Gloomy clouds weighed heavily upon the spires of Hogwarts Castle, and the silver light of the Pensieve shimmered across Albus's half-moon spectacles. As he pressed his wand to his temple and drew out a silvery strand of memory, Harry saw that the memory-thread was intertwined with the blackened, charred skin on the headmaster's hand, as though an unseen fire were devouring his flesh.
"The gentleman we are going to visit tonight may perhaps be able to shed some light on certain puzzles concerning Tom." Albus dropped the memory into the stone basin, where a younger Slughorn within the swirling images could be seen adding gentian violet to mead. "Yet remember, the truth is sometimes more dangerous than a Love Potion."
Harry instinctively stroked his smooth forehead; the scar that had once burned there was now nothing more than a faint indentation. In the stone basin, the phantom of teenage Voldemort was stroking a black jewel ring inside a display case, the cold metallic light playing across his pale knuckles.
Chapter 249