Kane stared at Voldemort in blank astonishnt. He decided on one last attempt at a stubborn defense: "Uh, what do you an by 'my handiwork'?"
Voldemort looked at Kane, who was still playing dumb even at this stage, and couldn't help but nod. This refusal to give up even a sliver of hope until the very last second was, in a way, a virtue.
"I admire you, Kane, but you still cannot deceive ... After all, I heard it from Hagrid himself. You are likely the only one in Hogwarts capable of creating these tentacles," Voldemort said hollowly.
"I never perford this in front of Hagrid." Kane shook his head. Honestly, he was now leaning toward the theory that Dumbledore had leaked this information through so ans just to speed up the dungeon's progress.
Voldemort's next words, however, cleared Dumbledore's na: "Mhm, Hagrid indeed didn't know before, but Mr. Ronald Weasley did. You know, Mr. Weasley values your friendship deeply; boasting about his friend's talents to others is his favorite pasti."
"..." "...Fine, that tracks." Kane pulled a long face and walked reluctantly toward Voldemort.
"I thought you'd find your own way through this?" he muttered.
"Bringing you here was one of the ways I thought of," Voldemort replied, patting Kane on the shoulder with a nudge of encouragent. "Begin, Kane. Let see."
"Mm-hmm." Kane gave a casual grunt, and the once-vicious tentacles beneath the trapdoor suddenly turned submissive. They drifted like seaweed swaying in an ocean current, eventually weaving themselves into a functional downward staircase.
"I believe we should walk down together, shouldn't we, Kane?" Voldemort held out a hand.
"You really are cautious."
Kane took Voldemort's hand and walked down. Only once they were out of the tentacles' reach did Voldemort let go. Kane imdiately pulled out a silk handkerchief from nowhere and began scrubbing his hand vigorously.
"I don't know how many tis I've said this, but Professor, if you paid a little more attention to personal hygiene, I'd like you a lot more." Kane finished by sniffing his hand using the proper fan-wafting technique; finding the scent within his tolerance levels, he tossed the handkerchief onto the floor with a look of disgust.
Voldemort gave him a reserved look. "Perhaps one day in the future. Regardless, we must move on."
The two vanished into the darkness of the corridor. So ti passed.
"I really can't believe Kane's tentacles would just weave themselves into stairs like that. You don't think the person after the Stone kidnapped Kane as a hostage, do you?"
Ron led the way down from the trapdoor, his feet slipping slightly on every tentacle-step.
"I doubt it. Who's brave enough to kidnap Kane? Aren't they afraid of being kidnapped in the morning and planted in the Forbidden Forest as a tree by noon?" Hermione followed in the middle, steadying herself on Ron's shoulder.
"Haha, true. But it wouldn't be a tree; it'd be a Mandrake, because that person would probably be crying their eyes out when they got dug up." Harry, bringing up the rear, kept the formation—until his eyes landed on the discarded silk handkerchief on the floor.
Hiss—sothing's wrong! This is getting serious.
In another chamber not far ahead:
"This Transfiguration is quite impressive. It seems Professor McGonagall will be very fond of you." Voldemort was struggling to maintain a Shield Charm against a swarm of Killer Bees that were relentlessly attacking him.
"Honestly, I think these are pretty average. Maybe you should try fire? These little fliers hate that stuff," Kane said, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you think I'll fall for your tricks, Kane? Using large-scale fire inside Hogwarts would surely alert Dumbledore; otherwise, I wouldn't have needed to bring you here for the tentacles."
Voldemort's tone had lost its initial composure. He was clearly getting "broken" by the Killer Bees Kane had conjured. They were like flies—they couldn't do much real damage, but the constant buzzing was enough to make anyone's mood sour.
"Alright, Professor." Kane shrugged and gave a casual wave. The number of bees in the room instantly doubled.
Just as Voldemort braced himself for a full-on assault, the dense swarm of bees fell to the floor—dead. The "bees" still hovering in the air were nothing more than Shadows.
"Sigh, I worked so hard to catch these in the Forest." Kane mournfully picked up piece after piece of honeycomb from the floor. He could have a late-night snack when he got back. Maybe Honey Ham? Or hand-pulled Toffee.
"I admire your talent." Voldemort watched the shadows dissipate. He plucked a key from the air with satisfaction, slotted it into the door at the end of the room, and walked through alone.
Kane trotted a few steps to catch up. "Professor, how 'weak' are you actually? You said fire isn't allowed in Hogwarts, but with enough effort, you could have cleared those two trials with basic spells, right?"
Voldemort looked back at the curious boy. "You want to know?"
"Of course."
"Because I wanted to see exactly how capable you are. And as it turns out, you are quite capable indeed." Voldemort pushed open the door to the next room. "Mhm. Kane, my intuition tells those three strangely-styled pieces on the opposite side of the chessboard are your handiwork."
Voldemort pointed hollowly at a Clockwork Knight, a Bishop, and a Rook.
"Professor, can I be the one to take those three down? You have no idea how long I spent scavenging junk around Hogwarts to find enough gears for them."
Kane spoke with a genuine sense of grievance. Voldemort had no idea how much he'd suffered to hand-craft those three big guys; the Dark Lord only cared about that damn Philosopher's Stone.
If Voldemort "A-clicked" his three treasures, all those years of scavenging would be a total loss.
"Mhm. If you hadn't asked that previous question, I would have been happy to delegate the task. But unfortunately, you did ask, so I feel the need to demonstrate the power I have been teaching you."
With that, he raised his wand sharply and shouted in a heavy, nasal tone: "Avada Kedavra!"
A bolt of erald lightning linked all the pieces on the opposite side. The standard pieces and Kane's painstakingly hand-crafted clockwork sentries alike were instantly reduced to piles of dead matter.
"Professor, why does Hogwarts alert to fire but not the Killing Curse? Is that even logical?"
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