Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 716: Kyle’s Two-Way Mirror

Kyle didn’t think Kanna would have much trouble passing the exam for the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. With her natural talent and Snape’s guidance, it seemed almost inevitable.

Of course, that was assuming no one decided to maliciously lower her score...

But even if they did, Kyle figured it wouldn’t matter in the long run. He would graduate next year, and then he’d have plenty of time—and influence—to help ensure any such “mistake” was properly corrected.

...

An hour later, the puddings on the tables vanished, and the golden plates gleamed as if freshly polished.

When Dumbledore rose to his feet, the laughter and chatter that had filled the Great Hall abruptly ceased.

“Good evening, everyone,” he said warmly, spreading his arms as though he wanted to embrace everyone in the room.

“Look at his hand,” Mikel muttered suddenly.

Ryan glanced over. “What’s wrong? It looks normal to me.”

“He’s wearing a ring,” Mikel said. “Dumbledore never used to wear a ring.”

Kyle’s eyes drifted toward Dumbledore’s hand. Sure enough, there was a large, conspicuous ring on his finger. Its black gemstone was slightly smaller than a Golden Snitch.

The Resurrection Stone.

Kyle narrowed his eyes but quickly relaxed.

There was no visible damage to Dumbledore’s hand—it looked perfectly normal. This meant the curse from the ring had been neutralized. Moreover, the fact that Dumbledore could wear it without issue confirmed it was no longer a Horcrux. The magical contract Dumbledore carried would have prevented him from even touching it if it still housed a piece of Voldemort’s soul.

Dumbledore seemed to notice Kyle’s scrutinizing gaze and gave him a small, knowing wink.

“I’m so glad to see you all here again and that none of you are absent,” Dumbledore said, his voice ringing through the hall.

Everyone knew what he meant. Over the summer, the headlines of The Daily Prophet had been dominated by disappearances and deaths. Simply being alive to return to Hogwarts was something to be thankful for.

Dumbledore didn’t linger on pleasantries and quickly moved on to the usual announcements for the start of term.

He reminded the new students not to enter the Forbidden Forest and mentioned the dates for Quidditch tryouts. This year, however, there was a new addition to the rules.

“...The caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to inform you that students are strictly prohibited from bringing items purchased at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes into the school.”

The announcement left no doubt: Fred and George’s shop had been blacklisted entirely. Simple, effective, and very much in Filch’s style.

“And,” Dumbledore continued, “this year, we are pleased to welcome a new teacher, Professor Slughorn.”

Dumbledore gestured toward the staff table, where Slughorn stood up. His round, bald head gleamed in the candlelight as he gave a friendly wave.

At the Slytherin table, Malfoy sneered disdainfully, clearly unimpressed. But his expression quickly shifted when Dumbledore spoke again.

“I am delighted that Professor Slughorn has agreed to return to Hogwarts as our Potions Master.”

“Potions?”

The hall fell silent for a split second, only to erupt into buzzing chatter moments later.

“In the meantime,” Dumbledore’s voice rose above the noise, “Professor Snape will assume the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor.”

“No!”

“Absolutely not!”

Two voices rang out almost simultaneously, startling the Great Hall into silence again.

The first came from Harry, who shot to his feet in disbelief. The idea of Snape teaching his favorite subject was utterly unacceptable.

The second voice, unexpectedly, came from Malfoy.

Malfoy, unlike Harry, wasn’t objecting out of dislike for the subject. As someone set to work for the Dark Lord, learning to defend oneself against dark magic wasn’t exactly relevant to his future plans. His outburst had more to do with something his mother had impressed upon him repeatedly before the school year began: he had to take Snape’s class.

Malfoy had dismissed the advice at the time, assuming Snape would still be teaching Potions, a subject where he could easily secure top marks.

Who could have imagined that Snape would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, while his despised Potions master, Slughorn, took over the very subject he once ruled?

“Draco, the professor is looking at you,” Pansy whispered, tugging at his robe from under the table.

