Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 873: Kyle’s Plan, an Excited Alastor

It wasn’t just wandering wizards like Bubblay Lennis who had sharp instincts for danger—Moody, as an Auror, was just as keen.

That instinct had saved his life more times than he could count. It was what had allowed him, single-handedly, to fill half of Azkaban.

So the moment he felt the strange sensation on his leg, his entire body tensed. His grip on his wand tightened instinctively.

His hidden magical eye began to turn reflexively, but Moody was quicker. In that instant, a thought struck him. He raised his hand and, without hesitation, ripped the rogue magical eye from its socket and clenched it in his fist.

He used so much force that the strap holding the eye in place tore clean off.

“Damn, that’s hardcore.”

Kyle clicked his tongue as he watched.

He figured Moody must have received some warning from Dumbledore to react like that.

Still... it was a bit extreme. Decisive, yes—but totally unnecessary.

Kyle looked up lazily.

There weren’t many enemies left—only about a dozen, Lennis included. Far fewer than the ambush back at Godric’s Hollow.

And in just moments, more than half of them were already down—collapsed to the ground, motionless, as if fast asleep.

A massive serpent, nearly fifty feet long, coiled in front of Kyle. Its orange-yellow eyes shimmered with an eerie magic; anyone who met its gaze dropped dead in an instant.

The ambushers had only made things worse for themselves by splitting up to surround Moody. That left them too spread out—no one was close enough to shield the others when the Basilisk locked eyes with them.

“Monster! It’s a monster!”

“They’re dead—dead, all of them...”

“Run!”

No one knew who screamed first, but the rest quickly scattered in blind panic.

“Thanks for the help,” Kyle said softly. “Leave the leader alive. The rest... not one of them walks away.”

The Basilisk remained still in front of him, unmoving. But behind him, the tree canopy stirred, and two dark shadows flashed through the leaves.

...

“Alright, Professor Moody, we’re safe now,” Kyle said after a while.

Moody opened his eyes and immediately saw the bodies of the fallen wizards scattered around them.

“Kyle, you—”

“Talk about luck,” Kyle said with a grin. “No idea why, but they suddenly turned on each other. Went wild with the Killing Curse, started wiping each other out. Ended in a big, bloody mess.”

Moody opened his mouth, then shut it again.

He didn’t believe a single word.

Turned on each other? No way.

And... he glanced down. A deep groove marked the ground—clearly left by something massive.

Add to that the strange sensation on his leg earlier, the eerie hissing sounds nearby, and the old rumors about Hogwarts’ Chamber of Secrets...

Moody was almost certain what kind of creature had been involved—he just didn’t want to believe it.

Dumbledore had actually entrusted something that dangerous to a student who’d only just graduated?

“Yeah... we’re lucky, alright,” Moody muttered after a pause.

Either way, he was retired now. No longer an Auror, no longer a Hogwarts professor. Not even Dumbledore cared what he thought—so why should he?

Besides, Kyle had just saved his life.

“Yep.” Kyle smiled. “By the way, Professor, do you know who those people were? They didn’t look like Death Eaters.”

“Wandering wizards,” Moody explained. “Smugglers, dark wizards, maniacs who like torturing Muggles... Most of them are wanted by their own countries’ Ministries. I caught plenty of them back when I was still an Auror.”

“And the Ministry doesn’t do anything about them?”

“It’s not that they don’t—just that it’s nearly impossible,” Moody said, shaking his head. “Look where we are. Any hint of trouble, and they scatter.

“And places like this are like Knockturn Alley—self-contained. You’ll never wipe out all the dark wizards. Better to let them congregate somewhere than have them all roaming freely.”

“That makes sense.” Kyle nodded. “How many are there?”

“Over a hundred.”

“That many?”

“That’s actually not bad.” Moody adjusted the torn strap and slotted his magical eye back into its socket. “Dumbledore did a few clean-ups years back, so a lot of them don’t dare come back. But there are way more in other countries.”

“The ones here likely showed up over a decade ago, back when You-Know-Who was at his peak. Dumbledore and the Aurors were stretched thin, and these scum took the opportunity to dig in.”

As they talked, Moody’s magical eye spun rapidly.

“Careful. Something’s coming.”

“No worries—don’t get nervous,” Kyle said.

Just as he finished, a six-legged magical creature emerged from the trees, dragging a half-dead wizard in its jaws.

“A Wampus Cat?” Moody blinked, then turned to look at the unconscious wizard it had hauled in.

Bubblay Lennis?

