The gargoyle rotated out of the way, and the staircase slowly descended.
Zhang Xiao walked in with practiced ease, looking very much as though he were taking the elevator to work in his previous life.
Wait, wasn't this exactly like going to work? I was only a third-year student, yet I spent every day worrying about the Headmaster's problems.
When had things become like this?
Was it when I steamrolled the first-year Slytherins? When I got drunk? Or when I watched the Philosopher's Stone drama unfold?
The Chamber of Secrets? Catching Peter Pettigrew? The Horcruxes?
At this rate, I could become Headmaster straight after graduation without any trouble.
Was that Dumbledore's plan all along?
Lost in thought, Zhang Xiao pushed the door open without thinking. The gilded, high-backed velvet chair he always sat in slid silently toward him.
The silver pot on the tray tipped high, while the tea leaves in the delicate cup sprang into a "seaweed dance," ensuring they came into full contact with the boiling water.
Within moments, the fragrance of tea filled the air.
After reviewing all the incidents he had become involved in over the past three years, willingly or otherwise, Zhang Xiao finally reached a conclusion.
It was all Voldemort's fault!
He held out his hand, and the teacup floated slowly into it. Only after taking a small sip of the slightly scalding tea did he realize where he was.
Inside the spacious, beautiful, circular Headmaster's Office, Dumbledore sat behind his enormous desk, watching him with the ghost of a smile.
It was a long desk with claw-shaped feet, covered in strange silver instruments that spun and puffed out little wisps of smoke.
They also made all sorts of amusing little noises.
On a shelf behind the desk sat a ragged, wrinkled wizard's hat-the