Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 811: Dinner Together

Maybe it was because his identity had already been exposed, but after Luna left, Kyle no longer felt like wandering aimlessly.

He walked a bit farther, and just a few steps away from the Great Hall, he suddenly turned around and headed back up the stairs.

Although Professor McGonagall had suggested he make an appearance in the Great Hall, on second thought, Dumbledore himself hadn’t been there outside of formal banquets in recent years. So in a way, Kyle was just staying in character.

Besides, a few students had already seen him on the way—more than enough. Making too much of a show would only raise suspicion.

Back on the eighth floor, Kyle took off the robe and changed back into his own clothes. While he was at it, he pulled out the things he’d hastily shoved into the drawer earlier and returned them to their rightful place—in the little storage room tucked away in the corner.

In the portrait frames, the former headmasters were still enthusiastically engaged in their latest pastime: a “fair and square” one-on-one duel with Phineas.

Well, technically fair.

They had graciously declared that Phineas could use a wand, while they would only wield the “Iron Spike Eggplant” Kyle had drawn for them.

After all, the wand was a wizard’s greatest weapon—so in that sense, Phineas had the advantage.

Only one problem: portrait residents weren’t actual wizards, and couldn’t use magic.

Which meant the wand in Phineas’s hand was no better than a stick.

So when he was up against a meter-long iron club covered in sharp spikes… well, the outcome had been decided the moment the duel began.

Phineas was chased all over the place, his shoes nearly sparking from the friction on the floor.

After watching for a bit, Kyle finally felt his frustration about Luna’s earlier reveal start to fade.

“Damn it, this is all your fault!”

Phineas, disheveled and breathless, dashed into the frame closest to Kyle, yanked a spike out of his backside, and shouted, “I don’t care—you have to draw me a weapon too!”

“I’m out of paint,” Kyle said with a shrug. “That’s all there was in the storage room. I used it all up just now.”

As he spoke, he glanced at the discarded iron spike... Were his drawings really that fragile?

No—that piece must’ve been added later. The paint at the connection was noticeably thinner. That’s why it came off.

He’d have to improve that next time.

“You liar!” Phineas roared. “I saw it—there’s still plenty left on that plate! You’ve got more than enough to draw two more!”

“Ah, I must’ve misremembered,” Kyle said lightly. “But I’ve got other things to do now, really not in the mood to draw. Maybe tomorrow.”

“No way!”

“Stop right there! Don’t even think about running!”

Before Phineas could finish, the witch he’d been dueling caught up with him, weapon swinging straight for his behind—with no intention of holding back.

“Oh come on... bloody hell!”

Phineas yelled and kept running, flailing in retreat, but not before shooting another look at Kyle.

“I don’t care—you lot are living in my ancestral home and using it as the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. You have to pay me rent!”

“The Black family’s that hard up for money?” Kyle snorted.

“Who do you think you’re insulting?” Phineas snapped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Of course the Black family has money! But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pay rent!”

“Alright, name a price. When the headmaster gets back, I’ll make sure he pays you,” Kyle said. “He’s rich—he won’t miss a few Galleons.”

“I don’t want Galleons—I want a weapon,” Phineas shouted over his shoulder as he kept running. “And it’d better be bigger than the one you gave Dippet!”

“Well, well—holding a grudge, are we?”

Armando Dippet, who’d been quietly watching the show, suddenly leapt up and charged into what was supposed to be a one-on-one fight.

Strictly speaking, this was highly unsportsmanlike, but since Phineas had brought it on himself, the others politely chose to look the other way.

“Hmm... fine.”

Kyle checked the time. There was still a while before the Polyjuice Potion wore off—might as well pass the time.

He took out the palette again.

“What kind of weapon do you want? A battle axe, a greatsword, or a spear?”

“With your drawing skills, you’re letting me choose?” Phineas’s voice called from afar. “Just draw the same one as before—it’ll do.”

Kyle’s mouth twitched slightly.

Still has the nerve to mock me?

Sure, he knew his drawings weren’t great—but so what? Headmaster Dippet had been delighted with his, and he hadn’t heard a single complaint.

Expression calm, Kyle kept smiling as he pointed his wand at the knight’s portrait.

As the saying goes, second time’s the charm. By now, the knight—native to the painting—had grown completely unfazed by Kyle’s antics, and even had the leisure to offer a few tips.

“I think you should make it a bit longer.”

“Why’s that?”

“The headmasters have never used this kind of weapon before. A longer one gives more reach. They’ll probably like that.”

“Hmm... good point.”

Kyle considered it for a moment and extended the handle, which made the entire weapon look even more... unorthodox.

...

Twenty minutes later.

