Hogwarts — Saturday Morning
Saturday was always the most anticipated day of the week for most Hogwarts students. On days like this, Kenzo would ordinarily have spent time in the common room with his friends — discussing lessons or simply playing Wizard's Chess. But today Kenzo wanted something different.
He walked out of the castle and chose to sit alone at the edge of the Black Lake. The autumn wind moved slowly, carrying the particular scent of damp grass. Kenzo stayed quiet for a considerable while, taking in the absolute silence he rarely had the chance to find, letting his gaze drift across the dark surface of the water.
That stillness lasted until his sharp senses caught the vibration of approaching footsteps. The steps were light and unhurried, but they carried a fluctuation of magical energy that was both enormous and familiar.
"I didn't expect someone as distinguished-looking as you to choose sitting alone by a cold lake."
At the sound of that voice, Kenzo turned slowly, his composed expression unchanged. There stood Albus Dumbledore, his violet robes shifting gently in the breeze.
"Headmaster," Kenzo greeted him, his tone quiet, measured, and respectful.
Dumbledore smiled warmly, then winked with the particular playfulness that was entirely his own. "Kenzo, why are you at the Black Lake? Shouldn't someone as handsome as you be using a free day to charm a young lady somewhere in the castle grounds?"
A very slight, composed smile appeared at the corner of Kenzo's mouth. He showed no sign of discomfort or surprise at the Headmaster's whimsical question.
"Eleven years old feels rather early to be thinking about things like that, Professor," said Kenzo evenly, his voice settling into the air as naturally as the sound of the wind. "Besides, charming people requires a great deal of unnecessary energy. The quiet at the edge of this lake is considerably more appealing."
Dumbledore laughed — the sound warm and easy, the way someone laughs when they're genuinely amused rather than performing amusement. Without ceremony, the greatest sorcerer of the age stepped forward and sat on a large stone beside Kenzo, both of them looking out at the water together.
"Ah, you speak like an old man who has already seen too much of the world," murmured Dumbledore. The playful smile remained on his face, but the light behind his half-moon spectacles was fixed on the surface of the lake with careful attention. Behind the easy greeting and the warm laughter, Dumbledore's instincts were working at full capacity.
What he felt from the young man beside him was only stillness — deep and absolute, like a sea without a bottom.
"Observing the quiet..." Dumbledore continued slowly, his voice dropping, the lightness in it receding. "There are times when looking at still water can bring us clarity. But still water is also very good at hiding what actually lies at its depths."
Dumbledore turned and looked directly into Kenzo's Rinne-Sharingan.
"So tell me, Kenzo — what have you actually been observing about Hogwarts so far? Is this old castle sufficiently — peaceful — for your taste?"
Kenzo's eyes met that gaze without flinching. He knew exactly what Dumbledore was doing. The old sorcerer was trying to take his measure — to determine whether the Otsutsuki heir felt disturbed by anything here, or whether he carried hidden intentions that might threaten the wizarding world.
Kenzo didn't answer immediately.
He reached down and picked up a small pebble from beside the stone he was sitting on, then threw it across the water with a movement that was entirely unhurried. The stone skipped five times across the surface before finally sinking, sending small ripples spreading outward.
"Hogwarts is a remarkably compelling place, Headmaster," said Kenzo at last, breaking the silence. "And as for its peace — I believe peace isn't something one simply finds. Peace is something that has to be maintained. And sometimes—" he paused briefly, "—one has to remove the small stones that disturb it, so the water can settle again."
Kenzo turned and returned Dumbledore's gaze with an expression that was sharp and not easily read. "So far, I have no complaints. I hope the stones that exist in this castle won't attempt to create larger ripples."
At those words, Dumbledore's movement stilled for just a moment. The wind around them seemed to pause with him for several seconds.
The Headmaster's blue eyes looked at the last of the ripples on the lake's surface as they slowly faded. Behind his gentle smile, Dumbledore understood perfectly the depth of the metaphor in those words from the eleven-year-old beside him. Remove the small stones that disturb it. The words had been delivered with elegance and courtesy — and yet they carried an aura of absolute certainty and quiet dominance. A gentle warning that Kenzo would not hesitate to remove any threat that attempted to disrupt his peace at Hogwarts.
Dumbledore knew Kenzo had already sensed something wrong within these walls — whether the secret on the third floor, or the darkness that clung to Professor Quirrell.
