Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 875: The Death Eaters’ Plan, the Hebrides Islands

“Lucius?”

The Death Eater waiting outside frowned as Lucius Malfoy returned. “Why are you back so soon? Don’t tell me youʼre too attached to your Galleons and plan to defy the Dark Lord’s orders?”

“Of course not,” Lucius Malfoy replied coolly. “If these Galleons can be of use to the Dark Lord, itʼs their honor—and the honor of the Malfoy family.”

“Then why are you back?”

“There are too many people at Gringotts. I have to wait a bit before a Goblin can take me to my vault,” Lucius said. “Rather than stand around doing nothing, I thought I’d head to Knockturn Alley to pick up a few things.”

“Too many people at Gringotts?” The Death Eater looked doubtful and took a step forward, wanting to see for himself.

Lucius didn’t try to stop him. Instead, he quickly descended the stairs. “I’ll go to Knockturn Alley first. We’ll meet back here shortly.”

Without another word, he headed off toward the nearby fork in the road.

The Death Eater hesitated, glancing between the close-by Gringotts and the increasingly distant Lucius, but ultimately turned around and followed him.

He wasn’t about to let Lucius act on his own.

“What’s the matter, don’t trust me?” Lucius asked mildly, noticing his companion catching up.

“If you were truly loyal to the Dark Lord, you would’ve handed over your vault willingly,” the Death Eater sneered.

“The Dark Lord has no need for such things,” Lucius replied. “And even if I did hand it over, to whom? You?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” the Death Eater said darkly, making no effort to hide his intentions.

Lucius didn’t respond. He only quickened his pace.

They turned into Knockturn Alley, and the already quiet street grew even more desolate. The shops on either side stood open, but not a soul was inside—only pitch-black interiors, like beasts waiting in the shadows to devour anything that stepped too close.

Lucius turned deftly into an even narrower side alley.

The Death Eater followed, still running his mouth. “You’re really lucky. If Lestrange hadn’t been killed, you’d be the one dead right now.”

“That should be my line,” Lucius sneered. “If Bellatrix were still alive, a worthless worm like you wouldn’t even get the chance to speak to me.”

“What did you say?”

The Death Eater flew into a rage and grabbed Lucius’s robes.

The Dark Lord himself had once said that once Lucius Malfoy lost his usefulness, the vacant position would go to him.

And now this washed-up loser, practically discarded, had the nerve to talk to him like that? Did he have a death wish?

“What, did I say something wrong?” Lucius turned to him, smiling. “You can’t even tell when someone’s using a Transfiguration Charm. Aren’t you just pathetic?”

“Transfiguration... you…” The Death Eater’s eyes narrowed sharply, and he immediately reached for his wand.

But it was already too late.

Two sharp stone spikes shot out from the wall behind him in an instant, driving cleanly through his shoulders and pinning him to the opposite wall like tofu.

The Death Eater’s head spun from the sudden pain, and his shoulders throbbed so violently that he instinctively dropped his wand. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the ground.

“Who... who are you…” The torn wounds made his voice tremble. “You... you can’t kill me… the Dark Lord will kill you... you won’t get away…”

“Who am I? I’m Lucius Malfoy, of course. What, don’t recognize me?”

Lucius smiled as he spoke—but his platinum-blond hair suddenly began to shorten and darken, turning into a crop of black.

His pale face shifted, too, becoming a younger one.

“You… you’re not Malfoy… Who are you really…” the Death Eater cried in terror. “How dare you provoke the Dark Lord… Let me go if you want to live…”

“You don’t even know who I am? You really are a waste.” Kyle said dully as he dispelled the Transfiguration Charm.

He had thought he’d caught a big fish, but it turned out to be nothing but a piece of rotting seaweed.

Not to brag, but given how much Voldemort hated him, Kyle figured he was almost as well-known among the Death Eaters as Harry Potter.

This guy didn’t even recognize him—which could only mean he was a nobody. A grunt with no say in anything, just following orders.

Was Lucius Malfoy really in such a pitiful state now? Not only distrusted, but watched over by a completely irrelevant fool?

Kyle curled his lip and casually picked up the wand that had fallen to the ground, weighing it in his hand.

“Whoever you are, let me go now, or the Dark Lord... the Dark Lord will kill you…” the Death Eater continued to scream, though he no longer tried to move.

The pain was too much. Every twitch of his shoulder felt like it would tear off completely. He didn’t dare struggle.

