"A brain?" Lockhart swallowed hard, asking with a voice full of disbelief.
Kane nodded firmly.
"Is it so kind of strange code? Like, calling a specific type of stone a 'brain'?"
Kane shook his head.
"Hiss... can an animal's brain work?"
"Unlikely. I find humans to be far more... spiritual."
The mont the words left Kane's mouth, Lockhart whipped out his wand. Though his repertoire of offensive spells was mostly forgotten, as the saying goes: his mory Charms were never blunt.
But in less than a second, a slender shadow claw flicked out, gently snagging his wand and yanking it away.
"Don't be so rude. What if your hand slips and you actually hit sothing? I never said I was using your brain."
Kane stuffed the jellyfish and Lockhart's wand into Little Pumpkin's belly.
"Jellyfish is secure. Let's go; we have a brain to find."
He hopped back onto his broom and patted the seat behind him.
"Oh, er, I'm terribly sorry about that. But, Kane, could you please return my wand?" Lockhart sat back on the broom, sounding rather pathetic.
"Regrettably, no." Kane checked behind him, making sure Little Pumpkin was wedged securely into the broom's fra, then gunned it. With a loud pop, the two of them shot into the sky.
Below them, the poor wooden raft splintered and sank into the depths.
Evening...
Two uninvited guests arrived in an obscure English town.
"Two singles, or one double room."
Lockhart skillfully found the most decent hotel in the small town. Leaning against the counter, he chard the young girl behind the desk, retrieving the keys amidst shared laughter and light banter.
"Have a lovely day, dear." Lockhart turned to lead Kane to their room, then paused. He patted Kane on the shoulder and added to the girl, "This is a family friend's child—don't misunderstand. Anyway, if you need anything at all, feel free to find ."
"Of course, darling."
The girl blushed. Kane, witness to the entire exchange, waited until they were safely in the room before uttering the word he'd been holding back:
"Beast."
"No, no, Kane. That's not being a beast; that's a necessary attitude toward life. Besides, you're in no position to judge . I'm quite curious—how many little girlfriends did you manage in your first year?"
"Actually, Lockhart, not a single one."
The mont Kane said it, Lockhart's expression turned solemn. He shifted from lounging on the bed to sitting up straight.
"Boyfriends?"
"None of those either." The shadow behind Kane twisted, and a can of coffee—which he'd used a frog to pilfer from a passerby—flew through the air toward Lockhart.
"Oh, heavens." Lockhart caught the coffee. "Kane, you're quite a handso lad. Why? Even with that... unconventional horned hat, you shouldn't be struggling."
"Perhaps because I don't want to beco a useless... failure who can do nothing but pick up girls and write articles." Kane shrugged helplessly.
"If Dumbledore heard you talking to like that, he wouldn't be happy," Lockhart mumbled, looking wounded by Kane's bluntness.
"You're overthinking that, too. Generally speaking, you've overestimated Dumbledore's integrity. The mont you signed that magical contract, he sold you out.
He told you were a talentless fraud and that this trip is primarily for my benefit. My being with you is just to satisfy the contract's terms."
"Dumbledore really said that?" Lockhart asked.
"Why don't you write him a letter and ask?" Kane stood by the window, scanning the town. He quickly located a supermarket and began planning a trip to buy supplies—and to ask where the local cetery was.
"I didn't realize my reputation had crumbled quite so thoroughly." Seeing Kane prepare to leave, Lockhart put on his coat, shedding his brief mont of moping.
It made sense, really. The Wizarding World wasn't short on smart people, and almost everyone was a Hogwarts graduate.
They knew how Lockhart had perford in school; how could he have suddenly beco a world-renowned adventurer? The old Pure-blood families, the powerful half-bloods, the elite Hogwarts professors—they all knew.
Dumbledore knew too. Their deal was an open secret: Dumbledore allowed Lockhart the prestige of the Hogwarts post to help sell books, and in return, Lockhart occupied the "cursed" chair.
He would teach, the students would study (or self-study), and his celebrity status would keep the angry "Howlers" from parents away from Dumbledore's desk.