Three long gashes slashed across the man’s chest and back—almost certainly the work of the Wampus Cat. Unless you were someone like Dumbledore or Voldemort, encountering a 5X-class magical beast alone almost always meant a one-sided beating—even for him.

Moody figured he might manage in a one-on-one duel with a Wampus Cat, but while running for his life? That was a different story. The creature’s hypnotic and Legilimency abilities were a nightmare.

And Lennis had been fleeing in a complete panic.

By the time the Wampus Cat dragged him back, he was still breathing—but just barely.

“Thanks. I’ll treat you all to a feast later,” Kyle said.

The Wampus Cat gave a nod, sprang up into the trees, and vanished once again.

Moody’s magic eye whirled around.

“No need to look, Professor,” Kyle said. “They’ve probably gone off to patrol somewhere else—to make sure no one else wanders in.”

“They?” Moody picked up on the word immediately.

But Kyle didn’t elaborate. Instead, he asked curiously, “Professor, what do you think they were doing, digging that secret passage to Devon? Planning to take advantage of the chaos from You-Know-Who’s return?”

“I doubt it,” Moody said after a moment of thought, shaking his head.

“From what I’ve learned, construction on that tunnel began ten years ago—after You-Know-Who had already fallen.”

“And the Death Eaters only recently got in touch with Lennis. At the time, it was Bellatrix Lestrange who was handling the communication.”

At that, Moody paused.

He suddenly remembered—Bellatrix was dead.

And the one who killed her... was standing right in front of him.

At first, Moody hadn’t truly believed Kyle was responsible for what had happened in Godric’s Hollow. He’d assumed Dumbledore had been there too, and Kyle had merely played a supporting role.

But...

He glanced again at the deep impression in the earth, and suddenly, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Kyle, unaware of Moody’s thoughts, rubbed his chin in puzzlement and muttered to himself, “If it wasn’t to take advantage of the chaos, then why go through all that trouble to build a secret passage?”

After all, the Ministry’s Aurors and Hit Wizards weren’t just figureheads. According to Moody, the only reason these people had been able to live undisturbed was because they stayed here and didn’t stir up trouble elsewhere.

Just like in Knockturn Alley—so long as the dark wizards stayed put, the Aurors didn’t go out of their way to hunt them down.

But if they decided to run wild one day? Well, say hello to the Dementors.

And even if the Aurors and Hit Wizards couldn’t handle it, there was always Dumbledore. Though he’d been focused on Hogwarts and Voldemort in recent years, when it came to the Ministry’s stability, he wouldn’t hesitate to lend a hand.

Kyle just couldn’t figure it out. Why would these people go to such lengths just to end up as food for Dementors?

It made no sense.

“If I had to guess, I’d say their target is Nicolas Flamel,” Moody said.

“Nicolas Flamel?”

“Of course, that’s just speculation,” Moody added, his magical eye swiveling back from the rear of his head. “But these people only care about Galleons, and the Philosopher’s Stone—which can turn anything into gold—is an irresistible temptation to them.”

“About a dozen years ago, I arrested a few of them and found loads of material on Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone among their belongings. But at the time, the Death Eaters were our top priority, so we just tossed them in Azkaban and didn’t dig any deeper.”

“I see. Then never mind.”

As soon as Kyle heard their target was Nicolas Flamel, he immediately lost interest.

Seriously—Voldemort hadn’t even dared go after Flamel directly; he’d chosen to fight Dumbledore for the Stone instead. Sure, that was partly because he couldn’t locate Flamel, but even if he had, would he really have dared storm that manor?

Wizards weren’t knights. Growing old might weaken the body, but magic only grew stronger with age. A six-hundred-year-old wizard who was also an alchemist? Who knew what kinds of tricks he had up his sleeve?

Forget everything else—the two stone dragon statues at the front gate alone could thrash a hundred wizards without breaking a sweat.

So when Kyle learned these people were after Flamel, he didn’t even consider stopping them. In fact, he briefly entertained the idea of helping—maybe even secretly leaking the manor’s location.

Flamel had been cooped up in that estate for centuries. The last time he’d fought was, what, sixty or seventy years ago? Listening to opera day in and day out had to get boring. A little change of pace might be just what he needed.

Still, after thinking it over, Kyle reluctantly let go of that tempting idea.

Forget it—he had more pressing things to do. If these people survived long enough, then maybe he could make some real plans.

Ideally, they’d manage to break into the manor, and Kyle could use the chaos to sneak in and dismantle that opera house he’d been eyeing for ages...

Of course, it wasn’t something he could pull off alone. He’d need Dumbledore. Not just for the better odds—but also to have someone to take the blame.

