Knock, knock, knock...
As the door swung open, Dumbledore appeared surprised to see Kane at this hour.
"Ah, the Beefalo Hat looks quite dashing, Kane. I almost want one myself. As for your visit, let guess—you have sothing important to ask ?" Dumbledore paused his attempt to repot a Mandrake, firmly shoving the screaming plant back into the soil.
"Indeed. A while back, I helped you deliver that feather with the Monitoring Charm to Professor Quirrell. Is it still in his office?" Kane pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Of course. Professor Quirrell even wore that hat to teach two fourth-year classes. The feedback was quite positive."
"And the spell? Was it useful?" Kane asked. Dumbledore let out a long, weary sigh.
"Ah—I think I know why you're here. Is it because of Harry's broom today?"
"You're a sharp one, aren't you?" Kane said dryly.
"Hmm. How should I explain the act of knowing danger is near, yet choosing not to stop it—even letting it unfold?" Dumbledore mused. "I told you once before: I am orchestrating a grand stage play. Harry and Quirrell both play vital roles in it."
Kane looked at Dumbledore with half-lidded eyes. "Why do I feel like you're even less 'classy' than I imagined? I rember when we first t, I thought you and Kingsley were decent people."
"Which is why I suggest you avoid labeling people. Humans are complex," Dumbledore said with serene confidence. "But I can assure you, the script is firmly in my hands. No one is in real danger."
"I don't buy it. In fact, I'm starting to wonder—are you actually a good person?" Kane asked, being as direct as humanly possible.
"Well... Kane, I don't consider myself a 'good man' in the simplest sense, but I believe I've earned so of your trust, haven't I? If you feel kept in the dark, I can tell you the plan and the history behind it."
Kane poured himself a glass of plain water. He didn't want tea; he was afraid he wouldn't be able to sleep. "Go ahead. I'm all ears." He leaned back, holding the warm glass like a hand-warr, looking as relaxed as soone listening to a bedti story.
"Eleven years ago..."
The mont Dumbledore started, Kane knew a long-winded tale was coming. He raised a hand. "Can we skip to the highlights?"
"If you wish. You likely don't know Professor Trelawney yet; she keeps to herself. She teaches Divination to the third-years. In her youth, she made a prophecy.
Tom—whom others call the Dark Lord, though I prefer 'Tom' or 'Voldemort'—is currently a pitiable remnant of a soul. Even if he knows I'm speaking his na, he can do little."
"The prophecy stated that Tom would be killed by a child. As you've guessed, Harry is that child. Eleven years ago, through a series of coincidences, he succeeded. He made Tom pay a heavy price."
"And now, I can tell you that Tom has returned. It is ti for Harry to shoulder the responsibility of that prophecy."
Dumbledore stopped there. Kane took a tactical sip of water. "I see. Giving the job of defeating a Dark Lord to an eleven-year-old. Bold move. So everything you're doing now is... training?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Training is one part of it. But I also want his ti at Hogwarts to be as... colorful as possible. To leave him with no regrets."
Kane didn't catch the trace of lancholy in Dumbledore's voice; he just kept shaking his head. He didn't agree with piling such a burden on a child.
If Voldemort could only be killed by Harry, why not just pin Voldemort down and let Harry drop the guillotine?
He voiced this thought aloud. Dumbledore shrugged. "What I am doing is exactly that, just perhaps less... blunt."
"I noticed you all have a nickna for him?" Kane asked after finishing his water.
"Tom placed a taboo on his na. If soone speaks it, he can track their location. It was a trick he used to spread terror eleven years ago."
"And Quirrell..."
"Quirrell is Tom's pawn."
Kane refilled his glass. He knew it.
Dumbledore began clearing his desk, pulling the Mandrake back out of the pot. "Alright, Kane. I won't keep you. Children and old n both need their sleep."
He stood up and opened the door. As Kane walked away, Dumbledore added softly, "By the way, Kane, I thought you should know: Tom and Quirrell are looking for a way to seize your power."
"Thanks for telling . I guess that feather was useful after all."
Dumbledore nodded and slowly closed the door.
Walking back, Kane felt a bit dizzy. A magical terrorist was hiding in the school, plotting to murder his friend and steal his own power. While the stealing part was likely impossible, Harry was in genuine danger.
Sitting around waiting for death was not an option.
"Harry," he murmured to himself. "That 'friendship fee' you paid in Diagon Alley is going to be the best investnt of your life!"
Instead of going to bed, Kane detoured to the library. It didn't close at night, and if he was lucky, he could slip into the Restricted Section.
But that wasn't his goal. He needed to look through old copies of the Daily Prophet to see exactly what kind of level this "Voldemort" was playing at.
He found the archives—a place where no student ever went—started a small campfire, and piled up old newspapers and A History of Magic.
It was grim. The more he read, the more he realized Voldemort was an extremist of the highest order. Compared to him, even Maxwell looked pleasant; at least Maxwell reminded him to find food before nightfall.
It's easy to talk trash about the Dark Lord when he's just a na—Oh, you killed hundreds? Cool, but what about yesterday?—but when a wizard that powerful is actually in the shadows watching you, no one stays calm. Including Kane.
"Tsk. I've stumbled into so real trouble."
Kane sighed, grabbed a stray piece of parchnt, and listed a few short-term goals:
Experint with at Effigies to see if they work here.
Focus on Transfiguration and Charms.
Use the Christmas break to dig for gems and build the Shadow Manipulator.
Master the Dark Sword and Night Armor through the manipulator.
If at Effigies fail, find gold and rubies to craft a Life-Giving Amulet as a final trump card.
Trusting Dumbledore's "plan" with his and Harry's lives? Sorry, Kane wasn't that reckless.
"Sigh~"
He morized the plan, then tossed the parchnt into the campfire.
"Ti to start the grind!"
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