The Butcher of Hogsmeade

Shen Hou followed Dumbledore into the castle, his first close encounter with this renowned magic school. From his less than two months in the wizarding world, he knew that Hogwarts left an indelible mark on every student, like James and Potter, who would still get together to complain about Slytherin years after graduation; and those from their own house—like Stoddair and Merlin—would seamlessly join in whenever they heard it.

Because the Quidditch pitch lesson took quite a while, the bell for the first class of the day had already rung when the two entered the castle, and they didn't see any students along the way. Shen Hou's first impression was that the castle's paths were very winding, and the portraits along the way were very enthusiastic, full of the curiosity that only a living person would have.

After wandering around for so long that they lost their bearings, Dumbledore, who was leading the way, stopped. Shen Hou found himself standing in front of a gargoyle statue. Dumbledore stood before the statue, and without him making any move, the statue slowly moved aside, and the wall behind it split open to the left and right, just like the courtyard wall of the Leaky Cauldron, revealing a hidden passage behind it.

It was a narrow, spiraling staircase. As soon as Shen Hou stepped onto it, the stone wall behind him slammed shut, and the staircase began to rotate, carrying Shen Hou upwards. When the staircase came to a stop, he was already standing in front of a heavy entrance hall.

"Please come in, this is the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts." Dumbledore led the way, guiding Shen Hou through the entrance hall.

It was a spacious circular room. In the center stood a huge desk with claw-shaped legs, behind which was a chair with a backrest. The walls were covered with portraits of men and women, some with their eyes closed as if dozing, others peering curiously through the frames, all of them staring at Shen Hou, the unfamiliar visitor. On a long, slender table against the wall were many silver utensils of unknown purpose, spinning quietly, their occasional puffs of smoke filling the room.

Sunlight streamed down from above, illuminating a large area in the center of the office; looking up, one would realize that the roof was a huge dome-shaped window structure, with sunlight shining through the glass, creating a crystalline glow.

On a shelf in the corner of the room sat a dirty, worn-out pointed hat, too inconspicuous to be noticed by Shen Hou. His attention was quickly drawn to the phoenix perched on a gilded branch near the entrance. Shen Hou had seen the phoenix accompany Dumbledore more than once, but each time it was only a fleeting glimpse; only today had he been able to see its true form in detail.

"Fox is catching up on sleep, it's best not to disturb him." Dumbledore noticed Shen Hou's actions and gently reminded him, "When I went to the lake to find you just now, I woke him up early, so he was very angry and made a fuss for a while before falling back asleep."

Shen Hou awkwardly withdrew his hand; he had originally wanted to touch the phoenix's tail feathers.

"You just said you had something to tell me. Is there anything that Gideon and Fabian shouldn't know?"

"Yes, because it relates to your identity and the mysterious man, it's not appropriate to let too many people know for the time being." Dumbledore replied, picking up a large, shallow stone basin from the long table against the wall and placing it neatly in the center of his desk.

Under the sunlight, the silvery liquid in the basin swirled and flowed, refracting a layer of bright crystalline light. The rim and outer wall of the stone basin were carved with ancient letters and intricate patterns, with various gemstones inlaid between the patterns and letters, sparkling and translucent.

"This is the Pensieve. Before we begin, I need you to look at a memory. It comes from someone whose identity cannot be revealed for the time being, but please believe that the information he provides is true and accurate. I have already verified it." Dumbledore stood beside the desk, one hand on the edge of the stone basin, as he explained to Shen Hou.

"The Pensieve? Memories can be viewed directly?" Shen Hou didn't understand, but he was greatly shocked.

Dumbledore didn't explain further, but opened a crystal bottle in his hand and poured a drop of bright silver water into the basin.

"Bury your face in there and you'll see. Hurry up," Dumbledore urged.

"Won't I drown in there?" Shen Hou asked anxiously, looking at the flowing liquid in the basin. "I can't swim, I'll dissolve as soon as I enter the water."

"Don't worry, that's not water, no one will drown."

After receiving repeated assurances from the old wizard, Shen Hou reluctantly bent down and tried to touch the silver liquid in the basin. Finding that he didn't feel any water, he then completely submerged his face in the "water." The next moment, he felt his body suddenly plummet downwards, enveloped by an icy sensation.

Before Shen Hou could react, he found himself in the courtyard of a magnificent manor, surrounded by lush flowers and bubbling fountains, but everything seemed to have lost its color, and what he saw and heard was completely devoid of the vibrancy that should exist in reality.

Beside the circular fountain stood a group of more than ten people, hands clasped at their sides, holding their breath, trembling with fear. Shen Hou tried to see their faces clearly, but a layer of white mist always obscured his vision, preventing him from making out anyone's features; this feeling reminded him of the pixelated images on computer and mobile phone screens.

Just then, a noise came from behind. Shen Hou turned around and saw a person whose face was not covered by "mosaic"; it was a tall, thin male witch with a sinister and terrifying appearance.

He was bald, with no hair, and his skin was as white as snow, faintly shimmering with a reptilian scale-like sheen; he also had no lips, his mouth appearing as nothing more than a crack; where his nose used to be, only two thin, snake-like nostrils remained; in his eye sockets were a pair of scarlet eyes, the pupils vertical like cats and snakes, like narrow slits; his tall, thin figure resembled a moving skeleton, and the wide robe he wore made it seem as if death itself was raising its hem; the fingers holding his wand were pale and slender, looking at him like the stiff limbs of a spider.

At first glance, Shen Hou felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar, and even his breathing froze; in his entire life, he had never seen anyone so vividly interpret "evil," "cruelty," and "madness" based solely on their appearance.

It was only at this moment that Shen Hou understood why those people whose faces he couldn't even see clearly could make people feel the fear in their hearts just by standing there.

In front of that strange man, anyone who can stand firm and not fall or run away is a real man—and so do tough women.

The terrifying sorcerer kept his back to the fountain, looking towards the entrance to the courtyard; there was a thin mist there, but it wasn't the "mosaic" on other people's faces, but rather the mist that was common in the woodlands at dawn.

Under the "joint gaze" of the strange man and Shen Hou, a bizarre, towering figure that looked nothing like a human slowly emerged from the thin mist.

When Shen Hou finally saw the other party's true appearance, he was so surprised that he blurted out, "A sphinx?"