Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 687: After the Battle

The infighting among Voldemort and the Death Eaters was a fascinating spectacle, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

Voldemortʼs attention soon shifted to the group emerging from the elevator. His piercing gaze moved through Dumbledore and landed squarely on Kyle and Harry.

“So, it’s you two again...” he said in a cold, venomous tone. “Always you two, meddling in my plans. Over and over. Too many times, for far too long. Avada Kedavra!”

The Killing Curse burst forth from Voldemortʼs wand, thick and sinuous like a venomous snake slithering through the air. Kyle couldn’t help but wonder if even the Norwegian Ridgeback, Norbert, would survive such a deadly strike. Yet, he neither panicked nor attempted to dodge.

In the next instant, a glowing red hand materialized on the wall beside them. It surged forward, intercepting the curse before it could reach its target. The green light ricocheted off the massive hand.

“Tom, don’t forget,” Dumbledore said with quiet authority. “I am your opponent.”

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten,” Voldemort replied, his tone devoid of surprise, as though he had anticipated this outcome.

But the Killing Curse reignited the battle with ferocious intensity.

The fountain in the hall erupted, its water reshaping into razor-sharp swords that flew towards Dumbledore. The projectiles collided with the half-finished statue, ripping a jagged hole into its center.

Dumbledore, calm as ever, raised his wand. An invisible shield seemed to form around him, deflecting the barrage of swords effortlessly. Then, with a subtle flick of his wrist, he directed the water back towards Voldemort. This time, the projectiles were even more forceful and precise.

Voldemort conjured a gleaming silver shield to counter the attack. The water droplets struck it with a resounding, gong-like echo as they dispersed.

Kyleʼs eyes gleamed with fascination. He couldn’t help but admire the spell. While Dumbledore’s mastery of magic was undeniable, it was the tangible, silver shield that captivated Kyle most.

“Professor Lupin, do you know what kind of magic that is?” Kyle asked in a hushed tone.

“Huh?” Lupin blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question amidst the chaos. His gaze darted towards Voldemort before shaking his head. “I’m not sure. It resembles the Shield Charm but seems far more advanced, possibly enhanced with Ancient Runes.”

“Got it,” Kyle murmured, already pulling out his wand. He cast the Shield Charm first, then carefully rotated his wrist. One by one, glowing golden runes emerged from the tip of his wand, coalescing into a larger, intricate rune. Slowly, he guided the rune towards the charm, attempting to fuse the two.

Just as he began integrating the rune, a streak of red light shot towards them from the right.

The augmented Shield Charm deflected the attack, but the force shattered it instantly.

“Who’s there?” Sirius demanded, stepping in front of Harry, wand at the ready. Lupin moved to shield Kyle instinctively.

It was clear the Death Eaters aligned with Voldemort hadn’t caused the disturbance. They remained entrenched in their positions. Kyle glanced upward and saw that the battle in the hall had escalated into a chaotic frenzy. Spells crisscrossed the space like torrents of rain, and the charm that shattered Kyle’s shield turned out to be a wide-area attack from Voldemort.

His gaze drifted to the nearby wall, where the red light had struck. A massive crater now marred its surface.

Lupin noticed it too. He scowled, frustrated by his earlier distraction, but his expression softened as he regarded Kyle with a mix of astonishment and respect. Blocking even a fraction of Voldemort’s spell with a Shield Charm was no small feat—especially for a sixteen-year-old.

Across the battlefield, Voldemort’s breathing had grown labored, while Dumbledore, significantly older, still appeared composed and untroubled. The outcome of the duel seemed inevitable if it continued on this trajectory.

Desperation flickered in Voldemort’s eyes as he spat out a mouthful of flames, which coalesced into a massive, serpentine form. The fiery serpent lunged at Dumbledore, its maw wide open as though intent on consuming him whole.

Unperturbed, Dumbledore extended a hand and grasped the serpent’s fangs. The fiery creature twisted and writhed before transforming into a long rope of flames, which Dumbledore skillfully redirected. In a fluid motion, he used the flaming rope to ensnare Voldemort himself.