Malfoy glanced up and realized that both he and Harry Potter had become the center of attention. Snape, standing on the platform, was eyeing him with a cold, piercing stare. Coming to his senses, Malfoy quickly sat back down, trying to compose himself.

As he calmed, a thought struck him—he could still change his course selection. If Snape agreed, he could continue taking Defence Against the Dark Arts. As for Slughornʼs Potions class... who cared?

“Ah, Snape got his wish,” Kyle remarked, turning to Kanna. “I remember he always wanted to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Looks like the headmaster finally gave him the nod this year.”

Kanna frowned, clearly unimpressed. After all, everyone knew the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts was notorious. She couldn’t fathom why Snape, whose expertise lay in Potions, would willingly take on the cursed role.

“Don’t worry,” Kyle said softly, almost as if he could read her mind. “I bet Professor Snape will be back in the Potions classroom by the end of the school year.”

“Really?” Kanna asked, her expression softening slightly.

“I think so,” Kyle replied. “And the curse isn’t as bad as it’s made out to be. Look at Lupin, Sirius, and Moody—they’re all fine, aren’t they?”

Kyle’s reassurance seemed to have a calming effect, and Kanna appeared less troubled.

The Great Hall was alive with chatter, with many students echoing their curiosity and opinions about the change. Their interest in this topic even overshadowed Dumbledore’s customary admonitions about unity and vigilance against their common enemy. After all, the Headmaster had given similar speeches in previous years.

The only notable difference this year was the mention of new restricted areas in the castle, likely tied to the reinforced magical fortifications. Dumbledore also emphasized the importance of adhering strictly to the new rules set by the professors and maintaining discipline.

When dinner concluded, the familiar scrape of benches echoed through the hall as students rose and began filing out toward their dormitories. Kanna left to fulfill her duties as a Prefect, guiding the first-years to their common room.

Kyle lingered for a moment, then quietly slipped away, blending into the crowd on his way back to the common room. Escorting the first-years didn’t require so many Prefects—two would suffice.

“Kyle, Iʼve been looking for you.” A voice called out from behind, followed by hurried footsteps.

“Grace?” Kyle turned around, looking at the approaching figure. “What’s up?”

“Come with me.” Grace grabbed his sleeve, trying to pull him in the direction the professors had gone. “They sent me the Quidditch captain’s badge by mistake. If we hurry while the professors are still here, we can get it sorted.”

Kyle didn’t budge.

Grace tugged twice, but when she realized he wasn’t moving, she turned back in frustration. “Hurry! The professors will leave soon!”

“No, Grace,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “They didn’t make a mistake. You’re the captain.”

Grace froze, staring at him in disbelief.

“But... how is that possible?”

“Why not?” Kyle laughed lightly. “Even if you thought the badge was sent by mistake, the name on the letter wouldn’t be wrong. There must have been a letter with the badge, right? Probably informing you that you’re the captain of the Quidditch team.”

“Oh, was there?” Grace blinked in surprise.

“You didn’t know?” Kyle asked, clearly puzzled.

Grace shook her head. When she had found the captain’s badge, she’d simply assumed it was an error. Without giving it much thought, she’d put the badge back in its envelope, intending to hand it to Kyle once they returned to school. She hadn’t even checked for a letter.

“Never mind,” Kyle said with a chuckle. “Do you still have the envelope?”

Grace nodded and pulled it out from her robe pocket.

“Well, don’t just stand there—open it and see,” Kyle encouraged, a smile on his face.

Still dazed, Grace opened the envelope. Sure enough, inside was a neatly folded piece of parchment. Her emotions were a whirlwind—nerves, doubt, confusion, and a flicker of something hopeful that she hadn’t even acknowledged yet.

Unfolding the parchment, she read the top line: her name. Below it was a short message:

“Congratulations on becoming the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Please register as captain with Madam Hooch after September 1st.”

Grace’s breath hitched, her chest tightening.

