No one moved.
Everyone in the office, including every pair of eyes in the portraits, was fixed on Amosta.
They watched Amosta collapse to the floor, his brown eyes bloodshot, cold sweat streaming down his forehead as veins bulged beneath his skin and his body convulsed.
Judging by the twisted expression on that once-handsome, resolute face, he was enduring unimaginable agony.
And the source of that agony—
A pair of wings of light had grown from Amosta's back.
It was utterly absurd.
How could a pure-blooded human grow wings? Hermione thought in confusion.
Yet it was truly happening.
They were a pair of black-and-white wings of light, like—like the beautiful wings possessed by Professor Breen's Patronus.
But there was one difference.
The two wings of Professor Breen's Patronus were the same size, while this pair growing from Professor Breen's back—
The black wing was nearly twice as large as the white one. Moreover, the edges of the black wing flickered like a fiercely burning torch, as though it were still growing.
The black wing seemed to radiate a strange pulse that everyone could sense.
"Amosta."
No one had ever seen such a lost, helpless expression on Dumbledore's face.
He crouched beside Amosta, his wand raised in his hand, but he had no idea what to do. All he could do was call to him softly.
Whoosh!
As though a cauldron of boiling oil had been poured onto blazing flames, the black wing burned even more fiercely, its ominous ghostly light driving away the dawn illuminating the land.
Professor Breen suddenly let out a scream.
Hermione stared blankly at the man struggling on the floor. She could not imagine what kind of unbearable pain could make him reveal such a wretched expression.
Her steps slipped beyond her control, carrying her forward