A weary Professor McGonagall pushed open the door and saw Hagrid holding a child covered in blood.
She immediately summoned a guardian spirit to wake the Headmaster and then took the boy to the school hospital.
McGonagall sighed. Even all of Gringotts' gold wouldn't tempt her to give up her position as Vice-Headmistress, but it certainly brought far more sleepless nights than holidays ever could.
The next day, in the school hospital—
"Minerva! I've noticed something… something very strange," said Madam Pomfrey, the school matron.
"What's wrong?" McGonagall asked.
"That patient—he… well, he's recovered," Pomfrey said hesitantly.
"Of course—that's good news?"
"Ah, yes, it's usually very good news. Since this is a hospital, recovery is naturally wonderful. But… not usually at this pace."
"Please explain in more detail."
"After exactly eight hours of bed rest, most of his wounds—including the giant-spider bites—simply disappeared before my eyes," Pomfrey said.
"Well, I must say I'm surprised. You're getting better and better," McGonagall remarked.
"I didn't!" Pomfrey raised her voice. "I haven't done anything except clean the wounds and bandage them!"
"Then… perhaps he was under some kind of magic when he arrived? Or Hagrid did something? Actually, Hagrid—"
"I checked that possibility first! And I don't believe it's any magic I recognise," Pomfrey said cautiously.
"Bobby, go report to Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall ordered. "I will keep an eye on him, whoever he is."
After a night's rest, one point of health is restored per level; this is a basic rule in D&D. And now this rule applied to Kevin Goldsmith.
The first thing Kevin did upon waking was reach for his dimensional belt, where his spellbook and various casting materials ought to have been stored.
His belt was missing.
Kevin sat up and checked his pockets; they were empty. A cold sweat broke out. Without a spellbook, he couldn't memorise spells. Without memorised spells, he had nothing but four level-zero cantrips. He was back to being an ordinary person after spending half a day as the mage he had always dreamed of becoming.
Suddenly, the curtain was pulled aside.
"Who are you? Where am I? What did you do to my magical artefacts?" Kevin blurted in a completely ineffective attempt at intimidation before the curtain had even finished swinging open. Two unfamiliar figures entered—two elderly people in robes, clearly spellcasters of some sort.
The man was tall and thin, with silver hair and a beard so long it could have been tucked into his belt, a clear sign of advanced age (advanced age translating to +3 to Intelligence, Perception, and Charisma). He wore a long robe, a floor-length purple cloak, and buckled high-heeled boots. Behind crescent-shaped spectacles, a pair of bright, deep blue eyes shone. His nose was long and crooked, seemingly broken at least twice, and he carried a slender staff.
If it weren't for his disfigured nose, he'd look quite like Gandalf. Wait—why is his staff so thin? Kevin wondered.(For those unfamiliar with what a staff looks like in D&D, please refer to the eyebrow-length version.)
"If you're referring to your seamless satchel, young man, it's right beside the bed. And I suggest you be more polite," said the woman with her hair in a bun. She wore a black robe and a pointed hat and had a very serious expression.
At first glance, she seemed like the sort of person who might toss a baby into a cauldron with a wicked grin. But when she spoke, her formal yet kindly tone shattered Kevin's assumptions.
"Calm down, Minerva," the man in the greyish-white robe said gently. "He has clearly been through some sort of torment." The old man turned his pleased face toward Kevin. "Now, can you tell us who you are?"
The old man's words carried an extraordinary influence, causing Kevin to answer without realising it. "My name is Kevin Goldsmith, and I come from the City of Nowhere in the Kingdom of Emptiness."
"Then how did you end up at Hogwarts? You know, the Land of the Imaginary is quite far from Britain."
Kevin, looking bewildered, began to recount his role-playing experience. "My team and I were attacking the most malevolent demon lord—the Dark Wizard's tower. After fighting through those standard defences—skeletons, goblins—"
McGonagall paused briefly, wondering whether he had been struck by a Confusion Charm.
"That sort of thing, basically standard—then we faced the dark wizard himself. I was distracting him with taunts, interrupting his monologue, while our thieves sneaked in for a pincer attack, and the priest and I were about to cast our spells. But then the dark wizard used a teleportation spell on me, and I found myself somewhere completely different. A crazed treant whipping me, spiders everywhere… a girl with pigtails saved me, and in the end I ended up in the hands of giants."
McGonagall was now certain he had been badly affected by the Confusion Charm.
"Oh—right. A girl with pigtails asked me to tell Big Guy that Aragog's descendants are growing, and he should do something about it."
"So, young wizard," the old man said kindly, "could you tell me where you go to school, so that I may escort you home safely?"
"Oh, study at the Eighth School? Forget it," Kevin replied. "I finally got into university, but I've been taking online classes all year. What's the difference between that and correspondence courses? I don't want to go to school anymore."
"Not going to school?!" McGonagall gasped again, even more sharply than when she heard about the skeletons. "That's a crime!" She paused, her expression softening. "Your parents—you do have parents, don't you, Kevin?" she asked quietly.
Mentioning his parents suddenly made Kevin realise he might never see them again. A deep sorrow settled over his brow.
"Of course I have parents—it's just… it's just that they're not in this world anymore."(On Earth, though.)
Kevin's change in expression did not escape McGonagall's notice. "Oh, I'm so sorry," McGonagall said sincerely. She was saddened by how many orphans had entered Hogwarts, especially in the days following the war.
"Minerva, could you come here for a moment? I think we should speak with the other Heads of House," said Dumbledore. "We'll be back soon, Kevin. I'll have Bobby look after you for now." He added, "Also, it's best not to let Bobby see that. I don't think she'd like to see rats in the hospital."
As Dumbledore spoke, a black-and-white mouse, looking terrified, was scurrying back toward its third dwelling—the dimensional belt.
"All right. Thank you very much," Kevin replied, beginning to ponder why he had so naturally given such cobbled-together answers (most likely because the old man's Charisma was over 20). And hadn't he seen that white-bearded wizard's cartoon image somewhere before?