“Headmaster Phineas, I’m finished,” Kyle called out loudly, just to make sure he was heard.

“Haha, Dippet, you’re done for—!”

Phineasʼs triumphant scream rang out as he sprinted over, mixing pain and glee.

But someone was faster.

“Well done.”

Another headmaster—this one with a head full of curls—had been waiting nearby for just this moment. The second Kyle finished speaking, she casually reached out and snatched the weapon away...

Well—“weapon” might be a bit generous, but it would have to do.

“Spurrel, put that down…” Phineasʼ voice rang out from a distance. “That’s mine!”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Kyle said mockingly. “That’s the rent I owe Headmaster Phineas. Please return it to him.”

“First come, first served. It’s mine now,” replied the headmaster called Spurrel. “By the way, thanks for the reminder, kid. I got so caught up in reading, I almost forgot what I was supposed to be doing.”

He winked at Kyle.

“I didn’t mean to remind you—it’s got nothing to do with me,” Kyle said, shaking his head repeatedly. He firmly denied it. “The only person I was trying to remind was Headmaster Phineas.”

“I get it.”

“Oh, you two…” Phineas grumbled, panting heavily as he finally reached them after enduring two knocks. He glared at Kyle, clearly annoyed.

“I didn’t get that one. You’ll have to draw me another.”

“Can’t do it,” Kyle replied, shaking his head and holding up an empty palette. “I really don’t have any paint left.”

He must’ve used the last of what Headmaster Dippet had left behind—it wasn’t much to begin with. Just managing two pieces had already been a stretch, especially since the second one was an extended version.

“Besides, Headmaster Black, even if I painted more, you wouldn’t be able to snatch them from the others. So what’s the point?”

“You…” Phineas muttered something under his breath that Kyle couldn’t make out.

But just then, Kyle noticed that the wrinkles on his hands had vanished, and his robes now fit him much better.

He was back to normal.

“Finally,” Kyle murmured. He glanced once more at the headmasters playing their little game, then waved at Fawkes.

The phoenix immediately flew over, grabbed Kyle’s finger, and in a flash of fire, the two of them disappeared from the headmaster’s office.

In unison, the portraits all fell silent.

“What do you think of him?” asked a witch.

Dilys Derwent, also a former Hogwarts headmaster and a renowned healer from St. Mungo’s, had her portrait there.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Albus never said anything about grooming him to be a headmaster,” said another wizard.

“But he’s also never let anyone impersonate him before.”

“That’s a different matter.”

“I trust my instincts.”

“You’re a painting. Do you even have instincts?”

“All right, what are we arguing for?” Armando Dippet cut in, ending the squabble. “These are things Albus should be thinking about. We’re just mascots. Do you lot really think you can still form opinions and offer others advice?”

As he spoke, he handed the stick in his hand to Dilys. “If you’re feeling bored, join us—it’s fun. Entertaining ourselves is about all we can do nowadays.”

...

Meanwhile, at 12 Grimmauld Place, Fawkes took Kyle straight to the dining room.

Their sudden arrival startled Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, Merlin! You should’ve warned me,” she exclaimed, recovering quickly and giving Kyle a light pat. “How does it feel to be back at school?”

“Meh,” Kyle shrugged. “Feels like I got conned.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—Dumbledore wouldn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Kyle replied.

It was exactly because it was Dumbledore that he felt that way.

“Anyway, forget it.” Kyle looked around. “Why’s the place so empty? Where are all the dishes?”

“They’ve been packed away,” Mrs. Weasley explained. “We’re moving today, and we’ll need them again when we get there.”

“Moving? To where?”

“To the village of St. Catchpole, of course,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“But isn’t this the Order of the Phoenix’s headquarters?” Kyle asked.

“That doesn’t conflict,” Mrs. Weasley said. “We’ll still come here for major meetings, but there’s no need to live here all the time. It’s just more comfortable to be at home.”

“But before this…”

“It was mostly to protect Harry and the children,” Mrs. Weasley continued. “Same as last year. Once you all went back to school, we’d return home, and only come back here for something important or when Hogwarts was on break.”

She stuffed a large bundle into a suitcase.

“In fact, once you kids went back to school, members of the Order barely gathered here at all. And I certainly wasn’t going to spend every day alone in this big house, keeping company with that mad old witch.”

The “mad old witch” she referred to was Mrs. Black—the portrait that would start shrieking insults at the slightest sound.

“Alright, that makes sense.” Kyle nodded in understanding.

“Since youʼre back, you can help me out a bit,” said Mrs. Weasley, handing him a huge suitcase.

“There’s no way I could’ve managed all this on my own. I thought I’d have to make two trips.”

