Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 904: Kyle’s Bad Temper

Christmas in France wasn’t all that different from Christmas in the UK—both were lively and festive.

If there was a difference, it was that this year, the UK wasn’t feeling very festive at all.

Thanks to the Death Eaters and Voldemort, most people chose to stay home even on Christmas, avoiding streets that were now rife with danger and the chance of running into a Dark wizard at any moment.

You could see the impact clearly from how many students stayed at Hogwarts.

Almost everyone chose to remain at school for the holidays; only a handful of Slytherins went home, and even they only filled two compartments on the train.

But in France, there were no such concerns.

From early morning, the crowds on the shopping street had been steadily growing, filled with adult wizards and students returning home from Beauxbatons for the break.

Groups of three or five gathered along the street, which quickly became bustling and animated.

With nothing better to do, Kyle went out for a stroll and picked up a few souvenirs that had a distinctly French flair.

There was also a massive Christmas tree standing in the center of the street. Just yesterday, it had been bare, but now it was covered in gift boxes wrapped in shiny gold paper.

According to Fleur, the gifts were free for anyone to take. Supposedly, some of them even contained rare hidden items that were quite valuable.

Since he was already there, Kyle wasn’t going to miss out.

Without a hint of shame, he grabbed eight gift boxes and only stopped when he physically couldn’t carry more.

As for Fleur’s disdainful look—he couldn’t care less.

Take as many as possible. What if he actually scored one of the hidden items? Then the trip wouldn’t have been a waste.

Kyle didn’t even wait until he got back—he started tearing them open right there on the street.

A pair of scissors for trimming broom branches... basic, but at least functional.

Dried bat wings... useful for brewing potions. He’d pass them along to Kanna later.

Beetle eyes—also for Kanna.

Kyle kept going...

A mouse tail, dried leeches, three colorful ribbons used for wrapping presents...

Well, all eight boxes combined might be worth around ten Knuts, with the scissors alone accounting for five.

“This Christmas is seriously boring.”

Expressionless, Kyle kept walking.

No wonder the gifts were up for grabs... This stuff wasn’t even as good as the streamers at Hogwarts—people wouldn’t bother picking it up if it were lying in the gutter.

Kyle had a strong suspicion this was just some French shop’s way of clearing out old inventory.

Fleur seemed to have predicted all this from the start.

She and Bill had only taken one gift each. Fleur ended up with a roll of Spello-tape—about the same value as the scissors.

Bill had scored the most expensive item out of the three.

A whole pineapple, worth a whopping twenty Knuts.

Kyle curled his lip and glanced up at the top of the Christmas tree, thoughtful.

“Do you think the hidden gift might be up there?”

“You’re overthinking it,” Fleur replied. “Those are all fake—just for decoration. The real gifts are within easy reach, and they replenish themselves constantly.”

As she spoke, she casually grabbed another box from the tree.

The empty spot where it had been immediately filled, as if the tree were bearing fruit again.

“Want to grab a few more?” Fleur coaxed. “There’s no limit. Take as many as you want—who knows, you might get something valuable.”

“No thanks. I’ll leave them for someone else,” Kyle refused firmly.

A scoop of beetle eyes in Diagon Alley went for five Knuts—about twenty-five eyes. He’d just unwrapped one, worth maybe a fifth of a Knut. The ribbons weren’t worth much more.

With junk like this, it would take a whole day of opening boxes just to make ten Galleons.

He wasn’t about to waste his time.

Besides, if there were real money to be made, that tree would’ve been swarmed by French wizards already—he wouldn’t have even gotten close.

Fleur was clearly just hoping to watch him make a fool of himself.

They wandered around the street a little longer before Bill and Fleur decided to head elsewhere. Kyle, not wanting to play third wheel, returned alone to the potion shop.

The potion for the dragon must have been especially complicated, because it wasn’t until evening that Kanna finally emerged from the basement with a vial of red potion in hand.

“All done!” she said, handing it to Kyle. “Where’s Fleur?”

“She probably ran off with Bill.”

