Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 683: The Mutual Harm Between Kyle and Dumbledore

Dumbledore was clearly enjoying himself, his eyes twinkling with delight as he observed Kyle’s helpless expression. He looked so pleased that he seemed on the verge of laughing out loud.

The petty side of the Hogwarts headmaster had not forgotten the relentless avalanche of owls and teasing letters he had received in the past, poking fun at the idea of him becoming Minister of Magic. Those memories had left him contemplating how to make Kyle feel the same frustration, especially since it was clear Kyle wasn’t fond of the tedious bureaucracy of the Ministry.

However, the unexpected announcement by Fudge in the Daily Prophet—publicly admitting that You-Know-Who had returned—had been a pleasant surprise for Dumbledore. He was acutely aware that this was Kyle’s doing; Fudge would never have made such an admission unless Voldemort had marched into his office and handed over his wand.

Because of that, Dumbledore had already abandoned any notion of getting even with Kyle. But then, Fudge had delivered an unexpected twist that very afternoon.

When the Ministry of Magic sent an exceptional employment form for Kyle, Dumbledore had signed it almost instinctively. The offer was too extraordinary to decline: a sixth-year Hogwarts student being appointed as Senior Assistant to the Minister for Magic, complete with a full salary.

As he had told Chris, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Refusing such an offer would have been irrational.

Kyle’s opinion, of course, wasn’t factored into the decision.

Dumbledore glanced again at Kyle, who stood silently before him. The satisfaction of the moment tempted him to indulge in a slice of egg and custard pie.

But as Kyle prepared to leave, Dumbledore called out to him.

“Yes, Professor?” Kyle responded flatly. “I still need to write a report.”

“Already back to work?” Dumbledore asked, his tone light. “What is it about? Perhaps I can assist you.”

“Oh, it’s quite simple,” Kyle replied calmly. “A report on cutting the salary and benefits of the Hogwarts headmaster. I’ve always felt that even the headmaster shouldn’t be absent for two months without a valid reason.”

“That’s an excellent suggestion,” Dumbledore said with a smile, his calm demeanor suggesting he didn’t feel personally affected. “However, I must clarify something. My absence wasn’t without reason. On the contrary, I was away on a matter of great importance.”

With a wave of his wand, a golden ring set with a jewel appeared on the desk before him.

Kyle’s eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned.

“Oh, so you recognize it,” Dumbledore said softly, his gaze fixed on Kyle as he tapped a finger on the table.

“Yes. A Horcrux,” Kyle replied evenly. “I’ve seen them plenty of times before. This one belongs to Voldemort as well, doesn’t it?”

Dumbledore didn’t respond immediately. He held Kyle’s gaze for a moment longer before replying, “I don’t believe there is anyone else in the wizarding world who would go to the lengths of creating a Horcrux, except him.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Kyle agreed with a nod.

“I have you to thank for this,” Dumbledore said, extending his arm to reveal the bloodied scars, now scabbed over, that marred his skin.

“You were injured?” Kyle asked, a faint frown crossing his face.

“This is the price of breaking a magical contract,” Dumbledore explained. “For reasons I cannot entirely explain, I succumbed to the temptation of the Horcrux—the overwhelming desire to use it.”

“Thankfully, the contract we established earlier prevented me from fully succumbing. Without it, touching the ring might have cost me my life.”

“I am ashamed,” Dumbledore admitted. “I always believed myself strong enough to resist such temptations. But I was wrong. You saved my life.”

“It’s nothing,” Kyle replied with a shake of his head. “Voldemort’s arrogance is his downfall. He always chooses incredibly precious magical items as vessels for his Horcruxes. To him, they’re symbols of honor, but to others, they’re treasures too irresistible to ignore.”

“In fact, even Nicolas almost couldn’t resist wearing Ravenclaw’s Diadem when he saw it,” Kyle remarked casually. “So it’s only natural that you, Professor, would feel the same way.”

“Wait, did you just say Ravenclaw’s Diadem?” Dumbledore’s eyes widened, his expression shifting to incredulity. “When exactly did you find another Horcrux?”

“Ahem...” Kyle froze, realizing his slip. Attempting to recover, he said hastily, “Actually, I meant Slytherin’s locket… The Diadem has been lost for nearly a thousand years. How could I possibly find it?”

Dumbledore raised a skeptical brow. It was clear he wasn’t buying such a flimsy excuse.

“Sometimes the truths we try hardest to suppress slip out unconsciously,” Dumbledore said in a measured tone. “When did this happen?”

“Well… not long ago,” Kyle muttered, his voice barely audible. “About a year ago.”

“A year ago?” Dumbledore’s chest tightened as though he’d been struck.

Ravenclaw’s Diadem—an artifact of unmatched significance, treasured by scholars and alchemists alike, himself included. And yet, Kyle had discovered it and chosen not to tell him.

