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Kane casually tossed two large chunks of at into the cauldron, followed by a haphazard handful of vegetables.
Then ca the mont to witness a miracle. Without any warning, the pile of ingredients inside the cauldron underwent a bizarre transformation.
They shifted from solid to liquid in an eerily silent flash, finally coalescing into several perfectly round, translucent spheres.
The group watched in awe as these translucent orbs were slowly dyed from the inside out, turning into the exact sa savory atballs they had just finished devouring.
"Whoa... do you think the House-elves in the kitchens make our dinner like this?" Harry looked at Hagrid.
Between the makeshift stone pot earlier and the cauldron borrowed from Hagrid's house, Kane had produced two als' worth of "magical additives and heavy processing" atballs.
It was very magical, and very... industrial.
Ron considered this for a mont. "Probably not. My mum knows plenty of household charms, but she can't make raw ingredients spontaneously morph into atballs. I don't think House-elves do it that way either."
He didn't wait for them to cool down. He reached in, grabbed a atball, and began stuffing his face. The others followed suit, diving in with their hands as if they hadn't eaten in days. In the blink of an eye, the cauldron was licked clean.
They sat in Hagrid's yard, watching as the giant used his wand (disguised as a pink umbrella) to clean the cauldron before putting it back inside. For a mont, life felt peaceful and still.
"Seriously, Kane," Ron sighed contentedly. "If I had your ability, my status at ho would skyrocket. Even Ginny wouldn't be able to compete with ."
Hagrid let out a hearty chuckle, but quickly doused Ron's enthusiasm with a bucket of cold reality. "Then Professor Snape would never let you hear the end of it. Can you imagine? Being in Potions class and turning your brew into a pot of atballs? Snape would likely turn you into a atball."
Kane, who had been enjoying the "peace and quiet," suddenly bolted upright. "What Potions class? What's that got to do with ?"
"You..." Ron and Hagrid stared at him. "You use cauldrons to brew potions, obviously. You didn't know?"
Kane sat on a large rock, letting out the kind of hollow, hysterical laugh that only cos when one is truly speechless. When he had "crafted" those atballs in the cauldron just now, he hadn't used a single drop of Shadow Magic. It was a pure, intuitive conversion based on the "Pot" slot.
And now you're telling I'm expected to use a pot for actual schoolwork?
"What else would you use? A blender to turn ingredients into powdered candy? Did you even read your acceptance letter?" Harry asked, scratching his head in confusion.
"That shouldn't be right, Kane is Dumb—" Hagrid started, but was cut off by a thunderous, lung-busting cough from Kane.
Interrupt! I must interrupt! Harry still believed Kane had spent the sumr sleeping under bridges and living out of trash cans. If Harry discovered that was all a fabrication, he'd be furious—and Kane's fragile Sanity would take a nosedive.
"Are you alright?" Hagrid asked.
"Er, I just rembered! I need to head to the library to find a book Professor Flitwick ntioned. Harry, Ron, co with ! Hagrid, we've gotta run, bye!"
Kane scrambled to his feet, dragging Harry and Ron away before Hagrid could spill any more beans. As for Potions class... he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. Maybe Professor Snape was a "tough love" kind of guy who secretly adored his students?
They reached the library. Kane showed Madam Pince the note from Flitwick, left Harry and Ron in the main hall, and slipped into the Restricted Section.
At that mont, Hermione entered the library. Having finished her lunch and completed a few "Wizard Chess" matches, she felt it was ti for so light reading. As she scoured the shelves and reached the edge of the Restricted Section, Madam Pince intercepted her with a flick of magic.
"The Restricted Section is beyond this point. Ordinary students are not permitted to enter," the librarian whispered.
Right then, Kane walked out, lugging a massive to titled A Comprehensive Guide to Conjuration. He waved at Madam Pince and Hermione as he rejoined Harry and Ron.
"Hi, Madam Pince. Hi, Hermione!"
The trio strolled out of the library, leaving Hermione staring after them. She felt the heavy weight of magical "class privilege" pressing down on her. What could she do? She didn't know—but she certainly couldn't just start a revolution.
Back in the Gryffindor common room, they found a corner. Harry and Ron started a ga of Wizard Chess, while Kane cracked open the conjuration book.
By the end of the afternoon, Kane had reached a grim realization.
Just as you can't learn English without the alphabet or Chemistry without the periodic table, you can't learn advanced Conjuration without a single lesson in Transfiguration. His few days of self-study in Diagon Alley weren't nearly enough. If he could have learned this by himself, it would have been a miracle.
Fortunately, their next class was Transfiguration. He'd have ti to absorb the basics and pester Professor McGonagall with questions.
He fantasized about the day he'd master summoning. With a wave of his wand, swarms of Killer Bees would leave no survivors; a Toad Army would occupy the halls, leaving the enemy with nothing but their shirts.
If he ever faced an enemy with "stats," he'd eventually hand-craft a couple of Bosses for them to test their ttle against.
Or perhaps his Dark Sword would be more efficient.
Hmm, speaking of the Dark Sword...
Even though he controlled shadows, he still needed to find more gold to upgrade his workstation and research the blueprints to "unlock" that particular spell. Everything—magic, developnt, gold, gems—it all required resources.
He felt a nudge in his pocket. Right, Neville's toad. He still hadn't returned Trevor.
Kane jogged to the boys' dormitories, handed Trevor back to a grateful Neville, and headed back to the common room. At the entrance to the corridor, he ran smack into Hermione.
Her gaze was a complex cocktail: three parts "gentle look for a friend," three parts "respect for a fellow academic," and four parts "gratitude for helping her and Neville earlier."
The remaining ninety percent was pure, unadulterated hatred for a class enemy.
Kane watched as Hermione went out of her way to walk in a wide arc around him, as if she couldn't stand to be in his presence—or as if she were suppressing the urge to stab him, settling for "leaving him with his miserable life" only because they were technically friends.
"Yikes..." Kane rubbed his chin, watching her disappear down the hall.
"Kane, Transfiguration is about to start. What are you doing standing there like a statue?" Harry asked, coming up behind him.
"Nothing. Hermione is just... going through sothing. Probably has nothing to do with . Let's get to class."
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