“See?” Kyle said gently. “This proves they didn’t make a mistake.”

“But... why me?” Grace stammered, still struggling to believe it. “You’re the best player on the team.”

“You’re wrong about one thing,” Kyle said with a shrug. “The captain isn’t chosen based on individual skill but on how they can lead the team as a whole.”

He paused, then added, “Besides, as you know, I’ve got a job at the Ministry of Magic.”

Grace nodded. It was no secret among the students that Kyle was Senior Assistant to the Minister for Magic.

“That’s the point,” Kyle explained in a quieter voice. “Because of my work at the Ministry, I might not have enough time to train or even play this year...”

“What?” Grace exclaimed, her voice rising in shock. “You’re quitting the team?”

Kyle was the heart of Hufflepuff’s Quidditch team. If he left, their chances of success would plummet.

“No, I’m not quitting,” Kyle reassured her quickly, shaking his head. “I still want to help Hufflepuff win our seventh consecutive championship. But you know how it is for seventh-years. With all the academic demands and... well, the current special circumstances, I can’t guarantee I’ll be fully present.”

“Planning training sessions, strategizing tactics—those things take time. If I were captain, we’d probably have to wing it for most of the season.”

Grace exhaled in relief. As long as Kyle wasn’t leaving the team entirely, they could work around his limited availability.

“That’s why,” Kyle continued, his tone firm, “you’re the best choice for captain.”

Grace stood there, still trying to process everything. Doubts lingered, but Kyle’s confidence in her was undeniable. Before she could respond, she realized he had already turned and was making his way back to the common room.

In true Hufflepuff tradition, the news of Grace’s captaincy quickly spread through the house. That night, the common room buzzed with excitement and celebration. For Hufflepuff, it was destined to be a sleepless night.

...

The next morning, when they gathered for breakfast, nearly half the Hufflepuff table was stifling yawns. They had stayed up late finishing homework and were now feeling the consequences.

The new timetables had been distributed the previous day, and Year 7ʼs first class of the term was History of Magic—a subject infamous for its soporific qualities. Taught by a ghost who monotonously read aloud from the textbook, it was widely regarded as the perfect opportunity to catch up on sleep or discreetly work on other things, provided one didn’t disrupt the professor.

Kanna had taken a seat in the back row of the classroom and was curiously watching her neighbor, Kyle. He was holding his wand, meticulously tracing symbols on a small round mirror. The wand acted like a quill, leaving visible marks on the mirrorʼs surface with every stroke.

From what Kanna could discern, the markings resembled runes, but they were so intricate that she couldn’t make sense of them despite staring for several minutes.

“What are you doing?” she finally whispered, unable to contain her curiosity.

“Reviewing alchemy,” Kyle replied in a hushed tone.

“This is alchemy?” Kanna leaned closer, studying the mirror covered in elaborate symbols. “It doesn’t look like the same thing as when you made that map before.”

“Of course it’s not the same,” Kyle explained. “The things I made before—like the maps or those waterproof badges—were magical items, sure, but only just barely. True alchemy is a fusion of runes and magic.”

As Kyle spoke, he became distracted, and his wand slipped slightly. The next rune he inscribed was incorrect, and the mirror immediately cracked, shattering into fragments.

“Sorry,” Kanna said, feeling guilty for interrupting him.

“It’s fine.” Kyle waved his wand to clear away the shards with a flick, his tone casual. “I wasn’t going to get it right on the first try anyway.” He then reached into his bag and pulled out a new mirror, resuming his work.

This time, Kanna kept silent, content to watch him closely. The process, however, was far less captivating than she had anticipated. Kyle worked with painstaking precision, taking nearly half an hour to cover a mirror no larger than his palm with runes.

As each set of runes was completed, they would vanish as though absorbed by the mirror, allowing Kyle to continue inscribing new ones. If a single mistake occurred, the mirror shattered, forcing him to start over from scratch.