Voldemort let out an ear-piercing hiss as black smoke began to billow from his body, swirling ominously through the hall.

“Master!” Bellatrix screamed desperately, lunging toward Voldemort’s aid.

But before she could reach him, Voldemort broke free of the fiery rope binding him. His body dissipated into seven streams of black mist, streaking in all directions.

Dumbledore acted swiftly, casting a spell that blasted most of the black mist apart, but one stream managed to slip past him, heading straight for the group near the elevator.

“Be careful, get out of there!” Dumbledore’s voice, for the first time, carried an edge of fear.

But it was too late.

The black mist bypassed Lupin and Sirius as if they weren’t even there and tore through Kyle’s Shield Charm effortlessly. It coiled itself around Kyle like a serpent, pressing into him.

Kyle’s head buzzed violently, and a hissing sound filled his ears, an alien presence clawing at his mind. Yet, just as quickly as it had come, the hissing stopped. The mist retreated from Kyle’s body and surged towards Harry.

Harry collapsed, clutching his forehead where his scar burned fiercely. A piercing scream escaped his lips as his eyes turned a vivid, unnatural red.

“Aren’t you trying to kill me, Dumbledore?” Harry said, but the voice was not his own. Voldemort’s cruel, mocking laughter spilled from Harry’s mouth as he glared at the group. “Come on, whoever you are—kill the boy!”

Dumbledore’s face was ashen. Sirius’s hand trembled as he pointed his wand at Harry, frozen in indecision, unable to cast a spell.

“Get away from him!” Sirius roared, though the command seemed more for himself than anyone else.

Voldemort, still speaking through Harry, laughed maniacally. But suddenly, his laughter faltered. His red eyes caught sight of something—a pair of eyes in the crowd, deep purple like shimmering amethysts.

For a fleeting moment, the red in Harry’s eyes dimmed, replaced by his usual green.

Dumbledore seized the opening, sweeping his wand with a forceful motion. An invisible blast struck Harry, forcibly ejecting the black mist from his body. The dark cloud swirled in rage and frustration as Voldemort’s voice echoed through the hall.

“Damn beast!” Voldemort bellowed just as the fireplaces along the walls roared to life. Wizards in bright red robes began pouring out in waves, their arrival marked by the clamor of boots and shouted commands.

The black mist retreated swiftly, coiling around the remaining Death Eaters. With a deafening crash, they smashed through the Ministry windows, escaping into the night.

“He was here!” shouted a wizard in red robes. “I saw him—I’m sure of it!”

“I know, Williamson, we all heard him,” said Cornelius Fudge, stumbling into the chaos, rubbing his forehead in agitation.

“Sorry we’re late,” Fudge said, approaching Dumbledore with a sheepish expression. “Are you all right?”

“You’re just in time, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said, his voice betraying a hint of relief. After quickly ensuring Harry’s condition, he turned to Fudge. “He was afraid. You heard it yourself.”

“Well done, well done,” Fudge muttered, his confidence bolstered slightly by Dumbledore’s words. “Now, we mustn’t let this chaos spread. Come on, everyone, back to work.”

While the gathered wizards were distracted by the commotion, Kyle quietly slipped back into the elevator. Reaching into his suitcase, he gestured to the Wampus Cat nestled inside. “Come on, back in,” he murmured. The feline obediently leapt into the suitcase, and Kyle closed it securely before stepping back out.

“Lawless, lawless, lawless...” The muttered chant of the Department of Mysteries employees carried through the hall as one of them wandered by, seemingly dazed.

“Yes, quite natural,” Fudge said nervously, as though trying to downplay the odd scene. “Who knows what secrets are hidden down there... they’ve always been peculiar.”

“I recall a thief once broke into the Department of Mysteries,” Fudge added with a weak chuckle, “and the next day, the poor fellow went completely mad.”

“Well,” he continued, shaking off the thought, “this isn’t the time for stories. Dawlish, Williamson—head downstairs and make sure everything’s in order. Albus—”

“I need to return to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore interjected, his tone firm. He gestured to Harry, unconscious on the floor. “Once Harry wakes, we can discuss what’s next.”