Slowly, Dumbledore chuckled. The invisible tension in the air dissolved.
"A truly remarkable philosophy, Kenzo," said Dumbledore in a warm, fatherly tone, though his eyes held Kenzo's with quiet seriousness. "But you must remember — sometimes a stone is deliberately allowed to fall into the water not to disturb its peace, but to teach the small fish around it how to swim against a current."
Kenzo didn't answer. He only tilted his head slightly, listening with the full attention of a model student.
"Even so," Dumbledore continued, patting his own knee comfortably, "I agree with you entirely. If the ripples begin to threaten to capsize the boat, the stone must indeed be removed. However, I hope you know one thing, Kenzo—"
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering, meant only for the two of them in the middle of the wide open lakeshore.
"—in this castle, you don't need to dirty your own hands to pick up that stone. Hogwarts has its own guardians. If the water begins to feel too turbulent, you can always tell this old man to calm it."
Kenzo looked at Dumbledore. He could see the sincerity in those words — and underneath it the unspoken request, that he not act outside all control or bring about the kind of bloodshed his ancestors had once caused.
A genuinely warm and composed smile finally settled on Kenzo's face. He inclined his head slightly in a perfectly executed gesture of respect.
"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," said Kenzo in a tone that was quietly reassuring. "It's good to know there are guardians one can rely on. I myself am rather more inclined to be a spectator who enjoys the view — so long as the view doesn't attempt to ruin where I'm sitting."
Dumbledore smiled with something close to relief. The implied promise was more than enough. The Otsutsuki heir would not interfere or shatter the pieces on Hogwarts' chessboard — as long as the game didn't reach him directly.
"Very good then." Dumbledore straightened up, reached into the pocket of his violet robe, and produced a small paper bag that was slightly crumpled. He held it out toward Kenzo with eyes that sparkled with warmth, resuming his role as the eccentric Headmaster. "Now — after that weighty conversation about pebbles and lakes, would you like to try a Lemon Drop? Sweet and sharp at the same time. I always carry them."
Kenzo glanced at the crumpled paper bag, then at Dumbledore's expectant, bright-eyed expression. With a movement that was entirely composed and unhurried, he reached out and took one small, bright-yellow sweet.
"Thank you, Professor," said Kenzo politely.
He placed it in his mouth. An immediate and emphatic sweetness arrived first, followed several seconds later by a sharp jolt of sourness.
Kenzo smiled very slightly. "Sweet at first, but concealing a rather surprising sharpness at the end. A very fitting choice of confection for you, Headmaster."
Dumbledore laughed openly at that — the sound carrying out across the surface of the lake.
"Oh, you flatter me far too generously, Kenzo. I'm only an old man with a very sincere fondness for sugar," he chuckled, popping a Lemon Drop into his own mouth and chewing it with an expression of complete satisfaction.
After sitting together in silence as the autumn wind moved around them — a silence that had by now become considerably more comfortable than when it began — Dumbledore slowly rose from the large stone. He patted imaginary dust from his robes.
"Well, I believe I've occupied rather too much of your valuable free time, Mr Otsutsuki," said Dumbledore, giving a small theatrical bow that was nonetheless entirely sincere. "Enjoy your quiet. The lake is, occasionally, the best listener available to those who are tired of the world's noise."
"I hope your day off is equally pleasant, Professor Dumbledore," replied Kenzo, inclining his head once more in a perfect gesture of respect.
Dumbledore turned and began walking back across the grass toward the castle, occasionally humming quietly to himself, his steps light in the way of someone from whose shoulders a heavy weight has been partially lifted.
Kenzo watched the back of the greatest sorcerer of the age until the figure disappeared beyond the slope of the hill. The smile faded from his face as slowly as it had arrived, returning to absolute stillness.
A very clever and very dangerous old man, Kenzo thought. He knows precisely how to extend a thread without appearing to be binding his counterpart to it.
He had only just considered closing his eyes again to take in the natural energy around him when his keen hearing caught the sound of footsteps once more. This time they were not the quiet, measured steps of someone concealing great power the way Dumbledore's had been.
These steps were more hesitant — as if the person they belonged to was still weighing whether to approach or turn back. The sound of dry leaves being pressed underfoot by expensive leather shoes told him that whoever it was had been standing and watching for quite some time — specifically since Dumbledore left.
