Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's Office.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Hello, Professor Quirrell. Is there sothing you need to do?"
Kane walked into the office with an expression that said he could drop dead from exhaustion at any second. Honestly, only the heavy weight of the Life Giving Amulet tucked under his collar provided him with any scrap of security right now.
"Y-yes, it's like this, Kane. Erm, I... I can call you that, r-right?" Quirrell sat behind his desk, looking uncharacteristically fidgety.
"Ah, of course." Kane raised an eyebrow but didn't fully enter. He leaned against the doorfra, muscles tensed.
If Quirrell showed even a hint of aggression, Kane was ready to lead with a Shadow Blade and bolt for the exit.
Quirrell didn't seem to notice the defensive posture—or perhaps he didn't care. He certainly didn't suspect that Dumbledore or Kane knew his true identity; he likely just assud their first eting had been a bit "abstract."
He pulled a small pouch from beneath the desk, filled with unidentifiable fragnts. Kane craned his neck for a peek and let out a silent breath of relief. Good, he's not here to initiate a boss fight.
"So, you blew up the Pan Flute?"
Professor Quirrell nodded with a look of feigned apology. "Quite s-so. I... I realized that, t-this item is useful in many s-situations. So this ti, I... I want you to craft one that can be used... m-more often."
Quirrell pulled a heavy coin purse from his pocket. "Th-this is all the gold Galleons I have on m-. Is it... enough?"
Kane flicked his hand. A shadow rose from the floor, mimicked the shape of a hand, and snatched the purse right out of the air. He weighed it, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"Ah, Professor, you remain as generous as ever. Don't you worry—I'll put my full effort into this one. I'll make you a Pan Flute that'll last you a good while."
"Th-thank you. If you need any s-special materials, just tell m-. Perhaps... Veela hair? You should have a u-use for that."
Kane raised an eyebrow but didn't accept or decline. Veela? So there are creatures in the real world with natural hypnotic properties too? I'll have to ask Hermione about that later.
"Then I'll take my leave." Without waiting for an answer, Kane leaned back and slid out the door. He turned the corner and nearly collided with soone.
"Oho? I was just thinking about you." Kane, in high spirits after fleecing Quirrell for a bag of gold, grinned at the familiar face.
"Right. And what were you doing in Professor Quirrell's office again? I thought you said he wasn't a good person?" Hermione, clutching a massive to, looked at Kane with suspicion—as if he were the type of official who "forbids the commoners from lighting lamps while he sets the city on fire."
"Just a beautiful transaction." Kane jingled the coin purse, letting the sweet sound of clinking Galleons speak for him.
Hermione's mouth twitched. After a long internal struggle, she sighed. "I knew it. Quirrell must have bought his teaching position. There's no other reason he'd be so terrible at his job!"
Kane scratched the horn on his Beefalo Hat, genuinely confused. He knew Hermione was the most unique of the four of them, but she was starting to speak in riddles even he couldn't follow.
"Anyway, I need to grab a Mandrake from Dumbledore to finish the flute for Quirrell. Coming?"
Hermione shook her head, her face set in a look of "I want nothing to do with this shady business."
It was Mandrake harvest season; a plant cost five Galleons, yet Kane was selling the finished product for its weight in gold.
To her, this "corrupt" dealing didn't even have a decent veneer of respectability.
"I'll pass. I have to return this to the library." She shrugged and turned to go, but Kane rembered sothing.
"Oh, right. Hermione, do you know anything about Veela?"
"Veela?" Hermione frowned. She knew them—stunningly beautiful, humanoid magical creatures. While the Ministry classified them as "beings" with human-level rights, it was an open secret that so pure-blood families or powerful wizards kept them in "clandestine" captivity.
"You wouldn't be planning to..." Hermione hesitated, searching for the right words. "...engage in sothing criminal? Like human trafficking? I'm warning you, Kane, even if they are magical beings, they are legally considered people."
As Hermione agonized over whether she should stop Kane from descending into a life of cri right now or wait five seconds, Kane let out a confused "Huh?"
"Veela are people?" His mouth twitched. Given the na and the context, he finally realized why Hermione was looking at him like he was a predator. "Uh, never mind. Forget I asked. I'm off to see Dumbledore. Bye!"
He bolted toward the Headmaster's office. Hermione looked at Quirrell's door and let out a piteous sigh.
Headmaster's Office
Dumbledore had barely seen Kane out half an hour ago, yet the boy was back.
"Hello again! Just here for a Mandrake." Kane's head popped through the door.
"Ah, Quirrell needs a new flute. It seems his condition is deteriorating," Dumbledore noted sadly.
"What do you an?" Kane asked, walking over to a corner flowerpot and yanking a screaming Mandrake out by its leaves.
"Tom is draining Quirrell's life force. To stay alive before the 'night of his victory,' Quirrell has begun hunting unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. He drinks their blood to sustain himself."
"Unicorn blood does that?" Kane's eyes widened. Just as his brain started drifting toward so morally questionable survival strategies, Dumbledore shook his head.
"Drinking unicorn blood will bring you a cursed half-life, Kane. And there is no need for you—the Philosopher's Stone is far more beneficial than blood could ever be."
"I see. Then I'd better make him a 'max-durability' Pan Flute. The more successful his unicorn hunts are, the longer he'll wait before turning his claws toward the Stone—and . It gives more ti to prepare."
Dumbledore nodded. "A wise choice. I might also suggest you stay... relatively close to Quirrell. Know your enemy. You might even learn a thing or two from him before he makes his move."
"Like what? How to kill unicorns in the woods?"
"Like the Dark Arts. In that specific field, even I am no match for Tom. I'm rely using it as an example, of course. I'm not telling you to go out and learn Dark Magic... unless, of course, you truly wish to."
"I'll think about it."
Kane stuffed the Mandrake into his pocket. The Headmaster could afford to "slack off" in his office, but a student had a lot on his plate.
Hogwarts might be the gold standard for "happy education," but as the end of the term approached, the professors began to ramp up the pressure just like any other school.
That Evening
After a full day of classes—his first real "full day" since arriving—Kane arrived at Quirrell's office feeling like a squeezed lemon.
Before he could even knock, the door swung open.
"Ah~ K-Kane? Is it... is my item r-ready? I... I am headed to the F-Forbidden Forest now. Care to... c-co along?"
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