When Kyle took his seat at the staff table, a considerable stir rippled through the Great Hall.
All the students were buzzing, discussing and speculating about Kyle's identity.
What was his connection to Professor Dumbledore?
Why had Professor Dumbledore brought him into the Great Hall?
And why was he dining with the professors?
Kyle, the subject of all this attention, paid no mind to the students' chatter. He knew his sudden appearance was bound to seem odd, but he had bigger concerns at the moment.
After all, he had just arrived from New York City, where his internal clock was still set to three in the morning.
Earlier that evening, he'd been in a warehouse, engaged in a rather intense "group workout" with a gang of criminals dealing in "laundry detergent."
He'd barely made it home, without even time to whip up a midnight snack, when Dumbledore informed him that he was the son of a criminal, currently being hunted by a squad of magical law enforcement. Then, he'd been whisked across the Atlantic to evade capture.
What a colorful night it had been.
Now, he was so hungry he felt he could devour forty-six bowls of Ichiraku Ramen.
Kyle ravaged the food on the table like a starving ghost. In no time, the cycle of plates being cleared and magically refilled repeated four or five times.
He was, at this moment, Kyle Payne Six Paths: Hungry Ghost Path Grindelwald.
The others at the table paused their eating, casting curious glances at Kyle, clearly wondering just how much this kid could put away.
When the food on his plate vanished for the eighth time, Kyle let out a satisfied belch and finally stopped.
His eyes, however, lingered on the table, searching for something.
At that moment, a hand reached over, offering him a goblet of pumpkin juice.
"Thanks," Kyle said, turning to see who it was. The hand belonged to a professor with shoulder-length black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. "How should I address you?"
"Professor Snape will do," the man replied.
"Professor Snape," Kyle said respectfully.
He waited for a response, but none came. Unable to resist, he pressed, "Just Snape? Like, Adele… or Aristotle… Drake? Bono? Erm?"
Why was this kid such a chatterbox?
Snape's perpetually stoic face twitched slightly, and after a long pause, he forced out a name through gritted teeth. "Severus Snape."
On the other side of the staff table, Dumbledore watched Kyle's lively exchange with Snape, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"It seems he's getting along rather well with Severus, which is quite surprising," Dumbledore remarked.
Hearing this, a tall witch followed his gaze. Through the lenses of her square glasses, she noticed Kyle's heterochromatic eyes—strikingly identical to those of Gellert Grindelwald.
Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, smiled and said, "It seems his Potions grades shouldn't be too shabby."
"I suspect he'll inherit his father's remarkable talent," Dumbledore replied, adding silently to himself, Though his father certainly wasn't this much of a glutton.
The food on the table vanished entirely, signaling the end of the meal.
Kyle stood up, his flat stomach betraying no sign that he'd just consumed enough food for five or six grown adults.
"Professor—"
Before he could finish his question, Dumbledore anticipated it. "I think you should get some rest first. Once you've had a nap, I'll take you to Diagon Alley to purchase the supplies you'll need for Hogwarts."
As a ninja who thrived in the shadows of New York City, Kyle felt no need for a nap. Besides, he'd already caught up on sleep during the day to prepare for last night's mission. He couldn't exactly fight gangsters while yawning, could he?
"Professor, I'm not tired at all. Let's head to Diagon Alley now."
Dumbledore studied Kyle for a moment, confirming that the boy was indeed brimming with energy and in high spirits. He nodded.
"Very well, let's go."
Moments later, Kyle and Dumbledore stood on the grassy grounds outside the castle.
"Professor, can we avoid using that 'Portos' magic to get to Diagon Alley?" Kyle asked, tilting his head.
Not long ago, Dumbledore had used a Portkey to transport him across the Atlantic. The sensation of a hook yanking at his navel was something he'd rather not experience again in this lifetime.
Dumbledore looked at Kyle, puzzled by his aversion to the Portkey, a perfectly standard mode of magical transport.
"Well… alright then. Fawkes!"
With Dumbledore's call, a burst of flames appeared out of thin air.
A magnificent, crimson bird, roughly the size of a swan, with a long, glittering golden tail, a gleaming beak, and golden claws emerged from the flames—a Scottish long-tailed fire turkey?
For some reason, when Kyle laid eyes on the phoenix named Fawkes, he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
"This is Fawkes, my phoenix. He'll take us to Diagon Alley," Dumbledore explained.
Kyle gave Fawkes a skeptical glance. The bird was so small—could it even carry them? Was it going to grab one of them in each claw and fly them to Diagon Alley dangling in the air?
Fawkes, perched on Dumbledore's shoulder, fixed Kyle with a curious stare, its large eyes glinting with suspicion. It seemed to sense that this human child was thinking something less than flattering.
"Take my hand," Dumbledore instructed.
Kyle complied, and in the next instant, they were engulfed in a massive burst of flames, vanishing from Hogwarts.
When Kyle came to his senses, they were standing in a wide archway that led to a winding, cobblestone street that stretched out of sight.
"We're in Diagon Alley already?" Kyle asked, stunned. He hadn't even felt the long-distance teleportation.
Traveling with Fawkes had been warm and comfortable—a far cry from the Portkey's gut-wrenching pull.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "Let's head to the bank first."
As they walked through the archway, the nearest shop to the exit was Madam Malkin's Cauldron Shop. The morning sunlight bathed a stack of cauldrons at the entrance, making the sign above the door gleam brightly.
Dumbledore noticed Kyle's gaze. "You won't need those just yet."
No, I think I need one right now, Kyle thought.
His eyes locked onto a copper cauldron, perfect for cooking hotpot. In his eleven years in this world, he hadn't once tasted the culinary delights of his past life's food-obsessed empire.
The thought of Sichuan hotpot's spicy, numbing flavor brought nostalgic tears to Kyle's eyes—or rather, his mouth, as drool began to escape.
Wiping away his "tears," Kyle followed Dumbledore to a towering, snow-white building that loomed over the surrounding shops.
A set of white stone steps led to a pair of gleaming bronze doors, flanked by a figure in a scarlet-and-gold uniform… a goblin?
More accurately, a Gringotts goblin.
They passed through a second set of silver doors into a spacious marble hall.
Around a hundred goblins sat behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers. Some weighed coins on scales, while others examined gemstones with eyeglasses.
"Esteemed Mr. Dumbledore, welcome to Gringotts. How may we assist you today?" a goblin greeted, approaching with deference as soon as he spotted Dumbledore.
Dumbledore produced a key from his robes. "We'd like to visit the underground vaults, please."
With impeccable courtesy, the goblin bowed and led them toward a door.
"Your father left you a sizable fortune," Dumbledore explained to Kyle as they followed.