"Ah, typical you. To be honest, that's exactly what I was thinking," Lockhart agreed smoothly, sliding right into the role of the "heroic savior" he had imagined.
Kane nodded. "Thanks." He imdiately turned and headed toward the next marsh pool, calling over his shoulder, "Mind gathering the loot for ? Thanks. I need it."
And so, ti was squandered in a very specific rhythm: Kane went ahead, transforming the terrain, summoning tentacles, and slaughtering them with clinical efficiency, while Lockhart trailed behind, picking, gathering, and lugging.
By evening, Lockhart was warily studying a few slabs of Monster at propped over the campfire.
Kane, anwhile, stared at the small mountain of Tentacle Spots and a few scattered Tentacle Spikes.
He genuinely felt these could be crafted into a top-tier raincoat. It was a pity he didn't have a Prestihatitator or an Alchemy Engine here; he couldn't even make a basic Science Machine.
Actually, it wasn't all bad news. Items produced by those chanical workstations always carried a certain crude, blocky aesthetic unique to the Constant.
The things Kane "hand-rubbed" into existence were different—the sleek, stylish look of Pee Pee Shrimp was proof enough of his craftsmanship. Thus, he decided to sew this raincoat himself.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kane tossed a few more logs into the fire.
Lockhart, sitting opposite him, looked deeply conflicted. He wondered if he should remind Kane that, at this hour, civilized people usually went ho to wash up and go to sleep—not play "sewing gas" in a swamp.
Indeed, Kane had used Transfiguration to create a needle and twisted so reeds into cord. He sat on a rock like a veteran tailor of ten years, stitching together purple tentacle skins.
The scene was undeniably bizarre. In Lockhart's objective view, Kane's handiwork was... well, confusing.
The stitching was incredibly fine and even—if you only looked at a small section, you'd swear it was done by a professional Sewing Charm. But when you looked at the overall shape, it made your head ache.
If he hadn't asked Kane what he was making, Lockhart would have bet his life it was a lumpy sack.
In reality, it was the hood.
Honestly, if Lockhart weren't afraid of Kane actually murdering him, he would have laughed out loud.
Here they were in the middle of nowhere, likely the only two humans within a hundred kiloters—the kind of place where one could "delete" a person and never be found.
Just as Lockhart thought Kane would be lost in his "art" forever, Kane suddenly stopped. He realized that, in a certain sense, his sewing skills were a bit... lacking.
Frustrated, he tossed the "sack"—no, the hood—into the campfire.
He patted the ground, and Little Pumpkin ca thumping over to serve as a pillow. Forget it. Find a professional. I'll hit Diagon Alley tomorrow and bother a real tailor.
As for the cost... well, that's what Lockhart was for.
The next morning...
Kane rose early, stripped the area of every useful resource he could find, and wedged a stuffed Little Pumpkin onto the back of Pee Pee Shrimp. Then, he poked the soundly sleeping Lockhart.
"Wake up. We're returning to human civilization. Back to Diagon Alley."
The words acted like an electric shock. Lockhart bolted upright. Spending a night feeding mosquitoes in the wild was far too "abstract" for his taste.
Curiously, the mosquitoes had only bitten him. Kane, lying just a campfire's width away, didn't have a single bite. He was like a human incense coil; mosquitoes wouldn't even fly within eight hundred ters of him.
Now that Kane was saying they could embrace regulated magic and actual mosquito coils again, how could he not be excited? (Though he'd prefer a mode of transport other than a broomstick.)
But now wasn't the ti to be picky. If he annoyed Kane, the boy might leave him here in a fit of pique.
"Are you getting on or what?" Kane was already perched on Pee Pee Shrimp, watching the dazed Lockhart.
"Coming, coming!" Lockhart scrambled onto the back. "Ready."
"Mhm." Kane twisted the handles. Vroom—!
Diagon Alley.
Kane brought the broom down for a steady landing. Most wizards didn't even blink; arriving via broomstick was common enough. A few curious gazes lingered only because they recognized Kane from the Daily Prophet.