To make matters worse, Nicolas had apparently known as well and also kept it from him. A whole year of secrecy, a conspiracy between the two, and not a word to him. Was his nearly century-long friendship with Nicolas Flamel worth so little?

As he recalled Nicolas’s benign expression during their meeting yesterday, Dumbledore felt a pang of betrayal.

“Where is the Diadem now?” Dumbledore asked, his voice carefully controlled.

“I don’t know,” Kyle answered truthfully. “After I returned from Nicolas’s house last Christmas, Rowena Ravenclaw took it to speak with the Grey Lady. I’m not sure where they are now, but they’re probably somewhere in the castle.”

“Rowena Ravenclaw?” Dumbledore’s eyelid twitched, the implications dawning on him. “You don’t mean to say…”

“Yes, Rowena Ravenclaw,” Kyle confirmed. “One of the Founders of Hogwarts. Part of her consciousness is attached to the Diadem. Both Nicolas and I have spoken with her—she’s very insightful. We had some fruitful discussions.”

Dumbledore’s hand slammed onto the table with a thud. For a moment, the light in his piercing blue eyes dimmed, and he seemed lost in thought.

“Are you all right, Professor?” Kyle asked, genuine concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Dumbledore replied stiffly, quickly regaining his composure.

Despite the profound regret of missing an opportunity to converse with Rowena Ravenclaw herself, Dumbledore took solace in knowing the Diadem was still within the school. There was still a chance to see it—and possibly her.

This revelation also resolved another lingering question in his mind.

Perhaps Kyle’s insistence on creating magical contracts to safeguard against Horcruxes wasn’t overcautious after all. Dumbledore now believed that anyone aware of Horcruxes and determined to pursue them should bind themselves with similar protections. The temptation posed by an artifact like the Diadem, imbued with the consciousness of one of the Founders, was undeniable.

Still, one question remained unanswered. How could Voldemort have chosen such a priceless item to serve as a Horcrux? Did he not realize it harbored a fragment of Rowena Ravenclaw’s consciousness?

Dumbledore doubted Kyle was lying—especially given Nicolas’s involvement. He resolved to question Nicolas later to confirm the details.

As Dumbledore pondered, Kyle had approached the desk and was now examining the ring closely.

To Kyle, the Horcrux looked distinctly underwhelming. It resembled a cheap Muggle trinket, the kind one could buy for five pounds. The single gemstone, which might once have been its only redeeming feature, was marred by a small crack—as though it had been carelessly dropped and damaged.

“Professor…” Kyle asked quietly, “you didn’t destroy the Horcrux by splitting it with the Gryffindor sword, did you?”

“Of course not,” Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. “The Gryffindor sword is sharp, but it cannot destroy a Horcrux. The crack in the stone was already there. I believe Cadmus Peverell himself smashed it in anger when he realized the stone couldn’t truly bring someone back to life.”

Dumbledore spoke with an overly calm tone, clearly trying to provoke a reaction. He had enjoyed the shocked outburst Snape had made when he first explained the ring’s history and expected Kyle to react similarly.

“Oh, Voldemort really is a loser!” Kyle exclaimed, but his tone was more amused than astonished.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, surprised by Kyle’s lack of reverence. “I assume you’ve read The Tales of Beedle the Bard? Aren’t you astonished to be looking at the Resurrection Stone, one of the Deathly Hallows?”

“Surprised? Yes,” Kyle admitted. “But I’ve seen another one before and even studied it for a while. Honestly, this is just a clever piece of alchemy.”

“Whether it’s the Philosopher’s Stone, the Time-Turner that lets you travel back a thousand years, or Ravenclaw’s Diadem, none of them are any less extraordinary than this.”

“You’ve seen it?” Dumbledore asked, his interest piqued as his fingers instinctively brushed the pocket of his robes.

“Harry’s Cloak of Invisibility,” Kyle stated plainly. “When I was bored, I looked through Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy at Sirius’s house. It mentioned that the Peverell family’s descendants included both the Gaunt family and the Potter family.”

“And how did you conclude that this is connected to Harry?” Dumbledore asked, his curiosity deepening.

“Because Harry once mentioned that his father used the Cloak of Invisibility when he was at Hogwarts,” Kyle explained. “Mr. Potter had it for at least twenty years, but the best Invisibility Cloaks on the market only last ten years due to the limitations of Demiguise fur.”

“The only way Harry’s Cloak could still be functional after all this time is if it belonged to Ignotus Peverell, the third brother.”

“That’s remarkable,” Dumbledore said, clapping his hands lightly. “I doubt even Harry himself realizes this.”

“If he’d bothered to read The Book of Wizard Genealogy, he would have known,” Kyle said dryly. “But he didn’t even open it after having it for two months. He nearly threw it out, calling it trash.”

“That, I’m afraid, is one of Harry’s greatest weaknesses,” Dumbledore said with a faint smile.

