As the stone gargoyles rumbled aside, Kane wiggled his eyebrows at Harry and Ron. "Going in?"
Harry and Ron exchanged a quick, determined look. "Absolutely."
The three of them ascended the spiral staircase, climbing until they reached the actual door to the Headmaster's office. There, they stopped and sat in a neat row on the top step.
Inside the room, a muffled buzzing sound reached their ears—the sound of a heated argunt, distorted by the silencing charms placed on the door.
Suddenly, the door swung open. Professor McGonagall stord out, turning back to address Dumbledore, who was still seated inside. "You'll regret this one day, Albus!" she said sharply.
Dumbledore's voice drifted out, calm but firm. "Minerva, I am the Headmaster."
McGonagall looked fit to burst. As she turned, she nearly tripped over the three boys sitting in a row on her doorstep. She took a deep, stabilizing breath, stepped around them without a word, and marched away.
"I'm starting to regret coming here," Ron whispered gloomily. Seeing the Headmaster and their Head of House at each other's throats felt like walking straight into a firing squad.
However, the "Angry Dumbledore" they expected never appeared. Instead, a peaceful voice called out, "Ah, it's the three of you. Is there sothing I can help you with?"
Kane stood up and brushed the dust off his trousers. "What were you and Professor McGonagall shouting about?"
"Just a disagreent regarding a rather... unique professor. But worry not, everything is under control," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "Now, back to your visit. What brings you here?"
"Harry and Ron wanted to know what those four words in your speech ant." Kane glanced at his two friends, who were currently acting as quiet as mice, and asked the question for them.
"In truth, they have no hidden aning at all," Dumbledore explained patiently. "If you ask the older students, you'll find the opening words change every year, much like the Sorting Hat's songs."
"Oh. Okay, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you. We'll be going now," Harry and Ron said quickly. They stood up, gave a polite nod, and prepared to bolt.
Kane, however, still had his "three strikes at the date tree" plan to execute. "One more thing—do you happen to have any shiny, yellow, glittery gold lying around?"
"You need gold? Ah, I think I see what you're up to," Dumbledore mused. "But I'm afraid I'm the wrong person to ask. While I am the Headmaster, most of my personal funds go to the Hogwarts Orphan Fund. I'm not exactly 'swimming' in gold."
"Right. I guess that fund is pretty tight?" Kane asked.
"Indeed. Because of Voldemort, the number of orphaned students has remained high for years. And yet, the pure-blood families would rather spend hundreds of Galleons on a piece of magical art than give an orphaned wizard the chance to own a brand-new set of robes."
When Dumbledore spoke that na, Kane and Harry didn't react much, but Ron flinched violently. He quickly relaxed, though, rembering who had said it.
No matter how terrifying Voldemort was, he had been gone for a long ti. Besides, with Dumbledore right here at Hogwarts, could the Dark Lord really be a threat? Preposterous!
"Well, hopefully those pure-blood families learn so manners soon. We'll be off then," Kane said, turning to leave with Harry and Ron. His exit was so smooth it made the whole visit look like a casual "pre-bedti harassnt" of the Headmaster.
"By the way," Dumbledore called out as they reached the stairs, "you have Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow morning. I suggest you get so sleep so you can make a good impression on Professor Quirrell."
"Will do!"
The trio sprinted back to the Gryffindor common room, sliding through the portrait hole in the very last minute before curfew.
The mont they reached the safety of their dorm, Harry and Ron couldn't hold it back anymore. "How?!"
"How can you just walk into Dumbledore's office like that?"
"And why are you two so... casual with each other?"
Kane sat on his bed, trying to keep his face perfectly straight. "Did I forget to ntion that Dumbledore was the one who personally delivered my acceptance letter?"
Harry and Ron fell into a stunned silence. Since the number of Muggle-born or isolated students was relatively small, it was rare for the Headmaster himself to make the trip.
When it did happen, it usually created a special bond between the professor and the student.
It was like being brought into the world by a parent; the person who introduces you to the magical world is soone you can't help but feel close to. If you end up in the sa house, you're practically "inner circle."
"If the person who brought to Diagon Alley was Dumbledore... heh... hehe... HAHA!" Ron trailed off into a full-blown daydream.
Kane and Harry watched him. The kid's lost it. They decided to just go to sleep.
The next morning, they arrived early for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The na alone suggested it would be the "at and potatoes" of their education.
As the other Gryffindors trickled in, they looked at Kane, Harry, and Ron—sitting prominently in the front row—with very strange expressions.
Neville and the others whispered among themselves. "Didn't anyone tell them about Professor Quirrell?"
"I thought you did!"
"Should we tell them to move back? Look at Kane's eyes... he's looking at us weirdly."
Kane was looking at them weirdly. Why were they all hovering at the back? Even Dumbledore had ntioned making a "good impression" on Quirrell. Was this guy so legendary hard-ass who handed out detentions like candy?
Kane wasn't worried. Points co and go, but they don't cost actual money.
Just as he was basking in his own fearlessness, a truly authoritative, overwhelming sll of garlic wafted into the room from the corridor.
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