Mark Reads ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’: Chapter 30

In the thirtieth chapter of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, after waiting hundreds of pages and wanting to know SO BAD what is going on, this book gets so fucking real. Intrigued? Then it’s time for Mark to read Harry Potter.

CHAPTER 30: THE PENSIEVE

Before I get into the heart of a very necessary technique for this review, I wanted to talk about how deceptively amazing this chapter is.

The Pensieve seemed a bit convenient for me while Harry was inside of it; he magically finds something in Dumbledore’s office that gives Rowling the chance to provide us with a necessary flashback to the very new post-Death Eater world? I wasn’t really feeling this idea, despite how mindfucking it was, because it felt a little bit too perfect for me. And I wondered how she was going to deal with Harry getting out of there.

But when I discovered that Dumbledore uses the Pensieve as a way to help him remember things, it changed from being a convenient plot device to a wonderful bit of character development. It helps characterize Dumbledore as a man of many thoughts, but whose thoughts might be escaping him if he hadn’t thought of a way to collect them in their full nature somewhere else. The fact that he enters his own thoughts to get Harry is awesome and it’s even more awesome when he uses it while Harry’s sitting there.

So that’s my thoughts. Well, the coherent ones. Ready?

• Breathing hard and fast, Harry looked around him. Not one of the witches and wizards in the room (and there were at least two hundred of them) was looking at him. Not one of them seemed to have noticed that a fourteen-year-old boy had just dropped from the ceiling into their midst. Harry turned to the wizard next to him on the bench and uttered a loud cry of surprise that reverberated around the silent room.

  He was sitting next to Albus Dumbledore.

  “Professor!” Harry said in a kind of strangled whisper. “i’m sorry–I didn’t mean to–I was just looking at that basin in your cabinet–I–where are we?”

  But Dumbledore didn’t move or speak. He ignored Harry completely. Like every other wizard on the benches, he was staring into the far corner of the room, where there was a door.

fffffffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu what the shit is going on k;asdfkl;dsaklj

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• Harry raised his right hand, hesitated, and then waved it energetically in front of Dumbledore’s face. Dumbledore did not blink, look around at Harry, or indeed move at all. And that, in Harry’s opinion settled the matter. Dumbledore wouldn’t ignore him like that. He was inside a memory, and that was not present-day Dumbledore. Yet it couldn’t be that long ago…the Dumbledore sitting next to him was now silver-haired, just like the present-day Dumbledore. But what was this place? What were all these wizards waiting for?

MY HEAD TO EXPLODE lasdlkfjadsl;kfjal;kjafls; dlkj asd;fj;lsadkfj ;asd;lfkjas; dlfjk

• Harry’s insides went cold. The dementors–tall, hooded creatures whose faces were concealed–were gliding slowly toward the chair in the center of the room, each grasping one of the man’s arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The man between them looked as though he was about to faint, and Harry couldn’t blame him…he knew the dementors could not touch him inside a memory, but he remembered their power only too well. The watching crowd recoiled slightly as the dementors placed the man in the chained chair and glided back out of the room. The door swung shut behind them.

  Harry looked down at the man now sitting in the chair and saw that it was Karkaroff.

oh what the fuck

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• “Igor Karkaroff,” said a curt voice to Harry’s left. Harry looked around and saw Mr. Crouch standing up in the middle of the bench beside him. Crouch’s hair was dark, his face was much less lined, he looked fit and alert. “You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you important information for us.”

oh fuck it’s a trial oh my god what the fuck is this oasdjf;jk

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• Harry leaned forward so that he could see past Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting there–except that there was a very noticeable difference in his appearance. He did not have his magical eye, but two normal ones. Both were looking down upon Karkaroff, and both were narrowed in intense dislike.

oh jesus i can’t handle this oh god a;jsadlkjafskl;afsdl;k mnvxcjklxvzcnvzcx

• “No–no more than Rosier deserved!” said Karkaroff, a real note of panic in his voice now. Harry could see that he was starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry. Karkaroff’s eyes darted toward the door in the corner, behind which the demetors undoubtedly still stood, waiting.

oh god what is going to happen my heart hurts kasdf;flajs dfl dfsa;lkadjsf ;klafsdjklsdfa

• “But Travers and Mulciber we have,” said Mr. Crouch. “Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide==”

  “Not yet!” cried Karkaroff, looking quite desperate. “Wait, I have more!”

  Harry could see him sweating in the torchlight, his white skin contrasting strongly with the black of his hair and beard.

  “Snape!” he shouted. “Severus Snape!”

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WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!

• “Snape has been cleared by this council,” said Crouch disdainfully. “He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore.”

  “No!” shouted Karkaroff, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. “I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!”

  Dumbledore had gotten to his feet.

  “I have given evidence already on this matter,” he said calmly. “Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort’s downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am.”

THIS IS SOME NUREMBERG SHIT RIGHT HERE oh god that means Snape is like an ex-Nazi and shit I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING A;KDSJKF;L AS;LKDJ L;KASFJ ;SFDJ @#$@^&#%^#%$ #$% $$#@% @

• It was, unmistakably, a younger Rita Skeeter. Harry looked around; Dumbledore was sitting beside him again, wearing different robes. Mr. Crouch looked more tired and somehow fiercer, gauntier….Harry understood it. It was a different memory, a different day…a different trial.

  The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room.

oh what the shit LUDO BAGMAN WAS A DEATH EATER TOO? I cannot handle anymore ads;adfls asdf;klsadfljk a;ldkj asfd;asdfkl;sd

• “Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort’s supporters,” said Mr. Crouch. “For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than–”

  But there was an angry outcry from the surrounding benches. Several of the witches and wizards around the walls stood up, shaking their heads, and even their fists, at Mr. Crouch.

