Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 575: Two Death Eaters

Harryʼs nerves, stretched taut throughout the ordeal, finally began to relax. For the first time, he had a moment to process what had just happened.

Fragments of memory surfaced. He recalled being brought to this place by Filch—or rather, someone pretending to be Filch. No, it had been a Death Eater under Polyjuice Potion. Voldemort had called him Barty Crouch.

Barty Crouch... That name rang a bell. It was the same as Percy’s boss at the Ministry, whom Harry had met at the Quidditch World Cup. But this Barty had used his blood—Harry’s blood—to resurrect Voldemort.

Then Kyle had appeared. The Death Eaters had tried to kill him, but Kyle had driven them back with a fiery dragon.

A fiery dragon.

Harry’s mind lingered on the memory, vivid despite the chaos. Kyle had repelled an entire group of Death Eaters and even killed one on the spot. At the time, Harry had thought he was dreaming, that he was still asleep in his bed back at Hogwarts. But the searing pain in his leg had kept him grounded in reality.

After that, the fog had rolled in, thick and disorienting. His memories blurred further.

My glasses.

He remembered losing them inexplicably. Without them, everything became a shapeless haze. Harry had heard Dumbledore’s voice at some point but dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.

Now, with Kyle confirming it, the truth was undeniable: Dumbledore had come.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Harry asked, his voice edged with confusion. His thoughts were a tangle. He didn’t understand why Kyle was here. Wasn’t Kyle supposed to be busy with the Triwizard Tournament? And how had everything changed so quickly?

Kyle glanced toward the sky, where the frequency of flashing spells was increasing. He paused, thinking before responding. “How should I put this... Weren’t you taken by Filch earlier, supposedly to be brought to the maze as a hostage?”

“He’s Barty Crouch?” Harry interjected, hurriedly clarifying, “Not Mr. Crouch from the Ministry of Magic, but the other one with the same name?”

“Oh, Barty Crouch Jr.,” Kyle said, nodding. “The son of the Mr. Crouch you mentioned.”

“What?” Harry’s voice rose with disbelief.

Kyle didn’t elaborate, instead continuing his explanation. “But the idea of using hostages was scrapped before dinner.”

“Coincidentally, Hermione and Ron came to the Champions’ Restroom looking for you because they were worried. That’s how we found out you’d been taken.”

“And Karkaroff replaced the Goblet of Fire with a Portkey. When I touched it, it brought me here.”

“And Professor Dumbledore?”

“I have a... unique way of summoning his phoenix,” Kyle replied.

He glanced up again. The lights in the sky were now blinking like rapid-fire signals, and roars echoed intermittently from the mountaintop.

“Okay, Harry,” Kyle cut him off before he could ask more questions. “Let’s head back first. There will be plenty of time to talk once we’re at Hogwarts.”

“But Professor Dumbledore—”

“You’re not thinking of helping, are you?” Kyle asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. “Helping Dumbledore fight Voldemort?”

Harry fell silent, chastened.

Even though he couldn’t see Kyle’s eyes clearly, the incredulity in his tone made Harry realize how foolish the suggestion had been.

“So, how do we get back...” Harry mumbled, quickly changing the subject. “Did you bring your broom?”

“Yes,” Kyle replied with a nod. Then, as if dismissing the idea, he added, “But we don’t need it. Just grab my arm.”

He extended his hand.

Harry watched as Kyle reached out, seemingly to grasp at empty air.

“...”

Kyle noticed Harry’s blank expression and sighed. “Okay, that was inconsiderate of me.”

He adjusted his stance, extending his arm further. Harry reached out hesitantly and grabbed his sleeve.

Just as Kyle was about to Disapparate, his attention snapped to the bushes nearby.

“Who’s there? Come out!” he demanded, raising his wand.

Harry, immediately on alert, drew his wand from his pocket and pointed it—though in the exact opposite direction of where Kyle was aiming.

“True to the Champion of Hogwarts,” came a dull, mocking voice.

From the bushes emerged a Death Eater, his figure cloaked but unmistakably human.

“You can’t just leave,” the masked figure said, his tone flat. “Or I won’t be able to explain to my master.”

“That’s easy to solve,” Kyle replied calmly, his wand tilting slightly. “Sectumsempra!”

The Death Eater flung himself to the ground, rolling and scrambling out of the spell’s trajectory.

A split second later, the bushes behind him were sliced cleanly in half, the sharp edges of the cut smoldering faintly.

Cold sweat dripped down the face concealed behind Lucius Malfoy’s mask. He hadn’t come here to fight; he had only wanted an excuse to slip away from the battle on the mountaintop without incurring Voldemort’s wrath. Tracking Kyle and his friend had seemed like a convenient way to do that.

Lucius had known Kyle was capable of using Fiendfyre—a terrifying skill—but in the open space of the hillside, its effectiveness would be limited. What he hadn’t anticipated was that Kyle had mastered other lethal spells. That curse could have been as deadly as the Killing Curse.

The realization hit Lucius hard: this fifteen-year-old student was far more dangerous than he’d expected.

Lucius hesitated, torn between standing his ground or fleeing. He hadn’t come here to die. He’d come to show loyalty—not to risk his life.

But his hesitation cost him.

A row of jagged stone spikes suddenly erupted from the ground. One impaled Lucius through the sole of his foot.

“Ahhh!” Lucius screamed in agony, clawing at the ground as he tried to free himself.

A wand pressed against his temple.

“Sectum...” Kyle’s voice was cold.

“I surrender!” Lucius shouted desperately. “I surrender! You can’t kill me. You’re Dumbledore’s student—he wouldn’t allow it!”

Kyle’s wand lowered slightly, and he nodded. “Hm... That’s true.”

Relief flooded Lucius’s body. He exhaled shakily, thinking of how he could spin this disaster into a tale of his survival. But then Kyle’s voice broke through his thoughts, muttering as though to himself.

“If... if a lost 5X Magical Creature happened to pass by here, say, an Acromantula... and you happened to be unable to move... and it injected you with its venom... wouldn’t that make more sense?”

Lucius’s momentary relief evaporated.

His heart raced. There were no Acromantulas here, but he didn’t doubt Kyle’s insinuation. Magical venom was portable—and Lucius himself had a collection at home. The realization was chilling.

“This is a Muggle area! There aren’t any Magical Creatures here!” Lucius shouted frantically. “If you do this, you’ll be caught—the Ministry of Magic will find out!”

“Avada...”

The faint voice came from somewhere distant, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Kyle’s pupils contracted sharply. He grabbed Harry and yanked him back just as a flash of green light streaked past, barely missing them.

Reacting instinctively, Kyle slashed his wand toward the source of the spell.

“Sectumsempra!”

The curse struck an arborvitae tree, splitting it in two. But there was no sign of the attacker.

Kyle’s mind raced. Someone had just cast the Killing Curse, and he hadn’t sensed their presence at all until the spell was fired. This wasn’t random; whoever it was had been hiding, waiting.

Was the curse aimed at Harry? Or at him?

It didn’t matter.

The unknown assailant was the real threat now, and staying here was no longer an option.

An earthen wall rose from the ground, shielding Kyle and Harry as Kyle reached for his companion. “Hold on to me!” he shouted.

Harry, rattled but obedient, grabbed Kyle’s arm.

With a sharp pop, the two vanished from the spot, leaving the hillside behind.