What? My SAN Was Starting to Drop?

There were only five people eating in the Great Hall at noon, so they all sat at the same table.

Kane knew Dumbledore and Hagrid.

There were two others. One was Professor Severus Snape, whom Dumbledore had mentioned before—a professor with greasy hair and a sour face. The other was Filch, the castle caretaker, who was probably something like... a dean of discipline? He looked... a little like a vulture.

Professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress, should have been there too. But she had discovered that one of the young wizards who had already been sent an acceptance letter had run away from home, meaning the letter had never reached him. If nothing unexpected happened, she had probably already left Hogwarts to search the world for that disobedient young wizard.

After hearing Dumbledore's explanation, Kane silently worried for that runaway young wizard. What kind of grievance had driven him to leave home? Tears of sympathy flowed from the corner of his mouth.

Dumbledore smiled at the sight. "Everyone, eat."

As the soft sounds of eating filled the hall, Snape suddenly looked up at Dumbledore beside him and asked in a low voice, "Who is that?"

"A rather unfortunate young wizard, Kane Hiss." Dumbledore turned to Kane again. "This is Hogwarts' Potions professor, Severus Snape."

Naturally, Kane wanted to leave a good impression on his future professor. After wiping his hands with a napkin, he reached across Dumbledore and extended his hand.

Snape fell silent for a moment before reservedly shaking Kane's hand. Almost instantly, he understood what was unusual about Kane.

Within the child's body lurked an extremely bizarre and absurd aura of dark magic. It was as illogical as a madman's crude sketch, making Snape feel as though it might burst from the child's body at any moment and pounce on him.

This child had better not be a Slytherin. And once term started, he would have to keep those irritating Slytherin students in line. If someone who was practically dark magic incarnate took a grudge against them, Hogwarts would be done for—done for without so much as a sound.

They quickly released each other's hands, and Dumbledore spoke at just the right moment. "Normally, most young wizards would have received their Hogwarts letters by now, and most of them would be heading to Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies. Hagrid, could you take the child to Diagon Alley this afternoon?"

Hagrid pounded his chest hard enough to make it thunder. "Of course!"

At that moment, Dumbledore suddenly remembered something important—some precious sense of ceremony that only came once in a lifetime.

With that thought, he swiftly left the table. A few minutes later, an owl flew into the Great Hall through the ceiling, clutching an ornate envelope in its talons, and dropped it in front of Kane.

"This is a ceremony every young wizard must experience in life. Tear it open."

Kane looked at the slightly faded ink on his fingers. It was obvious Dumbledore had only just written this. Out of basic respect for the elderly, he cooperatively opened the envelope.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards, First Class Order of Merlin, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)

Dear Mr. Kane Hiss:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

"Mm, I'm going to frame this letter." After reading it from beginning to end, Kane folded the envelope and carefully slipped it into his shirt pocket without bending it.

"Oh, right. The wand mentioned in the letter?"

Dumbledore took out his Elder Wand. "This. Through the wood and the magically rich core within it, a wand can help a wizard organize their magic, allowing ordinary magic to create miracles under the guidance of the wand and the wizard's will."

"I mean, can wands be customized?" Kane asked.

"...Ollivander has hundreds, if not thousands, of possible combinations in stock. With careful selection, there is little difference from having one custom-made. Or perhaps you wish to use some special materials?" Dumbledore asked with a smile.

Well? Is there any way to send me some living logs, or nightmare fuel, or something like that? Kane suddenly asked inwardly. He knew Maxwell could definitely hear him.

"Of course not. But perhaps you can use your own shadow to infect ordinary trees. As for nightmare fuel? By my estimate, your SAN will be completely depleted in another two days. When that happens, you can kill the shadow creature that comes looking for you yourself. Then won't you have nightmare fuel?" Maxwell suddenly appeared across the long table, bracing both hands on it as he spoke with a smile.

Kane, who had been calmly drinking pumpkin juice, suddenly began coughing violently. Hagrid kindly reached out and patted his back. Unfortunately, the giant's strength nearly sent Kane flying, though at least he stopped coughing.

"Eat slowly. This is Hogwarts. Food is the one thing we never lack here. You'll never go hungry again," Dumbledore reminded him kindly.

"I know." Kane recovered somewhat, then looked at Maxwell again. "Where in the real world would I find something that could lower my SAN?"

"Yourself, of course." Maxwell shrugged and vanished.

"Are you all right?" Dumbledore looked at Kane.

Kane shook his head. "I'm fine. Can I go to Diagon Alley tomorrow instead? I have some things to do this afternoon."

"Of course. Tomorrow morning, then. As for now, if you need help with anything, find Hagrid or come to me." Dumbledore smiled as he accepted this arduous task on Hagrid's behalf.

Kane spoke as he shoveled a little more ice cream into his mouth, then slipped away from Hogwarts Castle.

Dumbledore watched Hagrid continue to feast and could not help coughing.

"Dumbledore, have you caught a cold?" Hagrid asked.

"Hagrid, I mean you should follow Kane," Dumbledore said bluntly.

"Oh, right. The Forbidden Forest is so big. It wouldn't do if he ran into some danger." Hagrid came to his senses and hurried out.

"I think what you truly fear is not that he might encounter danger, but that he might create some bizarre danger." Snape understood Dumbledore the way a gun understood a bullet, and he stated the correct answer directly.

"After all, I have a very bad feeling about this." Dumbledore felt his heart pounding.

Snape had little interest in Dumbledore's ominous premonition, but the other person at the table had something to say.

Filch asked hoarsely, "Dumbledore, shouldn't young wizards' acceptance letters have been sent out long ago? But that brat's letter seemed to have been written by you just now. Does that mean he was never accepted by the Book of Admittance?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Of course not. I checked the records earlier. Kane's acceptance letter did indeed leave Hogwarts two days ago, but it seems that when the letter arrived, Kane was in the middle of running away from home—and had put it into action—so..."

For a moment, the three people in the Great Hall fell silent.

"Oh, Minerva will definitely come into my office and slam her hand on my desk when she returns." Dumbledore sighed.

Meanwhile, at Number Four, Privet Drive, Professor McGonagall looked at the house before her. Compared to a young wizard who had vanished for no apparent reason, even Harry Potter, the savior of the entire wizarding world, seemed less important.

After all, no matter how poorly Harry Potter was living, he was at least still alive. But that missing young wizard's life and death were truly unknown.

Professor McGonagall gave her immaculate hairpin one final adjustment and slowly knocked on the door before her.