Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 885: Forced Retirement

Dumbledore was feeling a bit panicked—especially when Kyle mentioned taking photos of Aberforth bawling his eyes out and selling them to him.

It wasn’t that he felt sorry for his brother’s Galleons. The real issue was that Dumbledore suddenly remembered having seen Kyle with a camera before—and not just once.

Could he have already done something like that?

Instinctively, Dumbledore’s gaze dropped to Kyle’s hand.

Kyle, seemingly sensing the shift, casually moved the camera behind his back.

“It’s empty, Headmaster. The previous photos have already been developed.”

Developed...

If there had been any lingering doubt, it was gone now. Dumbledore was certain: Kyle had definitely taken some photos of him.

The only question was—when? In 1899, or just recently?

“You know,” Dumbledore said, “I’d be willing to pay for some... interesting photos.”

“If I had any,” Kyle replied with a dry chuckle. “But let’s talk about that later. Professor, was there something you needed me for?”

Could photos of Dumbledore really be measured in Galleons?

Well, yes—but he wasn’t short on money.

Seeing Kyle change the subject so bluntly, Dumbledore could only sigh in resignation.

“I want to know what happened in the Hebrides.”

He straightened slightly, voice serious. “I’ve just returned from there and came across a spell that felt both familiar and unfamiliar. So... was it what I think it was?”

“Yes. It was the Firestorm Charm.” Kyle didn’t hide anything and briefly explained what he’d done on the Hebrides Islands.

“When the Dark Lord couldn’t find me, he tried to flush me out with Fiendfyre. I decided to try using the Firestorm Charm to direct the Fiendfyre around me.”

“You used the Firestorm Charm to control Fiendfyre...” Dumbledore looked at Kyle with a complex expression.

Could the Firestorm Charm control Fiendfyre?

Of course it could. As the spell’s inventor, Dumbledore knew that better than anyone.

Technically, the Firestorm Charm was a branch of Transfiguration—its object of transformation being fire itself.

And Fiendfyre, after all, was still fire.

What he hadn’t expected was that Kyle could actually manage it.

It was like how transforming a stone into a dog was easy—a fifth-year could do it. But turning a mountain into a dog? That was something very few wizards could pull off.

Controlling Fiendfyre was no easier than turning a mountain into a dog.

“Was that your first time attempting it?” Dumbledore asked.

“The second,” Kyle said after a moment’s thought. “The first time was in Austria. I wanted to lure out Rosier, so I decided to burn down Nurmengard Tower with Fiendfyre.”

“But the tower was pretty far, so I thought—why not try sending the Fiendfyre there using the Firestorm Charm?”

Nurmengard?

Dumbledore’s eye twitched.

“You succeeded?”

“I’m not sure you could call it a success,” Kyle said after thinking for a moment. “It was my first time trying something like that, and I had almost no control over the raging Fiendfyre. I barely managed to send it over.”

“But the scattered flames caught on faster, and it actually worked better to achieve my goal.”

The Headmaster’s office fell silent.

Dumbledore never imagined Kyle had done something like that.

Fiendfyre on Nurmengard—something many had dreamed of doing, but never dared. And Kyle had actually pulled it off.

Dumbledore wasn’t even sure what he felt. Worry? Surprise? Or maybe... a bit of schadenfreude?

Maybe all of the above.

Of course, his concern wasn’t for Nurmengard itself.

When the prison had been rebuilt, they’d considered every possible contingency.

Not even Fiendfyre could break through those towers. That precaution had been taken not just to prevent Grindelwald’s escape, but to protect him.

There were too many who wanted him dead.

But there were also plenty who still followed him. If he were killed, who knew what those fanatics might do?

Keeping him alive gave them hope—and kept them from wreaking havoc on the wizarding world.

At least... that was the official line, the reason written in the reports.

“I have one more question for you,” Dumbledore said softly. “Why did you go looking for... Grindelwald?”

