After teasing the guardian statue, Wayne's mood improved considerably as he cheerfully stepped into the passage.
Inside, a rotating staircase carried him automatically upwards to the door.
The door was tightly shut, adorned with a brass knocker shaped like a Griffin. From it, Wayne could sense powerful magical fluctuations—an exceptionally fine magical artefact.
Should any witch or wizard attempt to force their way through the Headmaster's Office door, it would transform into a brass gryphon and attack. This magical creature was extremely powerful, classified as XXXXX level, no less formidable than a dragon.
'Hogwarts truly has a profound heritage.'
Wayne sighed inwardly, feeling the impulse to pry the door knocker off and install it in his own home.
An alchemical artefact of this calibre was something he couldn't produce at all right now. But Wayne merely entertained the thought. After all, he was no match for old Dumbledore.
Like Cedric caressing his Nimbus 2000, Wayne took his time admiring the doorknocker before finally pushing the door open.
The Headmaster's Office was a splendid circular room with a high ceiling and excellent natural lighting.
It was four in the afternoon, and the warm sunlight streamed into the room, casting a faint glow upon the gemstones.
"Such extravagance… I've never been this wasteful," Wayne muttered. In other parts of Hogwarts, oil lamps and candles were typically used for lighting, but here in the Headmaster's Office, they had been replaced with gemstones.
Dumbledore wasn't in the room. Wayne casually settled into a plush armchair and surveyed the office's layout.
The most abundant items here were undoubtedly books—nearly half the wall was lined with towering bookshelves that reached the ceiling, accompanied by a spiral staircase for easy access. The other half of the wall was occupied by portraits.
Though the room was empty, Wayne couldn't shake the feeling of being watched by countless eyes.
Yet whenever he turned around, the portraits remained utterly still, no different from Muggle paintings.
Beside the large desk, a stone basin rested on a high stool. Wayne knew it was the Pensieve, an exceedingly rare artefact for storing and revisiting memories. He wanted to nick it.
What was wrong with him? The moment he stepped into this room, Wayne felt the urge to take everything home.
On the other side of the desk, leaning at an angle, stood a towering floor-length mirror. Most of its surface was concealed by a velvet drape, revealing only the frame and a sliver of the glass.
"Oi, you there."
A sharp voice suddenly rang out. Wayne turned.
One of the portraits had 'come to life'.
"You've been staring long enough. Do you know what that is?"
Wayne approached. It was an old man with a goatee, dressed in silver-green robes.
The plaque beneath the portrait introduced him: "Phineas Nigellus Black (1847–1925)."
Wayne shook his head. "It's covered up. How could I possibly know?"
"Hmph, ignorant," Phineas stroked his goatee, his expression dripping with disdain.
"That's the Mirror of Erised. Do you even know what the Mirror of Erised is?" Wayne adopted an attentive expression.
"It shows you the deepest, most desperate desire of your heart. Don't you want to know what you crave most right now?"
Phineas coaxed, "Go on, give it a try. Dumbledore's been staring into it every night till dawn lately—completely obsessed."
"Not interested." Wayne waved a hand and languidly returned to his seat. "Right now, I want everything, yet nothing matters. Looking would be pointless."
This wasn't a lie to brush off Phineas—it was the truth. Wayne was fascinated by everything, yet his enthusiasm wasn't particularly intense. Because he knew that whatever he desired, he would eventually obtain.
Such was the confidence of a cheat.
Phineas was also caught off guard by Wayne's reaction. "What? You haven't even looked at it yet, and you dare to boast like this?"
Wayne shot him a glance. "No wonder you're the least popular Headmaster in school history. You meddle in everything – can you even control whether I look at a mirror or not?"
"Still causing trouble after death, no wonder you get scolded."
The room fell into brief silence before erupting in uproarious laughter. The 'playing dead' Headmasters couldn't hold back anymore, doubling over with mirth.
A large-nosed Headmaster even pointed at Phineas: "Black, so this is your day of reckoning – getting scolded by a student!"
A plump-looking woman clapped her hands: "As expected of our little wizard from Hufflepuff! Spot-on judgement!"
"Stop laughing! All of you, stop!" Phineas hopped about furiously. "Damn little wizard, if I were still alive, I'd expel you immediately!"
"Then come back to life," Wayne shrugged, hearing a series of point-gaining notifications in his mind.
'Damn, even roasting former Headmasters earns points? What a pleasant surprise.'
Phineas was livid at his attitude.
"You brat! You lot from Hufflepuff are all idiots! Born to be cooks and shopkeepers!"
That did it.
Phineas's sweeping insult offended every Hufflepuff Headmaster present.
A hot-tempered Headmaster was the first to act, vanishing from his portrait only to reappear in Phineas's frame, landing a punch square on his nose.
Other Hufflepuff Headmasters quickly joined in, launching a righteous gang beating.
Phineas howled in pain as Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Headmasters egged them on. Even the Slytherin Headmasters refused to help.
Though they were all from the serpent house, Phineas's foul mouth had managed to offend nearly everyone within a century of being hung up here.
Wayne watched the Headmaster brawl with amusement, nodding appreciatively now and then.
'Look at that side kick – what power! And that 'Black Tiger Steals Heart' move – textbook perfect. Truly, in the end, all magical paths lead to close combat — the wandless kind.'
Just as Wayne was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, the Headmaster's Office door swung open. Dumbledore entered, momentarily stunned by the chaos before noticing the untouched velvet cloth. He gave Wayne a long look, smiling.
"Have I come at a bad time?"
"Not at all, Headmaster," Wayne shook his head. "Your timing is perfect. Any later and Headmaster Phineas might have been beaten to death."