From that day on, a rumor began circulating—no one knew exactly where it started—that the attack on Filch's cat might be tied to Grindelwald's heir.
Everyone present during the incident had heard someone clearly declare that the target was Muggle-born students. Coincidentally, just days earlier in the second-year History of Magic class, a wave of fascination about Dark Lord Grindelwald had spread like wildfire, including the idea that he held strong views against Muggles.
Naturally, the two narratives merged. Some began to speculate that Grindelwald's heir was attending Hogwarts, and that more attacks might be imminent. Panic spread.
Kai Adler, the actual heir raised by Grindelwald, felt thoroughly wronged. The only reason he had asked questions during History of Magic class was to piece together what his "old man" had actually done. He certainly hadn't meant to take the blame for whatever Slytherin's Heir was plotting in the shadows.
Not that he could clarify it either.
He couldn't exactly go around telling people, "This isn't Grindelwald's work, it's Slytherin's Heir." For one, he had no proof. And for another, his word would carry little weight. So, he let the rumor fester.
But he did develop a theory.
Whoever was behind this—whoever had strung up Mrs. Norris like some public warning—seemed to value symbolism, honor, and drama. If such a person had their "grand act" attributed to someone else by way of idle gossip, wouldn't they be furious? Perhaps they were already stewing somewhere in the shadows, planning another attack to reclaim the spotlight.
And the more they acted, the greater the chance he'd find them.
It was clear they'd only strike at night. There were too many eyes during the day. Too many risks.
So Kai began wandering the castle at night when he could, hoping to catch a trace of them.
If they dared target Hermione, he thought coldly, they had better be ready to die.
A brief pulse stirred within his chest. The Obscurus, usually dormant, seemed to respond to his rage—twitching like a sleeping beast just disturbed.
Clatter!
The sudden sound of a spoon hitting stone snapped him out of it. Kai looked up to see Harry across the table in the Great Hall, staring at him with a mixture of confusion and unease.
Hermione, sitting beside Kai with Luna the cat in her lap, raised an eyebrow.
"What's with you? You can't even hold a spoon properly now?"
"Ah—nothing," Harry said quickly, picking up the spoon.
In truth, when he had met Kai's eyes just now, a bolt of pain had lanced through his scar—sharp, immediate, and far worse than even when he'd faced Voldemort the year before. But how could that be?
He glanced back at Kai, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Was it possible that Kai was… possessed?
But that couldn't be. He'd touched Kai, even shaken his hand. If Voldemort's spirit was within him, wouldn't that have triggered a Quirrell-like collapse?
Still, something didn't sit right.
"Is something wrong?" Kai asked mildly, catching Harry's gaze.
"Uh…" Harry stammered, then blurted, "Tomorrow's Saturday. There's a Quidditch match—Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Want to come watch?"
Kai gave him a curious look. "Of course. Didn't we already talk about this?"
"Oh, uh, Hermione said you weren't really into Quidditch…"
"It's Gryffindor vs. Slytherin," Kai said with a half-smile. "As a Gryffindor, it would be odd not to show up."
He added more gently, "Besides… it's only right to support one's friends, isn't it?"
Harry blinked. Then, slowly, a grin crept across his face.
How could someone as calm and kind as Kai possibly be related to Voldemort?
He silently chastised himself for even thinking it.
The next morning, just past ten, Kai was practically dragged to the Quidditch pitch by Hermione.
The weather was perfect: not a single cloud in the bright blue sky.
The stands were overflowing. One half shimmered in red and gold, the other in green and silver. Kai noted a surprising number of adults among the crowd.
"Some parents come to watch when their kids are playing," Hermione explained as she clutched a pair of miniature red-and-gold flags.
Kai gave a nod. A booming voice echoed across the pitch as seven broom-riders soared overhead.
"Now entering—Gryffindor!"
The cheers were deafening. Hermione cheered right along with them, and Kai even spotted Harry waving down at them from high above. He waved back politely despite the roar filling his ears.
Boos erupted from the Slytherin side, only to shift into smug cheers as the opposing team flew out—on brand-new, gleaming Nimbus brooms.
Kai's gaze swept across the crowd and paused.
Draco Malfoy, flying proudly, was waving at someone in the stands. Following his gaze, Kai spotted Lucius Malfoy seated neatly beside none other than Professor Snape.
He raised a brow.
The Malfoys were infamous for their anti-Muggle sentiments, and Draco had already tried (and failed) to insult Hermione before. Could they be connected to the Chamber of Secrets?
Watching Draco bask in the attention, Kai made a mental note. I'll need to speak with him soon.
The match began in a flurry of whistles and wind.
Blurs of red and green darted through the air. Shouting, groaning, and cheering filled the stands. Everyone around Kai was glued to the game.
Everyone except Kai.
To him, watching people hurl balls around on brooms was… rather dull.
He yawned.
Another loud cheer rose up, and he assumed someone had scored again—until Hermione suddenly grabbed his sleeve.
"Kai, look! That Bludger—it's acting weird!"
He followed her pointing finger and saw Harry desperately swerving on his broom. A Bludger was chasing him like it had a personal vendetta.
"Isn't that normal?"
"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed. "Bludgers don't target a single player like that! Unless someone's hitting them, they just fly around randomly!"
Just then, Harry made a sharp turn, and the Bludger barreled through the safety railing before continuing to pursue him.
Kai narrowed his eyes.
"Looks like someone cursed it. Harry's in trouble."
"Do something!" Hermione said urgently. "That thing could kill him!"
Kai glanced at the pitch. "Wouldn't it be a foul if I interfere?"
"That's better than Harry dying!"
"Fair point."
He rolled his shoulders slightly, readying to act—when something in the crowd caught his attention.
He paused.
Then turned toward a shadowed corner of the stands, his gaze sharpening.
"I think it's better if we find the culprit directly."