Without turning, Kenzo spoke in a level voice projected precisely to carry across the distance between them.
"If you continue standing there hiding behind that oak tree, your feet will ache before lunch," said Kenzo calmly, his gaze still directed at the lake. "Come out. What brings a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight all the way here looking for me?"
From behind the shadow of a large tree several metres behind him, a figure stepped forward. Her school robes, with the silver and green of Slytherin, shifted gently in the wind. Her face was very composed — strikingly so — though a faint warmth in her cheeks betrayed the fact that she had been caught.
Daphne Greengrass raised her chin with the particular confidence of someone who had absolutely not been caught doing anything, and stepped onto Kenzo Otsutsuki's chessboard.
Daphne's footsteps were quiet and very controlled as she approached. Her perfectly straight blonde hair lifted slightly in the autumn wind, and although she had been caught watching from behind a tree, her posture remained impeccable — the bearing of an old pureblood house, not a degree out of place.
"Impressive sensory range, Otsutsuki," said Daphne, her voice carefully kept flat, cool, and free of emotion — the Ice Queen mask she wore with such consistency.
Kenzo turned to face her at last, his calm red eyes settling on her with no particular urgency. "The wind carries the sound of hesitant steps through dry leaves, Greengrass. Noticing the presence of someone whose breathing stopped for five consecutive minutes doesn't require high-level magic."
The faint colour in Daphne's cheeks deepened very slightly, but she recovered quickly. She stopped a few steps from the large stone, crossing both arms in front of her.
"I see you were just speaking with the Headmaster," said Daphne, her ice-blue eyes fixed on Kenzo. "It's extremely unusual — in fact, it essentially never happens — for Dumbledore to seek out a first-year student personally on a free day, in an isolated location like this."
Kenzo smiled slightly. He patted the empty space on the large stone beside him with a gesture of invitation. "Sit down if you like. Standing there with that much tension in your posture will only tire your back, and we both know this conversation won't be finished in two sentences."
Daphne hesitated briefly. Her defensive instincts told her to remain standing, where she would have the advantage of position — but Slytherin pride refused to allow her to appear intimidated. With a composed and unhurried movement, she stepped forward and sat at the far edge of the stone, keeping a polite but close enough distance to speak without raising her voice.
Silence settled for a moment. Both of them looked out at the Giant Squid moving lazily in the distance.
"So," Daphne said at last, breaking the quiet, her voice shifting to something more measured and quietly searching. "The Slytherin common room has not stopped talking about you since Halloween night, Kenzo. More specifically, the hierarchy in my house is confused."
"Confused about what?" asked Kenzo in the tone of someone asking about the weather.
"The Unity Circle," answered Daphne directly. "You — a descendant of a family respected and feared by the oldest pureblood houses — openly sitting and associating with Granger, a Muggle-born, alongside students from other houses. Draco Malfoy thinks you've lost your mind. Pansy Parkinson thinks you're being used. And the older students—" She paused. "They don't know where to place you on Hogwarts' political map."
Daphne turned and studied Kenzo's profile carefully. "Many of the purebloods in my house don't understand what you're doing, Otsutsuki."
At that, Kenzo laughed — a quiet sound, perfectly composed, without any edge to it, and yet for some reason it made the hair on the back of Daphne's neck rise slightly.
"Doing?" Kenzo repeated the word, looking at Daphne. His red eyes, bright as stars, locked onto Daphne's ice-blue ones. "Why does every simple action always have to be labelled as a strategy or political manoeuvring? Has it not occurred to you little snakes that I might simply be bored with your rigid traditions?"
Daphne's brow drew together slightly, but she didn't retreat from the invisible weight of that gaze by even a fraction.
"Slytherin doesn't believe in accidents," Daphne replied quickly. "We are taught to see the pieces, to see the board, and to deduce who the player is. And you, Kenzo — you don't conduct yourself like a piece. Not even like a knight. You behave as though you've walked into the room carrying your own chessboard."
A very slight, very dangerous smile settled on Kenzo's mouth. He leaned marginally toward Daphne — breaching the distance she had established between them — causing Daphne's heart to beat exactly one beat faster.
"A brilliant analysis, Greengrass. The Ice Queen title is well earned," murmured Kenzo in a tone that was quietly compelling. "You're right. I did bring my own board."