No, no—now wasn’t the time to be daydreaming about that...

Kyle shook his head and looked over at Moody.

“Professor, you said there were over a hundred of them, right?”

“Roughly,” Moody replied. “Why? Planning to kill them all?”

“What are you saying?” Kyle asked, all righteous indignation. “That’s over a hundred wizards, Professor. You’re being way too extreme.”

The scar on Moody’s face twitched.

He was the extreme one?

Even at his most extreme, all he’d ever done was toss dark wizards into Azkaban. He hadn’t gone around killing them.

Moody glanced at the figures lying rigidly on the ground all around them.

He’d never considered himself soft, and he certainly didn’t object to using the Killing Curse when necessary—but if you counted up how many dark wizards had died by his hand, it probably wasn’t as many as Kyle’s.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” Moody asked gruffly.

If he were still an Auror, he’d have hauled Kyle in without hesitation—ally or not.

But those days were gone. Now, he was just a cantankerous, mistrusted, retired old wizard.

“Ah, it’s like this,” Kyle blinked. “Professor, would you mind dying?”

“If it serves a purpose, I wouldn’t mind,” Moody replied seriously.

He remembered how Sirius Black had been cleared with Kyle’s help. Even Dumbledore had said Kyle was exceptionally resourceful—so much so that he sometimes felt inferior by comparison.

Praise like that from Dumbledore was proof enough: Kyle had real ability.

If he had a plan that could help bring down Voldemort, Moody had no qualms about throwing in his full support.

That was the kind of ending any old Auror could ask for.

“No need to be that dramatic. I don’t mean actually dying.” Kyle waved him off, then glanced at the unconscious Bubblay Lennis. “Professor, if you were to take this man’s place, do you think you could do it without being found out?”

“Take Lennis’s place?” Moody’s eyes lit up. “You mean... use Transfiguration to infiltrate their ranks?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Kyle said quietly.

Moody’s mind raced through the possibilities—and sure enough, it made sense.

Over a hundred wizards, all seasoned and battle-tested. If used strategically, they could give the Death Eaters a very nasty surprise.

“So that’s why you made sure no one escaped.”

“Exactly. As long as they stay quiet, no one will know what really happened here.” Kyle looked around.

With the Wampus Cats and Nundus keeping watch nearby, they were safe for now.

“Well, Professor, what do you think?”

“No problem at all.” Moody agreed without hesitation. “My Transfiguration’s not bad.”

“No, that’s too risky.” Kyle shook his head. “Only Polyjuice Potion can ensure total success. The only downside is that you’ll have to keep drinking it at intervals—which increases the risk of exposure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out,” Moody said, his eyes falling on the golden flask strapped to Lennis’s belt.

“These guys don’t trust each other anyway. I can use that to my advantage.” There was a spark of excitement in his voice now.

And for the first time, he truly understood why Dumbledore had called Kyle clever.

His own plan had been simple: kill Lennis and get a message back to the Order so they could prepare. But this? Replacing him outright? That took nerve.

Even Dumbledore wouldn’t have thought of something like this. His personality—and his overwhelming power—meant he never needed to rely on tricks or subterfuge.

“There’s something I need to warn you about, Professor,” Kyle said seriously. “This plan is incredibly dangerous. You won’t just be facing those wandering wizards—you might end up meeting the Dark Lord himself. Fooling him won’t be easy.”

“I’d be thrilled,” Moody grinned, his scars twisting into a fearsome smile.

The idea of dancing on a knife’s edge again sent a shiver of excitement down his spine.

He didn’t particularly like the constant tension of suspicion and danger—but the dull calm of retirement suited him even less.

Years as an Auror had shaped his personality. It made him a poor fit among ordinary wizards and a walking headache for former colleagues.

He knew all of that. But personality isn’t something you can just change—so he blew up trash bins, wrecked corner mailboxes and rooftop chimneys, and averaged a visit from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad every other day.

“But... I don’t have any Polyjuice Potion,” Moody suddenly remembered. “Looks like I’ll have to use Transfiguration for now and figure the rest out later.”

“No worries—I’ve got some.” Kyle pulled out several small bottles filled with muddy brown potion.

Moody’s expression shifted. For a moment, he suspected Kyle had planned this from the start—targeting him specifically. After all, who just carries around Polyjuice Potion? And this much of it?

The bottles added up to nearly a pint—enough to last two days.

But Moody was overthinking it. Kyle hadn’t planned this in advance.

The truth was, Polyjuice Potion was just too useful. So before heading out here, Kyle had stocked up on some—just in case.

Turned out, it was exactly what they needed.