Hogwarts' Golden Glory

The dormitory was quiet; everyone else had gone to the auditorium for the end-of-term banquet. Kane pulled out a metal box from under his bed; several new items had been added inside.

The map given by Ferenze was laid out, clearly marking every stream and grove of trees in the Lake Morag region, along with the centaurs' distinctive celestial markings and warnings. The bottle of "Starlight Resonance Potion" shimmered with a galaxy-like luster in the dim light.

Finally, there was that anonymous letter—now reduced to ashes, leaving the name "Alastor Moody" in the developing ink.

Mad-Eye Man.

Kane stared at the name for a few seconds, a faint smile playing on his lips. Retired Auror, Dark Wizard Hunter. It seemed his activities this semester had indeed reached some people's ears.

Yeah.

He reorganized the contents of the box. The notes on improving the wolfsbane potion were placed on top—this was no longer just about improving a potion; he was attempting to reconstruct the entire transformation process. If successful, the werewolf would no longer be a curse under the moonlight, but would become… a controllable force.

But before that, you have to survive.

Kane retrieved several items from the bottom of the chest: a mithril-laced alchemical rope, a stone tablet engraved with protective and calming runes, and a small bag of specially made smoke bombs—mixed with silver powder and tranquilizers. Spells alone weren't enough to deal with werewolves.

He deftly inspected everything, quickly reviewing the plan in his mind: first, find the werewolf tribe and use the improved potion as a stepping stone. If any Death Eater remnants were causing trouble there—which was quite possible according to Moody's letter—then he would eliminate them as well.

No, it wasn't done casually. It was done intentionally.

Voldemort would return sooner or later, he knew. Rather than waiting to face an army of werewolves bewitched by the Dark Lord, it was better to sever that connection now and take the power into his own hands.

At the very bottom of the box was a letter bearing an Austrian postmark.

The handwriting was elegant, but the content was direct: [The werewolf's problem is essentially a tearing apart of soul and body. Try looking for answers in Norse runes, especially variants related to "binding" and "transformation." Also, beware of Mad-Eye; he sees everyone as a Death Eater.]

Kane burned the letter. Some information is enough to keep in your head.

When he was almost ready, he remembered how he had met Hermione earlier that day—she was standing in front of him, rapidly recommending "The Core of Magical Theory," but her eyes were somewhat unfocused, and her fingers were unconsciously curling the hem of her robe.

This isn't right.

Hermione Granger is usually very focused and speaks with the clarity of an academic paper. But today she seemed… nervous? Even a little anxious. Especially when she mentioned Luna's invitation.

Kane wasn't stupid. He'd seen too many people to tell the difference between a purely academic discussion and something else entirely. Hermione's hesitant, forced attempt to find a topic of conversation was unlike her usual self.

He thought for a moment, then pulled out a notebook about ancient protective magic from the box—something Hermione might be interested in. The handwriting was neat, and it included several rune structure diagrams he had drawn himself.

Let's just consider it... a thank you for her book recommendation. Although he felt there was something else hidden in her suggestion at the time.

After putting away his notes and equipment, Kane leaned against the bed and watched the shimmering Black Lake reflected on the ceiling.

Moody asked in the letter, "Do you need guidance?"

Kane smirked. He didn't need a mentor. But he didn't mind having another observer—to see how this legendary Auror would react to a second-year student who was about to turn the werewolf tribe into his sphere of influence.

The Molag Lake District will be very lively this summer.

What he had to do was make sure that he was the one standing in the end, and that those who were kneeling—whether werewolves or death eaters—knew who they should pledge allegiance to.

Cheers erupted from outside the Great Hall; the results of the House Cup had been announced. Slytherin had won again.

Kane closed the iron box and pushed it back under the bed. Glory, grades, the Academy Cup... those are things for kids.

What he seeks lies in the darker places. Amidst the howls of werewolves, in the shadows of Death Eaters, in forbidden territory where no one dares to tread.

And he was already ready to go and get it.

That night, lying on her four-poster bed, listening to Parvati and Lavender whispering about where to buy new robes and cosmetics for the summer holidays, Hermione stared at the top of the canopy, wide awake.

She reviewed her behavior throughout the day: the inexplicable surveillance, the failed chance encounter, the last-minute cramming of information on absurd organisms, the clumsy suggestion of "academic support"... all of which deviated from her usual rational approach.

Why is she so concerned about whether Kane will go to the Lovegood house?

Even if he went there, studied the harassing fly, or even believed in the existence of the horned snorkeling beast, so what? That's his freedom, his "open-mindedness."

But... the thought of Kane and Luna walking side by side in some strange forest, discussing outrageous articles in The Quibbler, with Luna saying in that ethereal tone, "The harassing fly is kissing your common sense, Kane," and Kane nodding seriously in thought... made Hermione feel a tightness in her chest, as if she were being gripped by an invisible hand.

This is unreasonable!

This doesn't make sense!

She's Hermione Granger, after all! She should be spending her time planning her summer study schedule, previewing third-grade lessons, and finding more legal grounds for the rights of house-elves!

Instead of getting upset about a guy possibly visiting a weird classmate!

"It must be because I think he's wasting his talent," she muttered to herself, trying to find a reasonable explanation for this strange feeling that fit Hermione Granger's character. "Yes, that's it. I just don't want someone with such talent and intelligence to be misled in... a vague and unrealistic direction. It's about valuing knowledge and potential. That's right."

She repeated the reason to herself several times, which made her feel a little better, but deep down, a faint voice questioned: Is that really all there is to it, Hermione?

Ultimately, she drifted off to sleep, caught between self-criticism of her "irrational behavior" and anxieties that "Kane might go astray (even if only temporarily)."

Ultimately, she drifted off to sleep, caught between self-criticism of her "irrational behavior" and anxieties that "Kane might go astray (even if only temporarily)."

In her dream, she seemed to be racing against a group of silver creatures with curved horns and snoring, while Kane and Luna, who were ahead of her, easily left her further and further behind by stepping on flying carrots.