“No way,” Kanna replied, though she guessed they must’ve gone off somewhere together.

Last time Kyle visited, Fleur had taken them all around France—now that Bill Weasley was here, she’d probably done the same.

“Forget them. May I have the honor of taking you to dinner?” Kyle asked, casually slipping the potion into his pocket and offering her his hand.

“You’ve been working all day—you must be starving.”

Now that he mentioned it, Kanna really was feeling a bit hungry. She glanced out the window, surprised by what she saw.

It had still been morning when she went into the basement, but now it was evening. She hadn’t felt time passing at all—she thought only a few hours had gone by.

“All right, I accept your invitation,” Kanna said with a cheerful smile, placing her hand in his.

The two of them walked out of the shop hand in hand.

Even though it was already evening, the shopping district was more crowded than ever. Most people had gathered near the Christmas tree, leaving this part of the street unusually quiet.

That enormous tree had now been lit up, even more beautiful than it had been during the day—visible from far down the street.

“How about French food?” Kyle suggested. “I remember Nicolas recommending a place near his old home. I had something else going on at the time and didn’t get the chance to try it. Now’s the perfect opportunity.”

“All right, whatever you say,” Kanna replied with a smile.

She wasn’t particular about food—anything that filled her up was fine—but if it had Nicolas Flamel’s recommendation, it was probably worth checking out.

Kyle was in a great mood. Fleur, that massive walking spotlight, was supposed to head back to her villa tonight, which meant he could stay in the potion shop...

Not that it meant anything. Just somewhere to sleep, that’s all.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. This year’s Christmas was shaping up pretty well.

“What are you smiling about?” Kanna looked at Kyle, a nagging sense of danger rising in her gut.

“Nothing. Just thinking about something nice,” Kyle said.

“Oh, really?”

“Of course,” he answered, sounding full of conviction.

“By the way,” Kanna said, as if something had just come to mind, “do you have a suitcase with the Undetectable Extension Charm? We need to deliver a large batch of potions to Beauxbatons, and having a good trunk would save us a lot of trips.”

“You’ve asked the right person,” Kyle replied confidently.

“It needs to be a big one,” Kanna added.

“No problem at all.” He took out his leather suitcase and pulled another, larger one from inside.

He’d made several of these when practicing the Undetectable Extension Charm. This one had the most capacity—he’d used it to carry his school things back when he was still a student. Since graduating, it had been sitting empty.

“Beauxbatons didn’t provide a container when they placed the order?” he asked, handing the suitcase to Kanna.

“Nope,” Kanna said.

“How stingy,” Kyle muttered. “Their Alchemy class shouldn’t be short on this kind of thing.”

“Maybe they just forgot,” Kanna said offhandedly.

Kyle didn’t dwell on it.

“Well then, let’s get going—ow!”

Before he could finish his sentence, a large, fiery-red bird suddenly landed on his shoulder and pecked him on the ear with its hard beak.

“Fawkes?” Kyle looked at the phoenix in surprise, feeling the warmth radiating from its body.

“What are you doing here?”

Fawkes opened his beak and dropped a piece of parchment.

Kyle instinctively caught it and gave it a glance.

One look, and his expression darkened.

The message was short: Dumbledore needed to see him.

On Christmas Day?!

Who works overtime on Christmas?! Isn’t that the kind of behavior that gets you strung up on a lamppost?!

“No way!” Kyle couldn’t help growling at Fawkes. “Go back and tell Dumbledore that I’m spending Christmas in France this year—nothing can stop me. Not even Merlin!”

Fawkes tilted his head.

He’d been roused from his perch by Dumbledore to deliver the message and was still half-asleep, barely registering what Kyle was saying.

But as soon as he heard “go back,” flames began to spark from his wings.

Kyle froze.

“I meant you go back, not take me back!” he said, panicking as he tried to pry the sleepy phoenix off his shoulder.

The Apparition was interrupted, and the flames around Fawkes began to flicker and fade.

“Pfft!” Kanna couldn’t hold in her laughter.

