Kane was wearing the Beefalo Hat. Because of the sheer span of the horns, he couldn't walk straight through the portrait hole and had to tilt his head sideways to squeeze into the common room.
Once inside, he found Harry, Ron, and Hermione waiting by the entrance, each wearing a look of bizarrely restrained amusent.
"So... you really do have a cross-dressing fetish, don't you?" Ron said softly.
"I wondered why you liked wearing flower garlands so much back then. Now it all makes sense," Harry added with an air of "enlightennt."
As for Hermione, since she hadn't known Kane for long, she just couldn't stop giggling.
"Ah, thank you all for taking ti out of your busy schedules to mock . I won't take it to heart—mostly because I'll find an opportunity to shred everyone's howork," Kane remarked casually, snatching the food bag Harry was holding.
Just as he was about to tear it open and eat, Harry scrambled back out through the portrait hole.
"...Did I really take that long to make a hat?" Kane sighed, hooked the food bag onto one of the hat's horns, and tilted his head to crawl back out.
Because of the Quidditch match, everyone was heading toward the pitch. Almost every student who saw Kane's unique headgear ca over to greet him—and, inevitably, to touch the horns. The less outgoing ones simply stared with intense curiosity.
Had they not seen Kane riding "Walnut" the goat out of the Forbidden Forest earlier, they might have suspected he had murdered Hagrid's livestock.
"Seriously, Kane, why do you have to wear that hat?" Hermione asked. After all, the Temperature-Control Charms on a wizard's robes were usually enough to handle any weather. Why go this far? It couldn't really be a fetish, right?
"Want to see?" Kane said, his eyes drooping into half-moons.
Hermione nodded.
Kane didn't play around. He grabbed both horns and lifted the hat. Instantly, he felt the warmth drain from his body. His face, which usually had at least a hint of color, turned as white as marble in a split second—then faded into a sickly greenish-blue.
Kane tid it perfectly. Just a second before his "Health" began to drop, he slamd the hat back onto his head. He then cranked up the output of his Thermal Stones to recover the lost heat.
"Now you know why I wear the hat," Kane explained before continuing toward the stadium.
Hermione nodded, her mouth twitching. She finally had a concrete idea of just how sensitive to cold Kane actually was. As for why... well, she figured it made sense.
"Blue-blooded" aristocrats always seed to have strange, mystical eccentricities to set themselves apart from commoners.
Perhaps "Celestial Dragons" in the Wizarding World did weird things to their bodies just to maintain their air of superiority.
The four split up at the stands. Harry took his broom toward the team tents, while the other three found seats to wait for the match to begin.
Ti passed. While Quidditch was thrilling to most—like Ron, who was bouncing in his seat watching "flying backsides"—Kane and Hermione shared a total lack of interest. They didn't understand the rules; they were only here to support Harry.
"I could be in the library reading right now," Kane muttered miserably as Slytherin gained another five points for so unknown reason.
"Tell about it..." Hermione started to agree, but then she froze. High in the air, Harry's broom had begun to malfunction. He was zig-zagging through the sky like a headless fly.
"What's happening? Is sothing wrong with Harry's broom?" Hermione frowned, her face etched with worry.
Ron noticed it too. After less than a second of thought, he reached a conclusion: "It's Snape! Before today, I thought he just disliked Harry and made his life difficult in class. But now? He's actually trying to kill him!"
Kane raised an eyebrow at Ron's flustered face. "Why do you say that?"
"Use these." Ron handed a pair of binoculars to Kane. Looking through them, Kane saw Snape's mouth moving rapidly in a low mutter. "Snape is chanting a curse."
Kane watched Snape for a mont, then shifted his gaze. Sure enough, Quirrell's mouth was moving just as fast.
"It's probably Quirrell, not Snape. Dumbledore has hinted more than once that Quirrell isn't a good person, but he's never said a bad word about Snape. Right, Hermione? You know Quirrell is... Hermione?"
"Where's Hermione?" Kane frowned. As he went to lower the binoculars, he spotted her. In the lenses, he saw Hermione crouched under the bleachers of the teachers' stand. With an expression of "evil" that didn't fit her face at all, she set fire to Snape's decent new robes.
Watching this through his own binoculars, Ron swallowed hard.
"Hermione is one hell of a friend. That's hardcore."
"You said it."
Though Hermione's target was slightly off, the effect was spectacular. As Snape abruptly burst into flas, the entire staff section descended into chaos.
Not only Snape, but Quirrell too was knocked over in the commotion, unable to continue his "muttering." Harry successfully regained control of his broom.
"How was that? Is Harry's broom back to normal?" Hermione asked excitedly when she returned.
What could Kane and Ron do? They exchanged a look and simultaneously gave her two thumbs up.
"Hardcore." That was their only assessnt of her.
Having tad his broom, Harry didn't disappoint. Within twenty minutes, he had unseated the Slytherin team. How he did it, Kane didn't know; he had been sleeping soundly against his chair until the roar of the Gryffindor stands woke him up.
As they left the pitch, the plan was to head back to the common room to discuss the broom incident. However, Hagrid arrived on "Walnut" to pick them up, insisting on a victory celebration at his hut.
Soon, inside Hagrid's cozy ho, Kane remained huddled in his Beefalo Hat despite being right next to a roaring fire. He stayed motionless while the others talked animatedly.
Finally, Harry noticed his state and patted his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Kane snapped back to reality. Looking at the group, he decided not to say what was on his mind—not yet.
The things Harry, Ron, and Hermione were discussing were important: the mysterious corridor on the fourth floor, the object Dumbledore was hiding, and who was trying to kill Harry.
But to Kane, sothing else felt far more pressing.
Is Dumbledore... truly a good person?
The question haunted him all afternoon. Late that night, the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office rumbled aside. Kane climbed the stairs and stood before Dumbledore's door.
He knew he couldn't figure this out on his own. So, he decided to ask the man directly.
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