Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 906: Malfoy’s Situation, The Mystery of the Boy Who Lived

Draco Malfoyʼs return to school caused a major stir among the students.

The strongest reaction came from Gryffindor. After all, he was the only confirmed Death Eater at Hogwarts—and now he was just back?

Even after hearing the full story from the professors, most of them weren’t buying it.

“He’s definitely faking it. This is all part of a conspiracy!”

That line had practically become Ron’s catchphrase lately. He’d go on and on to anyone who’d listen, listing all the things Malfoy had done.

It was even said that he and Harry had snuck into the Slytherin common room late at night, trying to expose Malfoy’s true intentions.

Their evidence? The Gryffindor hourglass had dropped another fifty points.

Clearly, they’d been caught—again.

But Malfoy’s return had been ordered by the Ministry of Magic. Headmistress McGonagall and the Board of Governors had all agreed. A handful of disgruntled students couldn’t overturn that decision.

And after a few harsh point deductions from Snape, the backlash finally began to quiet down.

Still, Harry and his friends were furious. They even went to Hagrid and Kyle, hoping they’d speak out on behalf of the faculty to oppose the decision.

To be fair… they had matured quite a bit lately. At least now they were seeking help from professors instead of charging ahead blindly.

Unfortunately… they went to the wrong people.

“I refuse!” Kyle said flatly in Hagrid’s wooden hut, grabbing a piece of meat from a tin and tossing it to a nearby cat who was napping by his feet.

“But you know the truth,” Harry protested, clearly frustrated, his eyes darting toward Kyle’s hand.

That cat was massive—larger than a Kneazle—and its eyes were unnaturally large and strange.

And cats weren’t supposed to eat raw, bloody meat… were they?

As Harry stared, the cat suddenly looked up. It startled him so much that he quickly averted his gaze and said,

“You were on the tower that night—you saw him let the Death Eaters into the castle. He’s a Death Eater through and through!”

“I know. But so does Dumbledore.”

Kyle fed the Matagot another chunk of meat. “If he’s fine with it, why should I object?”

“And besides, more importantly—according to my employment letter, I don’t officially become a professor until after the Christmas holidays.”

He glanced at Harry.

“So right now, I’m just a graduate hanging around Hogwarts with nothing better to do. Whatever you want to do, you should go find a real professor.”

Harry instinctively turned to Hagrid.

Speaking of professors… wasn’t Hagrid standing right there? He was already one of Harry’s targets.

“Hagrid—”

“I refuse too.”

Before Harry could finish, Hagrid cut him off. “I trust Dumbledore, and I support every decision he makes—no questions asked.”

The two people most likely to back them had both said no. Harry was crushed. He stood up, furious.

He just couldn’t understand—why was everyone siding with Malfoy? Even the people who knew the truth?

Ron and Hermione were fuming as well.

“I’d suggest going to Dumbledore,” Kyle sighed. “He’s pretty free these days—should have more than enough time to explain things to you… if he’s willing.”

He really wasn’t good at dealing with Harry. This kind of thing was better left to someone more suited to it—like Dumbledore.

Harry stormed out of the hut in a rage, and Kyle wasn’t sure whether he’d even understood the suggestion.

But Hermione clearly had picked up on something. After Harry and Ron left, she paused, glanced at Kyle as if she wanted to say something, then turned and followed them.

...

“Well? Told you I was right.”

After the trio had gone, Kyle turned to Hagrid with a grin. “See? I knew they’d come to you.”

“Whenever they’re stuck, they come straight to me,” Hagrid said with a sigh, placing a plate of rock cakes in front of Kyle. “But they picked the wrong target this time—I really don’t know anything.”

“I only just found out that Malfoy’s back at Hogwarts.”

He wasn’t lying.

Even though Kyle had shown him the correct route back through the gate, Hagrid—taking the easy route—had moved his bed straight into the garden Kyle had expanded for him.

So, with his mind full of dragons, Hagrid had no idea what had been going on at the school lately, let alone anything about Malfoy.

“He’s probably the first student to be expelled and then return,” Hagrid muttered. “Are you sure he’s really safe?”

Truth be told, Hagrid agreed with Harry—he also believed this might be a plot, some grand conspiracy by Death Eaters and Voldemort targeting Hogwarts.