Kenzo straightened and looked toward the Hogwarts castle rising above the hill in the distance.
"Let me tell you one thing about my board, Daphne," he continued, his voice now carrying the quiet authority of someone stating a fact rather than making a claim. "On my board, 'pureblood' or 'Muggle-born' doesn't determine how a piece is permitted to move. What determines it is their usefulness, their potential, and their loyalty."
Kenzo thought briefly of Hermione — of her dedication during their training session. "Hermione Granger possesses a level of intellectual ability and determination that exceeds the combined total of every first-year student in your house. Draco Malfoy is welcome to pride himself on the purity of his bloodline. But put him on a genuine battlefield and he would be finished within the first ten seconds — too busy invoking his father's name to pay attention to what's actually happening."
Daphne went very still. The words were sharp, direct, and harsh — and yet they carried the weight of an absolute truth that the fanaticism of pureblood dogma had spent generations concealing.
"Then what position do Terry Boot and Michael Corner hold on your board?" asked Daphne, her voice softening without her intending it to, the haughtiness quietly leaving it.
"Every king needs knights and advisors he can trust to manage the smaller matters, doesn't he?" answered Kenzo lightly.
The wind moved through again. Daphne looked at her own hands, clasped together in her lap. She had come here with the intention of reading Kenzo's strategy — and what she was finding was something far larger than a power struggle between first-year students from different houses.
"So if you are indeed arranging your pieces—" Daphne raised her head and looked directly into Kenzo's eyes with full deliberate steadiness, "—where exactly are you planning to place a snake, Your Highness?"
At that question — so direct, so unapologetically ambitious — silence returned to the lakeshore. Only the sound of leaves moving against each other could be heard.
For the first time since their conversation began, Kenzo smiled — not the slight and enigmatic expression he usually wore, and not the polite smile he had offered Dumbledore. This was something else entirely. The smile of someone who genuinely acknowledged the boldness of what had just been said.
A quiet, unhurried laugh came from him. The sound carried in the air in a way that made Daphne hold her breath without quite meaning to.
"A snake," repeated Kenzo slowly. He rose from the stone with the ease of someone entirely comfortable in their own skin, his black robes shifting with quiet elegance. He was looking down at Daphne now, his height and the natural gravity of his presence settling over her without effort.
"On a traditional chessboard, Daphne, there is no piece in the shape of a snake," said Kenzo calmly. "But the snake is the most efficient hunter. It doesn't move in straight lines like a Rook. It isn't loud like a Knight. It moves through the spaces between shadows, coiling around an opponent's weakness, and strikes precisely at the blind spot."
His Rinne-Sharingan held Daphne's ice-blue gaze — passing straight through the cold mask to what lay beneath it.
"Slytherin is currently full of spoiled children who believe that family names and blood purity are a shield against the harshness of the real world," Kenzo continued, his voice dropping to something quiet and deeply compelling. "They're blind to actual danger. Too loud, too occupied with displaying venom they don't yet have the strength to use effectively."
Kenzo leaned his face forward very slightly, his eyes directly level with Daphne's.
"That house needs order. It needs someone who can govern from within the shadows — someone who can discipline them, ensure there are no foolish acts of petty rebellion or genuine stupidity that would eventually reach and disturb me." He let that settle. "Someone clever enough to see the full picture. Someone like you."
Daphne felt her heartbeat accelerate. This was no longer a conversation about dormitory politics. The Otsutsuki heir had just offered her absolute authority over first-year Slytherin — a position as an extension of his will.
"The question isn't where I'm going to place you, Greengrass," said Kenzo finally, his gaze a direct challenge. "The question is — do you have sharp enough fangs to climb up and take that position yourself?"
The air around them felt colder, but the blood in Daphne's veins burned with something that was unmistakably Slytherin ambition at its most genuine. The Ice Queen mask she always wore didn't crack — it hardened into something more precise, more capable.
Daphne rose to her feet. She straightened her robes with a slow and thoroughly composed movement, ensuring her posture was perfect, not the slightest trace of hesitation in standing this close to Kenzo.
"You're underestimating me considerably if you think I can't bring people like Malfoy and Parkinson to order, Otsutsuki," said Daphne, her voice as cold as a midwinter wind and as precise as a blade. "If you want discipline in the dungeons — you'll have it. The little snakes will learn when they're permitted to hiss, and when they're expected to be quiet."
