At sunset, everything on the ground was coated with a golden yellow.
The setting sun strove to shine the last ray of light on the huge castle of Hogwarts.
The same was true in Dumbledore's Office, where the sunlight shone through the rectangular windows, and the delicate silverware stood on the slender-legged table, quietly whirling and emitting puffs of smoke. Not far away, the glass container with Godric Gryffindor's sword gleamed faintly.
Fawkes, the phoenix, stood on a huge shelf and made a strange cry.
Apart from it, the office was quiet.
Dumbledore, with a rare frown, sat in the huge armchair, looking inquiringly at what was in front of him with pale blue eyes.
On the surrounding walls, the successive headmasters of Hogwarts, men and women, were all staring at the dark red nameplate in front of Dumbledore.
This nameplate was the one Evan found in the underground ruins, carved with the horrible monster pattern, as well as the human souls being sucked by it.
"Do you have any views on this?" Dumbledore asked softly.
"Horrible monster, incarnation of nightmare, the immortal existence, feeding on the souls of human beings and other living beings!" An old man replied lazily, his voice was full of banter, "Oh, it is terrible, this monster should only exist in mythology!"
He was Phineas Nigellus Black, the great-great-grandfather of Sirius, and Hogwarts's most unpopular Headmaster ever.
"But it appeared around Hogwarts, Phineas!" A shrewd witch shook her very thick wand and sternly said, "Albus has just told us everything, this monster appeared in the Forbidden Forest not far away, and the boy named Evan Mason found it."
"He is lying. The guys at Gryffindor House are untrustworthy, a group of snobs who love to be in the limelight." Phineas said disdainfully, "If he really met this monster, how could he get out of there? To my mind, he is a full-fledged liar!"
"You're shameless. Just a few months ago, that child saved your great-grandson's life and proved the Blacks' innocence." cried the portrait of Dexter Fortescue, a fat wizard with a red nose. "How can you insult him so much?"
"Now that you've mentioned my useless grandson, I have to…"
"All right, we should go back to the topic!" Dilys Derwent said slowly.
She was an old witch with long silver ringlets, and the most prestigious Headmistress in Hogwarts's history. She had her portrait in many important institutions.
"This nameplate and the monster above are obviously the magical creations of ancient warlocks." Dilys continued, "They are different from the current wizards. We all know how terrible those madmen were. For taboo magic, they could pay any price. It is not impossible for them to create such an abomination."
"But with the changes of times, they have all disappeared. For a thousand years, this world hadn't seen one of them, nor did it see one of their creations." Phineas retorted, "Now we're not in the foolish Middle Ages, the old antiques of a thousand years ago…"
"Not all, not all, they have not completely disappeared." A weak old wizard said slowly.
He was Quentin Trimble, the master of Defence against the Dark Arts, the author of the must-read textbook "The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection".
"Those ancient warlocks have studied death, demons and the magic of life beyond ordinary people's imagination, and some of them may have escaped the trial of death." Quentin paused for a moment and went on to say, "There are many known methods, but there is only one method that was handed down. We have discussed this topic many times before."
"Everything is just speculation. Don't think I don't know. You've always been biased against the outstanding students of Slytherin House." Phineas said discontentedly.
"It's not speculation. Last semester's Diary has proved everything, and Evan's Locket with a powerful magic reaction should also be one." Dumbledore crossed his fingers and said calmly. "Now the problem is the number of them left. He must have made a lot of them. This is beyond doubt."
There was a silence in the office, and no one spoke.
"Okay, okay, I don't understand why I brought the topic up again. Now we're talking about this damn nameplate." Phineas said rudely.
"Indeed. In order to escape death, the ancient warlocks and black wizards had done a lot of research. No one can guarantee that there are other successful methods besides making the Horcruxes." Quentin said slowly, "According to the description, the monster is more like a co-creation of Necromancy and Demon Magic. It basically conforms to all the characteristics. Perhaps it was some Dark wizard who made a direct evil transformation of his body…"
"Nonsense, this is ridiculous, I have never heard of such magic." Phineas whispered.
There was murmuring in the Office, and the other headmasters and headmistresses doubted Quentin's reasoning because it sounded horrible.
"I seem to have seen the pattern on this nameplate somewhere." A dry voice suddenly sounded. The owner of the voice was a gloomy old man wearing a very old black wizard's robe. "In our time, because of the protracted war in the Muggle world, black magic was once very popular, and many magic books have not been destroyed. I must have seen this pattern in some magic book. But it's been too long, I can't remember…"
"Is not this talking to say nothing?!" Phineas said disdainfully. He raised the volume and overshadowed other people's voices. "Whether this monster really exists or not, whatever it is, I don't think it's necessary to worry, because it had been wiped out by the GREAT SALAZAR SLYTHERIN HIMSELF!"
He was elated and very proud of it.
Listening to him mentioning Salazar Slytherin, the other Headmasters and Headmistresses could not refute. They all highly regarded the Four Founders of the school.
Dumbledore looked calmly at the nameplate in front of him and no one knew what he was thinking.
Just then, the door of the office was suddenly opened, and Snape, in a black robe and gloomy face, strode in.
On the walls, the portraits of all the headmasters and headmistresses were restored to their usual postures, and they sat solemnly in their chairs as if they had never moved.