Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 488: The Portrait’s Game

By the time Kyle returned to Hogwarts, evening had fallen. Sirius, in his jubilant return to society, had splurged on an enormous pile of goods from Diagon Alley, some for himself and some for Harry, then asked Kyle to carry it all back. Kyle couldn’t shake the feeling that Sirius’s extravagant spree was a kind of “revenge spending,” a way to celebrate finally being able to live openly again.

Who spends over 2,000 Galleons on Diagon Alley in one go? And that solid gold cauldron... was it really meant for potions? One scratch and you’d feel guilty forever. But there was no talking Sirius out of it. He had to have it, no questions asked—he was a true spendthrift.

Just as they had left, Kyle returned by Apparition, reappearing in the headmaster’s office.

“Hahaha!” A loud, gleeful laugh filled the room as Kyle arrived. It was shrill and almost strangled, like a goose caught in a fence.

“Dumbledore, I heard it all from the old hag,” said Phineas Black’s portrait, wearing a smug expression. “My great-grandson acquitted! Haha, I knew it. There could never be a traitor in the Black family! The Ministry of Magic is getting worse by the day. Those buffoons couldn’t see an obvious setup if it slapped them in the face… But at least the minister has some sense.”

The other portraits gave Phineas a wide berth, looking at him with a mixture of pity and mild annoyance.

“Oh, do shut up, Phineas,” said a bearded wizard, rolling his eyes. “You might fool others, but don’t kid yourself. Need we remind you of what you said about Sirius Black? Should we refresh your memory?”

“Yes…” a nearby witch chimed in with a smirk. “You were the loudest voice condemning him back then. Now you’re blaming everyone else? Shameful.”

“Nonsense, you must have misheard,” Phineas replied, stretching his neck in defiance. “I’ve always said—how could I possibly doubt a Black?”

At this, the other portraits let out a collective scoff.

At that moment, a tall, slender witch with jet-black hair snuck up behind Phineas, holding a heavy, round shield she’d acquired from somewhere. With perfect timing, she swung it down and smacked Phineas on the head.

“Who exactly did you just call an ‘old hag’?” she demanded.

Phineas, stunned, collapsed onto the ground, looking thoroughly dazed. Without missing a beat, the other portraits swarmed him, launching a barrage of punches and kicks. For no particular reason, it had somehow become a favorite pastime among the portraits to pummel Phineas—purely out of habit.

The headmaster’s office echoed with the sounds of fists and feet and Phineas’s indignant yelps, filling the room with banshee-like shrieks.

“Professor, you must lead a very thrilling life,” Kyle said, laughing.

“Ah, indeed,” Dumbledore replied with a smile, picking up a piece of flannel from his desk and moving toward the ruckus. “But at times, they’re simply too noisy.”

“Oh, and don’t you have to find Harry?” he added. “Better hurry along—the Gryffindor password should still be ‘Balderdash.’”

“Right.” Kyle nodded, heading toward the door. “Well, goodbye, Professor—and Fawkes…”

The headmaster’s office wasn’t far from Gryffindor Tower. All Kyle had to do was follow the corridor, take a turn at the end, and he’d be right there.

“Password!” the Fat Lady called out dutifully.

“Balderdash,” Kyle replied.

Instead of opening the door, however, the Fat Lady gave him a suspicious look. “You’re not a Gryffindor. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

It seemed she had become a bit more cautious since Sir Cadogan’s removal the previous year.

“I suppose you just found a scrap of parchment with the password on it somewhere and thought it would be amusing to try it out?” she asked pointedly.

“Not quite—I’m a Hufflepuff,” Kyle replied smoothly. “But the headmaster himself gave me the password. I just came from his office, and I need to see Harry Potter.”

“Headmaster?” The Fat Lady’s expression softened slightly, though she still looked doubtful. “Fine, but don’t go breaking any rules. Or you won’t be getting through this door again.”

“Don’t worry,” Kyle assured her with a grin, “I’m a model student, not a record-breaker when it comes to rule-breaking.”

“Oh, and by the way,” he added with a smile, “the headmasters’ portraits are currently having a lively go at Headmaster Black, so if you hurry, you might catch it.”

The Fat Lady’s eyes sparkled. “My dear, I take back what I said—you must be a remarkable young wizard.”

With that, she slipped out of her frame, and the door swung open, allowing Kyle entry. He stepped through the portal and followed the short corridor into the Gryffindor common room.

Being a weekend, the common room was busy with students. Kyle scanned the room and soon spotted the familiar trio seated around a table in the corner. Hermione was absorbed in her homework while Ron and Harry were engrossed in a game of wizard chess, animatedly discussing ways to make themselves appear a year older.

“I think the Ageing Potion might work,” Ron was saying as he captured one of Harry’s pieces. “Fred says he could whip up a potion that’d age you by a year. Bit pricey, though—ten Galleons.”

“Ten Galleons?” Harry repeated. “That’s not exactly cheap.”

“But I’m their brother,” Ron said smugly. “They’ll give it to me for five Galleons. Fred says that’s just covering the ingredient costs—no profit for them. And honestly, it’s the only surefire way... checkmate!”

He directed his knight to Harry’s king, a victorious grin on his face.

“Now if only I had the five Galleons,” Ron added, sighing.

“I’ll cover it,” Harry said, moving his king a square over with a quick move. “But don’t expect a Christmas gift from me this year.”

“Fair enough,” Ron chuckled. “Or maybe if I win the Triwizard Tournament, I’ll pay you back out of the prize money—that’s a thousand Galleons, easy.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed wistfully. “Imagine if we could both be champions.”

“That’s impossible,” Hermione interjected, glancing up from her book. “There’s only ever one champion from each school. It’s right here in Hogwarts: A History… Oh, Kyle! What are you doing here?”

“Come on, Hermione,” Ron said, setting down his chess piece. “I know Kyle’s smart and all—top of his year and everything—but that doesn’t mean he’s a sure bet for the Tournament. I still have a shot.”

“Hey now,” Harry cut in with a grin, giving Ron a good-natured nudge. He put down his chess piece and turned to Kyle, who was now walking over.

“Welcome to the Gryffindor common room, Kyle. Are you looking for Fred and George? They’ve been in the entrance hall on the first floor since after lunch—they haven’t come back up, so you might want to check there.”