“Of course, of course,” Fudge stammered, his gaze finally landing on Harry. His face paled. “Why is he here? Oh, Merlin—should I call St. Mungo’s?”

“Thank you, Cornelius, but that won’t be necessary,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “Harry has only fainted. Madam Pomfrey will see to him perfectly well. However, I’ll need your permission to use a Portkey.”

“No problem at all,” Fudge replied with a nervous nod.

Dumbledore picked up a golden fragment from the debris—a piece shaped like a Centaur’s leg—and tapped it with his wand. “Portus,” he murmured. The fragment glowed blue for a moment before settling back into stillness.

“Here we are.” He slipped the makeshift Portkey into Harry’s hand. “Anyone who wishes to return to Hogwarts, place your hand on it.”

Kyle was the first to step forward, followed by Sirius, Lupin, and Mr. Weasley. They all placed their hands on the Portkey.

“Ready?” Dumbledore asked. “One... two... three.”

In an instant, the wrecked Ministry of Magic vanished. A swirl of light and sound engulfed them as they were whisked away, leaving Fudge and the chaos of the Ministry behind.

...

Once they returned to Hogwarts, Sirius immediately took Harry to the Hospital Wing. The others followed closely behind.

The Hospital Wing quickly became a hive of activity. Harry lay on the bed nearest the door, flanked by Ron, Hermione, Tonks, and Moody.

“What on earth happened...” Madam Pomfrey gasped, her expression one of deep concern as she rummaged through the shelves for a potion. “My, my, they even have marks from the Cruciatus Curse. This can’t be the Imperius Curse…”

As she spoke, she cast a quick glance at Dumbledore, seemingly startled by his presence.

Sitting beside Ron, Mr. Weasley anxiously asked, “How is he?”

“He’s okay. It didn’t last long, so he should recover,” Madam Pomfrey reassured him, approaching with a bottle of potion. “But I still recommend a visit to St. Mungo’s. To be honest, I’m not particularly skilled at treating the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Here’s some Calming Draught—it will make him feel better.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Weasley said, carefully administering the potion to Ron with a wave of his wand. Moments later, Ron’s furrowed brow eased, and he began to snore softly.

Lupin used the same method to give Moody his treatment.

Once everyone had been attended to, Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. “Thank you, Poppy. Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, clearly displeased. However, after a brief hesitation, she nodded. “Be quick about it. The patients need rest… and so do you.”

“We will,” Dumbledore replied with a warm smile.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey left, Sirius couldn’t hold back any longer. “What’s wrong with Harry?” he asked urgently. “He’s fine, isn’t he?”

“Of course, Sirius,” Dumbledore assured him. “He’s suffered a shock but should wake up soon.”

No sooner had Dumbledore finished speaking than Harry stirred. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking against the light. Looking around, he realized he was no longer in the Ministry’s main hall.

“Where am I...?” he croaked.

“In the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts,” Sirius said gently.

No wonder it looked so familiar, Harry thought, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his forehead. Turning his head, he saw Ron and Hermione in the beds beside him, with two Aurors stationed farther away.

“How are they?” he asked, ignoring the burning in his scar.

“Don’t worry. Everyone’s fine,” Sirius reassured him.

“That’s good,” Harry murmured, pressing his hand to his scar. “What just happened?”

“That’s what I was going to ask,” Sirius replied.

“I think it was another form of the Imperius Curse,” Dumbledore said softly, “even darker than the original Unforgivable Curses. If Voldemort is given enough time, he can force his way into your body.”

Harry shivered as he remembered the sensation—a red-eyed monster holding him down, controlling his every move.

“Thanks to you, we were able to buy some time,” Dumbledore continued, turning to Kyle.

“It wasn’t me; it was a Wampus Cat,” Kyle said modestly.

“I was going to ask,” Dumbledore said, his tone slightly sharper. “When did you acquire a Wampus Cat? I don’t recall any such creatures in the Forbidden Forest.”

“I borrowed it from Newt,” Kyle admitted. “To help Harry learn Occlumency.”