“This Horcrux hasn’t been destroyed yet,” Kyle pointed out, his gaze flickering to the ring. “I suggest giving it to Nicolas. He has the expertise and experience to handle it properly.”

“I just returned from Devon,” Dumbledore replied. “But this Horcrux is protected by a particularly potent curse. Nicolas’s methods won’t work unless the curse is removed first.”

“He recommended destroying the Horcrux by force, but I find myself without a suitable weapon. I’ve heard you’re supplying Basilisk venom to St. Mungo’s for one thousand Galleons per pint.”

“That’s correct,” Kyle said, producing a small bottle of venom no larger than his thumb. “If you need it, I can give you a very good discount. How about five hundred Galleons?”

Dumbledore glanced at the bottle, raising an eyebrow. “But there doesn’t seem to be a pint here…”

“That’s why I’m offering a discount,” Kyle said calmly.

“Fair enough,” Dumbledore said with a smile, placing a bag of Galleons on the table.

Kyle handed over the bottle and casually asked, “Professor, how do you plan to deal with the curse afterward? If Voldemort placed it on the Horcrux, it’s bound to be dangerous.”

“And once the Horcrux is destroyed, the magical contract we made will be rendered useless, correct?”

“You’re absolutely right,” Dumbledore agreed. “The contract’s protection only extends to the Horcrux itself.”

“Professor, I think it would be safer if I kept this,” Kyle suggested, glancing at Dumbledore’s injured arm. “At least I wouldn’t be tempted to touch it.”

“I understand your reasoning, Kyle, but that is entirely out of the question,” Dumbledore said softly, though his tone left no room for argument.

“Understood,” Kyle said with a shrug. Seeing that Dumbledore wouldn’t budge, he decided not to press the matter further and prepared to leave.

Before Kyle reached the door, he turned back and said, “I think you could find a Death Eater and throw the ring at him to lift the curse. Or Dementors would do. There were sixty of them that defected to Voldemort before—might as well put them to good use.”

Dumbledore, lost in thought, suddenly brightened. Of course—how had he forgotten about the Dementors?

Throwing the ring at a Death Eater might be too ruthless, even for him, but using Dementors was another matter. Those creatures, formed of pure malevolence, were essentially walking curses themselves.

Moreover, Dumbledore had already pinpointed the location of the rogue Dementors—a remote island to the south. He’d been planning to deal with them after the school holidays, and this task could align perfectly with that mission.

When Dumbledore looked up again, Kyle had already left, leaving only Fawkes, still dozing on his perch.

The headmaster’s thoughts drifted back to Ravenclaw’s Diadem, and his mood darkened once more. His intuition told him Kyle had deliberately let the Diadem slip into the conversation as a subtle act of revenge for his signing the Ministry induction form.

If that had been Kyle’s intent, he had succeeded spectacularly. Dumbledore couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration and disappointment. Knowing that Rowena Ravenclaw herself was in the castle, yet being unable to see or speak with her, left him so dejected that even his favorite Cockroach Clusters held no appeal.

The headmaster wasn’t the only one unsettled by the revelation. The portraits on the walls, usually feigning sleep or disinterest, were suddenly abuzz with chatter.

Rowena Ravenclaw—one of the most brilliant minds in wizarding history, whose wisdom and creativity had remained unmatched for a thousand years. The mere thought of conversing with her, even briefly, was an unparalleled dream for any wizard.

One by one, the portraits vanished from their frames, abandoning their usual stoic demeanor.

This sudden activity caused a stir within the castle.

Soon, students began noticing unfamiliar faces in the frames scattered across Hogwarts.

The first incident occurred in Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady, keeper of the common room entrance, was seen deep in conversation with a curly-haired witch in her frame. She seemed so engrossed that she completely ignored the students’ attempts to enter.

“Hey! Pumpkin Fizz!” Seamus shouted the password for the third time, his voice tinged with impatience.

The Fat Lady, however, paid him no mind. She was too excited, speaking animatedly, her voice high-pitched and enthusiastic.

When Seamus opened his mouth to call out again, he was interrupted by a sharp, piercing scream. The Fat Lady, overcome with excitement, vanished from her frame in a blur of uncharacteristic speed.

Seamus and the handful of other Gryffindor students waiting in the corridor exchanged baffled looks.

“How are we supposed to get in now?” Neville groaned. “I’ve been waiting here for an hour!”

But the Fat Lady had already disappeared into another painting, far beyond earshot.

Just then, the common room door swung open from the inside. Harry emerged in a rush, followed closely by Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, thank goodness, you—” Neville began, only to watch the trio vanish down the corridor without a word.

“They’re always like that—so secretive. No idea what they’re up to,” Seamus muttered, catching the door before it could close. “All right, let’s get in. Hopefully the Fat Lady will be back soon. I’m not spending the next few days locked out here.”

With that, he ducked through the passage into the common room.

Neville, not wanting to be left behind, hurried in after him.