Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 244: Does He Have a Grudge Against Dumbledore?

The next morning, Kyle rubbed his head and sat up in an antique four-poster bed, blinking groggily as he took in the unfamiliar room around him. After a moment, he remembered—he was in Paris, at Nicolas Flamel’s house.

”Would you like some breakfast, my lord?” a high-pitched voice called from the far side of the room.

It was a House-elf wearing a pair of little goggles.

”Tata?” Kyle recalled. That was the House-elf’s name.

”Yes, honored guest... Tata is very honored you remember my name.”

Unlike the typically timid House-elves in the Hogwarts kitchen, Tata seemed much more self-assured. Dressed in a neat, well-fitting outfit, Tata looked more like a proper butler from an old manor than a House-elf. But, like the others, Tata was a bit over-enthusiastic.

As soon as Kyle sat up, Tata rushed over with an array of toiletries and breakfast items, setting them all down with practiced efficiency. Steak, sausage, bread, French foie gras, a selection of French soups... the table was practically overflowing, enough to feed a small army.

”That’s plenty! I can’t eat all of this!” Kyle quickly said, pushing a few dishes aside as he grabbed a warm towel from the nearby tray to wipe his face. ”By the way, what happened yesterday? And why am I sleeping here?”

His head still felt a bit foggy. He vaguely remembered being invited to Flamel’s house, meeting Fleur and Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons, but the rest was a blur. He had no idea why he’d spent the night here.

”My noble guest, you drank some rather… strong water yesterday and fell asleep,” Tata explained. ”The master asked me to bring you here to rest.”

”Strong water?” Kyle repeated, frowning as faint memories resurfaced, though still blurry.

”Yes, this,” Tata replied, pulling a bottle out from a nearby cabinet. ”I made sure to save it after everyone finished drinking yesterday.”

Kyle took the bottle, and his expression shifted as he inspected it. It was a bottle of Old Firewhiskey. His eyes widened as he checked the label’s date—1933.

He had been drinking Firewhiskey that was almost 60 years old? No wonder his head felt like it was spinning.

He’d never experienced a headache like this since learning Occlumency. But, as he now realized, Occlumency wasn’t much help against Firewhiskey.

”Master said you might need this,” Tata said, holding out a small vial filled with a sky-blue potion.

Kyle took it, uncorked it, and sniffed briefly before tilting his head back and downing the potion in one gulp. Almost instantly, a cool sensation spread through his body, clearing his foggy head.

Then, the previous day’s events started to come back to him. During dinner, someone had indeed offered him a glass of something with a wine-like flavor. And it wasn’t just anyone—it was McPhail, the wizard who had presented the Merlin’s Medal at Hogwarts.

At the time, McPhail had said it was mead, perfectly fine for young wizards to drink. Kyle hadn’t thought twice and took a sip.

And now…

Kyle rubbed his temples, feeling his headache intensify. Who would’ve guessed that McPhail, a wizard over a hundred years old and a distinguished Order of Merlin, First Class recipient, would lie to a kid under thirteen and get him to drink Firewhiskey!

And then there was that Baruffio’s Brain Elixir McPhail had started to brew—an unpleasant, slimy, bubbling concoction that looked like a strange shade of brown. Kyle had only ever seen it brewing in McPhail’s cauldron. Not even a dragon could stomach that stuff!

For a moment, Kyle couldn’t help but wonder if McPhail held some grudge against Dumbledore. Maybe, unable to best him, he’d settled for causing a bit of mischief by roping Kyle into his bizarre antics.

...

After breakfast, Kyle left his room and followed a gleaming, golden corridor that led to the grand hall from the previous day. When he entered, he found the hall completely transformed. The ceiling was now open to the sky, while the walls and floor shimmered in a deep, dark golden hue.

The moment he stepped in, Kyle was captivated by an astonishing scene: an orchestra, filling every corner of the room, playing their instruments with intense focus. The music was rich, sweeping through the space like a live opera performance.

Nicolas Flamel lay reclined on a beach chair, soaking up imaginary sunrays as he listened contentedly to the music. Spotting Kyle, he smiled and said, “Tata just carried away all the leftover food... I guessed you must have woken up by now.”

Kyle approached Nicolas, still entranced by the magnificent orchestra around him. “Mr. Flamel, what is this...?”

“Oh, you mean this?” Nicolas responded with a proud smile. “This is the most precious treasure in my long life.”

With that, Nicolas rose from his beach chair. The beautiful opera continued seamlessly, but in an instant, the orchestra vanished, and the hall returned to its original form. Kyle noticed faint golden symbols flashing briefly along the walls, similar to the intricate carvings on the Pensieve in Dumbledore’s office.

“Mr. Flamel…” Kyle began, still processing what he’d seen.

“As we agreed, call me Nicolas.”

“Okay, Nicolas,” Kyle corrected himself. “Are these… your memories?”

“Yes.” Nicolas’s gaze softened. “An unforgettable encounter from a century ago. I often feel drawn to relive it.”

“Amazing!” Kyle marveled. A life-sized Pensieve… surely, only in Nicolas Flamel’s house would one see such a marvel.

“This is my proudest creation,” Nicolas admitted, a fresh tune now filling the air.

Kyle looked around at the vast, now-empty hall, then leaned in and asked quietly, “Nicolas, do you think Mr. McPhail has some personal grudge against Professor Dumbledore?”

“As far as I know… no,” Nicolas replied. “In fact, they get along rather well, and both share a strong interest in Quidditch. Before you arrived, he even promised Albus he’d look after you.”

“By tricking me into drinking Firewhiskey?” Kyle asked skeptically. “That’s a rather… unique way to show care.”

Nicolas chuckled. “That has little to do with Albus. Ever since Dugald retired, he become something of a loose cannon. And it’s not just you—he even pulled a few stunts on Fleur. But he seemed to forget that Olympe is here too... Oh, this might lift your spirits a bit.”

Nicolas clapped his hands, and suddenly, the painting in the hall transformed. The original music was replaced by pitiful wails and a loud, rhythmic thudding sound, unmistakably McPhail’s voice. Kyle recognized it instantly; he had heard the exact same scream yesterday from the potion room, and it had made quite an impression.

Kyle whispered, “Could it be that Madame Maxime…”

“Exactly.” Nicolas winked, a mischievous smile on his face. “I doubt he’ll be stepping outside anytime soon.”

Kyle chuckled, though he felt a twinge of sympathy. This had nothing to do with Dumbledore. It was one thing for McPhail to prank him, but to involve Fleur, right under Madame Maxime’s watchful eye? He’d certainly paid the price for that mistake.