When Kasenhis and Dumbledore were leaving the Wizengamot chamber, they were strolling at a relaxed pace—until a certain figure suddenly appeared beside Kasenhis.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kasenhis caught a glimpse—and his pupils shrank.
Lester.
To be honest, during the trial he had specifically looked over at Lester—he had voted not guilty.
In truth, Kasenhis had kind of hoped Lester would vote guilty—that way, the whole "repeated, rhythmically timed anvil-to-skull incident" would be considered even.
Then Kasenhis could chalk him up as just another mindless Ministry lackey, one of Fudge's yes-men, and continue to either steer clear of him or freely trash-talk him without a shred of guilt.
But now… things were different.
When he'd nearly flattened the guy with an anvil, Lester had still voted to acquit him.
What kind of person does that?
A noble person. A compassionate person. A wise person. A good person.
And now Kasenhis felt like… if he just took off running, that would be kind of rude.
"What are you thinking about?" Lester asked, looking a bit puzzled as he watched Kasenhis's eyes spin like gears.
As for Dumbledore—he'd already quietly slipped away, leaving the space for these two young men.
"I was just thinking... why did you vote not guilty for me? Don't we kinda have a bit of a grudge?" Kasenhis asked, shaking off the bizarre thoughts swirling in his head.
"You did the right thing. Why shouldn't I green-light something that was right and just? Though, I still don't approve of you using magic to do construction work in the Muggle world," Lester replied with absolute seriousness.
"You're actually kind of a good guy," Kasenhis said with a grin.
"Thanks for the compliment... I still don't like you, mind you — given how we met — but you are a good person," Lester admitted cheerfully. Clearly, those offhand compliments really worked on him.
"Me? I'm just average-good. Hey, wait — aren't you an Auror? Didn't voting not guilty put you on Fudge's bad side?" Kasenhis asked, curious.
"Not really. Because ever since that day when you, Dumbledore, and Fudge had that meeting in the office, and I said I'd forgive you guys for what happened..."
"...I got fired," Lester admitted with a bit of an awkward smile.
"So now you're...?"
"Other than the dozen or so storefronts my family owns in the busiest part of Diagon Alley, our ancestral estate that takes up an entire island, the top-tier trust fund I have in Gringotts, the Wizengamot seat I inherited from my father, a vault piled with Galleons, and the grand magical experiment I'm currently working on... I really have nothing left..." Lester said with deep faux-bitterness.
"Oh..." Kasenhis fell silent, listening to this Olympic-level humblebrag.
His rational mind told him Lester was absolutely doing this on purpose — aiming for that sweet, sweet moment when others gasp in awe.
But... since Lester had just helped him out in the Wizengamot, playing along with the guy's little Versailles-style flexing habit was entirely reasonable.
Nothing wrong with that at all.
Unfortunately, the world didn't always follow Kasenhis's internal script. Like his mouth — which clearly decided to act faster, and not just a little faster, than his brain, spitting out a reflexive sarcastic comment.
"Wow, poor you… sounds like you've got nothing left..."
Lester's mouth twitched. "I have things to do. Going home to sleep now."
"Mm-hmm, ri—right, see you." Kasenhis awkwardly waved.
Having just witnessed a new friend gracefully decline further interaction thanks to his own low emotional intelligence, Kasenhis could only let out a helpless sigh.
In the end, he patted his own mouth. "Why are you so damn fast?"
Back at Hogwarts, Kasenhis stretched lazily and collapsed into the sofa.
Truthfully, back in the Wizengamot, he still had plenty more he wanted to say. A whole pile of snark that had gone unsaid.
Like, for example, how Fudge's brain-fart decision had completely ruined what was shaping up to be a lovely vacation.
He had planned to use runes to connect block-based magic — something he'd already designed as a course during his very first year at Hogwarts.
That course was scheduled for fifth-years, though. He wasn't supposed to be teaching Wither crafting to them last term either, but fifth-years could handle it — for them, summoning a Wither was practically child's play.
But third-year Alchemy newbies? Not a chance.
Fifth-years had two more years of alchemical knowledge under their belts. Stuff that was basic to a fifth-year could be literal brain-melters for third-years. So obviously, he couldn't just recycle the fifth-year curriculum straight into a third-year class.
He still had to break down the fifth-year curriculum into bite-sized chunks — small tips and techniques he could feed the third-years, one spoonful at a time.
And just doing that had eaten up nearly half his time at his desk.
That kind of abstract suffering wasn't even worth complaining about back at the Wizengamot.
But still — some things just had to be vented.
Bottling them up only made you feel worse.
And besides, they had nothing to do with the trial, and Amelia Bones hadn't exactly given him space to rant.
Now, though — now he could speak freely. All he needed was a poor soul to dump his misery on.
Right on cue, Sirius Black emerged from a painting wedged in the corner beside the distant office door, slinking out from the frame like a ghost.
Then, like it was second nature, he stood up on two legs, pressed a hidden button, and launched a small boat down an ice channel — casually sailing his way over.
"..."
Kasenhis watched Bruce's smooth, practiced motions and nodded in approval. This dog understood people. The perfect unfortunate soul for a vent session.
Without another word, he scooped Sirius up into his arms. "Bruce, let me tell you, that damned Fudge is just so damn—"
The next morning...
Sirius dragged his weary body out of the painting tunnel connected to Kasenhis's office. He hadn't done anything productive the whole night — just suffered through one nightmare after another.
Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Fudge's nauseating face. And every time he was jolted awake by terror, he'd be greeted by a WHAM — Kasenhis, descending from above, whacking him on the head with a giant pillow.
And each time it was accompanied by a line: "Go to sleep, Bruce. No barking."
Sirius let out a helpless sigh. Meanwhile, Kasenhis, having fully vented his frustrations, slept like a baby that night.
As for himself... well, what a pity.
Being a dog… I sincerely apologize.
On the other side, Kasenhis had once again pulled out his copy of the First-Year Guide to Magical Arts. After wasting an entire holiday writing new curriculum, now that everything had settled down, it was finally time to improve himself a little.
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