Amedeo Modigliani Seated Nude painting

Amedeo Modigliani Seated Nude paintingAmedeo Modigliani Red Nude painting
Shall —shall I, sir?"
"No matter, Harry —"
Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.
"Sir — how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity.
"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden."
Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas. "After you," said Dumbledore, gesturing toward the bowl. Harry bent forward, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling through whirling darkness and then, quite sud-denly, he was blinking in dazzling sunlight. Before his eyes had adjusted, Dumbledore landed beside him.