“Nicolas asked me to. He said that in 1899, you’d definitely go into hiding—and only Grindelwald would know where.” Kyle shrugged.

“And he was completely right. It was Grindelwald who told me about the barn, and sure enough, Professor, that’s where you showed up.”

Everyone who used a Time-Turner to travel back had the same subconscious instinct—to avoid all contact with others. If Kyle hadn’t been staking out the barn, he might never have found Dumbledore when he first arrived.

Especially since Dumbledore had lost a lot of his memory at the time. Even if Kyle had made a huge scene, Dumbledore wouldn’t have recognized him, let alone sought him out.

“Ah... yes. Of course he’d know.”

Dumbledore suddenly seemed uneasy—borderline flustered.

“I suppose you know... we used to be very close. Like you and Mr. Diggory—able to talk about anything.”

“Mm, sorry, Professor,” Kyle muttered, cutting him off.

“It’s not the same. At least Cedric was never expelled from school.”

Dumbledore’s expression froze. The emotional momentum he’d been building popped like a soap bubble.

Fine. Grindelwald had indeed been expelled from Durmstrang—but was that really the point?

Dumbledore had been prepared to lay everything bare—to confess his relationship with Grindelwald and all the reckless things he’d once done.

“Aren’t you curious?” Dumbledore looked at Kyle. “About what we did during that time? I don’t think you know.”

“I’m not as perfect as people think,” he said hoarsely. “We once shared a vision—to overthrow the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, to build a world ruled by wizards. We even made a Blood Pact.”

“I know,” Kyle said with a shrug.

“You... know?” Now Dumbledore truly didn’t understand.

He and Grindelwald had been young, yes—but cautious. They’d avoided everyone, made sure no one overheard them.

How could Kyle possibly know?

It wasn’t that Dumbledore underestimated him—he just knew how careful he and Grindelwald had been back then. They weren’t the kind to make such a rookie mistake.

“I have this.”

Kyle didn’t elaborate—he simply pulled out something that looked like an ear.

“Is that... one of Mr. Weasleyʼs eavesdropping magical devices?” Dumbledore asked uncertainly.

“It is.” Kyle nodded. “To find you as quickly as possible, I hid it beneath the floorboards of an old crate in the barn right after I arrived in Godric’s Hollow. It’s very well hidden.”

“But...” Dumbledore frowned. “We inspected the barn.”

“Professor, are you sure you inspected it carefully?” Kyle smiled. “Or rather—who would expect a magical eavesdropping device in a barn that’s been abandoned for years? You didn’t, did you?”

Dumbledore nodded instinctively.

Now that he thought about it, that really had been the case.

He and Grindelwald had been more excited about discovering a hidden stronghold. Their so-called inspection had just been a quick magical sweep and a bit of pest control.

If the device was under the floorboards, as Kyle said, then no—they wouldn’t have found it.

“So you knew everything, didn’t you?” Dumbledore’s expression grew somber.

“Just bits and pieces.”

Kyle said, “That listening device was placed there only to find you—not to spy on conversations. Most of the time, I didn’t even use it. I even cut the connection entirely, made it act like a rock so it wouldn’t draw attention.”

“Besides, I wasn’t interested.”

“Sorry—what?”

“Your plan. I’m not interested.” Kyle tapped a finger lightly against the tabletop, and a House-elf in the kitchen promptly brought over a glass of lemonade.

He picked it up and took a sip... Still the same familiar taste. Perfect.

“This kind of thing is like casting a spell. Maybe the wand movement wasn’t precise, but the outcome was right—so it’s fine.”

“They don’t deduct points on final exams just because your wand movement is a bit off. It’s the same in a real fight.”

Dumbledore didn’t respond. He simply stared at Kyle, lost in thought. Then, after a moment, he gave a helpless smile.

“I never imagined Iʼd need a child to talk sense into me. What a strange experience.”

“I never thought I’d have to console a professor old enough to be my grandfather,” Kyle said, taking another sip of lemonade. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re too close to the situation to see clearly.”

