Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 905: Potions and Logistics

France, Magic Shopping Street.

Christmas had just passed, but the holiday break was still ongoing. Beauxbatons students bustled through the streets, wondering how to turn their limited pocket money into more joy.

As they hurried past an unremarkable corner, they would sometimes mention in passing the shop that never seemed to open.

The sign had gone up months ago, yet the door had never opened.

Not even once.

And in the basement of that unseen shop, Fleur Delacour, once a notable figure at Beauxbatons, was busy taking stock of the potions on the shelves.

“Billʼs taken all the potions back to England,” she said.

“That’s good,” Kanna replied, lifting her head from the cauldron.

“He asked me to thank you. The potions were incredibly useful,” Fleur continued. “Bill said that even Aurors in England are struggling to buy quality Blood-Replenishing Potions and antidotes, even with Galleons.”

“Then I made the right choice,” Kanna said with a smile.

Even if Kyle and Snape didn’t want her staying in dangerous England, it didn’t mean she was powerless to help.

Logistics was just as critical in war... and for wizards, potions were logistics.

And as it happened, she had a bit of talent for potioneering.

“You’re not wrong,” Fleur said, packing the tallied potions into a box.

“But there’s something you need to know—France is feeling the effects too. Since last week, the prices of some key ingredients have been steadily rising. Bezoar especially—its price has doubled.”

“With the same number of Galleons, we’re able to buy less and less.”

As she spoke, Fleur shut the box with a frustrated thud. “I went to my father for help, but he refused to fund us.”

“That’s not surprising,” Kanna said calmly. “The Delacours are a French wizarding family. In a way, they represent France itself, so naturally they can’t get too involved in Britain’s affairs.”

“Frankly, the fact that he’s still letting you help me—and hasn’t stopped you from dating Bill—is already quite surprising.”

Fleur raised an eyebrow. “Delacours are always lenient when it comes to love.”

“What about Kyle?” she added with a teasing smile. “I thought he’d stay the night.”

“Professor Dumbledore seemed to need him for something,” Kanna replied. “The phoenix came and took him away last night.”

“The phoenix…” Fleur recalled the most beautiful bird she had ever seen.

“Kanna, do you think that after everything I’ve done to help Britain, if that phoenix laid an egg, Mr. Dumbledore would sell me one?”

“Huh?” Kanna blinked, a little caught off guard by her train of thought.

“Maybe… I guess?” she answered uncertainly.

She had never heard of phoenixes laying eggs. They seemed like creatures that had simply always existed—unchanging in number, eternal.

Still, Fleur looked quite pleased with herself.

She used her wand to slide the box into the storage room next door.

“I have one more question. Why haven’t you told Kyle? Why didn’t you want me telling Bill, either? That’s such an old-fashioned stage play plot twist.”

“I’m not hiding it,” Kanna shrugged. “You and Bill know. He probably told Professor Dumbledore too. It’s just Kyle and Uncle Severus who don’t know.”

“Seems like everyone’s kept their word and stayed quiet.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you—why go to all this trouble?” Fleur asked curiously. “He’s going to find out eventually, isn’t he?”

“At first, I just wanted to keep myself busy... and give Kyle a surprise. But then he came to France, saw the shop was closed, and didn’t even think anything was off. That’s when I realized—this is actually kind of fun.”

“Fun?”

Kanna thought for a moment and then asked, “Let me put it this way—what was Bill’s expression the first time you gave him those potions?”

“Surprised, thrilled, totally stunned…” Fleur blurted out. “He wasn’t even that excited when we kissed for the first time.”

“And what if Kyle had that kind of expression?” Kanna asked, continuing.

Fleur thought about it, and a slow smile crept across her lips.

Kyle had always left a strong impression on her—powerful, sharp-minded, easily winning the Triwizard Tournament.

Compared to him, she and Viktor Krum had felt like stage props—background characters playing trees and straw.

It was hard to believe he was two years younger than her.

Someone like him, showing that kind of stunned, disbelieving expression... that would be very interesting. Especially since he’d already visited twice without catching on.

