Kai Adler's first week at Hogwarts passed quickly. Each day was filled with classes, meals, accompanying Hermione to the library, then returning to the Gryffindor common room to sip his meticulously brewed black tea and watch the energetic young lions laugh and play.
He couldn't help but recall his previous life—a time filled with relentless academic pressure, where every day was a cycle of textbooks and exams.
Compared to that… Hogwarts was paradise.
Well—aside from the fact that every night, once the others were asleep, Kai would sneak up to the eighth floor. There, in the Room of Requirement, a white-bearded old man gave him private lessons.
But tonight, Dumbledore seemed different.
The moment Kai entered, the Headmaster stared at him in silence. There was a strange glimmer in his usually twinkling blue eyes, something shadowed and unreadable.
"Kai," Dumbledore said slowly, "why exactly are you learning magic?"
Kai blinked, caught off guard. "I… don't know."
"Do you know what Gellert did to end up imprisoned in that cold fortress?"
Kai shook his head. "No, I don't."
"You've been under his care in Nurmengard since childhood. I worry you might someday follow his path…"
Kai frowned slightly. "Professor… what exactly are you trying to say?"
"Actually…"
Dumbledore's kind expression suddenly twisted. In one smooth motion, he pulled his wand from his robe and pointed it at the young man.
Before Kai could react, a flash of green light exploded from the wand's tip.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Kai's eyes flew open.
He sat upright in bed, gasping for air, his heart pounding like a drum. Cold sweat clung to his forehead.
Just a nightmare.
He was lying in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. Across the room, the beds where Harry and Ron usually slept were empty. Only then did he realize—it was Saturday, and there were no classes.
He rubbed his temples, frowning.
Why that dream?
Was it because, deep down, he was wary of Dumbledore? Afraid that the old wizard might turn on him one day?
That conversation from earlier in the week still echoed in his mind. Dumbledore's gentle concern had held the faintest undertone of suspicion.
Kai had never investigated Gellert Grindelwald's past. A part of him, perhaps instinctively, didn't want to know. As if the truth might demand something from him he wasn't ready to give.
After a moment's thought, he turned to the teapot on his bedside table and tapped it lightly. The spout opened, and a tiny purple head with iridescent feathers peeked out.
"Morning, Luna."
Kai quickly scribbled a letter, folded and sealed it, and held it out.
"Take this to Nurmengard."
Luna chirped, tilting her head in reluctant protest.
"I know, I know," Kai said with a sigh. "The school owls can't find it, they aren't fast enough, and none of them can fly that far."
He stroked her feathered head affectionately. "You're the only one who can manage it. Do this, and I'll prepare something delicious for you when you return."
Luna trilled.
"Double portion," Kai promised with a soft chuckle.
That seemed to satisfy her. With the letter in her claws, she took off like a purple comet, soaring out the open window and disappearing into the early morning sky.
Kai stretched and was about to get out of bed when a knock came at the dormitory door.
He opened it to find Hermione standing there, already dressed and looking neatly put together. She froze at the sight of him.
Kai had just woken up, and his pajama shirt wasn't fully buttoned. Her eyes involuntarily dropped to the triangle of skin at his collarbone, where his long neck and pale skin shimmered in the golden morning light.
She quickly looked away, her cheeks burning pink, though she couldn't help but swallow.
"You… shouldn't greet people like that."
Kai looked down at himself. "But I'm wearing proper clothes…"
Hermione didn't let him finish. "Harry's gone to the Quidditch pitch to practice. Ron went with him. They asked me to wake you and take you down."
She turned, speaking quickly, voice slightly higher than usual. "Get dressed. I'll wait outside."
He chuckled as she walked off in a fluster and closed the door behind him.
The Quidditch pitch was about the size of a Muggle football field—if Muggles had replaced goal nets with three towering golden hoops at either end.
Wizards zoomed through the sky on broomsticks, tossing a red ball back and forth or swinging bats to deflect bludgers flying through the air.
Sitting in the stands, Kai frowned.
It looked ridiculous.
Riding a broom with your back arched and your rear in the air—it lacked grace, elegance, or even practicality. Was this really the pinnacle of wizarding entertainment?
"Is this what you call… Quidditch?" he asked flatly.
Hermione, seated beside him, had already explained the rules. Seven players per team. Ten points for scoring with the Quaffle. Bludgers attacking indiscriminately. No spells or wands allowed on the field.
And then there was the Golden Snitch.
Kai found that rule absurd: the Seeker caught a tiny golden ball worth 150 points—and the game ended immediately.
It made the rest of the team feel irrelevant. Why even bother playing if one person could end the game and win it?
"Wizarding entertainment needs a serious upgrade," Kai muttered.
Hermione seemed equally uninterested. She'd admitted that flying was her weakest subject. Only Ron, sitting nearby, was brimming with excitement, eyes glued to the action in the sky.
Just as Kai was about to suggest leaving, a group clad in dark green robes strode onto the pitch.
Slytherins.
The Gryffindor team captain, Oliver Wood, flew over to confront them, followed by Harry and the Weasley twins. The two teams quickly began arguing.
Ron ran down to join them.
Hermione grabbed Kai's arm and hurried down the steps. Kai sighed and followed.
As they got closer, Draco Malfoy's unmistakable drawl rang out.
"My father bought these brand-new Nimbus 2001s for our team," he said, holding up the sleek black broom. "Yours belong in a museum."
The Slytherins laughed while the Gryffindors stared angrily at their worn-out brooms.
"At least Gryffindor doesn't need fancy gear to win," Hermione snapped. "They rely on skill, not Daddy's wallet."
Draco turned to sneer at her.
"What are you even doing here, you filthy little mu—"
SLAP!
The sound rang out sharp and clear.
Everyone froze.
Draco reeled back, one cheek bright red. But no one had touched him.
Ron looked at Harry. Harry looked at Ron.
Draco spun, eyes wide. "Who did that?!"
"I did," came a calm voice.
Kai stepped forward from the crowd, standing squarely in front of Hermione.
Draco's eyes went wide with terror. "You…"
"Kai Adler," Kai said coldly. "Seems the lesson your father learned wasn't enough to teach you manners."
He took a slow step closer. "Now… what were you about to say?"
"N-nothing…"
Draco lowered his head quickly. His father had made it very clear: stay away from Kai Adler at all costs. Yet here he was, cornered again.
But this time… he had something else. Something secret. He clenched his fists.
Kai caught the flicker of darkness in Draco's gaze and narrowed his eyes—but said nothing.
Without another word, he turned to Hermione, gently took her by the wrist, and led her away.
Behind them, the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams resumed their argument.
Only Draco stood apart, clutching his cheek, lips curling into a whisper of hate:
"You're dead."