A very thin, satisfied smile settled on Kenzo's face.
"Prove it, Daphne Greengrass," Kenzo murmured quietly. "Show me what you're worth, and I will make certain you are never a piece that gets sacrificed on my board."
Daphne looked into those red eyes one final time, sealing the unwritten agreement between them. She gave a small, precise nod — not the nod of someone submitting, but the nod of an ambitious ally.
Without another word, she turned and walked back toward the castle. Her steps carried no hesitation now. Her back was straight, her green robes moving behind her with full confidence. Daphne Greengrass had found her direction — and she was ready to clean house.
Kenzo stood alone and watched Daphne go, the faint smile not yet faded from his face. The moment her figure disappeared completely beyond the slope of the hill, the shadows beneath his feet rippled like the surface of dark water.
From within the ground, a strange form emerged slowly — divided equally into two colours, one half pure white and one half deep black. It didn't emerge entirely, only attaching itself close to the earth near Kenzo's feet like a living shadow.
White Zetsu's bright, slightly high-pitched voice sounded first, followed quickly by the low, gravelled, quietly sardonic rumble of Black Zetsu.
(Heeheehee — a very interesting human girl, Father! The ambition in her eyes is absolutely delicious!) giggled White Zetsu in a playful tone.
(She does have reasonable cunning. But in the end, she's only a fragile mortal piece. Are you truly going to allow a human child to manage the snake den for you?) replied Black Zetsu, his heavy, sceptical voice carrying its usual undercurrent of calculation.
Kenzo didn't look down. His eyes remained directed at the expanse of the Black Lake.
"A piece that moves of its own will is far more efficient than one that has to be pushed," murmured Kenzo quietly, letting the wind carry the words. "She has potential. Let her dirty her own hands dealing with the smaller nuisances in Slytherin."
Kenzo turned, preparing to walk back to the castle. His red eyes caught the light of the autumn sun with a sharp clarity.
"Besides — I have considerably more important business to attend to with our Potions professor. Don't I, Zetsu."
(Heeheehee — of course, Father! The dungeons are going to be very entertaining!) replied White Zetsu with enthusiasm.
(We will continue monitoring the rats in this castle for you, Father. Not a single one will escape our attention...) murmured Black Zetsu, before both entities slowly dissolved back into the shadows and disappeared without trace.
The Dungeons — That Afternoon
The stone corridors of the Hogwarts dungeons always felt colder and damper than the rest of the castle. The torches fixed to the walls burned with a low, unsteady light, casting long shadows that moved across the stone floor.
Kenzo's footsteps made no sound at all. He walked with absolute composure past a row of heavy oak doors before stopping in front of the darkest one — Professor Severus Snape's office.
He knocked twice. Quiet, but with a clear and precise rhythm.
"Enter," came a deep, cold voice from within.
Kenzo opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dense with the sharp scent of herbs and the particular chemical quality of wizarding ingredients. Along the walls, glass jars containing preserved specimens and various strange materials were arranged with meticulous care on shelves. Behind his large desk, Severus Snape sat marking a roll of parchment with an expression of habitual displeasure.
When he saw who had walked in, the hand holding the quill stopped.
His black eyes narrowed.
"Otsutsuki," said Snape quietly, his tone carrying the particular chill of someone who has no interest in concealing their feelings about this visit. "What brings a first-year Ravenclaw student down to the dungeons on his free day? Shouldn't you be in the library, your nose buried in books alongside your irritatingly earnest housemates?"
Kenzo was entirely unmoved by the condescending tone. He stepped forward with an ease that reminded Snape briefly of Lucius Malfoy — before he noticed that the aura of danger here was considerably more substantial.
"I read a reasonable number of books, Professor," said Kenzo with composure, a polite smile on his face. "But the books in the Hogwarts library don't have answers for high-level experimental work. And I was told that if I was looking for the finest and most brilliant Potions master in all of Britain—" he paused, "—I would find him in this room."
Snape set down his quill slowly. His expression conveyed no gratification whatsoever.
"Empty flattery will earn you no special consideration from me, Otsutsuki," said Snape coldly, his eyes holding Kenzo's with unwavering attention. "Say what you actually want, or leave my office before I deduct points from your house for wasting my time."
