"So, you're... out for a midnight stroll?" Quirrell looked up at the high moon, then down at Kane's pockets, which were bulging with fresh spider silk.
"A-ah... a first-year student... not only out after curfew but in the s-spider's nest... t-too dangerous. You wouldn't want Professor McGonagall to k-know."
"Ah, right. I'm so sorry. I'm a criminal. I'll go find Professor McGonagall and turn myself in right now." Kane wore an expression like he'd just stepped in sothing unpleasant. He tried to sidestep Quirrell; after the scene earlier that day, the professor was a certified creep in his eyes.
He would rather be poked by Quirrell's wand than touched by those garlic-marinated claws again.
"Wait! I-I didn't an it like that. I was t-too eager earlier today—you're the first student to voluntarily s-seek out. I can k-keep your secret," Quirrell stamred, realizing Kane was actually going to walk away.
Kane shook his head. "No thanks. I'm going to confess. Bye now."
"Perhaps... a t-trade? I need your... hypnotic instrunt. What do you n-need?"
Kane's retreat stopped abruptly. He turned back. "Do you have gems? Rubies, sapphires, purple gems?"
Quirrell nodded imdiately. Compared to disguising himself as a mysterious figure and spending a fortune on a dragon egg just to extract information from Hagrid, trading for the hypnotic flute was far more cost-effective.
"G-gems... I don't have on . I can g-give you Galleons. You can g-go to Gringotts and b-buy them yourself."
Quirrell pulled a heavy small pouch from his pocket and handed it over.
Kane, who had been trying to maintain a cold, professional facade, felt his resolve crumble the mont he felt the weight of the bag. He tried to keep his face straight, but his mouth twitched into a grin.
"Professor... you're r-really making it hard for to stay on the straight and narrow," Kane muttered, stepping closer to take the gold. He peeked inside: a hoard of glittering Galleons, easily reaching triple digits.
He stuffed the bag into his pocket. "So, how many uses do you need? The Pan Flute is the instrunt's na."
"How many uses?" Quirrell was taken aback. Was he paying over two hundred Galleons just to rent it?
Seeing Quirrell's pained expression, Kane explained: "The Pan Flute is a single-use item normally. Increasing its durability—the number of tis you can play it—is very difficult and requires 'upgrading' it."
Quirrell's face flushed—whether from excitent or relief was hard to tell. He had assud he was being ripped off, but it turned out Kane was offering a "premium" version.
"Y-you're... actually quite a d-decent person, Kane," Quirrell said, his face turning a bright shade of red.
"Can't help it. Born with a heart of gold. So, how many uses?" Kane asked, rubbing his hands together like a fly.
"T-two will be enough." Quirrell gave a conservative number—enough for his plan, but not so many that it would be a "burden" for Kane to craft.
"I'll have it in your office tomorrow." Kane turned and left without looking back.
He even had the fleeting, ridiculous thought: Professor Quirrell is actually a pretty nice guy.
Kane whistled and played his way back to the dorm through the Forbidden Forest, successfully using up eight of the flute's ten charges, leaving exactly two for the trade.
He woke up the next morning feeling light as a feather. All he had to do was grab breakfast and then head to Dumbledore's office to report that he'd "sold" the flute.
In the Great Hall, he saw the professors and Hagrid stacking various parcels in the corners—preparations for the Halloween feast. After breakfast, Kane knocked on the Headmaster's door.
"How did the 'nefarious' business go last night?" Dumbledore's voice was teasing before Kane even sat down.
"Not bad. I'll buy you a Mille-feuille soti," Kane said, conveniently leaving out the fact that the "Mille-feuille" would be made of Monster at. "I sold a two-charge Pan Flute to Quirrell. Thought you should know."
Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "Quite right. And how effective is this flute? I believe I should experience it for myself."
"Try it out then." Kane waved his wand. The haunting lody seeped into Dumbledore's ears. It was the sa sensation Kane had when eating a raw Mandrake.
Having slept well and being prepared to resist, Dumbledore only dazed for a split second before snapping back. "Oh. How much did you charge him?"
"Two hundred Galleons."
Dumbledore shook his head. "You undersold it. Anything else?"
"Do you have a reliable way to buy gems? Specifically a Purple Gem. Budget: two hundred Galleons."
"Certainly. Here is the Gringotts owl-mail address." Dumbledore scribbled on parchnt. "Tell them the size, weight, quality, and budget. They'll give you a quote."
"They are greedy, yes, but professional. They won't discriminate just because you're a child."
Kane took the paper and shrugged. "Thanks. If there's change, I'll buy you an ice cream."
"And if there isn't?" Dumbledore asked as Kane reached the door.
"Then it's back to the Mille-feuille," Kane replied, closing the door softly.
He went straight to Quirrell's office. He didn't even step inside; he used a Levitation Charm to float the flute to Quirrell's hand, waved, and shut the door.
Turning around, he ran into Hermione.
"Hello there," Kane said, heading for the library to write his letter.
Hermione hesitated, then called out, "What were you doing in Professor Quirrell's office?"
"Just delivering sothing. You looking for him too?" Kane looked at her and decided to be a decent human being for once. "Personal advice: stay away from him. He's... a bit of a freak."
Hermione looked at the office door and back at Kane. Coming from him, the warning didn't sound very convincing.
"Right. And what were you doing in there, then?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"A business transaction. If you'd arrived ten seconds earlier, you'd have seen I wouldn't even step foot in there." Seeing her skepticism, Kane casually pulled a massive handful of gold Galleons from his pocket.
Who pulls out gold like they're grabbing a handful of sunflower seeds?
Hermione stared at the gold. If even a 'Celestial Dragon' like Kane is this cautious, maybe there's sothing to it. What if Quirrell really is a creep?
She smoothly changed her plan. Instead of asking Quirrell about the Swamp Spell, she decided to ask soone else.
"So... do you have so free ti then?" Hermione looked at Kane with a bright, expectant smile, perfectly executing the "give an inch, take a mile" strategy.
Kane: ???
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