  “But I’ve told you, I had no idea!” Bagman called earnestly over the crowd’s babble, his blue eyes widening. “None at all! Old Rookwood was a friend of my dad’s…never crossed my mind he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on…once my Quidditch days are over, you know…”

Oh fuck what is going on oh god BAGMAN WHAT DID YOU DO oh god AND NOW YOU HAVE A JOB IN THE MINISTRY this is suspect to me WHAT ;askl;sdlkf;jds ;asfd;asdf ;klj faa;jk

• “It will be put to vote,” said Mr. Crouch coldly. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. “The jury will please raise their hands…those in favor of imprisonment…”

  Harry looked toward the right-hand side of the dungeon. Not one person raised their hand. Many of the witches and wizards around the walls began to clap. One of the witches on the jury stood up.

  “Yes?” barked Crouch.

  “We’d just like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match against Turkey last Sunday,” the witch said breathlessly.

OH MY GOD HE GOT AWAY WITH IT? j;odsl;sdfkl;asdfkl;dfj l;kjas;ldkfja;ksldfj

• “Despicable,” Mr. Crouch spat at Dumbledore, sitting down as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. “Rookwood get him a job indeed….The day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a sad day indeed for the Ministry….”

oh my god a;skdjf;lasdkfj ;asldfjas;dflkjasdf;lkjasdf;lkaj;alsdkfj

• And the dungeon disolved again. When it had returned, Harry looked around. He and Dumbledore were still sitting beside Mr. Crouch, but the atmosphere could not have been more different. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands. Harry looked up at Crouch and saw that he looked gaunter and grayer than ever before. A never was twitching in his temple.

IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS oh god ak;asfd;fsadk;adsf;lk asdfj ;sadlfj;dfjkls

• There was…a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief.

are we really going to see this seen i cannot handle this as;kldfjal;skfj ;salkdfj ;alskdfj;alksdafj

• “You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law, he [Crouch] said clearly, “so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous–”

  “Father,” the boy said with the straw-colored hair. “Father…please…”

  “–that we have rarely heard the like of within this court,” said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son’s voice. “We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror–Frank Longbottom–and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named–“

  “Father, I didn’t!” shrieked the boy in chains below. “I didn’t. I swear it, Father, don’t send me back to the dementors–“

  “You are further accused,” bellowed Mr. Crouch, “of using the Cruciatus curs on Frank Longbottom’s wife, when he would not give you information.”

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

OH MY FUCKING GOD POOR FUCKING NEVILLE I AM SERIOUSLY GOING TO START BAWLING WHAT THE FUCK oh my god this is why Neville freaked out in Moody’s class OH MY GOD THIS MAY BE THE SADDEST REVELATION IN THE ENTIRE SERIES BRB MUST JUMP OFF CLIFF

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• The dementors were gliding back into the room. The boys’ three companions rose quietly from their seats; the woman with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at Crouch and called, “The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!”

  But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though Harry could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeons, and the boy continued to struggle.

  “I’m your son!” he screamed up at Crouch. “I’m your son!”

  “You are no son of mine!” bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. “I have no son!”

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH SADFACES IN THE WORLD good god PLEASE DIE IN ALL OF THE FIRES THAT HAVE EVER BURNT, CROUCH. as;k asd;flkj as;ls;safdkls;afdk asfkl;afsd;klafsd;kladfjs as;afjsd

• “At these times,” said Dumbledore, indicating the stone basin, “I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one’s mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one’s leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form.”

what why don’t i own one of these a a;dfsjkas;dfl;asldfjkd

• “So, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something.”

  “Yes,” said Harry. “Professor–I was in Divination just now, and–er–I fell asleep.”

  He hesitated here, wondering if a reprimand was coming, but Dumbledore merely said, “Quite understandable. Continue.”

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Dumbledore, why aren’t you in charge of all the things?

• “I see,” said Dumbledore quietly. “I see. Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?”

  “No, I–how did you know it woke me up over the summer?” Harry asked, astonished.

  “You are not Sirius’s only correspondent,” said Dumbledore. “I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place for him to stay.”

oh my god, Sirius and Dumbledore are penpals THIS IS AMAZING as;klfj asd;dsjfa; asd;asdfkl;asd;fkl as;fldjkaf s;d

• “The years of Voldemort’s ascent to power,” he said, “were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jenkins has vanished without a trace int he place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch too has disappeared…within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I regret to say, do not consider of any importance, for it concerns a Muggle. His name was Frank Bryce, he lived in the village where Voldemort’s father grew up, and he has not been seen since last August. You see, I read the Muggle newspapers, unlike most of my Ministry friends.”

oh god IT IS ALL COMING TOGETHER NOW as;ldfjk as;dkfj lfam. vxm. vx;k sdf;lk oiweur sa;lkjsf

• “Yes, they were talking about Neville’s parents,” said Dumbledore. “His father, Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort’s whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you heard.”

  “So they’re dead?” said Harry quietly.

  “No,” said Dumbledore, his voice full of bitterness Harry had never heard there before. “They are insane. They are both in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, with his grandmother, during the holidays. They do not recognize him.”

fffffffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu does anyone have a bucket for the unending tears i am shedding AS;LKFJ AS;sdak f;asdjf as;asfjd; vxxcv asfdh ;lskdjiof fs

• But the Pensieve seemed to be asking his question for him. Snape’s face was swimming on the surface again. Dumbledore glanced down into it, and then up at Harry.

  “No more has Professor Snape,” he said.

  Harry looked into Dumbledore’s light blue eyes, and the thing he really wanted to know spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

  “What made you think he’d really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?”

  Dumbledore held Harry’s glaze for a few seconds, then said, “That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself.”

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU BUT I WANT TO KNOW.

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