At the start of the new-semester meeting, the Headmaster and several House Heads exchanged opinions.
"I think he is obviously very confused," said Professor Sprout sorrowfully after hearing Professor McGonagall's report. "He seems to have been orphaned at a young age, forced to fend for himself, and now full of delusions."
"Unfortunately, I must agree," said Professor Dumbledore. "I believe we may assume that much of his story is untrue. Even though he expressed his genuine thoughts and emotions, there are many ways for fantasy to be mistaken for reality."
"Furthermore, the law is quite clear: this child obviously possesses magic—otherwise Hogwarts' Muggle-Repelling Charm would have driven him away long before he ever entered the Forbidden Forest. School begins in two days, and for his safety and the safety of others—as well as the sense of tradition—he should travel to school with the first-year students on the train."
(Why would a magical school insist students travel by train? My guess is that besides tradition and atmosphere, it helps bridge class gaps. Otherwise someday some parents will show up riding dragons to drop their children off.)
"Excuse my bluntness, Headmaster," said Professor Snape, his voice full of disdain, "but we cannot simply admit any stray child who appears at our gates. We are the finest magic school in the world, but not the only one. Why not contact the Dragon-Tiger Magic Academy of the Void Kingdom and ask whether they've lost an apprentice whose brain was scrambled while refining pills?"
"I will make inquiries," Dumbledore replied calmly, "but he must attend school in the meantime. Minerva, please take Kevin to Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy his school supplies and robes. Flitwick, could you assist with preparing the Sorting Ceremony?"
On one hand, Kevin Goldsmith wasn't enthusiastic about going to school. But on the other hand, it was clearly the best option.
Furthermore, this was his greatest chance to get closer to magic, and those professors gave off the impression of saying, "We have piles of magical items and gold." He had nothing better to do anyway. And he was only 100 experience points away from leveling up—one step closer to powerful level-three spells. (Ignoring certain advanced magical skills, a level-five mage can generally master third-level spells, and in role-playing games a level-five mage is already considered a "magic master.")
"I think I'll be happy to enroll, Vice Principal," Kevin said respectfully. His role-playing experience had taught him that flattering powerful NPCs was almost always harmless.
"Excellent. There are still three days before term begins, so we shall buy your school supplies tomorrow," McGonagall said.
"Oh… well, I actually don't have a single penny." Kevin had spent all his savings on that dimensional belt.
"None at all?" McGonagall asked. "Considering your situation, Hogwarts keeps a special fund to help children who are… unfortunate."(The full name was the "Poor Orphans Fund," but she chose not to speak it aloud.)"But I'm afraid you will have to make do with second-hand or even third-hand items."
"No problem. So, things like quills and parchment?"
"Of course those, and also—where did I put the list…? Ah. Wand, robe, pointed hat, dragon-hide gloves—" Kevin gasped, "telescope, cauldron, scales, several textbooks and spellbooks, wand…" McGonagall frowned. "The wand appears twice. I shall need to speak to someone about that. It also says you may have an owl, cat, or toad, but you already have a mouse, which is acceptable."
"A wand? And… a spellbook?" Kevin asked incredulously. "You would go to the extravagance of buying me a spellbook?"He felt faint. This had to be a joke. A spellbook alone cost more than a thousand gold—and dragon-hide gloves? If they could kill enough dragons to make gloves for every student, then the teachers here were certainly not to be underestimated. (Dragons in D&D were intelligent, far stronger than those in the Harry Potter world. If they didn't rule whole regions, they were at least regional overlords.)
"I—I think I need to sit down," Kevin said. "I feel dizzy—maybe intimidated."He truly didn't want to go to school… but they were giving him far too much.
"Yes, it is far more likely your wound has reopened," McGonagall said, frowning. She couldn't imagine anyone being so poor that even a second-hand book seemed extravagant. "Lie down for now; it will make you feel better."
"Oh—actually, I wanted to ask. Is there a priest here?" Kevin said. His injury could be healed quickly with a minor healing spell, far faster than resting.
"Ah… no. Not many witches or wizards feel that sort of religious calling," McGonagall replied cautiously.
Most wizards were uncomfortable discussing religion, largely due to the "witches must die" slogan of the witch hunts, when innocents were burned at the stake.
Of course, this was pointless; real witches and wizards usually departed quietly after enjoying their fiery bath. Instead, innocent people suffered.
But there were exceptions. In the 16th century, when the people of Halifax planned to burn a "witch," a massive explosion nearly destroyed the entire town, killing countless witch-hunters. This caused great debate within the Ministry of Magic—whether it was self-defense or genocide. Ultimately, investigations found no trace of magic; what the crowd mistook for a curse came from something concealed under the pioneering woman scientist's skirt: eighty pounds of black powder and forty pounds of nails.
To avoid tragedy, Kevin had no intention of healing the patient himself. A mage's healing methods were similar to a Doomsday Messenger's treatment of a minor monster.
"Right now, I think you should rest as much as possible. I'll come take you shopping tomorrow morning," McGonagall said before leaving.
Kevin certainly did not plan to rest. How could he resist exploring every new map he arrived in? He used his time wandering through the castle.
There were shifting marble staircases and talking portraits (practically a P5 mind labyrinth), suits of armor (he couldn't understand why a wizarding castle had plate armor—could wizards even cast spells while wearing plate?), and it was obvious the castle's interior space far exceeded its exterior, complete with its own climate changes.
Kevin returned to the school clinic, trying to contain his excitement. Two days from now, he would be rolling in a pile of new spells… The thought nearly made his mouth water. In fact, he was indeed drooling.