Kyle had been engrossed in this alchemical project for two days straight, paying little attention during lessons. Most of the professors, including Professor McGonagall, turned a blind eye to his lack of participation, as if they understood the importance of his work.

At first, Kanna had taken it upon herself to jot down notes for Kyle, but during one Transfiguration class, Kyle effortlessly fulfilled Professor McGonagall’s complex request with a casual wave of his wand. After that, Kanna realized her efforts were unnecessary.

It made sense now why McGonagall tolerated Kyle’s apparent daydreaming—he hardly needed conventional lessons.

Finally, on the third morning of the term, during the tail end of their first Charms lesson, Kyle set his wand down with an air of finality.

Kanna’s initial assumption was that he had failed yet again, but she quickly noticed that the mirror was still intact.

“Did you do it?” she asked hesitantly.

“Sort of,” Kyle said, exhaling deeply. “Just the final step left.” He tapped the mirror with his wand.

Instantly, the previously drawn runes flared to life, glowing as they merged into an intricate, cohesive symbol. The mirror began to tremble violently, drawing the attention of nearby students and even Professor Flitwick.

The shaking intensified until the mirror suddenly split down the middle. However, instead of shattering, it seemed to duplicate, as though a Doubling Charm had been cast upon it.

A moment later, the trembling ceased, and the runic diagram faded into invisibility.

Clap Clap...

A burst of applause rippled through the classroom.

“That was remarkable,” said Professor Flitwick, approaching with an eager expression as he examined the two mirrors now sitting on Kyle’s desk. “To be honest, I’ve never seen the creation process for a Two-way Mirror before. It’s an exceptionally complex piece of alchemical work.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Kyle replied with a modest smile.

Hearing Flitwick’s praise, the other students craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the mirrors. Just then, the bell signaling the end of class rang.

Kyle carefully packed up his belongings, gave Professor Flitwick a polite nod, and headed for the hallway. As he walked, he handed one of the mirrors to Kanna.

“For me?” she asked, surprised.

“Of course,” Kyle said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Didn’t you hear what Professor Flitwick said? It’s a Two-way Mirror. Only two people can use it.”

Kanna hesitated before taking the mirror. “How does it work?”

“You don’t know?” Kyle asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked genuinely puzzled. “A Two-way Mirror isn’t exactly rare.”

“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never actually used one,” Kanna admitted.

“It’s simple,” Kyle explained. “Just say my name into the mirror, and you’ll see me appear in it. This way, I won’t have to worry about you not replying to letters.”

Kanna gave a sheepish smile. “Speaking of letters... sorry about that. I didn’t write during the holidays.”

“Why not? Were the exams that strict?” Kyle asked.

“To prevent cheating,” Kanna whispered. “We weren’t allowed to send or receive any letters for the entire holiday.”

“Ah,” Kyle said, frowning slightly but not pressing the issue. He had no experience with the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers’ exams, so he simply accepted her explanation.

“Anyway,” Kyle continued, “if you ever need help, just call me with the mirror. Even if Snape ends up dragging you off somewhere later, I can help you get back.”

Kanna’s voice dropped to a near mumble. “But it’s France. Can you even Apparate that far?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kyle said with a shrug and a grin. “Even if Apparition’s off the table, I’ve got other options. I know someone with a lot of international travel experience—legal or otherwise. Distance won’t be a problem.”

Kanna didn’t respond right away. Her face turned a faint shade of pink as she stared at the small round mirror in her hand. After a moment, she softly said, “Kyle...”

The mirror in Kyle’s hand immediately flickered to life, displaying Kanna’s face. He looked between the image in the mirror and Kanna, standing just beside him.

“What’s this about?” Kyle teased. “At this range, couldn’t you just speak directly to me?”

“Why do you care?” Kanna shot back, tilting her head and pursing her lips in mock indignation. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth despite herself. “Can’t I at least check if it works?”

But she quickly changed the subject, urging, “Hurry up! Class is about to start, and next is Defense Against the Dark Arts. If we’re late, we’ll be in trouble.”