Kenzo didn't step back. Instead he walked closer to Snape's desk, then placed a small box of dark sandalwood on it.
"I didn't come here to flatter, Professor. I came because I know you've been looking for something that the wizarding world of Europe cannot provide," said Kenzo calmly. His voice dropped, taking on the quality of a predator that has already assessed the situation in its entirety. "Something connected to — the deepest regret of your life."
Snape stiffened. The atmosphere in the room became suddenly and profoundly close. "How dare you—"
"Reincarnation Dew Drop," Kenzo said, cutting across Snape before he could reach the full height of his anger. "That is the name of the substance in this box. In East Asia, it is considered a sacred treasure of the highest order, sought for centuries by Cultivators of the soul."
Kenzo opened the lid of the box. Inside, a small liquid crystal glowed with a soft green light — a shade of green that Snape recognised in a way that had nothing to do with Potions.
"This object cannot restore the dead physically," Kenzo continued, watching Snape's eyes with complete steadiness. "But when combined with the correct potion, it can call back a fragment of consciousness — a remnant of a soul that has not entirely left this world. It can give you the opportunity to — speak the words you never had the chance to say. To the red-haired woman."
The silence that followed was the kind that changes the shape of a room. Snape felt his heart suspend itself for a moment. The name Lily was never spoken — and yet her presence filled every corner of the office.
"How—" Snape's voice came out fractured, carrying fury and hope in the same breath, and that combination was one of the most painful things a voice can carry. "How do you know any of this?"
"My family has been observing this world longer than you might imagine, Professor," answered Kenzo with complete composure. "For the Otsutsuki, the private sorrows of individual people are not difficult to read."
Snape, unable to suppress the combined force of his curiosity and his suspicion, acted on instinct.
Legilimens.
But rather than entering Kenzo's memories, Snape was thrown into a void of deep crimson. In that space, an enormous eye with nine Tomoe markings rotated slowly — the Rinne-Sharingan. Snape felt as though his very consciousness had come within a breath of shattering simply from making contact with that eye for one second.
CRACK.
Snape lurched back in his chair, breathing hard. Cold sweat had soaked through his black robes. He stared at Kenzo with a genuine horror that he was entirely unable to suppress.
"Entering the mind of a potential associate without their permission is a very dangerous decision, Professor," said Kenzo with a quiet, lethal smile.
He pushed the box with the glowing crystal toward Snape.
"Take this. Use it for your work. And in exchange — I want this laboratory available to me in the evenings for my own experiments, without interruption from anyone. Including yourself."
Kenzo turned and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped for a moment without turning around.
"Consider it, Severus. The chance to speak once more with Lily — is not something that comes twice."
His silent footsteps carried him through the corridor. From within his shadow, Black Zetsu crept slowly alongside him, his voice quiet in Kenzo's mind.
(The dungeon laboratory is secured, Father. The contents of the bat-man's cauldrons and materials are now under our supervision. But — what is it you actually want with that gloomy place? We don't need human potions to be powerful.)
Kenzo smiled very slightly, his gaze moving across the stone walls of the castle.
"You always underestimate human ingenuity, Zetsu," murmured Kenzo quietly. "This castle contains an ancient relic left behind by one of its founders — a silver diadem, said to amplify the wearer's intellect and speed of thought to a level that exceeds ordinary human capacity."
(A diadem? Does Father wish to wear it?) asked White Zetsu cheerfully.
"Not in its current condition," replied Kenzo with detached precision. "The foolish descendant of Slytherin whose shadow lingers behind our Professor's skull — he contaminated that diadem by tearing his own soul and placing a fragment of it inside. A crude piece of soul magic that they call a Horcrux."
Kenzo's red eyes caught the torchlight, the nine Tomoe within them rotating slowly and radiating an aura of complete and absolute command.
"I require Severus's high-level alchemical equipment to neutralise that parasitic curse without damaging the vessel itself. I will extract Voldemort's soul fragment from the diadem — dissect it — and see what secrets that particular Hogwarts founder chose to hide within it."
He paused, letting the cool logic of the plan settle around him.
"And when the diadem is clean — it will serve as an enhancement for my own cognitive capacity. With the processing speed it provides, I can work toward integrating Chakra flow and magical core with the precision the next phase of our work requires."