Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 422: The Generous Acromantula

With his haul secured, Kyle left the Forbidden Forest in high spirits.

Nineteen pints of Acromantula venom—equivalent to 1,900 Galleons. The cost of the Tebo warthog legs he gave to Fluffy was returned many times over. The final amount had actually been increased after Aragog, sensing how shameless his initial attempt had been, grudgingly offered more venom. Truthfully, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to give more, but Acromantula simply couldn’t produce more. Every spider in the nest, from Aragog himself down to the smallest ones the size of a finger, had been “milked” dry to reach the total of nineteen pints.

When Kyle left, the spiders lay scattered about in the hollow, weakened and woozy as though intoxicated. Seeing them like this, Kyle felt a rare pang of sympathy and resolved to whip up a batch of Spider Tonic as soon as he returned. He’d ask Hagrid to deliver it to the Acromantulas, hoping it would help them recover quickly, given that their natural recovery rate was painfully slow.

Kyle walked back into the castle, cheerfully oblivious to the fact that a pair of eyes was watching him from the shadows.

“Aha!”

Filch sprang out from a hidden corner, his voice dripping with glee. “Caught you sneakin’ around late at night!”

Though startled, Kyle kept his composure. “Sorry, Mr. Filch, but I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I just got up early for a walk.”

“Do you think I’ll fall for that?” Filch sneered. “It’s only five o’clock—no young wizard gets up this early.”

“Maybe I went to bed early last night,” Kyle replied coolly. “If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to check with the Hufflepuff common room. Everyone knows I was back in my dorm by ten, and I didn’t leave all night.”

“Or you can ask the portrait in the corridor,” he added, looking as calm as ever.

Filch, his confidence wavering, frowned. “I’ll do just that. Follow me.”

He led Kyle to a portrait in the kitchen corridor, then turned with a smirk. “Last chance to confess, or…”

“No need, Mr. Filch,” Kyle said, taking the lead. Looking at the portrait, he asked, “Excuse me, did you see any Hufflepuffs out for a late-night stroll after curfew last night?”

“Nighttime stroll? Absolutely not!” replied the wizard in the portrait decisively.

“Are you sure?” Filch asked, his expression darkening.

“Quite sure,” said the wizard. “Last night, I was locked in an eyeball contest with the lady across the way—started at nine. If a student had come by, I’d have seen them.”

Filch’s face turned an even uglier shade.

“Well, the truth’s out, Mr. Filch,” Kyle said with a grin. “If there’s nothing more, I’ll be heading back…”

Pausing, Kyle added, “By the way, I noticed Mrs. Norris has lost a bit of weight lately. Could it be that Hogwarts hasn’t paid your salary? You’re not cutting her food, are you?”

Filch’s face looked positively haunted, as if he’d just been told his job was going to a Dementor. “I haven’t cut Mrs. Norris’s food!” he bellowed. “Not once!”

“Of course,” Kyle said with a casual shrug. “But she does look thinner. Maybe a bit of high-quality dried fish would do her some good.”

“Don’t you dare…” Filch grumbled. He hadn’t caught a single student breaking rules in days and was already on edge. Being accused of “underfeeding Mrs. Norris” was the last straw.

“Just a suggestion.” Kyle didn’t wait for more, instead tapping a barrel with his wand. “Well then, Mr. Filch, I’ll be off. See you around…”

With a polite wave, Kyle turned and walked into the corridor, the passage door closing behind him and blocking out Filch’s sputtering.

He found the Hufflepuff common room empty—no surprise, given the early hour. Even in Hufflepuff, it was unusual for students to be awake before dawn; that honor was typically reserved for Ravenclaws.

Since sleep was pointless now, Kyle poured himself a bottle of Pepperup Potion and settled into the armchair closest to the fireplace, picking up a book to read.

It wasn’t until seven o’clock that the first few students started drifting into the common room.

...

The first class of the day was Divination.

Most students—and even some professors—considered Professor Trelawney a fraud who merely muddled her way through her job at Hogwarts. But there were always a few who believed she was a genuinely powerful seer.

“I used to think she was a fraud too,” said Mikel, excitedly recounting his story in the dark, stuffy attic classroom. “But every prophecy she’s made about me has come true…”

“She told me I’d be ‘away from everyone for a while,’” he continued, “and then I ended up in the Hospital Wing over the weekend! So that’s kind of ‘away from everyone,’ isn’t it?”

Mikel was referring to the incident after the recent Quidditch match, where he’d been struck by a Bludger. Madam Pomfrey had insisted he stay in the Hospital Wing for two days, nursing a sizable bump on his head.

“She told me the same thing,” Kyle replied flatly. “It was just a coincidence.”

In fact, it wasn’t just Mikel. Cedric had also received some ominous “predictions” from Trelawney.

Consciously, Professor Trelawney was a dramatic but talented charlatan; she knew how to make her prophecies sound just convincing enough. Her trick lay in knowing which students to focus on and choosing predictions that had a high likelihood of coming true.

Quidditch players were perfect targets. In Quidditch, injuries were all but guaranteed, whether during practices or matches. And so, at the start of the school year, Professor Trelawney had carefully “predicted” some misfortune for nearly every Quidditch player.

She didn’t have to do much. She merely waited, and eventually, one of the players would get injured, making her prophecy “come true.”

This technique had won her a number of admirers, including Mikel, who had joined the Quidditch team just this term. When Professor Trelawney heard of the new addition, she’d swiftly added him to her list of predictions. By sheer chance, she’d made his prophecy on a Friday, and after the game on Saturday, it had indeed come true. Mikel was convinced and became one of her most loyal believers.

Today, Professor Trelawney was in her usual theatrical mood. With the next Quidditch match approaching, she was once again focusing her attentions on the team members.

As she passed Kyle, she barely paused. From observing prior matches, she knew Kyle had never been injured during a game, which meant her success rate with him was disappointingly low. Instead, she moved on to a more “promising” candidate.

She drifted over and stopped subtly in front of Mikel’s table, watching him as he tinkered with an astrolabe.

“There’s… something here…” murmured Professor Trelawney softly, leaning in closer to examine his work. “Something moving… what could it be… oh!”

She shook her head dramatically and sighed. “My dear, if I were you, I would be cautious around someone with tousled hair… yes, the very person you’re thinking of. Best to avoid him until Easter.”

Mikel immediately went rigid, glancing around the room nervously in search of this mysterious tousled-haired individual Professor Trelawney had warned him about.