"Professor." Harry fell into step beside Dumbledore as they left Slughorn's temporary residence, Budleigh Babberton quiet around them. "That seemed — almost too easy."
"Because you and Kevin were there," Dumbledore said simply. "Horace has spent thirty years collecting talented people the way some men collect art. You two represent exactly what he values most — raw ability paired with a story worth telling at dinner parties." He glanced sidelong at Kevin. "Even someone like Kevin, who is rather past the point of needing instruction — the chance to have a former student call him 'Professor' in a room full of other people? That's currency he understands."
Harry turned this over. "It's a bit like Fudge, isn't it? Attaching himself to important people."
"The mechanism is similar. The motivation is different. Fudge used proximity to power for protection. Horace uses it because he genuinely loves watching talent develop. He's invested in his collection." Dumbledore paused at the fountain. "That makes him both easier and harder to work with than Fudge."
He looked between them. "Kevin — I'd ask you to think about how best to keep Horace at ease this year. The information he holds about Voldemort's Horcruxes could be essential. We can't rush it. Harry, your approach was exactly right tonight. Continue in that vein."
"Something to do with Grindelwald?" Kevin asked.
"Hmm? No, no — he should be quite contained for now. I'm keeping a close eye on the situation." Dumbledore was already looking at the sky at that particular angle he adopted when a topic was exhausted as far as he was concerned.
Kevin studied that angle. He has Grindelwald in hand about as much as anyone has Grindelwald in hand, he thought, which is to say not at all, and he knows it.
"The Slughorn intelligence is the priority," Dumbledore added. "I cannot stress its importance enough."
He gave a small wave, Disapparated with a crack, and left Kevin and Harry standing by the fountain in the dark.
They looked at each other.
"He did the thing," Harry said.
"He always does the thing."
The remainder of the summer passed in the comfortable, slightly compressed way of time that knows it's nearly over. Kevin spent most of it in his workroom at Grimmauld Place, thinking through things that couldn't be thought through in front of other people.
This year's central problems were different from last year's. The Slug Club arc was in motion and tracking roughly as expected. The Vanishing Cabinet that Draco had been supposed to use as a Death Eater entrance route was a non-factor — Draco wasn't Voldemort's operative anymore, and Voldemort's operation was considerably more disorganised than it had been at the same point in the films. The bigger question was what Voldemort would attempt instead.
The other thread Kevin kept returning to was Harry. The soul fragment in Harry's scar. In the films, it had required a specific sequence of events to extract — events that culminated in Harry dying. Kevin had no intention of letting that happen. What he needed was another way in. Something precise enough to target a fragment of soul embedded in a living person without damaging the person.
Soul magic. Killing Curse mechanics — specifically the intent structure that made it work. Possibly an application of Occlumency theory, approaching the problem from the defensive direction in reverse.
Snape would have opinions. Whether those opinions would be offered willingly was a separate question.
The Hogwarts Express day arrived with its usual organised chaos.
Kevin and Hermione found a compartment, settled in, and had approximately ten minutes of quiet before the door slid open.
"Mind if I sit here? Every other compartment is full."
The boy in the doorway was about their age — tall, well-built, with hair the colour of old snow and features that suggested he'd been specifically designed to make a good first impression. His manner was easy, with the particular comfort of someone accustomed to walking into rooms and being noticed.
"Come in," Kevin said.
"Cheers." He dropped into the seat across from them and stuck out his hand. "Gren Dore. Sixth-year transfer. Seen your picture in the papers, Kevin."
Kevin shook the hand. "Kevin Croft. This is Hermione Granger."
"Pleasure." Dore grinned at them both. "Transferring from Durmstrang, actually. Spent the last few years there, but I wanted Hogwarts for my final stretch. Family pulled some strings."
Hermione, who had the instincts of someone who genuinely believed that being kind to new students was a non-negotiable social obligation, launched into the full Hogwarts orientation before Kevin had said another word. Dore asked good questions and listened well. Claimed he was looking forward to the Sorting, wanted the full experience.
"You two are together?" Dore asked, at some point, with the casual directness of someone who's simply noted an obvious fact and is confirming it.
"Yes," Hermione said, colouring slightly.
"Lucky man," Dore told Kevin, with a grin.
Hermione opened her mouth and then appeared to replay the sentence structure. The colour in her face intensified slightly. She recovered smoothly.
"You're joining sixth year," Kevin said. "Straight in?"
"That's the plan. All O's on my O.W.L.s, apparently that was the bar."
Kevin nodded slowly. His jaw remained perfectly relaxed. His hands, under the table, had gone very still.
There are no transfer students in any version of this story that I know.
He kept the thought entirely off his face. Dore was smart — sharp, attentive, reading the room well. Any flicker of suspicion would register.
They talked for the rest of the journey. Dore fielded every Durmstrang question Hermione threw at him with the fluency of someone who had genuinely been there. He knew the castle layout, the curriculum structure, the specific professors and their reputations. Too much for improvisation. Either he had actually been there, or his preparation had been extraordinary.
Kevin filed every detail. Asked casual questions. Gave nothing back.
When they pulled into Hogsmeade station, Dore waved them off cheerfully and headed toward the first-year boats with the serene confidence of someone for whom the 'full experience' was a genuine priority.
"Kevin," Hermione said, once he was out of earshot.
"I didn't say anything."
"You nearly drew your crowbar when he said transfer student." She touched the bracelet on her wrist. "I felt it."
He looked at her. She looked back at him steadily.
"He answered everything correctly," she continued. "Durmstrang, the classes, the layout — he knew all of it."
"I know."
"So either he's legitimate, or whoever prepared him was very thorough."
"I know that too."
"You're going to ask Dumbledore."
"First chance I get." He picked up his bag. "For now, we treat him like what he says he is. No point spooking someone who might be completely ordinary."
She held his gaze for another moment. Then nodded.
They stepped off the train into the cool autumn evening, and Hogwarts rose against the darkening sky ahead, and Kevin thought: Dumbledore arranged his transfer personally. If Dumbledore put him here, there's a reason. The question is whether the reason is one I'm going to like.
This story don't stop here, y'all. It never did, not once. More chapters breathing and waiting right beyond this page like a river that just keeps on running. Don't you leave curiosity unanswered, folks. That ain't right.