Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 662: Kyle, How About You Teach Me?

After leaving Snapeʼs office, Kyle didn’t return directly to the dormitory to draft any study plans. Instead, he found Harry, who was standing on the castle grounds, staring off into the distance.

Harry’s face was pale, though it wasn’t clear if it was from the water that had been thrown at him or from sweat. His hair clung to his forehead, partially concealing the lightning-shaped scar.

“How are you feeling?” Kyle asked as he approached.

“You’re here, Kyle,” Harry said, his voice slightly shaky. He unconsciously rubbed his scar. “It’s like last time—my head feels like it’s going to split open. But thanks to you, I didn’t hurt my arms or knees this time. A few times, I fell, but the floor felt soft, so... you did that?”

“Why shouldn’t Professor Snape be afraid of you getting hurt?” Kyle replied.

“Snape? Afraid of me getting hurt?” Harry suddenly laughed, the sound brittle as though he’d heard an absurd joke. “I’d sooner believe Ron could drain the Black Lake dry.”

“Ron has quite the appetite, then,” Kyle said, laughing along. “Where is he? Didn’t he come back with you?”

“He wanted to,” Harry explained, shaking his head. “He and Hermione planned to return with me, but it wasn’t allowed. Anyone who didn’t sign the stay-behind list has to wait until the start of term to come back, so they’re stuck at 12 Grimmauld Place.”

“It ended up just being me... I couldn’t ruin their holidays too.”

As he spoke, Harry’s shoulders slumped. He looked especially downcast when he thought about the next day and the looming lessons in the dungeons. His vacation plans had been destroyed, and now he’d face Snape’s torturous classes again. What had he done to deserve this?

For a moment, Harry considered venting his frustrations to Kyle. But then, something else came to mind.

“Kyle, I remember Snape saying earlier that you know Occlumency, right?”

“That’s right,” Kyle confirmed with a nod. “I do.”

“Then why don’t you teach me?” Harry asked, a sudden spark of excitement lighting his eyes.

“What?”

“You teach me Occlumency,” Harry repeated eagerly. “Headmaster Dumbledore told you to help Snape, didn’t he? So it’s the same as you teaching me. Since you know the skill, you must know how to teach it.”

Kyle hesitated, his expression turning slightly peculiar. “That’s true... but are you sure you want to learn from me?”

Harry, caught up in his enthusiasm, nodded quickly. “Yes! Is that okay?”

Kyle didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied Harry for a moment before answering with measured seriousness. “I suggest you try learning from Professor Snape first. Don’t get me wrong—it’s not that I don’t want to teach you. But my methods... they’re not suitable for everyone, and you might not be able to handle them.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said without hesitation. “As long as it’s not Snape teaching me, I can handle anything.”

Seeing Harry’s determined expression, Kyle hesitated again but ultimately shook his head. “Even if you say that, I’m only an assistant teacher. I don’t have much authority in the matter—unless Professor Dumbledore gives his permission.”

“Then I’ll go find him now,” Harry declared, ready to sprint back to the castle.

“Wait!” Kyle quickly grabbed his arm. “Professor Dumbledore isn’t at the school right now. It’s no use going to look for him.”

Harry froze, disappointment washing over him. After finally finding a possible way to avoid Snape’s lessons, this abrupt dead end left him feeling utterly deflated. If Dumbledore had appointed Kyle as the assistant teacher, why couldn’t Kyle just teach him directly? Did the headmaster not understand how much Snape despised him?

At that moment, Harry’s frustration with Dumbledore reached its peak.

Kyle, uncertain how to comfort him, simply sat down nearby. After some time, once Harry had calmed down a little, Kyle changed the subject. “By the way, in Snape’s office earlier—you saw Voldemort again, didn’t you?”

Harry looked up at Kyle, startled. For a moment, he forgot all about Occlumency. Surprise flickered across his face. It was the first time he had heard anyone else say the name “Voldemort” aloud.

Everyone else—Ron, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, Auror Tonks, even the professors—always called him “You-Know-Who.” Even Hermione, Muggle-born though she was, refused to utter the name. It seemed as though no one besides Harry and Dumbledore dared to say it out loud.

But now Kyle had said it, without hesitation.

Harry blinked, feeling an unexpected sense of kinship. Kyle was the third person he’d met who wasn’t afraid to speak the name.

In Kyle, Harry felt he had found an unexpected confidant.

“Yes, I saw Voldemort,” Harry said.

“What was he doing?” Kyle asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “It was too short. I had barely started dreaming about Voldemort when Snape woke me up.”

“You don’t remember anything?” Kyle pressed.

“I only saw a corridor,” Harry said after a moment’s thought. “It was dark, with no windows and no light.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all,” Harry confirmed. “I was just about to take a closer look when Snape woke me up with a splash of water. Do you know what kind of place it might be?”

