Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 822: Failed Memory Extraction

It was early evening. After a long day, Professor McGonagall had finished dinner and was making her way back to her office for some much-needed rest.

With Professor Dumbledore absent and no one else to share the burden, all the school’s affairs had fallen squarely on her shoulders. On top of that, she was still responsible for teaching all seven years of Transfiguration. Even someone as seasoned as Professor McGonagall couldn’t help but feel worn out.

As she passed by Slughorn’s office, she could clearly hear bursts of laughter coming from within.

Apparently deciding the danger had passed, Slughorn had resumed hosting his classic dinner gatherings.

Professor McGonagall shook her head and briskly walked past.

How carefree... Not a single person in this school gave her peace of mind—especially Slughorn. Even though she had already turned him down twice, he still had the nerve to send in a new request just yesterday, asking to purchase Self-Stirring Cauldrons.

As if the school governors would ever approve the budget for something that expensive.

McGonagall returned to her office, and just as she was about to close the door, she suddenly noticed an owl perched on the railing.

It wasn’t unusual to see owls at Hogwarts. They flew through the castle daily, delivering letters and packages. It would be stranger not to see one.

But this owl felt different. Something about it seemed... off.

“Who are you?”

She immediately drew her wand, eyes narrowing sharply.

“Easy, Professor,” said the owl.

McGonagall blinked. That voice was familiar. After thinking for a moment, she asked tentatively, “Kyle?”

“It’s me.”

The owl hopped down from the railing. Its body began to expand and grow rapidly, feathers merging into flowing fabric that reformed into a set of robes.

“Hold on,” Professor McGonagall said sternly, not lowering her wand. “The last time we saw Miss Granger, what was she trying to do?”

“She wanted to submit an article to Transfiguration Today,” Kyle replied. “She was hoping to win the Most Promising Newcomer Award before graduating.”

McGonagall gave a slight nod and finally lowered her wand.

“I had to be sure,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“To avoid the Death Eaters’ surveillance near the school,” Kyle explained, giving her a quick summary of the situation at the Hog’s Head. “Given the circumstances, transforming into an owl was the best option.”

“I thought I did a decent job—but I didn’t expect you to see through it so quickly.”

“There are too many magical traces left by Human Transfiguration. Anyone well-versed in the subject can spot it immediately.”

“Good thing none of the Death Eaters’ spies are that skilled,” Kyle said with a relieved smile.

“But why go to the trouble of using Transfiguration to avoid them?” McGonagall asked, puzzled. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just have the phoenix bring you here?”

“There were... special circumstances. Fawkes can’t Apparate me at the moment,” Kyle said.

“Special circumstances?” McGonagall’s expression tensed. “You mean the Death Eaters did something again without our knowing?”

“No, it’s not that,” Kyle shook his head. “It’s about Professor Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore? What happened to him?”

“This isn’t the place to explain. Let’s go to the Headmaster’s office, and I’ll tell you everything,” Kyle said. “But before that—give me a second to find my wand.”

He began fumbling through his robes.

Since Human Transfiguration didn’t allow one to conceal their wand within the transformed body, he’d had to tuck it into the owl form’s thick feathers. Now that he was back in human form, the wand’s position had shifted entirely.

After a moment of awkward patting and twisting, Kyle finally found it near his shoulder.

“If you’d learned to become an Animagus, you wouldn’t be in this kind of situation,” McGonagall said with a hint of amusement.

“But if I’d used Animagus, I might not have turned into an owl,” Kyle replied with a shrug.

He then cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and followed McGonagall to the Headmaster’s office on the eighth floor.

“Now can you tell me—what happened to the Headmaster?” McGonagall asked as soon as she pushed open the oak door. “And... do you know where he is?”

She had a strong hunch that Kyle knew more than he was letting on.

“He’s trapped in the past.”

The moment Kyle spoke, not only did McGonagall freeze in shock, but the surrounding portraits also stirred. They stopped pretending to be asleep and crowded into the nearest frame, eyes wide with alarm.

“What did you just say?”

“Albus is trapped where?”

...

“He’s trapped in the past,” Kyle said softly. “To be precise, about a hundred years ago.”

The office fell into sudden silence. Then, the portraits of past headmasters gathered together, breaking into a heated debate.

Professor McGonagall looked at Kyle, confused. “What exactly are you talking about? How could Dumbledore possibly have gone back a hundred years? Modern Time-Turners can’t manage that—going back even a month is already their limit.”

