Harry and the other two had already left. Only Amosta remained in the office. The candlelight flickered, and the dark shadows cast upon the walls swayed with it. He silently watched the surveillance wall, not looking away until all three had returned to their common room.
The weather in early March was no longer bitterly cold enough to seep into one's bones, yet the flames in the fireplace still burned brightly, making the room somewhat stifling.
Amosta walked to the window and pushed it open, his gaze wandering aimlessly. For some reason, he suddenly found the quiet of this otherwise comfortable office maddening.
The thousand-year-old castle still stood silently upon the high ground. The sea of forest not far away had witnessed countless legends that had once been brilliant enough to illuminate an age, yet had now vanished like smoke. Gazing at the rolling forest, Amosta suddenly thought of Voldemort, who had been willing to tear apart his soul, brimming with boundless magic, in pursuit of eternity.
"Eternity?"
Amosta gave a self-mocking smile. From the moment of its birth, the universe had marched without pause toward its own demise. Life was but a fleeting splash in the river of time. In this vast cosmos, what could possibly stand beside eternity?
And for Muggles and wizards alike, the only thing that could accompany their brief lives was loneliness. That was how Amosta convinced himself.
His spirits momentarily dampened, Amosta closed the window and turned around. But just as he lifted his foot, he froze, his brows suddenly drawing together.
In the invisible world of magic, the magic stored within space, drifting leisurely like a sea of clouds, was suddenly drawn by some unknown force and surged uniformly into Amosta's body. It was as though a hidden pit had abruptly appeared beneath