Dumbledore's office shook violently—Harry was thrown forward, planted headlong into the pot.

But his head didn't touch the bottom of the pelvis, he fell into something black and cold, and he kept sinking as if he had been sucked into a black whirlpool.

Suddenly, Harry found himself sitting on a stool in the room, which was taller than the others.

He looked at the high stone ceiling and wanted to see a round window from which he had just looked.

But there was nothing but black, hard stone. Harry gasped desperately and looked around him.

Not a single witch or wizard in the room (there were at least two hundred) were watching him.

None of them seemed to notice that a fourteen-year-old boy had just fallen from the ceiling and was falling into their midst.

Harry turned to one of the wizards sitting next to him, and suddenly exclaimed, the cry echoing through the dead silence of the room.

He was sitting next to Albus Dumbledore.

It was terrible, and Harry felt like he was going to be killed by Van Lin.

"Professor!" Harry said in a low voice, "I'm sorry - I didn't really want to- I just looked at the stone basin in your cupboard - where am I?"

But Professor Dumbledore remained motionless and did not speak, completely oblivious to Harry's presence, just staring at a door in the far corner of the room like everyone else.

Harry stared at Dumbledore in confusion, then at the crowd who were watching quietly, then at Dumbledore.

Suddenly, Harry had a flash of inspiration...... At one point, Harry found himself in a world where no one else could see or hear him.

That time, he fell into a magical diary and entered someone's memory...... Something similar happened again.

Yes, Van Lin had said before, this was Dumbledore's memory.

So, now he should be in the meditation basin, pulled in by Van Lin, but, Van Lin......

Harry raised his right hand, hesitated, and then reached out in front of Dumbledore and swung it vigorously.

Dumbledore didn't blink, didn't look back at Harry, or didn't move at all.

So he was sure that he was in a memory, and that the one in front of him was not the real Dumbledore.

But it shouldn't have been that long ago...... The Dumbledore sitting next to him had gray hair, just like the real-life Dumbledore. But what is this place? What did Van Lin say about the Wizengamot? What were all these wizards waiting for?

Harry looked more closely. As he had suspected when he had just observed it from above, the room was underground—more like a dungeon than a room, he thought. There was an eerie and eerie atmosphere: there were no paintings on the walls, no decoration at all, and the whole room was just rows of seats, each row higher than the other, fixed so that they could clearly see that the armrests of the chairs were chained.

Before Harry could draw conclusions about the room, he heard footsteps.

The door in the corner of the dungeon opened, and three men entered—one escorted by two Dementors.

Harry chilled all over. The Dementors—tall, helmeted-only creatures with only visible eyes—were sliding toward the chair in the center of the room, each clutching one of the man's arms.

Their hands were like dead men's, rotting hands, and the man caught between them looked fainting. Harry didn't think he could be blamed for that...... Although he knew that the Dementors wouldn't touch him because it was in a memory, he was still a little scared because he still clearly remembered how powerful they were.

When the Dementors placed the man on the chained chair and slid out of the room, the crowd of onlookers flinched back, and the door closed after they had entered.

Harry looked down at the man sitting in the chair, it turned out to be Karkaroff.

Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaroff looked much younger, his hair and goatee were dark.

But the difference was that he was wearing a thin, torn garment instead of a smooth leather coat, and he was shivering. The chains on the chair suddenly glowed golden, crawling up his arms like snakes, tying him there.

"Igo Karkarov. A voice popped up to Harry's left. He looked around and saw Mr. Crouch standing in the middle of the seat next to him.

Crouch's hair is still black, his face doesn't have so many wrinkles, and he looks cool and agile.

"You were brought from Azkaban to provide evidence to the Ministry of Magic, and you said you had important news to tell us. ”

Karkaroff hurriedly straightened up.

"I have, sir. He said, though his voice sounded terrified, Harry still picked out the familiar oily tone.

"I want to be useful to the Ministry of Magic, I want to help. I- I know the Ministry of Magic is going to round up the last remnants of the Dark Lord. I am eager to do my best to help ......"

There was a buzz in the audience.

Some became interested in Karkarov, others were skeptical.

Suddenly, a familiar growl came from Dumbledore's other side, "Trash!"

Harry leaned forward, his gaze past Dumbledore.

