The atmosphere in the Headmaster's Office shifted from an argument between Houses to a silent hunt for a more powerful, more elusive "hero." The information Dumbledore had revealed about victims of Memory Voids was like a stone cast into deep water, stirring profound doubts in McGonagall and Severus Snape about Lockhart's past and the source of his power, laying crucial groundwork for what was to come.
As the argument drew to a close, the Headmaster's Office finally quieted down. The former headmasters who had been watching from their portraits closed their eyes one after another. Some buried their faces in their arms, while others turned over to face the backs of their frames.
The silver toad on the desk yawned, breathing out wisps of milky white smoke. The smoke rose to the ceiling, then dispersed into the slowly revolving star chart illuminated by magic. Fawkes the Phoenix stood on his gilded perch, his golden feathers glowing softly in the candlelight. His eyes were half-closed, as though he were dozing—or listening.
Dumbledore sat in his broad high-backed chair, his fingers interlaced on his knees, utterly relaxed. McGonagall sat opposite him with her back ramrod straight, both hands resting flat on her knees, her fingers slightly curled.
Severus Snape stood by the window with his back to them. His black robes hung from his shoulders like a bolt of black silk cut to the wrong size. His hands were clasped behind his back, his knuckles faintly white. He was not looking at the night beyond the window, but at Dumbledore's blurred reflection in the glass.
"We can't wait any longer to deal with Lockhart," Dumbledore's voice drifted over from the fireplace. "Some friends of mine have told me that, at the end of term, the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot will