When Jon saw the glass bottle Astoria had taken out, a subtle change flickered across his face.
He carefully reached out with his right hand, took it, and held it up toward the light from the window. The silvery-white substance swirling inside was clearly visible.
"Unbelievable…" he murmured, shaking his head.
"What's inside?" Astoria stepped closer, peering at it with curiosity.
"Memories." Jon's expression turned serious, his voice low.
"Memories?" Astoria blinked, clearly startled.
"To be precise… it's a memory belonging to your mother." Jon nodded, his tone grew more serious.
"My mother's memory… she… why…" Astoria stammered, confused. "I don't understand…"
"I'm not sure either… but I think we'll find out soon enough." As he spoke, Jon stood up.
...
Jon walked around the desk, passing by Astoria as he headed toward a cabinet in the Headmaster's Office. Sitting in her chair, Astoria craned her neck, watching him bend down to retrieve something.
Half a minute later, Jon straightened and returned, holding a shallow stone basin unfamiliar to her. Strange markings were etched along its rim, and faint silver light shimmered from within—
The markings were runes and symbols—many of which she had studied in Ancient Runes—but strung together like this, they were completely incomprehensible. The silver glow came from the contents of the basin, just like the substance inside the glass bottle her mother had given her. Astoria had never encountered anything like it before.
It looked like a bright white mass of soft fibers, yet it was constantly shifting—like ripples spreading across water in a gentle breeze, or clouds drifting and slowly swirling.
"What is this?" she asked quietly.
"A Pensieve," Jon replied. "A very useful magical object. It allows you to read a person's thoughts and memories… and what you see inside it are memories."
Astoria nodded thoughtfully, her expression gradually turning serious.
"You look worried, Jon?" she asked softly, lifting her gaze.
There was indeed a trace of concern in Jon's eyes.
But he quickly pushed it aside, a faint smile returning as he extended his hand toward her. "It's nothing. Shall we?"
"W-Where are we going…?"
"To retrace your mother's past."
As he spoke, Jon drew his wand and lightly tapped the silvery substance in the basin. The wispy strands began to rise into the air, then, under his control, drifted neatly into an empty glass bottle on the table.
Next, he picked up the glass bottle Astoria had brought. The stopper was tightly sealed—his first attempt didn't even manage to pull it free.
After finally opening it and pouring its contents into the Pensieve, the silvery substance began to swirl and glow faintly. It looked neither liquid nor gas.
The swirling grew faster and faster.
"I'll be right behind you," Jon said, gesturing toward the basin.
"I… what do I do?" Astoria asked, flustered.
"It's simple. Just lean in—"
Following his instructions, Astoria slowly bent forward… until almost her entire face dipped into the silvery substance.
It turned transparent, like glass. She peered inside, expecting to see the bottom of the basin—but instead—
In an instant, her feet left the floor.
She was falling… falling… plunging through a spinning darkness. If not for Jon's hand still gripping hers tightly, she might have screamed.
...
Falling… falling… endlessly falling.
By the time Astoria managed to steady herself, she found herself standing in a strange room.
It was dimly lit, with an eerie, unsettling atmosphere. There were no visible windows—only torches mounted on the walls, casting faint, flickering light.
"Don't be afraid!" a gentle voice came from behind her.
Jon had appeared at her side.
Astoria let out a breath of relief and nodded.
As their eyes adjusted to the gloom, she noticed a girl of about eleven or twelve sitting on a sofa in the center of the room.
A very familiar face… golden hair, long lashes, and those unmistakable dimples.
"Is that… me?" Astoria asked softly. "But… I don't remember this at all…"
Jon shook his head, his expression grave. Unlike Astoria, who was focused entirely on the girl, he scanned the surroundings.
It wasn't that there were no windows—rather, every place where a window should have been had been boarded up. Even the wooden door that should have led outside was secured with a heavy black lock.
The whole place looked like a cage.
The only connection to the outside world was a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, marked with a brass plate.
The little girl—who looked just like Astoria—was holding a letter.
A thick parchment envelope, bearing a shield-shaped crest and a large "H"…
There was no doubt—it was the letter every Hogwarts student received upon admission.
The girl stared at it, dazed—surprised, and almost unable to believe it.
Suddenly, a series of dull thuds echoed from above the trapdoor.
The girl quickly stuffed the letter into her pocket and rushed over.
"Diana…" came the voice of another girl from above. She sounded even younger, speaking in a hushed tone, as if afraid of being overheard.
"I heard from Emily that you got your Hogwarts letter… that's wonderful!"
"Yes!" A bright, innocent smile spread across young Diana's face. "It's wonderful… You'll get one too someday, Alice!"