"I was waiting for you to say that..."
Kasenhis' mouth twitched. "I shouldn't have said anything earlier, should I? Honestly, Dumbledore, you're someone I've always seen as incredibly magnanimous. In my mind, you're as towering as Mount Everest and as sweet as the Alps."
"Haha." Dumbledore patted Kasenhis on the shoulder affectionately. "That's exactly it, Kasenhis. You're the same. To me, you're like the sun—warm and selflessly illuminating every corner of Hogwarts, caring for students, uniting the staff, and even—"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Kasenhis gestured for a pause.
"No matter what you say, I won't..."
Dumbledore: "You weren't planning to remodel your office into a standalone tower earlier, were you?"
"…You'd agree?" Kasen paused.
Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head at a dramatic forty-five-degree angle toward the ceiling.
"Say, if that Rita Skeeter happened to run into some… unforeseen incident. Like, oh, I don't know, a random encounter with some ruffians who broke into her home and gave her a little lesson, hypothetically speaking..."
"I need her address."
"What address?" Dumbledore, without missing a beat, feigned total ignorance.
"…Alright then." Kasenhis rolled his eyes and decided to ask someone else.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore grinned, flashing that distinctively sly smile only he could manage.
Think you can cross the Headmaster and get away with it?
After enduring public criticism from that journalist for so long, Dumbledore had his reasons for not retaliating.
First, his every action could set off a chain reaction—he truly couldn't afford to act rashly. Second, all the professors at Hogwarts, along with his friends outside the school, knew his character well enough to ignore petty attacks. Why waste energy on something as juvenile as revenge?
But now? Now he had Kasenhis—a man with overwhelming power, a straightforward mind, and, most importantly, someone who wasn't entirely familiar with Dumbledore's personality. Perfect.
Knock, knock, knock...
Professor McGonagall, looking utterly puzzled, watched as Kasenhis entered. It wasn't until she noticed the newspaper in his hand that realization dawned.
"You don't need to get involved in this," McGonagall began. "Dumbledore has already gone to the Ministry of Magic to speak with Fudge and Skeeter. I believe the matter will be resolved soon."
"He spoke with them? Just now he was in the hallway, chatting with me."
"Ah? Um… perhaps he asked you to go find Skeeter?"
"Not at all. Absolutely not." Kasenhis shook his head firmly.
"Alright, fine. Dumbledore promised me I could turn my office into a standalone tower," Kasenhis admitted with a sigh.
"...Okay, fair enough. No one would say no to that," McGonagall replied, understanding his decision.
"So, how do you plan to handle this?"
"Meet her in person and give her a beating?"
"I knew it," McGonagall said, shaking her head, exasperated.
"I need her home address," Kasenhis added, looking at McGonagall with an expression so expectant that it made her slightly uneasy.
She composed herself quickly, pressing her lips together. "Theoretically, I shouldn't help you with this. Besides, I genuinely don't know where she lives."
"Practically, you could write a letter to Rita Skeeter. All communal owls in the Owlery are enchanted with name-based magic. If they can't find the recipient's address, they'll use the name magic to locate her home."
"Also, this name-based magic is only available on the communal owls from the Owlery," McGonagall added with a pointed look.
"Oh, got it, got it," Kasenhis muttered as he returned to his office.
He pulled out a piece of parchment and, after contemplating for a while, wrote: "True self in three seconds or less." Then, he took out an Ender Pearl and set up a small mechanism. As soon as the envelope was opened, the pearl would shatter.
"Hehehehe…" Kasenhis chuckled sinisterly.
After dispatching a communal owl to deliver the letter, Kasenhis folded his arms and stewed in his office. By evening, feeling that the time was right, he picked up a baseball bat from the corner of the room. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs 𝗻𝗼𝘷𝗲𝗹•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝕟𝕖𝕥
This particular item was a "big treasure" confiscated from the Weasley twins.
Every time it hit something, it caused a small explosion—hit, boom, hit, boom.
Kasenhis had originally confiscated it because of its danger, but now, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to put it to use.
Meanwhile, Rita Skeeter, having spent her day churning out sensational stories at the Daily Prophet, returned home and emptied her mailbox.
One particular letter stood out—it felt strange, with a spherical object inside.
After a moment of silence, her instincts kicked in. She dragged out an enormous explosion-proof container from the corner of her room.
It was nearly as tall as she was, with a small piece of blast-resistant glass embedded in the front.
Using magic, she carefully levitated the suspicious envelope into the container and then ripped it open.
In an instant, Kasenhis materialized inside the container, looking bewildered.
Rita Skeeter approached with a smug smile, folding her arms. She tapped on the explosion-proof glass twice with her lacy gloves, the sound echoing mockingly.
"You think I wouldn't anticipate someone coming for me? Using such a cheap trick—a reverse Portkey, no less?"
"You think I can't get out?" Kasenhis calmly retorted from inside the explosion-proof container. He lightly tapped the interior wall twice—thunk, thunk—and a 2×1 opening suddenly appeared.
He swung the baseball bat in his hand, producing a series of pop-pop-pop explosions.
With a friendly yet firm "discussion," Kasenhis soon dragged a bruised and battered Rita Skeeter out of her own house.
Holding a diamond shovel in one hand, he headed toward a small wooded area nearby and began digging.
It didn't take long before a 2×1×2 pit was carved out of the ground.
"My dear reporter, I'm confident you'll grow to love your new accommodations," Kasenhis said, clutching the back of Rita's robe before casually tossing her into the hole.
He then started filling it back up with dirt.
(P.S. What the F is happening in this fic. lol..?)
The soil was loose and breathable, and considering the resilient vitality of wizards, she'd probably dig her way out by morning—assuming it didn't rain, of course.
But come on, it was December. Where would rain come from this time of year? Surely not. That'd just be absurd.
After patting the dirt off his hands, Kasenhis turned to leave, ready to head back to Hogwarts and inform Dumbledore that his "real-world justice" had been thoroughly delivered.
Just as he stepped into Dumbledore's office, though, he glanced out the window and saw rain pouring in sheets.
"It's late December! Where on earth is this rain coming from? Bloody England!" Kasenhis let out an exasperated screech before disappearing in a burst of purple light and a thunderous boom.
After all, Rita Skeeter, for all her sensationalist mischief, was only guilty of a bit of verbal sparring in print. Annoying, sure. But hardly deserving of a death sentence.
(～￣▽￣)～Read two weeks ahead:
[email protected]/Dragonel