“They can’t now, but a thousand years ago they could,” Kyle replied. “You should remember—after the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a damaged Time-Turner was found…”

He then recounted the entire sequence of events: discovering the Time-Turner, how Dumbledore managed to repair it, and ultimately used it to travel back in time.

It was a long story, and Kyle took his time telling it.

From evening into the depths of the night, then on toward dawn—Professor McGonagall clearly had many questions throughout, but she held them in, letting Kyle speak uninterrupted.

“So you’re saying Dumbledore not only repaired the Time-Turner from the Chamber of Secrets, but actually used it to travel back a full century?” she said at last, rubbing her forehead. The flood of information was overwhelming; she needed a moment to make sense of it all.

“That’s exactly right,” Kyle nodded. “No one’s seen Professor Dumbledore lately because… he doesn’t exist in our present time.”

“Wait—that doesn’t add up.”

A former headmistress suddenly spoke from her portrait. “If he used a Time-Turner, Albus should’ve returned long ago. That’s how time balance works.”

“Time repulsion,” Kyle explained. “That’s what both Professor Viktor and Nicolas Flamel believe is happening. The Time-Turner’s a thousand years old. Even though it’s been repaired, there are still… flaws.”

“When did this happen?” McGonagall asked quietly.

“A month ago. Midday—the same day as Lupin and Tonks’ wedding,” Kyle said.

“So he’s been missing since then?” McGonagall murmured as she began pacing aimlessly around the Headmaster’s office. “He left without a word… Did he even consider what might happen if You-Know-Who chose this moment to attack the school with the Death Eaters?”

“I think he did,” Kyle said. “Or maybe he thought it would be a quick trip—go and come back. He just didn’t expect to get stuck.”

“Then why are you only telling us now?” McGonagall turned to face Kyle, her tone sharp.

“Exactly,” chimed in Phineas Nigellus from his portrait, seizing the chance to add criticism. “If you knew, you should’ve informed us of Albus’s whereabouts immediately, instead of—”

“Silence, Headmaster Black,” McGonagall cut in coldly, frowning as she shut him down without hesitation.

Phineas paused mid-sentence, clearly offended, but under McGonagall’s glare, he fell silent and retreated to the edge of the frame.

“It was Professor Dumbledore’s request,” Kyle explained. “He suspected he might get trapped, and asked me to keep it secret—wait until he returned before telling anyone.”

“Then why are you telling me now?” McGonagall had regained her composure. “If secrecy was the safest course, you should have kept it that way.”

“There’s no need for that anymore.” Kyle shrugged. “I hadn’t finished explaining. The time repulsion he’s facing—he can’t resolve it on his own. Without help, he could be stuck in the past forever.”

“What do we need to do?” McGonagall asked.

“No rush. We still need to wait a bit longer.”

Kyle went on to describe his trip to France—what he had learned from Professor Viktor about the Time-Turner’s flaws, and the solution Nicolas had proposed.

“…That’s everything. So I came back first.”

He had talked for nearly an hour and was feeling parched, but he had finally explained the full picture.

“The problem now is that Professor Dumbledore can’t escape the time repulsion on his own. He may not even realize he’s trapped—just endlessly repeating things he’s already lived through.”

“If no one helps him, he may never return. But if Professor Viktor’s method works, he might come back as soon as the process is complete. So there’s no longer any point in keeping this secret.”

“I’m telling you so the school can be prepared. In case he really doesn’t come back… at least someone will know why.”

“That won’t happen,” McGonagall said firmly, taking a deep breath. “This is Albus Dumbledore we’re talking about.”

“Yes,” Kyle said with a small smile.

“So what do we need to do?” McGonagall asked again.

“Not you. Me,” Kyle replied, tapping the desk. A glass of fresh lemonade appeared beside him. “Once the Time-Turner is fixed, I’ll use it to go back and help Professor Dumbledore correct the path he’s on.”

“No!”

McGonagall’s response was immediate. “We know nothing about time travel. Even a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore got trapped—how can you possibly expect to succeed?

“In any case, this should be left to us professors. You’re just a newly graduated student. You can’t, and shouldn’t, take this risk.”

“No, Professor. It has to be me.”

Kyle sighed. “I don’t want to take the risk either, but there’s no other way. We’ve been through too much—only I know everything that happened, down to the details.”