Sure enough, MONOCULUS Moody was sitting there—though he looked significantly different from what he was now.

He doesn't have a magic eye yet, only two normal eyes. He was squinting at Karkaroff with extreme disgust.

"Crouch is ready to let him out," Moody whispered to Dan Bodo, "and he's got a deal with him." It took me six months to hunt him down, and if he could provide enough new lists, Crouch let him go. Let's hear his information first, I say, and then throw him directly to the Dementors. ”

Dumbledore's long hooked nose snorted in disagreement.

"Oh, I forgot...... You don't like Dementors, do you, Albus?" Moody smirked mockingly.

"Yes," Dumbledore said lightly, "I don't like them, I've always felt that it was a mistake for the Ministry of Magic to ally with such creatures. ”

"But ...... this garbage," Moody whispered.

"You said you could give us the name, Karkaroff," said Mr. Crouch, "then please speak up." ”

"You should understand. "Karkaroff hurriedly said that 'that person' always manipulates everything in the most secret way...... He liked that, and we—I mean, the other ones—now I'm remorseful, very sorry, I was one of them—"

"Go on!" Moody scoffed.

"—we never knew the names of our accomplices—he alone knew who all of us were—"

"What a clever idea, to protect people like you, Karkaroff, and sell everyone else. Moody grunted.

"But you said you could give us names?" said Mr. Crouch.

"I, I can. "They are very important party members, and I am not afraid to tell you that I saw him, that he was waiting for his moment, and that I provided this information to show that I had completely broken with him, and that I had deep pity and sympathy for him, and that I hardly ...... it."

"What are their names?" said Mr. Crouch sternly. Karkaroff took a deep breath. "It's Anthony. Dora Bonfer. "I—I've seen him torture Muggles and ...... countless times No, the Dark Lord's people. ”

"And help him torture them together. Moody grunted. "We've arrested Dora Bonf," Klaus said, "and he was caught shortly after you." ”

"Really?" said Kakrov, his eyes wide open, "I—I'm very high—excited to hear this!"

But he doesn't look at all.

Harry thought it was a real blow to him, and one of the names he could offer was useless.

"Anything else?" Crouch said coldly.

"Why, of course...... And Roselle," Karkaroff hurriedly said, "Evan. Rossel. ”

"Rossle is dead, and he was caught shortly after you. He seemed to prefer to resist rather than come obediently, so he was killed in the stubborn resistance. ”

"Tell me about my merits. Moody whispered to the man to Harry's right, and Harry looked at him again, only to see that he was pointing the large piece of wood in his nose to Dan Bodo.

"No—not excessively, he deserves it!" Karkaroff said, a hint of panic in his voice, and it could be seen that he was beginning to fear that none of his intelligence would be useful.

Kakrov's eyes were fixed on the door in the corner, and there was no doubt that the Dementors were guarding behind it.

"Anything else?" said Klaus.

"Yes!" Karkarov. "And Trevis - he murdered McKinders! Mar Heber - he is good at the Impares spell and drives countless people to do terrible things! Rokeud, he is a spy who specializes in delivering information to 'that man' from the Ministry of Magic!"

It can be said that this time Karkarov's words worked, and the audience began to exchange ears.

"Roqueud?" said Mr. Crouch, nodding to a witch sitting in front of him, who immediately scribbled on parchment, "Rokeud of the Mysteries Division?"

"Yes," Karkaroff said hurriedly, "I think he controls a network of people who are responsible for gathering intelligence from inside and outside the Ministry of Magic—"

"But we already know Trevis and Marhiber," said Mr. Crouch, "very well, Karkaroff, if that's it, you can go back to Azkeban and wait for us to decide—"

"It's not over yet!" Karkaroff cried, looking desperate. "Wait, I've got more!" Harry saw him in a cold sweat in the faint glow of the torches, his face frighteningly pale, in stark contrast to his black hair and beard.

"Snape!" he cried, "Severus Snape!"

"Snape has been excluded from the Council," Crouch said coldly, "Mr. Albus Dumbledore vouches for him." ”

"Impossible!" Karkaroff roared, his chains tight. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"

Dumbledore stood up. "For this, I have provided proof. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater," he said calmly. But before Duke Voldemort fell, he had already turned to our side and provided us with information as an undercover agent. He personally risked his life. He was no longer a Death Eater. ”