“I’m kind of looking forward to it,” Fleur admitted.

“So am I,” Kanna said with a sly squint of her eyes.

Fleur shivered instinctively. Maybe she was imagining it, but just now, she thought she caught a glimpse of Kyle in Kanna.

She must’ve been seeing things.

She sat down next to Kanna.

“Still, I feel like Kyle was going to ask you to come back to England yesterday. If you hadn’t interrupted him, he might’ve said it.”

“If he had… would you go? Would you live with him back in England?”

“Uncle Severus would kill him,” Kanna said. “If he’d stayed at the potion shop last night, and Uncle Severus found out, it’d be the same.”

“That’s a bit much,” Fleur said, unable to understand. “Are all British wizards that conservative?”

“It’s not like that,” Kanna shook her head. “Or rather... Uncle Severus is just different.”

“He really cares about you.”

“He does,” Kanna said softly.

Snape cared about her—more than he cared about himself. And that kind of care often felt like a heavy weight on her shoulders.

Especially before she came to France, during that long conversation they had in the castle.

He had talked her through so many things, in such painstaking detail, and even forced the vault key into her hands with a rare sternness. He had hinted—subtly but unmistakably—that she could move the vault to France, or even farther away from England, almost as if...

Kanna’s hand trembled. The wand stirring her cauldron traced a sudden arc, and the pale blue potion turned violet in an instant.

“Ah!” Fleur let out a startled cry.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Kanna quickly lowered the flame and reversed the stirring direction from clockwise to counterclockwise, resuming the process.

Before long, the potion returned to its previous light blue hue.

“What were you thinking about just now?” Fleur asked.

“Nothing. Just feeling a bit sleepy,” Kanna replied.

No… that wasn’t it. She was overthinking.

Snape was a professor at Hogwarts. With Professor Dumbledore there, he was safe.

Kanna tried to convince herself of that.

But deep down, she knew Snape was involved in something serious. She didn’t know exactly what, but she was sure it was dangerous.

One of the reasons she chose to stay in France was that she didn’t want to become a distraction for him.

She could brew potions anywhere—there was no real difference between England and France.

As she used her wand to transfer the finished potion into a vial, far away in England, Kyle was pouring himself a glass of Butterbeer.

The century-old, rich-flavored Butterbeer had a rather ordinary texture, but the taste of beer and butter was stronger, giving it a distinctive charm.

At that moment, he was sitting with Dumbledore inside a wooden cottage, discussing Draco Malfoy.

Just yesterday, the Ministry of Magic had rushed over a letter overnight, asking Minerva McGonagall to allow Draco to re-enroll at Hogwarts.

As they’d said before, they wanted more Death Eaters to see that turning away from darkness was a wise and viable path.

“I’m guessing the Death Eaters had a hand in this too,” Kyle said, taking a sip of Butterbeer. “Whether willingly or under the Imperius Curse, they must have someone in the Ministry.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded. “A month ago, there were signs of Death Eater activity near the residence of Baddock, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But it looked like they merely passed through—did nothing and left.”

“Huh?” Kyle looked up at him.

“That’s one of the perks of being an old wizard—you have lots of friends,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “It just so happens I have an old friend who lives near Baddock. We’ve kept in touch through letters.

“During one of our casual chats, he happened to mention that Baddock hadn’t stopped by the corner dessert shop for over a week. Before that, he used to grab a hot cocoa there every morning before work.”

“The Imperius Curse?” Kyle asked.

“That’s likely,” Dumbledore nodded. “Baddock used to be a subordinate of Barty Crouch and was one of the staunchest opponents of Dark magic.”

“But now, he’s suddenly acting out of character, wanting to support Draco.”

“You’re something else, Professor Dumbledore,” Kyle said with a laugh.

“Just a bit of luck,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Sometimes, having many friends really does help.”

“So, what’s your take on this?” he asked. “I remember you mentioned before—you wanted Mr. Malfoy to return to school, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Kyle nodded. “We had an agreement, and this was part of the deal.”

