"I shouldn't be doing this, you know," the Archivist tells you with a stern look. "My cousin would hex me to Hades and back if he knew."

You give her a weak grin and a shrug of the shoulders.

"Oh, sod it," she says with a sigh. "You've just as much right as he or I, I suppose. Have you ever used a Pensieve?"

"No, but I know what to expect," you say, doing the best to curb your impatience.

"Well, this one's a bit different," she retorts. "He fiddled it, somehow, so you not only see the events; his very thoughts are recorded in it as well, even his ruminations after the fact. It can be very disorienting, more so than usual. So be careful." With another sharp glance -- behave yourself, now, it clearly indicates -- she leaves the room, warding it behind her to ensure your privacy.

You hesitate briefly; your anticipation is suddenly tempered by the remembrance that this long-dead man's memories cannot be altogether pleasant.

But you've waited too long for this, jumped through too many hoops for this opportunity. Best pick a date after the worst was over; when his loyalties were clear, if not yet universally acknowledged. Academic rigour and honesty notwithstanding, you've no wish to see him engaged in Death Eater activities.

When you're ready, you dip your wand into the surface.