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Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Hello, Professor Quirrell. Is there anything you need me to do?"

Kane entered the office looking like he could drop dead at any time.

Right now, the only thing that gave him any sense of security was the Rebirth Amulet beneath his collar.

"Y-yes, it's like this, Kane. Um, I-I can call you that, r-right?"

Quirrell sat in his chair and spoke somewhat awkwardly.

"Ah, of course." Kane raised an eyebrow. He did not go inside, instead leaning against the doorway. If Quirrell showed even the slightest hint of aggression, he would open with Shadow Blade and run for it.

Quirrell did not seem to mind Kane's guarded stance. Naturally, he did not consider the possibility that Dumbledore or Kane knew his true identity, only assuming that their first meeting had indeed been far too bizarre.

He pulled a small bag from beneath his desk, filled with unidentifiable fragments.

Kane leaned forward for a glance and sighed inwardly in relief. At least Quirrell was not immediately coming after him with everything he had.

"So, you blew up the Panpipes?"

For some reason, Professor Quirrell wore an apologetic expression as he nodded. "More or less. Y-yes. I-I only just realized that this thing is useful in m-many situations, so this time, I-I wanted to ask you to make one that c-can be used more times."

After speaking, Professor Quirrell took out a money pouch from his pocket. "Th-this is a-all the Galleons I have on me. I-I don't know if..."

Kane gently raised a hand, and the shadow cast over the pouch abruptly clenched around it, lifting it over.

He weighed the pouch in his hand and said with great satisfaction, "Ah, Professor, you are as generous as ever. Don't worry.