“Oh, a deal?” Dumbledore asked with mild curiosity.

Kyle then recounted what had happened back in Knockturn Alley.

“I erased his memory, but left behind a suggestion—to visit my shop. Once he came, I’d use Legilimens to extract information about the Death Eaters.”

“Looks like you really did learn something from Lockhart,” Dumbledore said, before his expression turned serious.

“But Kyle, I don’t want you using Legilimens on others too frequently. When you recklessly dig into the deepest parts of someone’s mind, it becomes very easy to amplify your own desires—and that’s never a good thing.”

“I know. That’s why it’s a deal,” Kyle replied. “I got Draco Malfoy’s consent. He agreed to pass on information this way.”

“And besides, it’s the safest method for him.”

Since Malfoy himself had agreed, Dumbledore didn’t press further.

“So, have you gotten anything from him?”

“The wandering wizards in Cornwall—that came from Malfoy,” Kyle said. “And the Hebrides as well. He’s somewhat connected to that, too.”

“Sounds like Mr. Malfoy has been a great help,” Dumbledore mused, nodding slightly. “Then in return, it’s only right that you keep your end of the bargain.”

“Aren’t you worried he might have some hidden agenda?” Kyle asked.

“No,” Dumbledore answered evenly, as if they were simply discussing lunch.

“Then I have no objection. Let him come back to Hogwarts,” Kyle said. “Still, I get the feeling this isn’t a plan the Dark Lord would come up with on his own. It feels like someone else is advising him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Orchestrating something like this—staging his own role, using a false sacrifice—it’s too elaborate for the Dark Lord’s style.” Kyle took another sip of Butterbeer.

“I mean, intelligence and soul integrity aren’t always directly linked, but both are key to maintaining emotional balance and clear thinking. And people can only think properly when they’re emotionally stable.”

“The Dark Lord’s soul is practically falling apart—it’s hard to believe he could design something this complex. Honestly, even that diary of his had more strategic foresight than he does now.”

“At this point, the current Dark Lord is better suited to just waving his wand and solving things with a Killing Curse.”

“I’ve never heard anyone describe Tom that way,” Dumbledore said with a laugh. “Everyone who knew him used to say he was a calculating, deeply thoughtful boy.”

“Well, that was before he started making Horcruxes.”

“If he’d made even one less, I’d happily take back what I just said. Of course, if I ever ran into him again, I’d still run.”

Voldemort might not be a mastermind, but his raw power was terrifying. He had taken Dark Magic to a level all his own.

Dumbledore pulled out a piece of parchment—he was likely preparing a reply to the Ministry of Magic.

“So, who do you think gave Tom this idea?”

“No clue. Could’ve been anyone,” Kyle said after a moment of thought. “But whoever it was, they’ve accidentally helped us by revealing that the Dark Lord is planning something. All we need to do is keep a close eye on Malfoy.”

...

The Ministry moved quickly.

Not long after Dumbledore’s reply was sent, Draco Malfoy arrived at the school gates—with Scrimgeour himself escorting him.

The Head of the Auror Office personally acting as a bodyguard... Even when Lucius was throwing gold at the Ministry, he never got that kind of treatment.

After arriving at Hogwarts, Scrimgeour was led off to the Headmaster’s office by Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore.

Naturally, the task of receiving Malfoy fell to Kyle, who knew him best.

Although Malfoy had lost the memories from Knockturn Alley, he still remembered what happened in Godric’s Hollow. The moment he saw Kyle, he instinctively tried to take a step back.

“Don’t worry—you’re completely safe here at school!”

Kyle was in good spirits and grabbed him by the arm, leading him toward his wooden cabin.

“Hey, good news—once the break’s over, I’ll be a professor. So we’ll get to see each other a lot! Isn’t that great?”

Malfoy turned pale. He’d never imagined he’d not only run into Kyle again at school, but also have to spend time with him.

He suddenly wasn’t so keen on returning to Hogwarts.