“...A very fitting description.”

Dumbledore tapped the table as well and received a cup of black tea from a House-elf.

He took a sip, then said in a calm, level tone, “Starting tomorrow, I’ll no longer be Headmaster. Minerva is much better suited for the role.”

“Hmm?” Kyle looked up slightly but didn’t say anything.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Dumbledore remarked.

“Isn’t that how it should be?” Kyle replied.

Since the previous year, Dumbledore had barely been at Hogwarts. Most school matters—big and small—had been handled by Professor McGonagall.

If she weren’t so modest, she’d have moved into the Headmaster’s office by now.

If it had been Kyle, he’d have taken over long ago—no permission needed.

“You’re right,” Dumbledore said with a long sigh. “I’ve been far too irresponsible as Headmaster. This is for the best—I can finally enjoy retirement.”

To spend time with his sister, most likely.

He hadn’t retired before, and now suddenly—right after Ariana came back to life—he wanted to hand the school over to Professor McGonagall?

The timing was a little too on-the-nose.

Kyle glanced at Dumbledore but chose not to call him out on it.

“Does Professor McGonagall know?”

“She doesn’t,” Dumbledore shook his head. “I’ve already contacted the Board of Governors. I’m planning to surprise her.”

“You’re sure it’ll be a surprise,” Kyle raised an eyebrow, “and not a shock?”

“I don’t have a choice. I know Minerva,” Dumbledore explained. “If I told her outright, she’d definitely refuse.”

Kyle frowned. Something didn’t sit right.

He glanced around the room, and his eyes landed on a stack of parchment—nearly two feet tall—next to the desk.

Were those there before?

Kyle thought back. When Nicolas had come to deliver the Time-Turner, the office had been spotless—nothing in sight.

Which made sense. Everything that needed to be handled had been routed to Professor McGonagall. There shouldn’t have been any paperwork in the Headmaster’s office.

This pile... could it have been tossed here by Professor McGonagall?

Kyle felt like he’d just uncovered the truth.

He walked over and, under Dumbledore’s nervous gaze, casually flipped through the stack of parchment.

“Quidditch match scheduling...”

“Request to relocate Potions classroom to the third floor...”

“Snape requesting 1,000 Galleons to purchase Dark creatures—Red Caps, Kappas, and so on...”

“Professor McGonagall requesting 300 Galleons for rabbits, turtles, hamsters...”

“Astronomy Professor Sinistra requesting 3,000 Galleons for a panoramic celestial globe...”

…

Sure enough, all of them were Hogwarts work assignments, ranging from two months ago up to the present.

Some parchments still bore traces of ink—likely remnants of words that had been hastily erased with magic. The cleanup had clearly been rushed, leaving smudges behind.

Kyle looked at Dumbledore.

“This was... from Professor McGonagall, wasn’t it?”

“It was Minerva,” Dumbledore replied, his gaze drifting. “She feels I haven’t fulfilled my duties as Headmaster. So, she returned them to their rightful owner.”

“So that’s why you want to retire?”

Kyle dropped his previous theory. “So you can reasonably dodge all this work, right?”

“Of course not.” Dumbledore regained his composure and said solemnly, “Seeing all this made me realize just how much I’ve failed in my responsibilities. Minerva truly deserves the position.”

“Heh...” Kyle let out a short laugh.

That excuse was far too clumsy—not even a troll would buy it.

“No wonder you want to give Professor McGonagall a surprise.” Kyle finally understood why Dumbledore was in such a hurry to step down.

Ordinarily, changing Headmasters required extensive preparation, especially at a thousand-year-old institution like Hogwarts.

The Board of Governors would need to be notified in advance to approve the change. The Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards would have to be informed as well, along with other wizarding schools, to avoid confusion in future collaboration.

Not to mention, The Daily Prophet and other official outlets would need to publish a formal announcement. The entire process was as complicated as a change in Minister.