At this point, if she still didn’t know what Kyle was plotting, she’d have to be an idiot.

Was the youngest member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers an idiot?

Of course not—and she didn’t mind, either.

Still... she glanced at the discarded piece of parchment, sighed softly, then stepped forward and rose onto her toes...

Kyle felt something soft press against his lips. His hands froze mid-motion.

That brief pause was all it took for the fading flames to flare back to life.

Like a firework going off, Kyle and Fawkes vanished from the street in a burst of flame, leaving only a trailing spark that drifted down and ignited the parchment on the ground.

Kanna stood where she was, a faint smile still playing at her lips.

Dealing with Kyle? Too easy.

She glanced around to make sure no one had noticed the commotion, then turned and headed back into the potion shop.

...

At the same time, Kyle—having just been forcibly dragged back to Hogwarts—took a deep breath, the soft sensation lingering on the corner of his lips.

“You’d better have a damn good explanation,” he said, glaring at Dumbledore with clear hostility.

“If this turns out to be some trivial nonsense, don’t blame me for not holding back.”

Dumbledore blinked, baffled by Kyle’s fury.

He glanced over at the phoenix, but Fawkes had already flown back to his perch and fallen asleep.

“Oh, Kyle, I don’t know what just happened,” Dumbledore said, “but if beating up a man over a hundred years old will make you feel better, I won’t stop you.”

“Hah.” Kyle let out a cold laugh.

Beating up Dumbledore... if only he were strong enough for that.

“I wouldn’t bully a hundred-year-old man, of course,” Kyle said. “But I would set up a hundred pots of Mandrakes in Nurmengard, working in three shifts to sing a symphony for an entire month.”

“Oh, and I’ll flood the whole Nurmengard tower with dragon dung while I’m at it!”

Dumbledore’s expression changed immediately. The corners of his mouth twitched in discomfort.

Grindelwald might be unfazed by the shrieking of Mandrakes—but dragon dung? That would drive him mad.

“Fine. The return trip of the Hogwarts Express was attacked by Death Eaters,” Dumbledore blurted out in an uncharacteristically rapid voice.

“No way.” Kyle shook his head instinctively.

“To be blunt, most of the passengers on that train are second-generation Death Eaters. Why would they attack their own children?”

Dumbledore’s mouth twitched again.

Well... even he had to admit that Slytherin House had become something of a mixed bag—some second-generation Death Eaters, and more than a few who idolized Voldemort and were just waiting for their chance to join.

Still, they hadn’t done anything technically wrong. They were, after all, still students.

If the school governors heard what Kyle had just said, his position as the Ancient Runes professor would probably be in jeopardy.

Wait—he was a governor too.

Well, whatever. Not important.

Dumbledore gave a small shake of his head and continued, “But it’s true. Death Eaters appeared, the train nearly derailed at the station, and the Aurors had to step in.”

Kyle frowned.

“That doesn’t add up. Didn’t the train leave yesterday?”

“It did,” Dumbledore replied. “The Aurors have been investigating since then, and they only uncovered the truth today.”

“The truth?” Kyle repeated. “What, the Death Eaters suddenly decided to make a noble sacrifice?”

“Of course not. Someone saved them,” said Dumbledore.

“Who?” Kyle’s tone was still sharp. “...Must’ve been someone who just loves meddling.”

Dumbledore pretended not to hear the second part and said calmly, “Draco Malfoy.”

“Who?” Kyle thought he’d misheard.

“Draco Malfoy,” Dumbledore repeated. “You’re no stranger to that name, are you?”

Stranger? He was very familiar with it.

Kyle rubbed his forehead. “All right, Professor. What exactly is going on here?

“Draco Malfoy—a Death Eater himself—rescued a bunch of baby Death Eaters from an attack on the Hogwarts Express by Death Eaters?”

“Even Professor Lockhart’s books aren’t that far-fetched.”

“You’re probably the only one who still calls Lockhart ‘Professor,’ Kyle,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

“Well, I did learn something useful from him,” Kyle replied. “But Professor, that’s not the point, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Dumbledore said, his tone growing serious.

