Dumbledore, who invited him to be an honored guest.
Harry thought: This Grindelwald is truly impressive. If this one had met him, I also would be unable to resist talking and drinking with him.
Just as he was thinking, the vision suddenly changed. Grindelwald and Dumbledore were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, wands raised, casting a dazzling array of spells. Hundreds of wizards could not get near them.
"Albus! Only you are worthy to stand by my side!"
"For the greater good!"
As the ancients said: When things reach an extreme, they reverse; when at their peak, they must decline. The vision turned again. This time, Grindelwald was facing Dumbledore and his brother, wands drawn, in a three-way standoff.
Aberforth roared, "Stay away from my family! Don't come back!"
Grindelwald ignored him. "Albus, come with me. We can achieve greatness."
"Gellert..." Albus shook his head. "Your 'good' is not great..."
"Have you forgotten how your sister became this way—"
Before he could finish, Aberforth exploded in rage. "Shut up, Grindelwald! You are not worthy to speak of my sister!"
"It was those Muggles! They should be groveling at our feet!"
"Crucio!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Aberforth! Gellert! Stop! FINITE INCANTATEM!"
A torrent of spells erupted, merging into one, sweeping through with destructive force, making the very heavens and earth change color.
At that exact moment, Ariana, hearing the noise, pushed open the door and walked out—just as a beam of colored light shot toward her.
"NO! ARIANA!"
That cry struck Harry's heart like a blow to the head.
When he came to his senses, the earth-shattering battle was gone. He was standing in front of the Pensieve.
Dumbledore had dug open his own chest and shown Harry the bloody, weeping scars within. He now seemed like a candle in the wind, his oil further spent.
"You see, Harry, in turbulent times, no one is spared."
"You can say my sister's death was an accident. But how many wizards are in the magical world? How many Muggles are in the world? How many people must endure the pain of such 'accidents'?"
This Dumbledore, who possessed the power of a diamond-warrior, yet showed the heart of a Bodhisattva. Even the Buddha, hearing this, would be moved to write a verse:
Flames of war rise in the wizarding world; wands cannot protect one's dearest kin.
Even the strong suffer disaster; the common folk are but grass in the wind.
Harry knew well the pain of losing kin. It was worse than having one's heart torn to shreds by a steel knife. He immediately bowed.
"Professor, you repay malice with virtue. You are truly a gentleman rarely seen in this world. Harry is far beneath you."
"Oh, Harry, you flatter me," Dumbledore said, returning to his seat.
"The current Minister of Magic, Fudge, is obsessed with power, but he is terrified of me. He always thinks I want his position."
"Even though I spend most of my later years here at Hogwarts, he still arranges for Aurors to watch me."
"If I rashly do anything beyond a Headmaster's authority, the entire Ministry will not sleep well."
Harry frowned. "Professor, by saying this, are you not planning to wash your hands of this matter again?"
"Of course not," Dumbledore winked. "I just... need evidence."
Harry was an old hand at worldly affairs. He heard this and knew Dumbledore was asking for an excuse to act.
He nodded. "That matter is easily solved. But what about the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Rest assured, Harry. Between the Parseltongue and the petrification, I have already guessed the monster."
"If the Professor has it in hand, this one is relieved."
He cupped his hands to leave, but Dumbledore suddenly spoke. "Harry, I want to know one thing."
"Why... do you want to overthrow the Ministry? I simply cannot understand why an underage wizard would have such a... radical idea."
"May I... see your memory?"
An impulsive nature could be innate. But for a twelve-year-old Harry to have thoughts of rebellion—what great injustice had he suffered?
"I know memories are private," Dumbledore said sincerely. "But you can... modify the memory itself. As long as it lets me understand the 'why'."
Harry thought: The Professor has rarely bared his soul like this, showing me such a heart-wrenching pain. It is only fair for this one to show him my side, to be frank.
He organized the relevant entanglements in his mind. "Professor, please proceed. This one is ready."
Dumbledore stood. "Thank you for your trust, Harry." He placed his wand to Harry's temple and drew out the silvery strands of thought.
Harry cupped his hands. "Professor, please, take your time. This one's stomach is empty and must be filled."
"Oh, go quickly, Harry. Lunch will be over soon."
After Harry left, Dumbledore threw the thoughts into the Pensieve and lowered his head into the basin.
When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by a gray fog.
Dumbledore frowned. Where is this?
He was pondering when he saw a short, foggy figure lying in a bed. Soon, a woman with a willow-waist came to give him soup.
After just a few sips, the short man suddenly spat out a mouthful of black blood and moved no more.
The vision flashed. He saw another foggy man harassing a woman. Her husband raised a fist to strike, but hesitated and stopped.
It flashed again. He saw a man in shackles. An old woman came to feed him, but a foggy woman ran up and slapped her repeatedly.
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. This... is this the Muggle world?
Just as he was feeling lost, the sound of gongs and drums and the earth-shaking roar of battle filled his ears.
The White Lord looked closely. Two massive, dark crowds of foggy people were locked in combat, each man fighting to the death.
Banners waved in the mist, blades and spears flashed in the shadows. A dark wind swept the land, and the killing intent pierced the heavens. The sky was black with them—far more than ten thousand!
Dumbledore watched, horrified. What war is this? It's even larger than the Wizard's Party or the Death Eaters!
He saw severed limbs and rivers of blood. Suddenly, a roar shook the three armies.
"THE GOVERNMENT OPPRESSES THE PEOPLE! WE HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO REBEL!"
A tall, imposing, foggy chieftain, brimming with killing intent, charged forward on horseback, blade in hand. Dumbledore could not see his face, but on his forehead was a distinct... lightning scar.
"KILL!"
Another roar shook Dumbledore back to his office.
The government oppresses the people?
This... this is Harry's reason for rebellion?
The old professor stood stunned for a moment, then suddenly, with a crack of Apparition, he vanished. When he reappeared, he was at Nurmengard Prison.
He went straight to the highest tower. He saw the words carved above the cell door: FOR THE GREATER GOOD.
As he hesitated, a voice came from within.
"Albus? Have you come to see me?"
(A note from the narrator: The White Lord seeks the root of the rebellion, and the Pensieve reveals the truth. Every scene is of blades and spears; every instance is of the strong oppressing the weak. He leaves the school for the prison, where his old friend is locked in chains. Why has Dumbledore come to see this old acquaintance? You must listen to the next chapter's decomposition.)
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