Even with the current situation involving Voldemort and the Death Eaters, streamlining everything still wouldn’t make it feasible to wrap up in a single day.

Dumbledore was doing this on purpose—he wanted to catch Professor McGonagall off guard.

Once everyone was gathered and he made the announcement tomorrow, even if McGonagall wanted to refuse, she wouldn’t be able to.

Because turning it down would mean making a public spectacle of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore really had no shame.

When Kyle looked at him again, his expression shifted gradually into one of contempt.

But Dumbledore acted as though he didn’t notice at all, sipping his tea with perfect calm.

“It’s settled, then. I’m over a hundred years old—well past retirement age. Forcing a centenarian to keep working would be immoral.”

“Tell me what happened after we returned,” Dumbledore said, deftly changing the subject.

“Alright,” Kyle replied. “Where would you like to start, Professor?”

“Let me think...” Dumbledore added another sugar cube to his teacup. “Let’s begin with Cornwall... Alastor—did he really die?”

Kyle froze, the glass of lemonade paused in his hand.

“I’m just curious,” Dumbledore said, eyes locked on him.

“The Kyle I know wouldn’t stand by and watch Alastor be killed, let alone do nothing afterward and only bring back a scrap of bandage.”

“And as far as I know, Tom wasn’t even in Cornwall at the time.”

The implication was obvious. Without Voldemort present, taking out some Death Eaters wouldn’t have been difficult for Kyle—not if he really wanted revenge for Mad-Eye.

Even if the enemy was numerous, there was no way all hundred-plus wizards would have been gathered in one place. Kyle could have fought and still escaped.

Just bringing back a bandage? That wasn’t his style.

“I was hoping to keep it a secret,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “You’re right. Moody’s still alive. That Lennis character is him—he’s using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself.”

“The leader of the Wandering Wizards?” Dumbledore asked as he dropped in another sugar cube, showing no great surprise.

“If I’m not mistaken, your plan is to get the Wandering Wizards to switch sides, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Kyle nodded. “Professor Moody thought it was viable, so he faked his death and vanished from everyone’s radar.”

“It’s a clever plan, but... Alastor might be in danger now.”

Dumbledore let out a sigh, his tone suddenly heavy with concern.

“There’s always risk, but Professor Moody can handle himself,” Kyle replied.

“Maybe before,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “But after you used Polyjuice Potion in the Hebrides, things changed... Don’t forget—Tom has always been a suspicious man.”

Kyle suddenly snapped to attention.

Right. He’d used Polyjuice Potion—would Voldemort assume he’d do it again?

With how paranoid he was, it wasn’t just possible... it was inevitable.

“I’ve put Professor Moody in danger...”

“No—you haven’t.” Dumbledore cut him off. “You don’t understand Tom. Or rather, you only understand the Tom he is now.”

“He’s never trusted anyone. He was that way as a child, that way during his years at Hogwarts, and still the same sixteen years ago.”

“Once he became Voldemort, even his fellow Death Eaters—once comrades—became nothing more than disposable tools. He doesn’t trust tools, let alone someone new.”

“Even if you’d done nothing at all, just your escape would have made him suspect an informant among his followers... And maybe, in some ways, that’s a good thing.”

“A good thing?” Kyle frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“The Hebrides incident caused quite a stir. The Daily Prophet already published an article about it this morning.

“If Alastor saw it, he would’ve put two and two together—and had time to prepare.”

“How would The Daily Prophet know? Did the Aurors tell them? That’s impossible!”

“No, that was me,” Dumbledore said. “When I was near the Hog’s Head, I happened to run into a well-known reporter. And... in the course of chatting, I may have accidentally let something slip.”

“What a coincidence...” Kyle muttered, rubbing the rim of his cup. “Professor, you didn’t happen to already know that Moody was still alive and had infiltrated the Wandering Wizards... did you?”

“Of course not,” Dumbledore said with a faint smile. “I truly just let it slip. That’s all. I only just found out the truth myself.”