“That’s not much to go on,” Kyle said thoughtfully. “With such a vague description, there are countless possibilities. For example, the corridor outside the Dungeon classrooms near us fits—no windows, dark—but it’s unlikely Voldemort would be in Hogwarts, right?”

“Yeah, that’s impossible,” Harry agreed, getting to his feet. “I’m going to Hagrid’s. Want to come?”

“I’ll pass,” Kyle said. “I need to go back and write my study plan.”

“Study plan?” Harry repeated, staring at Kyle in disbelief. He had thought only Hermione would come up with something like that. Now Kyle was doing it too? Was this some kind of benchmark for a good student?

“I don’t have a choice,” Kyle sighed. “Professor Snape’s orders. At least three feet long—a study plan for Occlumency.”

“Three feet?!” Harry exclaimed, shocked by the length. Then he caught on to something else Kyle had said. Pointing at himself awkwardly, he asked, “Is this because of me? Are you stuck writing that plan because of me?”

Kyle shrugged noncommittally.

“You don’t have to write it,” Harry said quickly. “Really, I know what I’m supposed to do. I just can’t seem to do it. How am I supposed to put aside all my emotions? The moment I see Snape, I can’t help but want to punch him in the face.”

“Well, good thing you didn’t,” Kyle said with a small smile. “But this is what Professor Snape wants, so I have to write it, whether or not it’s about you.”

“Snape, again...” Harry muttered under his breath. “That’s what I mean—no one can keep their emotions in check when it comes to him.”

The two parted ways near the Black Lake after that. Harry headed toward Hagrid’s hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, while Kyle made his way back to the castle. He went straight to the library, determined to complete the lengthy study plan Snape had assigned him.

...

The next day, at the same time, Kyle arrived at the Dungeon punctually.

Harry’s performance had marginally improved compared to the previous day. By the end of the session, he managed to stay conscious, but barely—he was sprawled on the ground rather than standing.

That was the extent of his progress.

According to Snape, even a troll would have made more headway than Harry, a remark that made Harry so furious he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

“It’s just like him... such arrogance and insolence,” Snape sneered, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Professor, wouldn’t it be better to adjust the schedule to once every three days?” Kyle suggested, glancing at Snape. “Being subjected to Legilimency this often takes a heavy toll on Harry’s body.”

“I know what I’m doing. I don’t need your advice,” Snape snapped irritably. “And by the way, your study plan is utterly useless. Even if you write another one today, it’ll still amount to nothing more than three feet of wasted parchment.”

“You want me to rewrite it?” Kyle’s voice rose in frustration. “But I spent all night detailing that plan, and you didn’t even let Harry see it! How can you say it doesn’t work?”

“I just know,” Snape replied with a mocking smirk. “Your plan is a step-by-step approach. If Potter had the patience for that kind of learning, he’d have mastered it ages ago.”

“Rewrite it. I want something different.”

A few minutes later, Kyle also stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Harry was right, Kyle thought bitterly. Anyone who spends even a few minutes with Snape would want to punch him in the face.

He had stayed up all night completing the study plan, only to be told it was worthless and ordered to rewrite it. If Snape had been upfront about his expectations, Kyle could have saved himself the trouble. At this point, he was convinced Snape was deliberately making things harder for him, though he had no concrete proof.

With no other choice, Kyle headed back to the library. Under Kanna’s puzzled gaze, he borrowed the same book he had returned just the day before.

Kyle sighed deeply as he left the library. He had no option but to comply—after all, he had agreed to take on the responsibility of being Snape’s assistant.

...

However, what Kyle didn’t anticipate was that this ordeal was only just beginning.

The next day... and the day after that... things remained the same.

Harry attended class each day, and Kyle found himself rewriting his study plan just as often. Every personal goal Kyle had set aside—every other task he wanted to complete—was put on hold indefinitely.

“Don’t tell me this isn’t good enough!”

Finally, when Snape demanded yet another revision, Kyle reached his limit. He narrowed his eyes at Snape’s mocking expression and said coldly, “If you dare ask me to rewrite it again, I’ll make sure the name ‘Half-Blood Prince’ gets published in The Daily Prophet.”

Snape froze, caught off guard. The smirk on his face faltered, replaced by a flash of anger.

“You’re threatening me!”

“And you’re just toying with me,” Kyle replied nonchalantly. “And it won’t just be in the paper—it’ll be on the front page.”

“Lucky for us, there hasn’t been any major news in the wizarding world lately. Don’t you think people would find it fascinating that a long-established professor of potions once gave himself such a grandiose title as a student? It’d make quite the headline.”

“You... have... no... evidence...” Snape hissed through clenched teeth.

“Do you think Rita Skeeter would care about that?” Kyle shot back smoothly.

He noticed Snape’s hand tightening in the pocket of his cloak, undoubtedly gripping his wand. But Kyle remained calm. This was Hogwarts—Snape wouldn’t dare attack him here, no matter how furious he was.