But Kyle didn’t give him a chance to reconsider, dragging him along straight toward the cabin.

As they reached the doorway, Kyle accidentally pulled a little too hard.

Malfoy stumbled, tripped, and crashed into a wooden barrel beside the door. The contents splashed all over him, and the indescribable stench nearly made him throw up on the spot.

“Oh dear, how could you be so careless?” Kyle called out loudly. “That was fertilizer I prepared for Professor Sprout—what a waste!”

Professor Sprout… fertilizer?

Having taken Herbology, Malfoy instantly realized what was in the bucket. The moment it hit him, he gagged and rushed to the side to vomit—he nearly brought up his entire breakfast.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll clean you up,” Kyle said cheerfully.

Before Malfoy could refuse, Kyle raised his wand.

“Aguamenti!”

A cascade of water fell from above like a waterfall, drenching Malfoy from head to toe.

It poured for nearly a full minute before finally stopping—just when Draco was about to run out of air.

He was completely soaked through.

It was just after Christmas, the coldest time of the year, and with the wind whipping around him, Malfoy felt like his entire body was being scraped by tiny blades. He shivered uncontrollably.

“Don’t just stand there—come inside and warm up,” Kyle said, reaching out to pull him toward the cabin.

But this time, Malfoy wasn’t budging. Maybe he’d learned his lesson, or maybe he was half-frozen, but he stood there like a statue, every muscle resisting Kyle’s grip.

“Draco!”

Thankfully, Snape arrived just in time. He must have been uneasy about leaving Malfoy with Kyle and was now striding quickly toward them from the direction of the castle.

The moment Draco saw his savior, he became even more uncooperative.

“Killjoy,” Kyle muttered, curling his lip in annoyance. Then he shifted to the side, raised his wand, and pointed it at Malfoy while he was distracted.

“Legilimens!”

He didn’t know what Voldemort’s plan was, but that didn’t matter—he could find out.

Dumbledore might have reservations, but Kyle didn’t. With Malfoy’s consent, he could be as direct as he wanted.

Kyle locked eyes with Malfoy, as if flipping through the pages of a book—but what he saw made him frown.

There was a lot to see. He saw Malfoy locked in a fierce battle with Death Eaters aboard the Hogwarts Express, spells flying in every direction.

He also saw him—though clearly hesitant—send a letter to the Ministry via owl, revealing information.

But beyond that, the memories were mundane: scattered fragments of daily life.

The part Kyle most wanted to find wasn’t there. Malfoy hadn’t seen Voldemort directly since glimpsing him through a Ministry window.

Some parts of the memory seemed obscured, as if something had deliberately blocked them—just like when Slughorn had tampered with his own memories. All Kyle could see was fog—blank pages.

“Draco, are you alright?”

Snape reached out and pulled Malfoy away, breaking the connection between their eyes—and with it, the Legilimency link.

Malfoy still looked a little dazed.

“Professor Snape!” Kyle called quickly, drawing his attention. “Professor Dumbledore asked me to take care of Mr. Malfoy. I’m just carrying out my task.”

“You call this… taking care of him?” Snape looked from Kyle to Malfoy—who was still soaked, shivering violently—and spoke in a tone colder than the wind howling through the Forbidden Forest.

“It was just a small accident,” Kyle replied. “Mr. Malfoy was a bit careless, and I was just about to bring him inside to warm up.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Snape said flatly, pulling Malfoy firmly to his side. “I’ll take it from here. This no longer concerns you.”

Kyle stared at Snape.

…That level of concern—did he know something too?

It was very possible.

But Snape was a master of Occlumency. Even if Kyle tried, he wouldn’t get anything out of him.

Not that he needed to.

Remembering who Snape was, Kyle immediately stepped back.

“Well, if you insist, Professor Snape, I’ll leave Mr. Malfoy to you.”

“But you might want to get him back to the castle quickly—or he might need to take sick leave on his very first day back.”

“I don’t need you to remind me!”

Snape shot Kyle a furious glare, then turned and strode away with Malfoy.