When Lockhart finally ca to, the only thing he saw was the discarded Thoughtcap—now completely useless and spent—lying haphazardly on the floor.
The jellyfish pulsed rhythmically with its last remaining nerves, but the brain inside was devoid of its previous spiritual light; it was now nothing more than a lump of flesh.
anwhile, Kane was busy calibrating his new broomstick.
Compared to its previous iteration, the most striking change was a massive orange gem embedded behind the handlebars. At first glance, the gem looked suspiciously like the fuel tank of a motorcycle.
"Er, Kane... you spent an entire day working just for this?" Lockhart leaned in, casting a tentative glance. Only after confirming there was nothing "graphic" about the broom's new design did he let out a long sigh of relief.
"The core of my previous broom was a Walking Cane—an alchemical item that grants the user a 25% speed boost. I asked Dumbledore for twelve phoenix tail feathers to turn it into a broomstick."
"Twelve phoenix tail feathers plus a 25% speed boost? Kane, you're lucky to be alive! Didn't your parents object to this?" Lockhart patted his chest, looking genuinely frightened in retrospect.
Of course, there were things he left unsaid. You haven't crashed and died at those speeds? You truly are blessed by fate.
"Oh, I'm an orphan. I don't have parents."
Kane glanced at Lockhart after speaking, only to see the man's face turn ghost-white. His expression was that of a Muggle wizard who had tried to plug a cord into a socket while blindfolded—only to lift the blindfold and realize the "socket" was actually Voldemort's nostrils.
Kane didn't need to guess why Lockhart looked like that. He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not particularly sensitive about it. And I'm not a monster; I won't hunt you down just because you made an awkward comnt."
"Oh... oh, well, that's good. I an—I an your mindset is truly admirable!" Lockhart was so paralyzed by social terror that he lost his ability to speak properly, so he pivoted the conversation as fast as possible. "So, what about the upgrade?"
Kane raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I upgraded the core from a Walking Cane to The Lazy Explorer. It's incredibly powerful. Its primary function is teleportation—similar to Apparition.
The range isn't as far as a wizard's spell, but it's much safer and has no casting delay. The problem is that 'The Lazy Explorer' is a bit of a lackluster na. I want to give it sothing with more flair."
As he spoke, he pulled an oil-based marker from his pocket and drew a line across the tail of the broom. He paused, thinking about what to write above the line...
Pee Pee Shrimp! (Crawlfish)
There was no deep reason for the na; it just felt like it rolled off the tongue better when spoken alongside "Little Pumpkin."
Lockhart poked his head over to look at the strange na... Fine. It's understandable. Are there any truly talented young wizards these days who aren't a little bit mad?
Accepting this reality, Lockhart retreated to his bed and began recording the day's events in his notebook.
When he reached the "cliffhanger" for the next day's entry, he wanted to ask Kane for his input, but he found the boy already lying in bed, breathing evenly in a deep sleep.
"Mhm..." Lockhart pursed his lips. Snap.
The lights went out.
The next day...
Harry's letter arrived quickly. Due to certain "uncontrollable factors," Harry had taken not only Hedwig ho, but also the firefly-phoenix.
As for Kane, he felt that roaming the world with Little Pumpkin and Pee Pee Shrimp was more than enough.
Harry's letter was delivered by both Hedwig and Pheonix. Using the delivery as an excuse to let the birds stretch their wings suggested that Harry was being quite thoughtful.
It also suggested that the Dursleys' control over Harry had loosened slightly. Based on Kane's understanding, he had assud the Dursleys wouldn't allow Harry to write to his friends at all during the holidays.
Harry's letter could be described as "written in blood and tears."
Summarized, it read: Hello friend, long ti no see. I am currently at the Dursleys', being Dudley's live-action punching bag, listening to Uncle Vernon—the great educator—give 'frustration training' every day, while Aunt Petunia finds new ways to make feel like I'm being forged into steel by this household.
Don't you just envy this wonderful life of 'suffering one's mind and exhausting one's body' before being whipped and driven away?
"...What an enviable life indeed." Kane looked at the letter helplessly. After a mont of thought, he went to the hotel front desk to borrow a Polaroid cara.
Stepping onto the balcony, he used the English pastoral charm of the small town as a backdrop to snap a postcard for Harry.
Your brother is suffering out here as well, you know. Now go play; I'll co get you in a month.
He didn't write those words out, of course. He simply handed the photo to Hu Jin, letting him carry it in his beak, with strict instructions to deliver it directly into Harry's hands.
If anyone tries to stop you, just start pecking. No need for pleasantries!
"What kind of attitude is that? Is staying here with that unbearable?" Lockhart asked, sowhat offended.
"Just read the letter." Kane tossed Harry's letter across to the coffee table.
Lockhart picked it up, expecting so vital or mysterious code. By the third reading, he finally realized it was nothing but pure, unadulterated sarcastic prose.
"Good heavens! The Savior of the Wizarding World lives like this?" Lockhart looked at Kane in disbelief. "Until now, everyone from the Minister of Magic down to the Dark Wizards in Knockturn Alley thought Dumbledore was looking after him perfectly."
"Well, Dumbledore is a man who lived through the Victorian era. As long as Harry isn't being sent up chimneys to clean flues and is growing up at a normal rate, Dumbledore probably considers that a happy ho." Kane glanced at the calendar. One month until Harry's "rescue."
Hang in there, Harry. Your best friend is coming!
Just as Kane was about to lie down and be a "corpse" for a while in the hotel room, Lockhart stood up. Kane's intuition told him the man was about to do sothing dramatic.
"What are you doing?" Kane asked, eyeing Lockhart as he suddenly dressed himself in full gear.
"Why, it's ti for the great story of the magnificent adventurer Lockhart saving the poor Savior, Harry Potter, and defeating the Dark Lord Dumbledore along the way! Writing only about the holiday adventures of Lockhart and Young Kane lacks a certain... explosive conflict.
It's ti to add a main plot to our book. Besides, Dumbledore's public reputation hasn't been great lately; writing this might actually drive a huge wave of engagent."
Watching Lockhart get more and more worked up, Kane felt a deep sense of dread. Lockhart was the type of writer who would throw away an entire outline for a sudden "stroke of genius."
The chance of it being a bestseller was low, but the chance of it being so toxic it invited a divine iron fist from the heavens was about 98%.
"What do you think, Kane? Isn't the story grand? Of course, we don't actually have to defeat Dumbledore—novels are fiction, you know. So..." Lockhart rubbed his hands together like a fly, looking at Kane.
After all, his wand was currently in Kane's possession. And even if he had it, his combat ability was... what it was.
So, after much thought, he realized that bringing Kane—his second protagonist—along was absolutely essential.
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