As for the adult wizard riding pillion with his face muffled...
According to Lockhart, he was a public figure. Being seen hopping off the back of a student's broom would lead to "unnecessary misunderstandings."
"Alright, Kane. Too many people recognize here. A public appearance would cause a riot," Lockhart whispered into Kane's ear.
"So?" Kane raised an eyebrow.
"So, could you return my wand? I'll go ho and wait for you there. Take this key; co find when you're done, and we'll continue our 'unfinished adventures'?"
Lockhart handed over an ancient-looking key with a small brass tag: 165 Diagon Alley.
"Fine. I see you value your 'feathers' quite a bit," Kane said, reaching into Little Pumpkin's mouth to retrieve Lockhart's wand.
"Here." As he handed it back, Kane rembered sothing. "By the way, I'm likely going to Madam Malkin's for a custom order. You know, custom work costs money."
"No problem." Lockhart pulled a purple magic card from his pocket.
"This is my VIP card for Madam Malkin's. Just give it to her. It has a balance of at least two hundred Galleons. Use it as you like; if you go over, I'll just settle the difference later."
"Ah, how generous, Lockhart. I'm starting to look at you in a new light," Kane said, tucking the card away.
"Honestly, too. I knew from the first mont I saw you, Kane—you have talent." With that, Lockhart adjusted his face covering and hurried off toward his ho.
Kane stuffed the house key into Little Pumpkin and walked into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, twirling the VIP card.
The mont he stepped inside, the first thing he heard wasn't a "Welco," but a voice both familiar and kind.
"Oh! I recognize you, dear! You're Kane, Ron's good friend!"
The speaker was a plump, kind-faced woman with flaming red hair.
"I am... I'm Ron's friend. And you must be... Mrs. Weasley?" Kane asked, surprised. In a way, this was the classic "eting an old friend in a foreign land."
Mrs. Weasley patted Kane affectionately on the shoulder, looking curiously at his horned hat. Then, realizing herself, she patted the cute little red-haired witch standing beside her.
"Ginny, this is your brother's friend, Kane. You've seen him in the papers. Say hello."
Ginny looked at Kane with an expression that was a mix of curiosity and a tiny bit of "weirded-out" fear, but she politely said hello.
The two adults—Molly and Madam Malkin—hit it off imdiately, chatting like mothers at a farr's market.
Ginny stood there in the "pathetic child" role, watching her mother chatter away with a stranger. Madam Malkin, anwhile, stood there awkwardly; she had custors, but they were too busy talking to actually order anything.
Finally, the shopkeeper summoned a tray of tea and biscuits for Kane. She looked at Mrs. Weasley. "Molly? Weren't you here to get robes for Ginny?"
Mrs. Weasley blinked. "Oh! Right. Two sets now—one for Kane as well. Kane, dear, co get asured. My goodness, the sleeves on that robe you're wearing are much too short!"
She tutted at Kane's black sleeves, which barely reached his wrists. "You should have co ho with Ron. I could have made you a new set, though Madam Malkin's work is quite good too."
"Er..." Kane, unaccustod to such blunt, motherly concern, scratched his neck. "Thanks?"
"Don't be silly, dear. Now, let Madam Malkin take your asurents."
"Okay... er, actually, I'm here for a custom order. I brought my own materials."
"Of course," Madam Malkin said, jotting down Kane's asurents. She then turned to Ginny to ask about fabric, style, and accessories.
Kane watched from the side. He noticed Mrs. Weasley selecting the absolute lowest-tier options for everything. Ginny looked a bit disappointed, though her eyes were still bright. It was a heartbreakingly humble scene.
Well, Kane thought. Mrs. Weasley is a good person, and she's Ron's mom. I should help out a bit where I can.
And you, Classmate Lockhart, are also a 'good person.' It's ti for you to make a contribution.
Embracing the philosophy of being "generous with other people's money," Kane pulled out the purple VIP card.
"Today's tab for Mrs. Weasley... is on !"
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