If you were high enough in the hierarchy, you knew he was a fraud. But so what? Why should he care if Kane spoke the truth? If Lockhart were that thin-skinned, he'd have drowned himself in pudding years ago.
Kane finished tying his laces and looked at the fully-dressed Lockhart. "Hiss... what now?"
"Collecting material for the new book!" Lockhart shook his notebook. "Since this is the story of Lockhart and You, I need to know the why behind your actions."
Since Lockhart wanted to know, Kane told him straight: "Because while we were flying this afternoon, I saw a death-row inmate being executed on the back hill.
If I'm not mistaken, he should be in a coffin by now. I'm hoping the bullet didn't do too much damage to the brain—I'd like to get it while it's still fresh."
Lockhart: "..."
"...That definitely cannot go in the book."
The two headed to the supermarket. On the way, Kane noticed Lockhart constantly looking back at him, pen and paper in hand. He actually looked like a scholar in a bizarre sort of way.
Every ti Kane made an expression, looked weirdly at sothing, or even stomped his foot, Lockhart's hand would tremble as he scribbled frantically. This high-intensity recording continued all the way to the checkout counter.
"I have to say, Lockhart, if you put this much energy into anything else, you'd be successful at whatever you did." Kane placed two coffees, two waters, and two large loaves of bread on the counter. He also grabbed a map of England.
It was necessary. Since this town had a graveyard, he needed to mark it down. If he ran out of supplies later, he could co back for a "snack."
"Hello, could you please circle this town's location for ?" Kane asked in a voice so sugary-sweet the cashier girl happily obliged.
As Kane reached for his money, Lockhart stepped in with a "protagonist" flourish, grandly pulling out his wallet to pay for everything.
Well, look at that. The fraud actually looks halfway decent now.
Outside the supermarket, Kane raised an eyebrow at him. "Mhm. You might not be a reliable professor, but as an adult, you're passably competent."
"Thank you, Kane. It took this long to finally hear a complint from you." Lockhart yawned. "You know, I'm starting to regret that it was you. Having you as a second protagonist adds a lot of plot, but it doesn't make very happy."
"Oh? Making Galleons doesn't make you happy?" Kane asked, surprised.
"I write to receive praise. From the start until now, the only praise you've given is that I'm 'passably competent' as an adult." Lockhart gave a wry smile. He turned to head back to the hotel, only to find Kane heading toward the back hill.
The sun had completely set. Kane crouched halfway up the hill by a campfire. He had sent Lockhart back to the hotel to watch the luggage.
Late at night, the firelight was too bright, so Kane used shadows to shroud it. He watched the nearby graveyard with an unhealthy level of focus.
The man must have died in disgrace; no one had co to mourn him during the day, and only a few stragglers appeared at dusk.
Once the last person left, Kane couldn't hold back his shovel any longer. He hopped on his broom, dived down, and entered "tomb raider" mode.
Kane worked with surprising diligence. After quickly unearthing the coffin, he took a deep breath. This wasn't like tapping a headstone with a shovel; this was a Necromancer's unboxing. It was a bit... graphic.
Whatever. Let's do it!
Back in the hotel, Lockhart was proofreading when he heard a knock. He called out and went to the door. As he opened it, his gaze inevitably drifted downward.
"RUE!!!"
Poor Lockhart. He couldn't help but gag.
Kane, however, didn't care for such delicacies. He sat next to Little Pumpkin, pulled out his ingredients, and hand-crafted the Thoughtcap in a few swift motions.
In essence, it was the body of a jellyfish with a dead man's brain stuffed inside, secured to the head with rope.
It was so abstract that when Lockhart finally stumbled out of the bathroom—having finished vomiting—he took one look at Kane wearing the Thoughtcap, his eyes rolled back, he twitched once, and fainted dead away.
"Heh. Pathetically weak, Lockhart." Kane sneered, rubbing his own throbbing temples.
Regardless, after a long day's work, he could finally upgrade his precious broom into its final form!
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