"Headmaster! Terrible news!"
Sitting in his office, Dumbledore stared at the week-long sick leave form in his hand, lost in deep thought.
"How could he have fallen ill?" he asked Cedric, who had come to deliver the report.
"I don't know, sir. But I think the professor might've overworked himself. This whole term, he's barely slept at all—he's been teaching me nonstop," Cedric said, voice trembling, tears and snot streaming down his face as he spoke.
"That shouldn't be possible," Dumbledore said, frowning in disbelief. "With Kasenhis's physical condition—even if he doesn't look like a muscle-bound man, I'd say he's still capable of lifting Hogwarts if he wanted to. How could he suddenly get sick?"
"The professor said it's because he's overdone his body modifications—his flesh and machinery have started rejecting each other," Cedric replied gloomily.
"Then just replace them?"
"Professor's heart is an engine now, and his lungs have been sliced into three parts. I don't think they can be replaced anymore…"
"Still, that's only physical reconstruction—it can't be that serious. Worst case, I'll go check on him myself. No need to bother Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, placing a reassuring hand on Cedric's shoulder before attempting to Apparate—only to fail instantly.
Settling for second best, he Apparated just outside the door of the Alchemy Office instead.
Inside the office, Kasenhis was lounging in the back, reading a novel and munching on an egg-stuffed pancake, when the crystal ball alarm on his desk went off.
Instinctively, he glanced toward the door. One of the visitors was Cedric, the other looked suspiciously like Dumbledore—both familiar faces…
Wait. Dumbledore?!
He froze, stuffing the rest of the pancake into his mouth in two quick bites, chewing and swallowing in record time. Then he immediately flopped down on the sofa, mentally lowering his body's metabolism.
In the blink of an eye, the same Kasenhis who'd just been eating like a starving monkey turned into a frail, delicate little boy on the verge of death.
Moments later, Dumbledore and Cedric appeared before him. The old man's eyes swept over Kasenhis from head to toe with a strange look.
"You're sick?"
Kasenhis weakly shook his head. "No… cough cough… no, I'm fine!"
Dumbledore drew his Elder Wand, ready to perform a diagnostic spell, and Cedric instinctively tried to stop him.
But Kasenhis kept up his half-dead act. "Go ahead, check. I deserve it… I've always been the reckless type, obsessed with body modification, never caring about my own life. Maybe fate finally decided to punish me for it…"
"Someone like me—it's understandable that you, Headmaster Dumbledore, never really trusted me…"
Dumbledore's hand paused mid-gesture as he waved his wand, but after a brief moment of hesitation, he steadied his thoughts again.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Kasenhis—of course not. He was merely performing a medical examination.
Yes. Just an examination. Definitely not a matter of distrust…
Slowly, he placed the wand tip against Kasenhis's chest. Brilliant blue magic flowed into his body.
Kasenhis remained as pitifully weak-looking as ever, while Cedric bit his lip, silently watching the scene unfold.
Then Dumbledore's expression changed. He stared down at his wand in confusion, his neck stiffly turning toward Cedric. "I think we should call Madam Pomfrey. No—better yet, we'll take Kasenhis to her directly."
With that, he flicked his wand, levitating both Kasenhis and the sofa he was lying on, carrying them gently toward the infirmary.
Cedric hurriedly stepped forward to stop him. "Wait, wait, Headmaster—maybe carrying the professor like that isn't such a good idea?"
Dumbledore paused mid-stride. "Hmm. Fair point."
He set Kasenhis down for the moment, glanced around the office, and spotted the charged Ender Pearl floating above its pedestal. Examining it for a second, he found a lever attached to the side and pulled it—instantly, the pearl's charge dissipated.
"Cedric, come here," Dumbledore called.
Cedric jogged over, and the next second, all three of them vanished—reappearing together in the hospital wing.
"Ahem—Madam Pomfrey, please take a look at Kasenhis," Dumbledore said as he gently set both the man and his sofa down.
"Kas—what now? What's wrong with him this time?" Madam Pomfrey asked, frowning in confusion.
"Who knows? Might be a cold," Dumbledore replied airily, picking up a cup of water. His hands trembled as he lifted it to his lips—only to realize the cup was already empty. "Or maybe a fever… Oh, and while you're at it, could you help me with my Parkinson's?"
Madam Pomfrey sighed. "You don't have Parkinson's."
"Now that's quite a claim… then why do my hands keep shaking?" Dumbledore asked awkwardly.
"Maybe you're just nervous?" she said casually.
Meanwhile, from the bedside came the startled voices of the assisting nurses:
"Eh? Why can't I hear his heartbeat?"
"That can't be right! There's no normal physical response at all…"
"His pupils—there's no reaction! Come on, constrict! Constrict!"
"Dumbledore! Potions! Quickly—get me the potions! Life-restoring potions!"
Dumbledore took a deep breath, waved his wand, and instantly transported the entire rack of potions over to Madam Pomfrey. Then, at an unhurried pace, he walked closer. "You two are just trying to scare me, aren't you?"
As he spoke, he reached out and patted Kasenhis on the shoulder. "After all, the man's built like an ox—"
The next instant, Kasenhis abruptly lurched forward and vomited up a massive amount of thick, blood-red fluid.
Dumbledore's neck stiffened as he looked down at the floor. "…What is that?"
Cedric crouched beside the puddle, squinting. "Looks like… internal organ fragments. Uh… can we put them back in?"
Dumbledore's face grew even stiffer.
Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey had already pried Kasenhis's mouth open, jammed a funnel down his throat, and started furiously pouring every kind of potion she could get her hands on.
Cedric stood frozen, completely bewildered. He wasn't sure if he should step in and stop them—but something told him that if he did right now…
No. If Professor Kasenhis was letting this happen, then he must have had his reasons.
He had to believe!
Meanwhile, Kasenhis—his eyes rolling back from the sheer flood of potions being poured down his throat—was starting to think that maybe death would've been preferable after all…
So this is the punishment for faking an illness, huh?
Merciful Merlin, please—send someone to deliver me from this torment… Arigato!
"Oh… what on earth are you all doing?" Snape's cold voice cut through the chaos as he walked in, carrying a small black case and staring at the utter disaster that was the hospital wing.
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