Kyle ignored him, still inspecting the wand.

“A solid black wand. Ebony, maybe? As for the core… definitely not unicorn hair. Probably dragon heartstring—for power.”

“Why... why are you asking about that?”

“Just getting familiar with my new weapon. Even trash like you has its uses.” Kyle raised the ebony wand and pointed it at the Death Eater’s head.

“I’ve never used a wand with this particular combination, but dragon heartstrings are usually not very loyal. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wait, wait, you—”

“Legilimens!”

...

With a flash of white light, Knockturn Alley fell silent once more.

Ten minutes later...

Kyle emerged from Knockturn Alley, now wearing the appearance of the Death Eater he had just impersonated. He walked straight to the entrance of Gringotts and came to a stop.

Before long, Lucius Malfoy exited the bank. He looked even paler than before, his fingers faintly trembling.

“What, canʼt bear to part with your Galleons? Remember, itʼs an honor for you!”

“You donʼt need to remind me, Traffindott,” Lucius said coldly. “A few Galleons are nothing. The Malfoy family will always be loyal to the Dark Lord.”

“If youʼre truly loyal, then you should hand over your entire family vault, not just trickle it out bit by bit like this.”

A flush of unnatural red rose in Luciusʼs face—likely from anger.

It seemed that his only remaining value was to provide Galleons. Handing over the entire vault? What, was he in a hurry to die?

And yet, even now, Lucius didn’t dare show his temper. He feared that Traffindott would twist his words and report them to Voldemort.

The Malfoy family couldnʼt afford a single misstep anymore.

“The Dark Lord knows where my loyalties lie. You don’t need to speak for him.”

With that, Lucius turned and quickly left Gringotts.

Traffindott—no, Kyle—trailed closely behind.

Until now, he’d assumed this was just another scheme to swindle Malfoy, but after sifting through the Death Eater’s memories, he realized heʼd been mistaken.

They weren’t returning to Cornwall. They had a new assignment. Though the exact nature of it remained unknown, the Death Eater’s only duty had been to keep an eye on Malfoy.

“It’s about time.”

Back in the Leaky Cauldron’s courtyard, Lucius looked at Traffindott and said, “Traffindott, bring it out. If we miss the appointed time, we’ll both be punished.”

Kyle nodded and pulled a... coaster from his robe pocket.

More precisely, it was a Portkey.

Lucius placed his finger on it without a word.

The two of them stood there awkwardly for a while until a sudden pull surged from the coaster.

The Portkey activated.

After the dizzying swirl of travel, Kyle finally touched down on solid ground. A gust of wind blew past, carrying with it the familiar scent of the sea.

But he was certain—this wasn’t Cornwall.

“You’re right on time,” said a pale, sickly thin wizard as he approached. “Traffindott, youʼre done here. Get lost.”

Kyle, still adjusting to his new identity, froze for a brief second before realizing the wizard was addressing him.

That dismissive tone and contemptuous glare... Great. This guy was a throwaway too—maybe even worse than Hogwarts’ Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.

“Yes, Lord Lestrange,” Kyle said dutifully, falling into step at the back of the group.

There were indeed a lot of Death Eaters here—at a glance, at least fifty. Leading them was the frail wizard in front of him.

Rodolphus Lestrange. A veteran Death Eater, one of Voldemort’s trusted followers, and Bellatrix’s husband. Though Bellatrix was obsessed with the Dark Lord and felt nothing for her so-called husband—at most, they were just former Azkaban cellmates.

Lestrange didn’t seem to mind. Kyle even suspected that, given the chance, he’d gladly take Bellatrix’s place.

While Rodolphus Lestrange was speaking with Malfoy, Kyle quietly took in his surroundings.

From Traffindott’s memories, he only knew that after Lucius withdrew the money, they used a Portkey to leave. He hadn’t known their destination.

But they were clearly near the sea, and judging by the surroundings, it looked like a dock—or perhaps an island?

Information was scarce, and Kyle couldn’t be certain.

What he could confirm, however, was that this place wasn’t in England.

Kyle had plenty of experience using Portkeys, and judging by the duration of the flight, they had definitely left the country—but not too far.

If he was right, they were on an island just off the coast of England.

Kyle wanted to strike up a conversation to gather more intel, but everyone around seemed to dislike him. Every time he tried to approach someone, he was met with looks of irritation and scorn.

