Palette

The Pensieve was the most expensive thing Severus had ever seen. He didn’t recognize it right on the spot, though. A shallow stone basin was resting on the pedestal carved more intricately than the basin itself. It looked odd and misplaced, and Severus thought of an amateur painting in a frame fitting a masterpiece. The headmaster’s office was full of light falling through tall windows and quiet humming noises coming from many various instruments that looked delicate and odd. Part of Severus wished he could have some time exploring all of them, let alone learning their purpose. The walls were covered with portraits of previous Hogwarts headmasters, they all were either sleeping or pretending to. Severus found that very unsettling. The figures on the portraits were moving but ever so slightly one couldn’t be absolutely sure they did, like something you may notice with your side vision. And there were books. "I am very sorry I kept you waiting," the voice came from behind but Severus didn’t turn. He sat on the edge, his hand clutched so tightly that the knuckles turned white. "It took me more time than I had expected… but I am sure you’ll be relieved to know that mister Potter is unharmed and resting at the Hospital Wing." Severus didn’t reply. The grimace of scorn twisted his pale lips but that was all. The headmaster walked past him and took his place behind the massive desk. The silver of his hair gleamed faintly in the light, and when Severus looked up he realised that the man had taken off his glasses and nothing was protecting him now from the piercing blue of Dumbledore’s eyes. "What about Lupin?" he heard his own voice as if it was the voice of a stranger, hoarse and strangled. "Is he really…" "I am afraid he is, yes," Dumbledore frowned. "But he will be alright in the morning." "Did you know? That he is a werewolf… " he demanded and hurriedly added. "Sir." "Yes, I did. And that is a very unfortunate turn of events that…" "He had almost killed me!" Severus grew paler with rage and he clenched his fists. "He is dangerous, professor!" "During the full moon, yes. That is why mister Lupin never spends this time at the castle. Every full moon he is safely escorted to a secret place where he poses no threat to others." "He surely posed a threat to me!" "And that is exactly what I wish to discuss with you. Why did you follow mister Lupin to the shack?" Severus Snape, the talented fifth-grader of the Slytherin, drew a long breath and said nothing.

***

The headmaster’s office looked alien with all Dumbledore’s things gone. There were no books, no strange mechanisms clicking and humming quietly, creating an unnerving background melody. There was no Dumbledore whose silver hair made him look like a fantastic creature, the Man on the Moon covered in moondust. There was a Pensieve, though. And even though traditionally a Pensieve was to be buried with its owner, Albus Dumbledore had never been an owner of this particular Pensieve. It was during one of their games of chess when he asked about the artifact. It turned out that it belonged to the school. "Headmasters have always used it to dive in the memories of their predecessors," Dumbledore noted moving his bishop on the chess board. "Maybe one day you will be the one using the Pensieve." "I doubt that." "We can never know what the future holds for us, Severus." "Do spare me the unnecessary sophistry and I will spare your bishop." Dumbledore laughed heartily and that was… An excruciating memory. Severus took his place behind the desk and looked at the Pensieve. The silver of his hair was the same silver that filled the stone basin with thoughts, ideas and memories. And now the man has become a memory too. Dumbledore had been right. We can never know what the future holds for us. Or what it will demand us to sacrifice.