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Perhaps it was due to a setting Dumbledore had toggled previously, but the two stone gargoyles guarding the entrance seemed to recognize him. While professors needed a password to enter the Headmaster's office, Kane did not.
Knock, knock, knock...
Kane decided to be polite and knock first. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Dumbledore sitting behind his desk with a familiar, twinkling smile.
"Let me guess," Dumbledore said warmly. "A small snag with your magic?"
Kane raised an eyebrow. With a flick of his mind, he let his shadow-magic pulse outward like a sonar wave before drawing it back into his core.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I mastered it the very day you sent the letter."
"Truly exceptional," Dumbledore noted, though he didn't look disappointed at all. "Then, what brings you here?"
"What did you mean in the Great Hall?" Kane asked bluntly. "Nitwit, Oddment, Blubber, Tweak. Those four words—what's the secret?"
Dumbledore spread his hands innocently. "Every year, I say a few random words, and every year, a dozen young wizards provide me with incredibly complex philosophical explanations of their true meaning. In reality, I don't even know why people read so much into them. I just say them for fun."
Kane stared at Dumbledore, a flat expression on his face. He regretted coming. He could have been back in the dormitory having a pillow fight with Harry and Ron.
"A waste of my life," Kane murmured, turning to leave.
Dumbledore sat back, looking slightly helpless. "I just said them off the cuff! Did you really want me to invent some profound, ancient reason on the spot?"
On the way back to the dorms, a faint meow echoed behind him. Kane turned to see Argus Filch holding a lantern, his cat Mrs. Norris prowling at his heels.
"Hmm..." Filch squinted at the boy who clearly had a special relationship with the Headmaster. "It's past curfew. But since it's your first night, I'll let it slide. Don't let it happen again."
"Thank you, sir," Kane said, quickening his pace.
The Gryffindor intake this year wasn't huge. There were only six boys: Kane, Harry, and Ron in one room, and Neville, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas in the other. When Kane entered, Harry and Ron had finished their "war." The pillows were now limp, defeated piles of feathers.
To his surprise, they were now huddled over a small cauldron, boiling a batch of pasta.
"Whoa, that smells incredible. Is there a portion for me?" Kane hurried over.
"Of course," Ron said, stirring the pot. "But you two have to go get your own forks."
When Kane and Harry returned with utensils, they found Ron alone, clutching the cauldron and slurping down the noodles with terrifying speed.
"???" Kane and Harry stared in shock. "So...?"
"Mmm, all gone," Ron said, finishing the last strand.
Kane let out a helpless laugh, pointing a finger at Ron. "You little...!"
The next second, shadows snaked out and pinned Ron's limbs to his bed, forcing him to stop his "attack" on the remains of the meal.
Once the second farce of the night ended, the three settled down. Harry and Ron exchanged a look before Harry cleared his throat. "So, Kane, you went to ask Dumbledore something. What was it?"
"The meaning of those four words. Nitwit, blubber, whatever."
"What did they mean?" Harry asked, leaning in.
"Tell us! I bet it's some high-level incantation!" Ron's eyes sparkled.
"He said he didn't think about it at all," Kane said casually. "They're just four useless words. He laughs because every year students try to find deep meaning in his nonsense."
Silence. Harry and Ron both looked unconvinced. That reason didn't fit the legend of Albus Dumbledore at all.
"Yeah... I don't believe it," Harry said, shaking his head.
"Maybe he didn't tell you the truth? Maybe it's a protective charm that stops working if you explain it?" Ron added, his imagination running wild.
"Think what you like. Maybe you two can go ask him tomorrow?" Kane suggested as he climbed into bed. Then he remembered—other students needed a password to get in. Well, they probably won't actually go.
"We will!" Harry and Ron said in unison.
"Good luck then." Kane scratched his head. Maybe Dumbledore would be kind enough to let them in.
Before sleeping, Kane pulled out his "night light." Over the past few weeks, he had upgraded his campfire. It was no longer a pit for roasting birds, but a small, controlled light source that sat on his bedside table. He'd made it using some cobblestones he and Harry had "borrowed" from the streets of Diagon Alley.
Ron stared at the glowing bedside table. "Uh... Kane? Your table looks like it's having a fever."
Before Kane could explain, Harry jumped in. "It's his night light. Our Mr. Heath here is afraid of the dark."
Kane's face flushed. This was a rule of the Constant! It wasn't "fear," it was survival!
"It's okay, Kane," Ron said kindly. "If you're really scared, we don't have to turn all the lights off. We'll just use the bed curtains."
Ron was being much more understanding than Harry, who had initially assumed Kane was just some homeless kid when they first met. Wait, I hope Dumbledore doesn't tell them I was living in the castle all summer... no, he's too reliable for that.
Kane drifted off into a happy sleep. He had a new goal for tomorrow's Charms class: ask the teacher how to make his magic act like a frog's tongue. If he could loot enemies while fighting them, life would be perfect.
The next morning, Kane felt his Sanity dip slightly. He really didn't want to wear the flower garland—it was a bit "experimental" for a guy's look. But he also didn't want to be chased by Shadow Creatures through the hallways.
"Can't you just take that thing off your head?" Harry asked as they walked to breakfast. "Everyone in the Hall is staring."
"Maybe I'll braid one for you two as well. Then we can match," Kane said over his porridge.
"Uh, I think I'll pass." "Me too."
"Actually... I wouldn't mind wearing one with you?" Neville, sitting next to Harry, whispered shyly.
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