The Lion Licking Its Wounds

A recording of a new type of alchemical Crafting Table leaked out from Hogwarts.

Of course, it also had its original name: the Enchanting Table.

Perhaps some mischievous young wizard had used a Memory Orb, perhaps it had been recorded with some other magic, or perhaps with a Magic Recorder. In any case, footage of Kayson enchanting Cedric's wand had somehow made its way out of Hogwarts.

Kayson did not have much to say about it. Honestly, he rather liked being famous.

Back when he did custom home furnishing in the Muggle World, he had only taken on two orders before making a name for himself across all of London.

The benefits of fame had been immediate. From then on, he could pick whatever orders he wanted, make more money while doing less work, and never again deal with idiot clients trying to direct him with brains the size of sunflower seeds.

Applied to the wizarding world, that meant becoming a shining star in Europe's alchemy circles, one that had somehow appeared in the sky far ahead of schedule.

Although he had yet to see any of those benefits, several letters had held him hostage for two and a half hours.

Forcing him to seek emergency assistance from Dumbledore.

Kayson sat on the sofa in the Headmaster's Office. "It's these letters. They all claim to be the most authoritative alchemy organization in Europe, but I have absolutely no idea what to make of them, so..."

"So you want me to help you pick out the reliable ones?" Dumbledore glanced at the signatures on the letters and had already reached his own conclusion.

"No, I want you to give me an idea of how to gently, politely, and without offending anyone, turn them all down," Kayson added.

"Why?"

"...Don't you think someone truly professional would see through me in less than five seconds? Then an up-and-coming star of the alchemy world would turn into a complete fraud, and we'd fast-forward straight to me getting thrown out of Hogwarts... That sort of thing is... bad, right?"

"You are overthinking it. Truly, do not be so hard on yourself. You should have faith in your peers' ability to fill in the blanks. Plenty of people know you are an apprentice-trained wizard, so it is perfectly normal for your alchemical theories and practical methods to differ from those of academy-trained wizards."

"...I didn't even know I was apprentice-trained. How many details did you make up for my persona?"

"You may not know this, but when I was young, I submitted several novels to Muggle publishers."

"..."

And so, after a mixture of bluffing and persuasion from Dumbledore, Kayson sent a reply to the European Alchemy Exchange Association.

According to old Dumbledore, the status of this Alchemy Association was basically equivalent to the Wizengamot among wizards. It was highly prestigious, and its name carried even more weight than the Order of Merlin.

After all, the Order of Merlin could genuinely be bought with money.

After leaving the Headmaster's Office, Kayson walked through the castle corridors, wondering whether that old bastard Dumbledore had conned him.

But probably not, right? Dumbledore would not get a commission for having him join the Alchemy Association, so perhaps he really was doing it for Kayson's sake?

Was Kayson only being so suspicious because his own abilities were genuinely insufficient?

That had to be it.

He remained lost in that mental storm until a faint sob from a stairwell pulled him back to reality.

He headed toward the stairwell and saw a small figure in Gryffindor robes sitting on the steps.

"Hello?" He tried to make his voice gentle enough not to frighten the young wizard, but the boy was still startled. He jolted so hard that he nearly tumbled down the stairs, only for Kayson to swiftly grab the back of his collar.

Only then did Kayson get a clear look at the young wizard. He remembered his name should have been... Neville Longbottom. That was probably the name he had heard during the Sorting Ceremony.

"Professor." Neville Longbottom wiped his face with his sleeve, instantly smearing all his tears and snot onto it. Though the sleeve was dirty now, his face was indeed free of those things that did not belong there.

But that still left Kayson's handkerchief halfway out of his pocket, frozen in place.

"...Take this. Don't wipe your face with your sleeve in the future." In the end, he pulled out the handkerchief and placed it in Neville Longbottom's hand.

"Thank you. You're such a good person." Neville's tears began flowing again as he said it over and over.

Favorability from Neville +10

Trust from Neville +10

"Thanks for the compliment. Now then, would you mind telling me why you were hiding here alone... um... crying?" Kayson asked.

"N-No, it's nothing. I just fell down by myself."

"...If you do not want to say, I can take you to Professor McGonagall's office. Do not worry, I will find a very clever way to let Professor McGonagall know that you... um, lost by a narrow margin in a fight, and then she can go deal with them herself."

"That way, you can still be a hero who swallowed his pain without a word, like... a lion licking its wounds alone. What do you think?" Kayson continued.

The moment he finished speaking, Neville's eyes lit up.

"Come on, I'll take you to Professor McGonagall." Kayson held out his hand to Neville.

Neville sat on the steps with his head lowered, thinking for quite a while. In the end, perhaps because he felt it was impolite to make a professor keep bending over with his hand out for so long, he shyly reached out and took it.

Oh... God, I should have made this kid wipe his hands first. Fresh snot...

But in order not to hurt the sensitive self-esteem of an eleven-year-old child, he did not show it. He simply gritted his teeth, held Neville's hand, and headed for Professor McGonagall's office.

After knocking on the office door, Kayson led Neville inside. When Professor McGonagall saw Neville's tear-reddened face, she roughly understood what had happened.

Then Kayson settled Neville into the chair opposite Professor McGonagall. After making sure Neville had lowered his head and was not looking at him, Kayson cautiously picked up a discarded piece of parchment from the corner and carefully wiped his hand.

Professor McGonagall, who had witnessed the entire thing, gave him an apologetic look before putting on a stern expression again.

"Mr. Longbottom, please tell me what happened."

Neville flinched at Professor McGonagall's voice, and Kayson hurried over when he saw it.

"Let me explain. After I left Dumbledore's office, Neville, forgive me, but I have not been at Hogwarts much longer than you have. Where was that place again?"

"The second-floor south corridor," Neville said softly.