In the library, Kane's quill scratched across the parchnt in a rhythmic, jittery dance. Beside him sat a gemstone reference book; Hermione, waiting for "Professor Kane" to begin his lecture, snuck a glance at it and nearly suffered a crisis of faith.
A sliver of erald the size of a fingernail was listed at ten Galleons. The mainstream gemstones featured in large, glossy prints never dipped below three digits.
A purple gem half the size of a palm? A staggering one hundred and fifty Galleons.
As expected of a "Celestial Dragon." Taking the hard-earned Galleons from a poor professor just to buy these luxury stones...
Tsk. Gringotts really doesn't bother scamming poor wizards.
Hermione sighed internally at the scandalous price tags. anwhile, Kane finished his letter to Gringotts. He folded it and used a Summoning Charm to call a small bird, which carried the note to Hugin, who in turn would fly it to the bank.
Truthfully, whether a gemstone bought from Gringotts could actually create a Shadow Manipulator remained to be seen. In his experience, these things were all about "mass."
To build a Science Machine, you needed a gold nugget the size of a fist. More was fine, but if you were short by even a single gram, the Shadow Erosion wouldn't take, and the machine would fail to manifest. He could only pray the purple gem t the threshold. Please, let it be enough!
Prayers finished, he looked at Hermione. Honestly, he should have used a different tactic when warning her away from Quirrell.
Instead of just saying Quirrell was a creep, he should have redirected her to McGonagall or Flitwick. Now he was stuck in the headache-inducing position of being her personal tutor.
Still, Hermione had excellent "social EQ." She hadn't expected the lessons for free; in exchange, she lent Kane her transcriptions of a second-year Ravenclaw senior's Transfiguration notes.
Kane slipped the notes into his pocket and cleared his throat. It was ti to show off the skills he'd brute-forced while cosplaying as a rabbit inside his giant hat.
Evening...
There were no classes today, but the progress was shockingly sluggish. Whether Kane's teaching was abysmal or Hermione's ears were stuffed with cotton, it was a slog.
After half a day, he finally got her to cast a Swamp Spell. Even though the marsh vanished after a few seconds for unknown reasons, it was a start.
Hermione exhaled in relief. The first step was the hardest; now she could consolidate it on her own. She also made a silent vow: Never ask a "Genius Monster" for help again.
They don't teach you the basic principles because, in their heads, those principles are as natural as muscle mory. It isn't that they learned it well; it's more like they forgot to forget it from their previous life.
"Alright, let's head to the Hall. We still have ti for dinner. I won't finish copying the notes today, I'll give them back tomorrow," Kane said, standing and stretching until his joints popped like firecrackers.
"You go ahead. I'm going to find a place to practice a bit more."
Kane didn't miss a beat. "Aren't you hungry? Is soone going to bring you food?"
Hearing the devil's whisper of Kane's low-EQ but genuine sincerity, Hermione's pace quickened. She planned to find a quiet corner to shed so "little pearls" where no one could see.
Kane scratched his head, watching her bolt. Whatever. Food first.
The Next Day (Halloween)...
The professors were busy decorating the Great Hall for the feast. Kane, however, woke up to find three green carving tools and several pumpkins—each larger than his head—sitting by his bed.
Understood. Back in the Constant, Halloween always featured this classic activity. But hadn't he left the Constant?
"Is my bed so kind of ecological niche for the Florid Postern? Probably not... maybe my Shadows just felt the holiday spirit and condensed them... maybe." He picked up a pumpkin and a tool, muttering in confusion.
Harry and Ron, who had woken up early for once, ignored him. They were used to Kane's "insane" mutterings.
By the ti they finished washing up, they found Kane sitting on the sofa, looking utterly lifeless. He had realized he had no materials for a Mad Scientist Lab, nor was there a Pig King to trade with for extra rewards.
"This Halloween is just pumpkin carving, I guess..." Kane sighed. He noticed a Crow Ornant pinned to his pillow. "Well, at least it was free." He pinned it to his collar and began copying Hermione's notes.
The day passed quietly until the afternoon Charms class. The three were in their usual front-row seats by the window, with Hermione and Seamus Finnigan behind them. Kane was scribbling notes while Harry and Ron hit the books.
Midway through, Hermione left for the bathroom. Shortly after, the front row felt crowded. Kane looked up to find Seamus squeezing in with them.
"I finally get why Hermione's roommates are in a cold war with her," Seamus hissed. "Partnering with her is like being under a Torture Curse."
Harry and Ron nodded fervently. They were fellow "academic slackers"; sitting near Hermione usually ant a constant lecture on their failings. They felt Seamus's pain deeply.
Kane: ???
Tsk. If Hermione finds out, she might hit him with a hamr.
A few minutes later, Hermione pushed the door open and looked at her seat. ?? Her partner was gone.
Seamus looked up awkwardly, saw the helpless look in Hermione's eyes, and imdiately looked back down at his desk.
Hermione said nothing. She didn't lash out. She just sat back down, decided she was skipping the feast, and planned to go to her "old spot" to cry.
The four in front noticed nothing. When the bell rang, Hermione vanished faster than any other student.
"Was she... angry?" Ron asked, looking at Seamus. "Maybe you should apologize?"
"I'll catch her later. But it's not all my fault—no one likes being picked apart like that," Seamus sighed and chased after Neville.
Kane, still writing, looked at Harry and Ron. "You guys go ahead and save a seat. I'll join you when I finish this page."
"Hurry up then," Ron said as they left.
Fifteen minutes later, Kane finished. He put his copy in his pocket and kept Hermione's in his hand, intending to return it at the feast. But after a lap of the Great Hall, he couldn't find her.
"Looking for Hermione?" a voice asked. It was Lavender Brown, Hermione's roommate.
"Returning her notes." Kane waved the book.
Lavender nodded and leaned in. "Usually, if she's missing, she's crying in the first-floor girl's bathroom. You could try your luck there."
Kane truly didn't understand this friend group. They fought, they had a cold war, yet they still kept track of exactly where she went to cry. It was complex and slightly terrifying.
"Thanks. I'll go see what the deal is."
He headed for the bathroom. It was in a remote wing, which was lucky—otherwise, he'd look like a pervert sneaking into a girl's toilet.
He found the door, or what was left of it. The elegant wood had been violently smashed, leaving a hole the size of a Tallnut. A stench like fernted corpses wafted out.
"Don't the house-elves clean the bathrooms?" he muttered. He peeked inside, and his eyes went wide.
"Tsk... did one of the Trolls Hagrid's raising secretly escape?"
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