Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 227: The Cunning Dumbledore

Kyle arrived at the Hospital Wing as quickly as he could after commanding the Basilisk back to sleep.

Harry was lying peacefully asleep in one of the beds, while Dumbledore stood nearby, speaking with Madam Pomfrey, who looked distinctly displeased.

“Last year it was a Dark wizard, and this year it’s the Death Eaters,” she said, casting a sidelong look at Dumbledore. “So, what will our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor be next year… Dark Lord himself? I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that were the case.”

Dumbledore merely smiled, offering no rebuttal or defense. Whether it was Oren or Quirrell, he was indeed responsible for their appointments, and he bore much of the responsibility.

Just then, Kyle stepped into the room.

“Oh, just in time, Kyle! We were just talking about you…” Dumbledore said, quickly ending his conversation with Madam Pomfrey as he moved toward Kyle, only to be promptly nudged aside by her.

“You need to be checked in immediately!” she said, glaring at Kyle, her expression so severe that she seemed more intimidating than Voldemort himself.

Kyle shot a pleading look at Dumbledore, hoping he might intervene, but the headmaster had suddenly developed a deep fascination with a potion bottle on the table and seemed oblivious to Kyle’s silent appeal.

Madam Pomfrey didn’t dwell on her irritation, though. “All right, stand still!” She waved her wand twice in front of Kyle, and a soft white light glowed at its tip, eventually forming a cloud-like mist that wrapped around him.

She studied the glowing mist intently before finally relaxing a little. “Very well. No trace of dark magic.”

“You should be grateful…” she said with firm resolve. “When Harry Potter was brought in, he couldn’t even get a full sentence out.”

She handed Kyle a bottle of potion, then guided him to one of the sickbeds.

“Um… Poppy, might I have a quick word with him?” Dumbledore asked gently. “Just a couple of sentences. It won’t take long.”

Madam Pomfrey frowned but nodded. “If you say so, Headmaster. But the boy’s just had an encounter with Fiendfyre… he needs his rest.”

Dumbledore inclined his head, acknowledging her concern without pressing further.

After drinking the potion, Kyle felt a deep heaviness settle over him, and before long, he drifted into a deep, restorative sleep.

...

When Kyle woke up, it was already the next morning. The noise in the Hospital Wing had stirred him. He could hear Madam Pomfrey angrily scolding, likely shooing Fred and George out.

“Good morning, Kyle,” a familiar voice greeted him. Opening his eyes, Kyle saw Dumbledore standing beside his bed, smiling warmly. The scene felt oddly familiar—just like last year, and around the same time, too.

“Good morning, Professor,” Kyle replied, sitting up. “How’s Potter?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Dumbledore said. “He’s out of danger and should be awake by lunchtime… Would you like something to eat? The kitchen is serving pork cutlets this morning.”

“No, I’m not really hungry,” Kyle said, shaking his head.

“That’s a shame, because they’re especially delicious today,” Dumbledore replied with a hint of a smile.

Kyle half-expected Dumbledore to ask why he had gone into the restricted area, but he didn’t. After a casual conversation, Dumbledore finally remarked, “Oh, by the way, remember to return Fluffy to Hagrid later. He was quite worried last night. Funny… at first, I thought Quirrell was the one who hid him. It took me an hour to realize that if Quirrell only wanted to pass the trapdoor, he wouldn’t have needed to hide Fluffy in the first place. Besides, hiding a creature as large as a Three-Headed Dog isn’t exactly easy.”

“Unless, of course, there’s a magical item involved… like a suitcase or a bag of sorts.”

“Er…” Kyle felt a little embarrassed, realizing his actions had left a trail. In fact, the bit of Felix Felicis he’d used only worked for about an hour.

“Sorry, Professor.”

“It’s quite all right, Kyle. I’m not blaming you. Honestly, even if you hadn’t taken Fluffy with you, Quirrell would have found some other way to get through.”

Kyle nodded. He had already guessed Dumbledore’s intentions. Subconsciously, he glanced around the room. It was just him, Dumbledore, and Harry, who was snoring loudly. The one person he truly wanted to avoid at the moment, Madam Pomfrey, wasn’t there—no doubt busy shooing away more students outside.

He decided to shift the conversation to lighter topics, steering it from Quidditch to exams, and finally to the House Cup. Dumbledore listened patiently, seemingly happy to indulge him in small talk.

But, eventually, Dumbledore brought up the inevitable. As soon as Kyle finished talking about the House Cup and was preparing to change the subject again, Dumbledore said, “Speaking of the House Cup… it reminds me, Kyle, did you by any chance see a bright red stone yesterday?”

Well, there goes that topic, Kyle thought, muttering under his breath, “Not the easiest subject to dodge…”

But when Dumbledore asked, he nodded and said, “Yes, Potter was holding it, but it fell into the Fiendfyre.”

“Yes, that’s what Harry told me,” Dumbledore replied, his expression thoughtful. “But it’s quite peculiar… The Philosopher’s Stone is an exceptionally magical artifact—even Fiendfyre can’t destroy it. I went back later, but there wasn’t a single trace of it left. Quite impossible, really.”

“Did you check carefully?” Kyle murmured, “Maybe it rolled into another room…”

“I checked thoroughly,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “It seems you already knew the Philosopher’s Stone was there.”

“Well… Potter mentioned it,” Kyle said, shrugging slightly. “During breakfast, he and Ron were always talking about how to stop Professor Snape from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone from the restricted area.”

This wasn’t entirely a lie; Kyle had indeed heard Harry and Ron discussing the Philosopher’s Stone on several occasions, whether in the Great Hall or in the corridors, “conspiring” loudly enough that it was impossible not to overhear. Most people thought they were just spouting nonsense and didn’t pay attention.

“Sounds like they learned quite a bit from Hagrid,” Dumbledore chuckled, shaking his head. He looked at Kyle again. “So, you don’t know where the Philosopher’s Stone is either?”

Kyle remained silent.

“In that case… it must have been taken by that Niffler,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. “I reviewed the images from the Mirror of Erised yesterday…” He winked. “Perhaps I’ll pay Newt a visit; he should recognize that Niffler.”