Kane raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I tell you? I couldn't stand the Dursleys' psychological abuse anymore."
There was a second half to that sentence he left unsaid: it was a mercy he'd left early. If Maxwell had removed that "lock" from him while he was still at Privet Drive, his Sanity would have been ground to zero by the Dursleys' harassment within a day.
Then, Shadow Creatures would have started dropping in to assassinate him like dumplings into boiling water.
"That's it?" Harry looked at him suspiciously.
Kane nodded firmly. "Didn't you ever eavesdrop when Mr. Dursley watched Animal Planet? Even antelopes know when to migrate. If I'd stayed in that house, I actually might have died."
Ron, listening to this "encrypted" conversation between the two, was completely lost. But he didn't have to wonder for long.
Hagrid checked the time—calculating that with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tag-teaming the twins, they'd likely finished the discipline session by now. It was time to head into Diagon Alley.
Kane set down his lemonade and followed Hagrid. Harry and Ron quickly gulped down their own drinks, then simultaneously glanced at Kane's half-finished glass.
Ah, caught. Well, let's keep it classy this time.
The four of them headed to the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. However, when they stepped out, Hagrid realized he'd miscalculated—the Weasleys' "parental educational endeavor" wasn't quite over yet.
Looking a bit embarrassed, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley quickly put their shoes back on. With awkward smiles, they ushered the newcomers, Kane and Harry, to the front so they could see the specific brick in the wall. Hagrid tapped it gently with his wand.
The bricks began to quiver and shift, retracting like a receding tide to reveal the street beyond.
The Weasleys took Percy and the twins to buy their senior-year supplies, while Hagrid led the trio of first-years toward Gringotts.
Before entering the bank, Hagrid fished a key from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "This was left to you by your parents. Opening a vault... well, it's a rare sort of rite of passage. Thought you ought to be the one to do it."
"Left by my parents?" Harry held the key, looking a bit dazed.
"Aye. They were good people. And most importantly, they loved you very much."
Hagrid led them inside. The goblins didn't recognize Kane or Harry; Ron's red hair was a giveaway, but being a Weasley didn't exactly earn him a standing ovation. Eventually, Hagrid's presence caught the attention of a goblin, who came scurrying over with a fawning air.
After all, who in England didn't know Hagrid was the right-hand man of the Great Albus Dumbledore?
Hagrid looked at Harry apologetically. "Dumbledore—that's the Headmaster—gave me some business to attend to first..."
"Business first," Harry said considerately.
"Wonderful. I mean, thanks."
The four of them, plus a goblin, piled into a clever little cart. Despite the tracks twisting and turning like a frantic dance, the passengers remained perfectly stable. They stopped briefly at Vault 713, where Hagrid retrieved a small, mysterious package, before hurtling off to Harry's Vault 687.
"The rite of passage, Harry. Insert the key yourself," Hagrid said.
Harry nodded, rubbed the key between his fingers, and turned it in the lock. As the heavy doors rumbled open, they were met by the sound of Ron's brain short-circuiting.
"Blimey! Is it normal for a vault to have this much gold?" Ron stared in shock at the mountain of Gold Galleons. "Your vault and my vault... they aren't exactly the same, are they?"
"Since Harry's mum and dad couldn't give him a lot of love growing up, I guess they had to leave him a lot of money instead," Kane mused, stepping into the vault.
Looking at all that gold, Kane realized he could grab two handfuls and have enough to build a Science Machine right now. But if he did that, wouldn't he be a beggar? Compared to being teased by Harry later... Tsk. He had to say no to the golden temptation.
Besides, who said he couldn't earn his own gold? He didn't have a plan yet, but he had a goal! Accepting Harry's charity or having Galleons forced upon him? Impossible!
...However, as the vault doors swung shut, Kane realized with a touch of embarrassment that Harry hadn't even thought about offering him any.
I agonized over that for nothing.
The next stop: Ollivanders.
"What kind of wand do you guys want?" Ron asked.
"I brought my own materials. I'm planning to get a custom one," Kane said, pulling out the shivering Living Log.
"Merlin's beard, mate! What is that thing?" Ron's eyes were instantly glued to the twisted, trembling face on the wood.
"I used my shadows—my innate magic—to cultivate a normal sapling. This is the result," Kane explained.
"Bloody hell, Kane! You're brilliant! With a skill like that, you could make a fortune in Galleons!" Ron exclaimed.
Kane shook his head helplessly. "Earning money with this isn't really possible. I'm using Living Logs and Nightmare Fuel to make a wand mainly to suit my specific... 'Constant' constitution. In the real world, compared to other magical materials, the boost probably isn't that game-breaking."
Plus, god only knew if his creations might act as a beacon for Charlie to invade this world. If that happened, Sister Charlie might accidentally wipe out half the planet in one night.
Suddenly, Mr. Ollivander drifted out from behind the shelves, looking at the three boys with a pale, misty gaze. Kane, wanting a custom job, naturally stepped back to go last, yielding the first spot to Harry.
After trying nearly a dozen wands, Harry was finally chosen by a holly and phoenix feather wand.
Next was Kane.
"Wait, isn't it Ron's turn?" Kane asked, surprised.
"My family's a bit short on cash lately," Ron said sheepishly. "So I'm using my brother's old wand."
Kane pursed his lips. "Well, since Ollivander is right here, it shouldn't cost anything for him to give it a tune-up, right?"
"Of course not." Ollivander gently took Ron's battered wand, sighing as he examined the scuffs. "Your brother Charlie did not treat this with the respect it deserves."
He looked like a father seeing his battered daughter return home, sadly tending to the "wounds" before handing her over to the brother, praying the boy would be more humane.
Finally, it was Kane's turn.
"Mr. Ollivander, I have a request. I want a custom-made wand, and I've brought my own materials."
Ollivander smiled. He was a craftsman—a temperamental one. No amount of money could make him break his principles.
Then, Kane pulled out the snarling, face-distorted Living Log and a jar of Nightmare Fuel mixed with his own shadows.
Ollivander: "...But on the other hand, principles are meant to be tested, aren't they?"