He had a hunch that Dumbledore might have already returned. It was the only explanation for how that Time-Turner ended up being suddenly sent to Beauxbatons.

He was the only one who had been involved in the entire process, who knew every part of the plan. Only he knew what needed to be done, and when.

That was something he had realized back at Nicolas’s estate.

“No, absolutely not,” Professor McGonagall insisted. “You can explain everything to me in detail—or no, there’s a Pensieve here. I’ll teach you the memory extraction charm. As long as I can experience it myself, that will be enough.

“It’s a professor’s duty to protect students, not to let them take risks while we sit safely in the castle pretending nothing is wrong.”

Her tone was firm and left no room for argument.

“Alright,” Kyle nodded in agreement… at least, for now.

Once Nicolas finished repairing the Time-Turner, it would undoubtedly be placed in his hands. When that time came, he could make his own decision.

But for the moment—since Professor McGonagall wanted to know what had happened—he’d let her see for herself.

“I actually know how to extract memories.”

Kyle opened the cabinet beneath Dumbledore’s desk and retrieved the simple, old Pensieve, placing it on the table.

He then pressed his wand to his temple, preparing to extract the memory of the evening he arrived at Beauxbatons—the part right after dinner, when Professor Viktor had called him aside for a conversation.

He gave his wand a gentle motion. A thread of bluish light began to emerge, but it broke off abruptly after only two inches.

“Are you alright?” Professor McGonagall asked, alarmed.

Memory extraction was one of the most complex charms, and any failed attempt risked backlash on the caster.

She was starting to regret not stepping in to help when Kyle first suggested it. She should’ve done it herself instead of letting him try alone.

Then again, Kyle had always performed so well that it was easy to forget—even something like this might pose a problem.

“I’m fine,” Kyle said with a wave of his hand.

Unlike McGonagall, he didn’t think he’d cast the charm incorrectly. He was sure every step had been right—yet the memory still failed to extract.

He pressed the wand to his temple again.

“Stop.” McGonagall quickly intervened. “Let me do it this time. I’ll help you.”

“That might not work, Professor,” Kyle shook his head. “I’ve trained in Occlumency. It blocks any magic that tries to access my memories—and it works beyond my conscious control. Let alone extracting a memory... even viewing one is nearly impossible. So this has to be done by me.”

He tried again, raising his wand.

Just like before, the thread of blue memory light began to emerge—only to snap even sooner than last time, after barely an inch.

This time, Professor McGonagall noticed something was seriously wrong.

Under normal circumstances, once the memory took shape and extended from the temple, the charm was considered successful. From there, it was simply a matter of pulling it out—a step so basic that even a first-year with a wand could manage it.

But Kyle had failed twice in a row, and clearly, something wasn’t right.

What, exactly, she didn’t know. She had never encountered anything like this before.

Kyle was just as puzzled. He retraced his steps mentally, trying to figure out what might have changed—until something clicked.

That “raspberry juice.”

If anything had been different lately, it was that strange drink he’d had at Nicolas’s estate.

If he remembered correctly, the house-elf Tata had said it was something Nicolas had spent several days preparing. Kyle hadn’t thought much of it at the time—he trusted Nicolas, so he’d simply drunk it without asking questions.

But now that he considered it… what if the reason he couldn’t extract the memory was somehow linked to that “raspberry juice”?

Still, he couldn’t figure out what the point of it would be.

Professor McGonagall couldn’t make sense of it either. But after two failed attempts, she didn’t dare let Kyle try a third time.

By now, the sky outside had grown dark, heavy clouds blanketing the moon. The room felt stifling.

“I’ll think of another way later,” she said. “For now, let’s put the memory extraction aside. Just write everything down.”

“And if the Time-Turner is repaired, you must inform me immediately. Do not act on your own.” Her voice was sharp. “This is important. Do you understand?”

“Um… I’ll try,” Kyle said.

McGonagall’s eyebrows lifted sharply.

“I mean—I’ll do my best to write down everything clearly,” Kyle corrected quickly. “But, Professor, reading about something and actually living through it—those are two very different things.”

“I know,” McGonagall replied. “But I can’t stand by and watch you take such a risk. Aside from Dumbledore, you might be the only one left who has a real chance at defeating You-Know-Who.”

“There’s still Harry,” Kyle said. “He is the Chosen One—and he’s already defeated You-Know-Who once.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, though her tone was a little perfunctory. “If his Human Transfiguration were even half as good as yours, I might rest easier.”