“Yes,” Harry interjected, shivering again. It wasn’t exactly a fond memory.

“I see,” Dumbledore said with a nod.

“Wait…” Sirius looked between them, bewildered. “What does this have to do with Wampus Cats?”

“Don’t you ever read?” Lupin asked, exasperation evident in his voice.

Harry couldn’t help but feel a pang of familiarity. Hermione had given him and Ron that exact look countless times while helping them study for exams.

“Do you think I’ve had time to read?” Sirius retorted, his chin jutting out defensively.

Lupin sighed and explained, “Wampus Cats are extraordinary magical creatures. They can run faster than most broomsticks, and their piercing blue eyes can see into a person’s soul. They’re natural Legilimens, which makes them ideal for teaching Occlumency.”

“That’s right,” Kyle confirmed. “That’s how I learned the skill. It was tough, but it worked.”

Harry shivered again. Kyle’s modesty didn’t do justice to the experience. Tough didn’t begin to describe it. Even now, the memory haunted him— a six-legged monster chasing him and lashing at him.

“I’m afraid only someone close to Mr. Scamander, like you, could learn Occlumency in such a luxurious way,” Lupin sighed with a hint of envy. “The Wampus Cat is an extraordinarily rare creature. For most people, seeing one even once in their lifetime would be impossible.”

Kyle shook his head silently, declining to comment further.

Sirius, however, looked even more puzzled. “But what does this have to do with what just happened? Could it be that You-Know-Who was afraid the Wampus Cat might see the secrets of his mind?”

“Not quite,” Lupin continued. “In addition to being a natural Legilimens, the Wampus Cat has another remarkable ability. When its eyes turn purple, it can hypnotize its prey.”

“That’s correct,” Dumbledore interjected. “The Wampus Cat’s hypnotic power caused Tom to temporarily lose control of Harry’s consciousness. I doubt he ever imagined a magical creature could undermine him so effectively.”

Dumbledore’s expression softened, as though he wanted to laugh but decided it wouldn’t be appropriate.

“But why was Kyle fine?” Harry asked hesitantly, struggling to contain his emotions. “I’m sorry, Kyle—I don’t mean to pry—but I saw the black mist swirl around you.”

“That’s because of Occlumency,” Dumbledore explained, his tone growing more serious. “At the time, Voldemort was extremely weak, and he couldn’t break into Kyle’s mind. Even if he had been at full strength, I suspect Kyle’s defenses would have held.”

“But I can do Occlumency too,” Harry said reflexively.

Everyone in the Hospital Wing turned to look at him, their expressions tinged with disbelief. Even Hermione, who had just woken up, groaned and covered her face as if she couldn’t bear to watch.

“I have a question, Harry,” Dumbledore asked calmly. “Since Christmas, have you practiced Occlumency on your own?”

“No,” Harry admitted, stammering and turning red.

Not only had he not practiced, but he had also returned the Occlumency books to the library.

“That is the answer,” Dumbledore said, his gaze steady. “As far as I know, Kyle’s study of Occlumency has continued uninterrupted for three years.”

Harry’s face grew even hotter, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to respond. It was no wonder Voldemort had been unable to overpower Kyle, while Harry had stood no chance.

“I suggest you do the same in the future, Harry,” Dumbledore advised.

“I will,” Harry replied, nodding resolutely. Dumbledore was right—he needed to dedicate himself to mastering Occlumency to prevent a repeat of what had happened today. If anyone had been hurt because of his failure, he would never forgive himself.

“Well, that’s enough for today,” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet.

“But Professor, I still don’t understand…” Harry began, but Dumbledore gently shook his head.

“There’s no need to rush. You can ask me tomorrow. If we continue to disturb your rest, Madam Pomfrey will surely throw us out,” he said with a faint smile.

“But you’re the headmaster…” Harry protested.

“No, here in the Hospital Wing, the headmaster’s authority carries little weight,” Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling. With that, he turned and made his way toward the door. “Get some rest.”

Sirius and Mr. Weasley lingered, reluctant to leave, but after a moment’s hesitation, they followed Dumbledore out of the room.