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The Principal's Office.
Lynn could no longer remember how many times he had been here; at any rate, it was enough for him to know the layout like the back of his hand.
He waved casually at Fawkes on the perch, and the Phoenix lazily lifted its eyelids in response.
Lynn pulled out the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk and sat down with a thud, his movements as natural as if he were in the Hufflepuff Common Room.
"Would you like some..."
"Coke is fine," Lynn interjected quickly. "Sprite is okay too."
The air went silent for a second.
Dumbledore's lips moved, the phrase "tea or pumpkin juice" stuck in his throat. He blinked. "I don't have any here..."
Before he could finish his sentence—
Pshhh—
The crisp sound of a can opening was exceptionally loud in the quiet office.
Before Lynn, a red-and-white aluminum can slid out of the air and landed steadily in his palm, the body of the can still covered in fine condensation, clearly chilled.
Lynn expertly pulled the ring, tilted his head back for a large gulp, and let out a satisfied burp.
"Well... perhaps my understanding of the Hogwarts kitchens' inventory... is not yet sufficient."
Lynn gave a sheepish laugh and placed the Coke can on the desk.
"Hehe... actually, this is my personal stash kept in the kitchen's cold storage. By the way, Principal, why did you ask for me?"
Dumbledore did not answer immediately.
His gaze shifted to the center of the desk—where two Diadems were placed side by side.
"I asked you here because I heard from Mr. Burns that you were the one who purged the... dark matter attached to this."
Dumbledore looked up, his gaze turning sharp.
"I want to see the thing you transferred it into. This is very important to me—I need to confirm a few things."
Lynn nodded.
He reached into his pocket and fished around, pulling out a piece of parchment folded into a neat square.
Lynn casually handed it over.
Dumbledore took the stack of paper, and the portraits in the office held their breath. Even Fawkes stopped preening its feathers.
The old Principal took a deep breath and slowly unfolded the parchment on the desk.
The full view of the "artwork" was revealed.
Dumbledore's eyebrows twitched imperceptibly. Frankly, he was appalled by how ugly it was; it was practically a pile of "shit"!
Ignoring those details, Dumbledore's gaze locked onto the center of the image—there, a mass of dark shadow was frantically crashing against the two-dimensional plane, trying to break free from the messy runic bindings, cursing as it struck:
"You filthy mudblood! Lowly scum! When I get out, I will tear your soul to shreds and leave you wailing in eternal torment—"
Dumbledore just watched the dark shadow quietly. After a long while, he softly uttered a single word: "Tom."
The screeching in the drawing stopped abruptly, the shadow's crashing movements froze, and the entire office fell into a dead silence.
Then—
"Whoa!" Lynn's exclamation broke the silence. "Tom?! Is it the diary Tom I'm thinking of?"
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving the artwork. "The same Tom."
"But, but hasn't he already..." Lynn gestured. "I mean, wasn't the diary already..."
"Clearly," Dumbledore's voice grew more serious, "Tom made more complex arrangements for his immortality."
The old Principal finally looked up at Lynn. "Child, this drawing... I'm afraid I cannot return it to you. I must destroy it."
"Dumbledore! You can't! You—"
Its roar was cut short.
A cluster of Fiendfyre had already sprouted from the tip of Dumbledore's wand, the flame drifting slowly to land on a corner of the parchment.
Boom—!
The flames instantly consumed the entire drawing, and all traces vanished within the fire. A light breeze blew, and the ashes scattered, disappearing without a trace.
Peace returned to the office.
Lynn looked down at the empty desk, then up at Dumbledore, blinking.
"Principal... we agreed on 'looking,' so how did it turn into a live cremation? Isn't this process a bit fast?"
Dumbledore was momentarily choked by this blunt questioning.
He showed a rare hint of embarrassment. "This... the circumstances are special. This thing had to be completely destroyed without any hesitation."
Dumbledore turned around and walked toward the bookshelf behind him.
His fingers brushed across the spines of the books, finally stopping on a notebook. The notebook was very old, its corners worn, but it was well-preserved.
He took the notebook out and placed it in front of Lynn.
"This," Dumbledore's voice returned to its gentle tone, "shall be your compensation. It contains some of my insights from when I was young and learning magic, as well as some... less common spells. It might be useful to you."
Lynn's eyes lit up.
Who cared about the drawing or Tom—how could they compare to the practicality of this notebook?
But on his face, he put on an expression of "I'm taking a loss but reluctantly accepting it":
"Oh, Principal, you're being too formal. Insights or whatever—if you like that kind of 'drawing,' I'll make you a few more to burn for fun later; I guarantee they'll be even more lively than that one."
While speaking, his hand had already grabbed the notebook and tucked it into his robes.
Dumbledore's mouth twitched.
"Well..." Lynn stood up, "Principal, is there anything else? If not, I'll head back first. I have Herbology Class this afternoon, and Professor Sprout said she's going to teach us how to brush the teeth of Venomous Tentacula today—sounds very interesting, doesn't it?"
"Go on, child." Dumbledore smiled and nodded.
Lynn turned and, clutching his newly acquired treasure, walked out of the office with a light step.
The door closed.
The office returned to silence.
A few seconds later—
The portraits on the wall seemed to collectively unmute themselves.
Phineas Nigellus shouted directly,
"Albus! Congratulations! You've successfully found another one! Merlin's beard, this is already the second one, isn't it?"
The elegant voice of Madam Dilys Derwent rang out: "What a remarkable discovery."
"I only wonder," a very serious-looking former Principal with a handlebar mustache said in a deep voice, "how many of these evil creations Tom Riddle actually made? A 'Horcrux'... such a magic that profanes life—he actually dared to perform it more than once."
"Who cares how many he made!" another red-nosed Principal said gruffly. "Find them and destroy them! Every single one!"
Click.
The sound of the doorknob turning again.
The voices of the portraits vanished abruptly, as if someone had grabbed them by the throat.
The door was pushed open a crack.
Lynn's head peeked in from behind the door, a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face. "Um... Principal, I think I forgot my fishing rod."
Dumbledore slowly turned around.
"Child, did you... hear anything just now outside the door?"
Lynn blinked. "Nothing much, I just heard several Principals talking... something about congratulating you on finding a 'Horcrux' or something."
Dumbledore: !!!
"Child... I think we still need to have a chat."