“His name is Hobie, 23 years old. He spent thirteen days traveling in Egypt and works at his family’s restaurant.”

In the adjoining room, Charlotte pointed toward the first man as she introduced him.

The room was fairly spacious. Around fifty people sat scattered about.

Judging by their expressions, they had been hit with a Confundus Charm—despite wizards in robes walking around, they showed no surprise.

Dumbledore placed the Pensieve in front of the man named Hobie. With a gentle motion of his wand, he touched the man’s temple and pulled out a thin, silvery strand of memory, letting it fall into the basin.

Although the Pensieve’s primary purpose was to store and view memories, restoring shallowly-erased ones was not difficult for Dumbledore.

Watching the mist swirl to the surface, he leaned forward and submerged his face into the Pensieve. After a moment, he stepped aside, motioning for Charlotte to view it.

When the Minister of Magic finished, she let out a breath. “It seems we were right. The discovery of two human hearts on the plane really did happen.”

In Hobie’s memory, they saw him leave his seat, walk toward the back of the aircraft, and stumble upon a pool of blood and two human hearts.

Dumbledore nodded silently and moved on, drawing the memory of the second passenger.

In this way, the two of them viewed more than half of the forgotten memories in the room.

“No luck! There must have been a wizard on that plane, but it seems he used a Disillusionment Charm or something similar the entire time.”

Pulling herself from the Pensieve once again, Charlotte sighed in frustration.

“Don’t worry, we still have more chances.”

Dumbledore comforted her calmly and walked to the next passenger, extracting the memory with steady precision.

Following behind him, Charlotte spoke, frowning slightly.

“In the memory of that airline crew member earlier, the number of passengers on the plane wasn’t altered. So where did those two hearts come from?”

Controlling his wand, Dumbledore replied, “Perhaps, as the Anubis curse progresses, it causes a person to lose their heart.”

Charlotte smacked her forehead, realization dawning. “Right. Those hearts could have belonged to the hidden wizard on the plane. How foolish of me!”

A sudden thought crossed her mind—could they use the flesh and blood for some sort of spell or tracking? But she quickly remembered that the hearts and blood had long been destroyed.

She gave a weary smile and shook her head. Her mind felt increasingly sluggish these days.

She pulled a small vial from her pocket, uncorked it, and drank the potion, letting its coolness clear the fog in her brain brought on by days without sleep.

Dumbledore warned her gently, “Charlotte, too much Invigoration Draught will lead to dependency.”

“Relax, Albus. I’m not one of your schoolchildren. I know my limits.”

She chuckled, tucked the potion back into her pocket, and gestured to the next person. “Ella, 32 years old, flight attendant.”

Dumbledore viewed Ella’s memory and shook his head. Nothing new.

Charlotte glanced at her papers again and continued, “His name is Cindy, a reporter stationed in Egypt for a New Zealand newspaper.

He’s been there for several years, taking photographs and fabricating stories.”

She pointed toward a slightly haggard-looking man and added, “But since returning this time, it seems he was promoted to editor.”

Dumbledore nodded to show he understood and, as usual, placed Cindy’s memory into the Pensieve.

The silver mist rippled and transported him high above the clouds, where he observed the memory from a third-person view.

The airplane rumbled through the air currents.

Even though he had seen this view many times today, Dumbledore still couldn’t help but marvel at the speed of Muggle advancements.

“Magic surpasses technology. But do wizards surpass Muggles?”

The thought surfaced from Cindy’s memory, leaving Dumbledore momentarily silent.

With a quiet sigh, he set the thought aside and focused his attention on Cindy’s perspective of the plane.

Time passed slowly.

But Dumbledore patiently watched as Cindy put on an eye mask to sleep, then woke up to screams and announcements, interviewed passengers with his camera and notebook, and returned to his seat.

Dumbledore’s brows slowly furrowed. He rewound the memory slightly and noticed something.

When Cindy squeezed into the crowd and knelt down, the fabric on his pants leg was visibly indented—like someone had bumped into him.

“Invisible to the eye?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dumbledore sharpened his focus. He felt there was something different—something hidden—in this memory.

“Sir, do you believe in gods?”

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed in his ears.

Dumbledore’s head snapped around.

Behind Cindy’s seat stood a small boy, smiling faintly, with crimson eyes.

Outside the Pensieve—in the actual room.

Charlotte suddenly noticed Dumbledore’s hand, which had been loosely holding his wand, clench tightly.

Meanwhile, at Ares’ residence—

The candles lit for Christmas dinner flickered on the dining table.

Dawn folded the New Zealand newspaper he had been reading, took a bite of meat, and said calmly, “Get ready. We’re moving.”

Since the curse in New Zealand had escalated, their current home was no longer safe.

To spread the curse more widely, Dawn had also sown it among the people near the Ares residence, causing symptoms similar to those in New Zealand.

It was far too conspicuous.

If the Ministry of Magic or the International Confederation of Wizards investigated thoroughly, they could easily trace it here.

Beside him, Amir, who was feeding William, froze. “Huh? Moving? Just like that?”

He scratched his head at Dawn’s expressionless face. “Well, I don’t mind moving, but… where to?”

Where to?

Dawn narrowed his eyes, thinking.

Now that he had mastered Apparition, he no longer needed to be as picky about countries as when he first left Hogwarts.

His eyes drifted to a Quidditch article in the newspaper.

“Iceland,” he said.

“Iceland?” Amir repeated, then thought aloud, “It must be really cold there… guess we’ll need thicker clothes.”

As he spoke, his voice grew somewhat excited.

After all, traveling the world had always been his dream—one buried for years by poverty. Now, he finally had the chance.

Across the table, William pressed his lips together. He seemed like he wanted to say something but lowered his head in silence instead.

“Then it’s settled,” Dawn said, decisively. “Pack tonight. We leave tomorrow.”

___________

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