Chapter 141: The Empty Office
At 6:55 PM, Jon Hart once again arrived at the door of Professor Dumbledore's office.
It was the third Sunday after Halloween, and his third “detention” in the Headmaster's office.
The familiar stone gargoyle still sprawled at the entrance, snoring heavily.
“Hello... Milk Toffee!” Jon called out to wake it.
“The password’s changed. It’s ‘Lemon Lollipop’ now!” the gargoyle yawned.
“Oh, right... Lemon Lollipop...” Jon nodded.
The gargoyle moved aside, allowing him through, then immediately slumped back down to sleep.
As he stood on the moving staircase, Jon wondered what this detention would bring.
During the first detention, Dumbledore had shown him the memory of his first meeting with Nicolas Flamel, when they discovered a nest of Ukrainian Ironbelly dragons.
The second detention, just last Sunday, had been a memory of Dumbledore’s old friend Newt Scamander in 1927. Mr. Scamander had traveled to Paris on Dumbledore’s orders and encountered a mysterious circus known as the “Circus Arcanus.”
So what about this time?
Curious, Jon pushed open the door to the oval-shaped office.
...
Inside, it was as noisy as a marketplace.
The sound came from the wall covered with portraits of past headmasters.
In the topmost portrait, two headmasters were dueling fiercely with wands. In another, a balding man sang at the top of his lungs, his haunting voice chilling to the bone. Meanwhile, four others sat around a table in a lower portrait, playing bridge and chattering away.
For a brief moment, Jon wondered if he had stepped into the wrong room.
“Oh ho ho ho! Our great Hogwarts champion has arrived!” a shrill, mocking voice rang out.
Jon turned to see Headmaster Phineas Black smirking at him.
“Good evening, Headmaster Black!” Jon gave him a polite bow.
“The First Task is next Tuesday. May Merlin spare you, boy, from being too badly beaten up by that beast!” Phineas sneered.
“May I ask where Professor Dumbledore is?” Jon asked quietly.
“Albus went to Kampala!” A silver-haired witch strode over, kicking Phineas Black aside. “He’s attending an important meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards. He won’t be back tonight!”
“Hello, Headmistress Derwent!” Jon bowed to her as well.
Dilys Derwent gave him a graceful wave of her wand in return.
“Then perhaps I should go back and come another day?” Jon asked tentatively.
“Of course, off you go... Don’t bother us...” Phineas blurted, scrambling back up.
“Silence!” Dilys snapped, glaring at him coldly. Then she turned to Jon with a warmer smile. “You may leave if you wish, but you could also stay. It’s rare for Albus to be away—we’re taking the chance to celebrate!”
“Celebrate...” Jon glanced at the portraits—dueling, shouting, playing bridge—and curled his lip. “Figures.”
He stepped further inside and spotted the brilliant red Phoenix resting quietly on its perch.
“Fawkes?” Jon greeted softly.
Fawkes lifted its head slightly, gave him a nod, then shot a disdainful look at the noisy wall of portraits.
Jon wandered around the office, examining the silver instruments and magical artifacts, but wisely refrained from touching any of them.
When he reached the Pensieve, Phineas Black’s voice called out again:
“The Headmaster’s books are all hidden in the bookcase beneath that stupid bird!” he said loftily. “If you’re bored, go rummage through them!”
“Can I really just look through them?” Jon asked in surprise.
“Albus isn’t stingy,” Phineas scoffed. “And besides, those books weren’t all collected by him alone.”
“Thank you,” Jon replied gratefully.
...
Jon slowly approached the bookcase beneath Fawkes.
The Phoenix let out a sharp cry, glaring at him before flying to another perch, closing its eyes again.
Jon let out a breath and carefully opened the bookcase.
Inside was far larger than he’d imagined—hundreds of books, neatly categorized on the shelves.
He picked up the first that caught his eye. The title read Traps and Locks: A Guide to Lockpicking. Jon froze. What the hell? Did some headmaster moonlight as a thief before coming to Hogwarts?
Setting it aside, he grabbed another, Annotated Collection of Ancient Runic Phonetics. After flipping through a few pages, he quickly gave up—his own studies in Runes were still elementary, and this was far too advanced.
The third book he pulled down was bound in dark brown leather.
The title made him stop cold—Secrets of the Darkest Art.
“This has to be bait...” Jon thought uneasily.
He cast a quick glance around. The bridge players were still playing, the duelists were still dueling. The singer, thankfully, had gone quiet—either exhausted or silenced.
No one seemed to be watching.
Jon thought it best to be cautious.
He didn’t open the book right away. Instead, he carried it over to Dilys Derwent.
“Headmistress Derwent,” Jon said, feigning alarm, “There’s actually a book on dark magic here!”
“What of it?” Dilys gave him a lazy glance. “To fight dark magic, you must first understand it. Otherwise, how would you stand against it?”
“Exactly!” Phineas chimed in. “Power isn’t defined by its nature, but by the one who wields it! Some witches, for instance, never use dark magic, yet they inspire more fear than the vilest dark wizards...”
“I feel like you’re implying something, Black?” Dilys shot him a look.
“I said nothing, Dilys...” Phineas blurted, fleeing into another portrait.
“Get back here!”
The two chased each other out of Jon’s sight.
Jon glanced after them with a helpless smile, then looked down at the book in his hands.
“Well... since you both say so...”
He opened Secrets of the Darkest Art.
Sure enough, the pages were filled with advanced dark magic. Jon skimmed quickly through them—
Nine methods of creating an Inferius. Instructions on making the Cruciatus Curse inflict maximum pain. Techniques to avoid being killed while raising a Basilisk...
Jon hardly dared to look before quickly turning the page.
And then he froze in place, a deep frown creasing his brow
“Chapter Eleven: Methods for Creating and Using Horcruxes!”
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