“According to the Aurors, the Death Eaters attacked the incoming Hogwarts Express at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters yesterday. Fortunately, they received a tip-off just five minutes beforehand and arrived in time.

“After investigating, they discovered that the tip came from none other than Draco Malfoy.”

Kyle still felt something didn’t sit right. It was like listening to a rejected chapter from The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

“Also, before the Aurors arrived, Draco apparently boarded the train and fought a fierce battle against the Death Eaters…”

“Hold on, Professor. Just—hold on a second.” Kyle cut him off. “Let me make sure I heard this right. You’re telling me that Draco Malfoy—Draco Malfoy—got into a life-and-death fight with Death Eaters?”

“That’s correct. You heard me right,” Dumbledore said with a nod.

“Got it. Please, continue,” Kyle said with a grin. “When you’re done, I’ll head to Diagon Alley to put in an advance order for dragon dung—enough to fill the entire Nurmengard tower.”

Draco Malfoy, locked in mortal combat with Death Eaters? That was about as believable as Hagrid stewing a dragon for supper.

And Dumbledore had pulled him all the way from France over this?

“Don’t be so quick to judge. We’re not done yet. Here, have some lemonade,” Dumbledore said gently, tapping the table to summon a House-elf, who brought over a fresh glass.

Dumbledore couldn’t help being nervous. Kyle really would do something that outrageous.

Sure, Grindelwald had done wrong—but he’d already been punished. What Kyle was planning... was a bit excessive.

“Let me guess,” Kyle said, taking a sip. “Draco Malfoy wants to come back to Hogwarts, doesn’t he?”

“Exactly,” Dumbledore confirmed.

“It was quite the coincidence. Just as the Aurors confirmed Draco had sent the message, Lucius and Narcissa delivered him to the Ministry, hoping the Aurors would keep him safe.”

“At the same time, Tom showed up and cast the Cruciatus Curse on them right at the Ministry’s doorstep, in front of everyone. Their screams could be heard throughout the entire building.”

“That’s it?” Kyle asked.

“Tom also tried to force his way into the Ministry to kill Draco, but I stopped him,” Dumbledore said. “He left with Lucius and Narcissa, and Draco was taken into Auror protection.”

Kyle didn’t respond until he’d finished the lemonade. “What’s the Ministry’s stance on all this?”

“Most of them think it’s a great opportunity,” said Dumbledore. “They want to support Draco Malfoy and use this to encourage more Death Eaters to abandon the dark side.”

Kyle had heard enough. He stood up. “Professor, the Christmas feast should be starting by now, right?”

“Oh—it already has,” Dumbledore said after a slight pause. “Would you like to go eat?”

“I’m a bit hungry,” Kyle said, casting Dumbledore a faint look. “I was supposed to be having French cuisine tonight.”

“I think Hogwartsʼ Christmas feast is also quite plentiful,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

“Not the same, is it?” Kyle sighed.

In France, he would’ve had Kanna for company. Here? Just a grumpy old man.

Not even in the same league.

As the two made their way toward the Great Hall, Dumbledore couldn’t help but ask, “Kyle, I’d like to hear your thoughts on all this.”

“My thoughts?” Kyle considered for a moment. “It’s a touching drama. If someone adapted it into a stage play, they’d make a fortune.”

“A stage play… You mean it’s all fake?”

“What else could it be?”

Kyle shrugged. “The Malfoys betray You-Know-Who and get caught—and his response is just the Cruciatus Curse? No execution?”

“Professor, does that sound plausible to you?”

Dumbledore paused mid-step, giving Kyle a long, meaningful look.

Yes, this was why he preferred talking to Kyle. Their thinking was always uncannily aligned. Bringing him back had been absolutely the right decision.

“Let me say it, then.”

Kyle, unaware of Dumbledore’s thoughts, reached out and pushed open the side door to the Great Hall.

“If any of this were real, Lucius and Narcissa wouldn’t have lived long enough to reach the Ministry in the first place.”