Silence. The entire classroom was plunged into a suffocating silence.
Harry and Ron, who had known exactly what was coming, had already covered their eyes. They couldn't bear to look. Hermione did the sa, though her gesture was laced with a profound sense of shock.
She knew Hogwarts wasn't "scientific"—it was a place of magic—but the problem was, this was too magical. She looked at the innocent-faced Kane and finally understood why Harry and Ron had refused to sit with him.
The rest of the students, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, stared at Kane with expressions that could only be described as looking upon a god—or perhaps a demon.
"This..." Snape's lips trembled slightly. He had been the Potions Master at Hogwarts for ten years. He had seen bizarre accidents, lted cauldrons, and even a few minor explosions. But this?
He had never seen this.
"Professor, perhaps you could give another chance?" Kane looked back at Snape with a pitiful expression. But as he turned, he saw Snape's face had gone ghostly pale, his lips twitching uncontrollably.
Snape stared intensely at Kane, then at the frog leg sandwich in the cauldron. He had to perform Occluncy—a magic designed to forcefully clear all chaotic thoughts from the mind—just to barely maintain his composure.
The reaction scared Kane. Snape was the Head of Slytherin; if Kane actually managed to annoy him to death in class, he'd probably end up with a very powerful ghost as an enemy.
"Professor, are you... alright?" Kane whispered.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape said through gritted teeth, struggling to suppress his emotions. "And you... get out."
"OK!" Kane didn't hesitate. He stood up and headed for the door.
"Take your sandwich with you!"
Kane doubled back, snatched the frog leg sandwich, and shoved half of it into his mouth. Under the watchful eyes of the entire class, he exited the room, spitting two tiny frog bones toward a suit of armor standing guard at the door.
"I honestly don't know if that's lucky or unlucky," Harry remarked, watching him go. Behind the sigh, there was a tiny hint of envy.
"Maybe we should try so 'creative flair' too? Get Snape to kick us out?" Harry whispered to Ron.
"If that is your plan, I shall certainly not grant you the satisfaction," Snape's voice appeared behind them like a ghost.
"Instead, perhaps I shall give you both detention? I'm sure you'd love to co to my office and juice leeches—assuming your brains, which are barely larger than walnuts, can handle the use of a knife."
As Snape deducted another five points from Gryffindor, Hermione lost the last of her energy. She looked down at their empty cauldron, which was cleaner than if a dog had licked it. There was no ti to start over.
When the bell rang, Hermione experienced the "novelty" of losing points herself. It was a subtle, unpleasant feeling.
Outside the classroom, Harry and Ron found Kane squatting by the wall, looking a bit wilted. The three stood in silence until Hermione joined them.
"So," she began, breaking the quiet. "What was that? So special magic? A bloodline ability?"
"Mmhmm. Standard skill for the Head Chef of the Constant," Kane said casually. Since they wouldn't understand anyway, he figured he'd just speak nonsense and let them think he was crazy.
"Fine, keep your secrets," Hermione sighed. "My first Potions class ended on a rather... abstract note." She didn't bla Kane; she had chosen to sit there.
They say you shouldn't be greedy when others are fearful, and she had ignored that golden rule. Harry and Ron, Kane's own best friends, wouldn't sit with him—her joining him was practically a death wish.
As Kane moped, an unsuppressed laugh echoed from nearby. A familiar Slytherin student was pointing and laughing at him.
"You there," Kane said, looking up. "I rember a couple of days ago you were in the Entrance Hall nearly wetting yourself because I scared you. Are you that forgetful?"
Bolein Anrela stopped laughing and walked over slowly. "That was because I was unprepared. I've done my research.
That 'shadow' of yours was just a remnant of a magical outburst common in untrained children.
Once a wizard undergoes proper training with more than five spells, those remnants vanish. I also had my father look into your background.
Without that 'outburst,' you're just a Mudblood. And speaking of forgetful? You don't even rember my na. You're the one with the mory problem!"
"Actually, I just didn't bother to morize it," Kane sighed. He pulled the slip of parchnt Quirrell had given him from his pocket.
After a quick glance, he perford a "zero-fra" cast. His wand slashed upward, and a bolt of crystalline blue light slamd into Anrela.
The crowd in the corridor saw a flash, and the next thing they knew, Anrela was pinned against the wall by a Knockback Jinx.
For a mont, Anrela thought he had just been caught off guard. He just needed to learn more spells and wait for a better opportunity, right? But his thoughts stalled mid-sentence when he saw Kane's shadow on the wall. It had grown distorted and claw-like, crawling toward him.
"What were you saying about 'outburst remnants'?" Kane asked softly, leaning into the threat. He wanted to break the boy's spirit once and for all so he wouldn't be bothered again.
"I rember this guy lost to Kane on the first day," Harry whispered to Ron, bewildered. "Why is he still coming back for more?"
"Pure-blood families, mate," Ron said, not bothering to lower his voice. "Inbreeding. You do it enough, and the brains just go.
Look at those Slytherins—half of them don't even look human. Only Malfoy is halfway decent-looking."
Malfoy, who happened to be watching the drama from a few feet away, froze. He wasn't sure if he'd been insulted or complinted, but he decided that Weasley must have brushed his teeth this morning—he was being surprisingly eloquent.
While Harry and Ron were critiquing Slytherin aesthetics, Anrela was staring at the approaching shadows with a level of horror usually reserved for seeing a "High School Success" ad after failing an exam.
"MALFOY, SAVE !" he scread.
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