“That’s easy.” Kyle opened his own case, stuffed the large suitcase inside, then added the rest of Mrs. Weasley’s things as well.

“How convenient,” Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. “That makes everything so much easier.”

“Why don’t you make your own suitcase with an Undetectable Extension Charm?” Kyle asked as they walked outside, puzzled.

While it was a complex spell, it didn’t seem like it should be a challenge for the Weasleys.

After all, Mr. Weasley had managed to tinker together a flying, invisible car—how could he not be capable of making an extended suitcase?

“Oh, we did. The one we gave you earlier had it,” Mrs. Weasley replied. She glanced back to make sure nothing was forgotten, then locked the door.

“I meant, why not make a bigger one?”

“That’s not possible,” Mrs. Weasley said, giving Kyle a look.

“There’s something you may not know... or maybe just never thought about. The Undetectable Extension Charm can’t be stacked indefinitely. It’s actually quite unstable, and once you go beyond a certain size, the expanded space collapses.”

“Mine works fine.”

“Of course it does—think about who gave it to you.”

“Newt Scamander.”

“Exactly. Mr. Scamander,” said Mrs. Weasley. “What he’s most famous for is that magical suitcase of his. If just anyone could whip one up with an Undetectable Extension Charm, do you think it would still be considered extraordinary?”

“I don’t know the details, but from what I’ve heard, there’s nothing else like his suitcase in the entire wizarding world... Oh wait—now there’s a third one.”

“I imagine he put a great deal of effort into it. It’s not easy to find materials or methods that can keep the charm stable.”

Kyle paused, slightly stunned. He honestly hadn’t considered that before. He’d always just tossed things straight into his case, and even when he crafted something using the Undetectable Extension Charm himself, it was never on such a large scale.

...

Eventually, the two of them arrived at a battered old phone booth with peeling paint.

“You go first,” said Mrs. Weasley.

It had been built by the Order of the Phoenix specifically for Apparition, with Muggle-repelling charms placed around it to prevent accidental intrusions.

Kyle nodded and stepped inside, Apparating back to St. Catchpole, right in front of the garden at the Burrow.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Weasley followed.

Once she arrived, she visibly relaxed. Even the gnomes in the garden didn’t seem quite so irritating anymore.

“We’ll deal with them later. I need to tidy up the house first,” she said. “Kyle, are you heading home first?”

“Ah, no need,” Kyle replied, shaking his head. “I’ll stay and help. Itʼll go faster.”

“No problem. Then you can have dinner with us and Chris tonight. It’s probably been a while since you last ate here, hasn’t it?”

“Almost two years,” Kyle said.

Since Voldemort’s return in his sixth year, he had spent his holidays at the more secure Grimmauld Place. Even on the rare occasion he returned here, he never stayed overnight for long.

The two stepped inside the Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley focused on putting everything back in place, while Kyle dusted off furniture and chased away pests like gnomes.

Any place where wizards lived tended to attract Doxies and gnomes—they were drawn to places heavy with magical residue.

The Burrow wasn’t the only one—Kyle’s home was the same. But any Doxy that wandered into his house didn’t last ten minutes before becoming a snack for his elderly Kneazle.

Ginny had a Kneazle too, a gift from Fred and George, but her little one clearly wasn’t as clever as Tom.

For the record, Kyle’s Kneazle was named Tom—a very common name in the wizarding world, with no particular reference to anyone.

...

By nine o’clock that evening, everyone working at the Ministry had returned, likely because they’d already known about the move.

Kyle helped Mrs. Weasley prepare a large and hearty dinner.

“Mum, good evening... Oh—Kyle! When did you get back?” Fred exclaimed as he rushed over.

“Around noon,” Kyle replied.

“Where’ve you been these past couple of days?”

“Don’t ask so many questions. Get washed up, it’s time for dinner,” Mrs. Weasley cut George off and turned to the other side of the room. “Arthur, where are Bill and Charlie? Why aren’t they back yet?”

“They should be along soon,” said Mr. Weasley. “Lupin and Nymphadora have already taken over their shift.”

“Then let’s not wait.”

As they used to, they set the table out in the garden and sat down together.

It had been a long time since they’d shared a meal like this. With the threat of Death Eaters looming, everyone had been tied up with their own responsibilities over the past two years.

At Mr. Weasley’s suggestion, they raised their glasses and clinked them together.

“Kyle, you’re probably not too busy these days, are you?” Fred asked, sipping his Butterbeer.

“Not really,” Kyle said after thinking for a moment.

“Then how about working at the Ministry of Magic?” George’s eyes lit up. “I’m telling you, things at the Ministry have been really fun lately.”

“No thanks, I’ll pass on the Ministry,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “Actually, I’m planning to take a trip to France.”