Sure enough, after a tense moment, Snape exhaled sharply and withdrew his hand, pointing it instead toward the door.

“Get out!”

“I will—but not just yet,” Kyle said, standing his ground. “Professor, I think you’ve noticed that after three days of intense teaching, Harry can barely walk straight anymore.”

Snape didn’t reply, but his silence spoke volumes. He had noticed.

The truth was, Snape’s initial plan had been to exhaust Harry both mentally and physically. By overwhelming him with relentless lessons, Snape had hoped to leave Harry too drained to feel or think about anything else. In this way, Snape thought he could suppress Harry’s emotions and force him to clear his mind.

But clearly, this approach wasn’t working.

The primary issue, Snape now realized, was that Harry’s aptitude for Occlumency was alarmingly poor. Days of intensive lessons had yielded almost no progress, a fact that even Snape couldn’t deny.

His expression flickered with uncertainty, as if debating whether to press on.

Kyle, sensing Snape’s hesitation, didn’t rush him. Instead, he sat in a nearby chair and spoke calmly. “Professor, from what I’ve observed over the past few days, it seems like Harry is resisting the process of learning Occlumency.”

“Impossible,” Snape snapped. “Occlumency is his best defense against the Dark Lord. Why would he resist something that could save his life?”

“I’m not sure,” Kyle admitted. “But... it might have to do with Sirius.”

“Black?” Snape’s scowl deepened, his brow furrowing in thought.

“It’s just a guess,” Kyle said softly.

He knew that Harry had once used information from a dream to alert Dumbledore, which had ultimately saved Sirius from danger. That success might be why Harry was subconsciously resisting Occlumency now.

By leaving his mind open to Voldemort’s visions, Harry believed he might uncover critical information again—maybe even something that could save Sirius’s life a second time.

Harry’s reasoning wasn’t entirely wrong, but he was overlooking a crucial risk. If Voldemort gained access to Harry’s thoughts, it wouldn’t just be Sirius in danger. Everyone connected to Harry—including the Order of the Phoenix—could become a target.

Even worse, Voldemort could manipulate Harry by planting false visions, leading him into carefully laid traps. Entire missions could go awry, and the consequences could be catastrophic.

Harry understood these risks on some level, but his attachment to Sirius clouded his judgment. Deep down, he resisted Occlumency because he didn’t want to sever his connection to Voldemort’s thoughts.

Unfortunately, this resistance was the biggest obstacle to mastering the skill. Like the Patronus Charm, Occlumency required both confidence and conviction. Without resolving this internal conflict, Harry’s progress would remain stagnant.

Snape, prompted by Kyle’s observation, seemed to arrive at the same conclusion. His expression grew darker as he realized the implications.

“Emotional idiot,” Snape muttered under his breath, “and that Black... just a constant hindrance.”

“Professor!” Kyle said abruptly, a glint of thought crossing his eyes. “I don’t think it would hurt Harry to endure a bit more suffering.”

“What do you mean?” Snape asked sharply, his tone cold and scrutinizing.

“Nothing drastic,” Kyle replied. “Just a different method of teaching him. It’s the same approach I used to learn Occlumency.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “And what exactly is that?”

Kyle smirked slightly. “First, I’ll need to borrow something. And I’ll need Professor Dumbledore’s signature as authorization. What I’m after is quite dangerous, and the owner won’t lend it out without approval from someone with proper authority.”

“The headmaster isn’t here,” Snape said flatly. “He’s away on important business, far from Hogwarts, and won’t return until the start of term.”

“That’s fine.” Kyle pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, quickly jotting down a short note. He slid it across the desk to Snape. “You’ll do just as well.”

“What is this?” Snape asked, his voice icy as he skimmed the letter.

“Sign it,” Kyle said confidently. “If Professor Dumbledore isn’t available, the Director of Slytherin House is an acceptable substitute. I just need someone with sufficient authority to vouch for the legitimacy of the request.”

Snape’s eyes twitched slightly as he read the contents of the letter.

“This,” he said, looking up at Kyle, “is how you learned Occlumency?”

“Ah, yes,” Kyle replied nonchalantly. “The process was... painful. But it worked, and more importantly, it’s safer for the Legilimens conducting the lessons.”

“And you think this will ensure Potter learns Occlumency?” Snape asked, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

“I’m not certain,” Kyle admitted, shrugging. “But we have to try something. Of course, if you have a better idea, feel free to disregard my suggestion.”

Snape stared at Kyle for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he picked up the quill and signed his name at the bottom of the parchment, next to the title, “Consenting Party.”

Head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape.

“That’ll do,” Kyle said, giving the parchment a quick once-over. Satisfied, he tucked it into his bag. “Professor, give Harry the day off tomorrow. I suspect he won’t have much time to rest for the rest of the week.”

Snape scoffed, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “Half a day is plenty. He doesn’t need more than that.” His tone dripped with malevolent amusement, making him seem every bit the villain he often appeared to be.