No doubt about it—this guy really had awful social standing.

Kyle even suspected that Rodolphus Lestrange had chosen him to watch Malfoy precisely because of his poor reputation.

If Malfoy got upset or caused trouble, they could just kill Traffindott to make amends—no one would miss him.

Even a battered, ugly coin purse was more useful than cannon fodder. Unfortunately, the real Traffindott never seemed to realize that.

When he noticed Rodolphus Lestrange’s gaze sweep his way, Kyle immediately stood still, silent and composed.

But Lestrange didn’t linger on him—just a routine scan, it seemed.

“Strange. Why are we still just standing here?” Kyle muttered inwardly.

He and Lucius had been there for over ten minutes, yet the Death Eaters hadn’t moved. They were just standing around doing nothing.

Was this some kind of Death Eater boot camp?

Or were they waiting for someone else...

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Kyle suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and his heartbeat began to race.

Several plumes of black smoke streaked across the sky before crashing down nearby.

Voldemort emerged from the haze, followed by Yaxley, Crabbe, Goyle, and a host of other notorious Death Eaters.

Kyle’s blood ran cold at the sight of such an imposing assembly.

Sure, he’d wanted to stir up trouble for the Death Eaters—but just the Death Eaters. Voldemort was never part of the equation.

Picking a fight with the Dark Lord? That was no different from suicide.

Regret gnawed at Kyle. Had he known Voldemort would show up, he never would’ve come anywhere near this mess.

Too bad Traffindott had been so woefully uninformed. Now, Kyle could only shrink into the crowd, biding his time for a clean escape.

Even if the Death Eaters noticed him, they’d only blame Traffindott. What did any of this have to do with him?

Right. He just needed to slip away at the first opportunity.

Kyle edged further back. Voldemort’s gaze never lingered on expendable pawns, which was a small mercy.

And thankfully, he’d opted for Polyjuice Potion over Transfiguration—safety first. As long as he kept his head down, the Dark Lord would never suspect an intruder among his ranks.

Mimicking the others, Kyle fixed Voldemort with a look of fervent devotion.

Just a little longer… he thought.

At the very least, he needed to learn why Voldemort had come. If the Dark Lord was here personally, it couldn’t be trivial.

When recruiting Lennis and those hundred-odd rogue wizards, Barty Crouch Jr. had been the sole representative.

But now? Not only was Voldemort present, but nearly every high-profile Death Eater had gathered. Whatever they were planning, it had to be major.

Since he’d stumbled into this, Kyle had no choice but to uncover the truth.

Thank Merlin he’d chosen Polyjuice. A simple Transfiguration would’ve exposed him the moment Voldemort arrived.

Lennis might reject the title of ”Dark Lord,” but Voldemort had earned that name through sheer power—power only Dumbledore could rival.

“Where is it?” Voldemort’s voice cut through the air like ice.

“H-Here.” Lucius Malfoy quivered like a frightened quail, producing a Cornish-style case—likely a complimentary gift from Gringotts.

“Good.” Voldemort gave a nod of approval before turning to Rodolphus Lestrange.

“Master, I’ve already informed Miles MacFusty. They should be preparing to welcome the great Dark Lord by now.”

“Preparing?” Voldemort’s crimson eyes locked onto Lestrange. “You expect me to wait?”

With a thud, Rodolphus dropped to his knees.

“Master, I’ll drag him here at once!”

“ROAR!”

A furious bellow echoed in the distance, followed by tendrils of flame—each dozens of feet long—weaving through the air like a fiery web.

The Death Eaters’ ranks wavered briefly, but discipline held. Fear was weakness, and weakness disgusted the Dark Lord. To earn his disdain was a death sentence.

“No. I will go myself.” Voldemort studied the lingering flames. “Miles is a clever man… and clever men know better than to refuse me.”

At his command, the Death Eaters advanced, a dark procession marching inland.

Inland—because this was an island.

The moment Lestrange spoke that name, Kyle had recognized their location. The flames only confirmed it.

The Hebrides. Home of the Hebridean Blacks.

As any wizard knew, there were only two places to reliably encounter dragons:

The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, which housed nearly every breed—except the Hebridean Black.

Owing to their volatile nature, these dragons couldn’t coexist with others. For centuries, the MacFusty Clan had overseen them in the Hebrides, both nurturing and containing them.

And Voldemort’s objective? Those living weapons, without a doubt.