The Blue Whale Patronus played with Hermione for a long while, dancing through the air with grace and childlike joy, until Dumbledore gently reminded them that it was nearly lunchtime. Only then did Hermione reluctantly watch the magical creature dissolve back into Kai Adler's wand with a faint shimmer.
"I must learn that spell!"
The little girl clenched her small fists in determination, her eyes sparkling with resolve.
Kai smiled warmly. "You definitely can."
"Of course I can!"
Hermione beamed up at him, her cheeks pink with delight.
It felt, in that moment, as if soft pink bubbles floated around them—so light and warm that even the lonely old man beside them found the atmosphere slightly stifling.
Ahem.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, gently pulling the conversation back. "Since young Kai has already mastered the Expecto Patronum charm, it seems I've nothing more to teach you at the moment, have I?"
"Really?"
Kai blinked, surprised. "My old teacher back in Nurmengard took two full years just to help me with it."
Did Dumbledore truly have nothing else?
The headmaster chuckled, stroking his long silver beard. "You've already learned all existing standard spells, Kai. Gellert and I both agree—there's nothing more in the textbooks that we could possibly teach you."
Hermione's eyes were wide with admiration. "Kai, you're incredible!"
But Kai furrowed his brow, uneasy. Thousands of spells, yes—but was this truly all there was to the magical world?
Dumbledore noticed the boy's quiet dissatisfaction in a heartbeat. He had seen that look before.
"If the pursuit of magic is a path," Dumbledore said softly, "you have merely walked halfway down it."
Kai looked up. "And the other half?"
"You must carve that out yourself," the old wizard said. "Of course, you could continue walking in my footsteps—or Gellert's. But you'd merely become another Dumbledore, or another Grindelwald. Are you content with that?"
Kai smirked slightly, as if amused by the thought. "One of you is the greatest wizard in the world, and the other was the most feared Dark Lord. Doesn't sound too bad."
But he knew—he wasn't content with imitation. He hadn't come to this world to repeat someone else's legend.
"There must be some direction though," he said.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "I won't let you wander like a headless Niffler."
He paused. "Try studying Transfiguration more deeply."
"Transfiguration?"
Kai remembered now—Dumbledore had mentioned before that Transfiguration was a branch of magic with an exceptionally low floor but a breathtaking ceiling.
He had studied it extensively. He could now shape any object's appearance however he wished. But Dumbledore was hinting at something deeper.
"Basic Transfiguration alters what things look like," the professor explained. "Now try changing what they are."
Kai fell into quiet thought.
"Don't rush," Dumbledore added gently. "You're only eleven. Enjoy your time at school. The road ahead is long."
"I understand, Professor."
With a glance at Hermione, Kai took her hand and began walking toward the Great Hall. Hermione was quiet, still thinking about what she'd just heard.
So Kai had reached that level already…
But instead of discouragement, she felt a spark of determination ignite within her. She pursed her lips, her mind set. If she wanted to walk beside him, she would have to work even harder.
As they walked, Kai suddenly stopped. His eyes turned to the end of the corridor.
Hermione followed his gaze but saw nothing—just the quiet stretch of hallway ahead.
"Kai?"
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing…"
But Hermione saw him touch his forehead. When he lowered his hand, his fingertips were damp.
She narrowed her eyes.
Nothing, huh? She puffed her cheeks. This guy was being mysterious again.
Still… something about this place felt familiar.
Wait. The fifth-floor staircase corner…
"Oh right!" she suddenly exclaimed. "I saw Professor Lockhart here last time. He looked really flustered—I don't know what he was doing."
"Lockhart?" Kai asked.
"Yes," Hermione nodded. "That day you ran off—I thought you were on the eighth floor, so I came looking, but I met him here instead. I remember wondering—his classroom isn't even near this area."
Kai's expression turned sharp. He began walking toward the end of the corridor.
"Hey—where are you going?"
"I have a feeling there's something here."
He touched his forehead again, his eyes scanning the corridor floor. Only a few steps in, Hermione also noticed something.
There was water. A thin sheet covered the corridor floor, seeping steadily from under a nearby door.
A faint, distant crying echoed from behind it.
The two exchanged glances and carefully stepped through the shallow water. Kai stopped in front of the door, noting the old sign nailed to it.
"Out of Order – Do Not Enter"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh! This is the haunted girls' lavatory!"
"Haunted?"
"Moaning Myrtle lives here," Hermione explained. "She's a ghost—very moody. No one comes here because she always throws a fit."
Kai raised an eyebrow and pushed open the door. Hermione followed him in.
The crying grew clearer. The lavatory was old and in complete disrepair—dust and mildew lined the mirrors, and cracked tiles littered the floor. Water gushed from half a dozen taps, flooding the room.
Kai raised his hand. With a simple motion, all the taps shut at once. The crying cut off abruptly.
A shrill voice echoed from a far stall.
"Who's there?"
"We're Hogwarts students," Kai said calmly. "We didn't mean to intrude. We just came to see what was wrong."
"Intrude?!" the ghost's voice shrieked.
A translucent figure floated straight through the stall door and hovered in front of them. Her long black hair hung over thick glasses, and she wore old Ravenclaw robes.
"It's not an intrusion if he throws something at me," she added with a dramatic sigh, gazing at Kai.
Hermione stiffened and stepped directly in front of him, blocking Myrtle's view.
Kai chuckled inwardly and patted her shoulder reassuringly.
"You said someone threw something at you?" he asked. "Did you see who?"
"I don't know," Myrtle moaned bitterly. "I was sitting in my favorite stall, thinking about how unfair death is, when something flew right through my head!"
Her voice grew higher and more hysterical. "They're always throwing things at me! Always mocking me! Always—"
Kai interrupted softly. "Where is it now?"
"In there," she pointed mournfully. "In the cubicle."
Kai walked to the stall and slowly opened the door.
Lying in the shallow pool of water was a battered, black notebook.
Silent. Still. Ominous.