First Meeting with Harry

Kayson returned to his office with a piece of parchment listing Snape's requirements.

As for his needs, they were nothing more than adjustable, controllable temperature—in short, very simple.

All it required was a permanently burning flame, with baffles added on top to control the flame's temperature by adjusting those baffles.

Just a slab of obsidian as a base, with small redstone pistons to create flame baffles for temperature control...

Two hours later...

Simple enough.

Kayson gripped the lever, watching the flame before him rise and fall as he moved it, until it clicked.

...???

Isn't this just a gas stove?

"...Damn!"

Two days later.

This time, Kayson tinkered together something advanced—a circular plate that could stick directly to the base of a cauldron, no stand required, using magma blocks to control the temperature. It looked very high-end.

After sending it to Snape's office via owl post, a satisfaction rating of 20 popped up not long after.

"Life's tough."

After express-delivering the advanced induction cooktop, he still had to update the Iron Golems for Hogwarts. He was increasingly suspicious that Dumbledore had hired him just to find a sucker.

Until evening...

Master Kayson, exhausted from a day's work, ran into Mr. Hagrid, who was fully dressed and about to head out.

"Hey! Where are you off to?"

Hagrid turned back: "To pick up Harry Potter! Goodness, I can't believe it, he's eleven already. Last time I saw him, he was... this small."

As he spoke, Hagrid pinched his fingers together to show a tiny distance.

"Harry Potter? Can I come see? Of course, it's fine if not."

"Don't say that, of course you can. Hop on, we'll take the motorcycle."

Kayson climbed onto the motorcycle: "Does Hogwarts have a service for picking up young wizards? Or is it because of his fame?"

"Because Hogwarts sent Harry lots of acceptance letters and got no reply, so Dumbledore asked me to check on him." Hagrid said as he walked into his hut, soon emerging with a cake box.

"Today's his birthday. I thought I'd bring this to him. Hope he saves room and can still eat my cake."

With that, he mounted the motorcycle. With a roar, the whole bike shot into the sky, flying toward a small island off the coast of England.

"They live this remotely?"

"Not exactly. We went to his home on Privet Drive earlier, but it was empty. This was tracked using a tracking spell... Maybe they're on holiday or something."

"OK."

About halfway there, rain suddenly poured from the sky. Luckily, one of them wore a fur coat and the other a canvas cloak cosplaying as a wizard's robe, so neither feared the rain.

Even so, it was nearly eleven o'clock by the time they landed on the island.

"Now? Won't we disturb their sleep?"

Kayson asked, looking at the tower before him, which showed no light at all.

"Relax, Kayson. We'll be very gentle, very quiet. Just hand the cake to Harry without waking anyone else." As he spoke, Hagrid lightly touched the flimsy wooden door handle.

The old wooden door toppled straight inward, slamming heavily onto the ground.

"Ah... oh, I didn't expect it to be so fragile." Hagrid said, turning back with some embarrassment.

"Forget it. This is the cake you brought for Harry—it's more fitting for you to hand it to him personally." Kayson handed the cake to Hagrid and walked straight inside.

Harry Potter, woken by the loud noise, along with the Dursley family of three, looked toward the two figures at the door.

One was a strikingly handsome man with a pale face, who looked like he might be cold, and behind him, a large, burly figure?

"Who are you?"

"Kayson Heath. Behind me is Rubeus Hagrid. We're from Hogwarts, here to take Harry Potter away... Uh, sorry for waking you so late, really, but this door was just too flimsy."

"What's Hogwarts?" Mr. Dursley asked, though he already had a guess. At the same time, his hand crept toward the hunting rifle in the corner.

"That's for Hagrid to tell you."

As Kayson spoke, a block of flame ignited in his hand, radiating warm light, giving him some relief after flying in the rain for over three hours.

But that one move sent the Dursleys scrambling into the corner, leaving only a thin, bespectacled boy standing there. He was dressed very lightly, with undisguised curiosity on his face.

Seeing this, Kayson lit the cold fireplace nearby: "Warm yourself by the fire. You're wearing far too little for this weather."

"My name's Harry Potter. Are you here for me?" Harry nodded, sat down by the fireplace, and asked cautiously.

"My name's Kayson Heath. Yes."

"Then... why, and how did you make that flame? Is this—"

"Magic. We're wizards. And so are you."

"Wizards!"

"Mhm."

"Then do you know anything about my parents?"

"Sorry, I can't answer that one. See that big fellow over there? He might know."

Compared to the warm hearth where Kayson sat, Hagrid on the other side was passionately going head-to-head with the Dursleys—including but not limited to giving the Dursley boy a pig's tail and violently bending the barrel of a shotgun.

He even took a moment to turn around and hand over the cake box he'd been carrying.

"This is the cake Hagrid made for you... To be honest, we were worried you'd eaten too much to have room for it, but it looks like... you haven't been living too well." Kayson helped open the cake box, only to find that Hagrid had forgotten to bring candles.

"Ah well, they're all just little sticks on fire. Close enough." He snapped his fingers, and a tiny, barely-there flame appeared in his hand, which he stuck into the cake.

"For me?" Harry stared at the cake in front of him, which had his—well, what passed for his—name written on it, and spoke with great excitement.

"Yeah... Hagrid might not be the most literate, but that really is your name... He should've told me when he was making the cake. At least I could've helped him spell it right." Kayson rubbed his chin with a helpless look and muttered.

But Harry couldn't hold back anymore. He took a deep breath, only for Kayson to poke him in the cheek with a finger, letting all the air hiss out.

"Hagrid, time to blow out the candle," Kayson called over to Hagrid, who was still in the middle of his confrontation.

"Oh, coming, coming!" Hagrid immediately abandoned the trembling Dursleys and turned around with a smile like he was looking at a blooming flower.

"Blow it out."

The torch still burned with its brilliant flame, not even flickering.

...In short... it was very uncooperative.