But he trusted Dumbledore even more.

Including what he’d just said about supporting Dumbledore’s decisions unconditionally—it wasn’t just to placate Harry.

If Dumbledore believed Malfoy could return, then he must have his reasons. And with Kyle agreeing too, Hagrid felt there was no need for him to interfere.

Better to use that time thinking about how to bond with the dragons.

Lately, he’d been living in the garden, but the dragons still didn’t want anything to do with him. It left Hagrid feeling a little defeated.

Still, he didn’t blame the dragons. Their wariness of wizards was natural. It only proved how clever they were—good lads, all of them.

Thinking about the dragons, Hagrid began to fidget in his seat, his eyes drifting again and again toward the direction of the garden.

Kyle took a sip of tea and suddenly realized how unnecessary his concerns had been. Hagrid didn’t care about Malfoy at all. He didn’t even know about him—and Harry definitely wasn’t getting any intel here.

A few minutes later, Kyle left the hut and headed back toward the castle.

The door to the headmaster’s office was shut. The stone gargoyle out front told him there were already three guests inside.

It had to be Harry and the others.

So they’d taken Kyle’s suggestion after all—and gone straight to Dumbledore once they got back to school.

Kyle didn’t plan on joining them. He gave a small nod and turned to leave.

But as he passed through a corridor, he suddenly had the distinct feeling someone was watching him—strongly so.

He looked around—and his eyes landed on the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Ah. That explained it...

Kyle grinned and strolled down the stairs, unfazed, under the Fat Lady’s fiery glare.

“Come back here, you rude boy... ungrateful little brute...”

The Fat Lady’s shrill voice trailed after him, but Kyle acted as though he hadn’t heard a word.

Now that he was technically a professor, he and the Fat Lady were, in a sense, colleagues. It wouldn’t do to provoke her further.

If she went into one of her sulks again, he’d have a hard time explaining it to Headmistress McGonagall. After all, guarding the Gryffindor common room was a delicate job, and few portraits did it better than the Fat Lady.

Kyle decided to head to the Great Hall for lunch.

One of the perks of staying at Hogwarts was not having to think about what to eat. When mealtime came around, he just had to walk to the Hall—no planning needed, no effort wasted.

There, he happened to run into Malfoy again.

At the moment, Malfoy was practically despised by everyone in the castle. Even Mrs. Norris looked like she wanted to claw his face off when she passed him.

There was no helping it. None of the other Houses wanted anything to do with a former Death Eater. These were teenagers—young witches and wizards in the full swing of righteous indignation.

Death Eaters were hated enough on principle. Add in the fact that Malfoy had once let them into the castle, and honestly, the only miracle was that no one had attacked him outright.

Even with the headmistress, the professors, and the Ministry all stating that he’d turned over a new leaf, there was no way the students were going to accept him again so quickly.

Worse still, his return came after betraying Voldemort—or so it appeared. That made even the Slytherins turn their backs on him.

In fact, they probably hated him more than the other three Houses did.

If Snape hadn’t personally arranged a private dorm for him, Malfoy might’ve ended up half-dead on his first night back.

Even his former cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, now kept a wide berth.

Still, there was one person who seemed willing to sit next to him.

Astoria Greengrass—at least, Kyle thought that was her name.

He remembered she was a Slytherin girl two years below Malfoy and, apparently, the only one willing to sit beside him.

Aside from those two, the entire stretch of table was deserted, as though the air itself stank in that section.

Even the food had been cleared away, leaving only a bowl of dry, bland boiled potatoes in front of Malfoy.

When Kyle entered, Malfoy was trying to shoo Astoria away. The girl...

Well, she didn’t insist. As soon as he motioned for her to leave, she quietly stepped aside.

But she did take an empty plate with her. Then, under the cold stares of those around her, she served some food from the other end of the table and brought it back to set in front of Malfoy.

“That girl is so not Slytherin,” someone muttered behind Kyle.

He turned his head. “Oh, it’s you two—long time no see.”

Justin Finch-Fletchley and his friend Macmillan—both Hufflepuffs, a year below Kyle.

“We heard the news,” Justin said excitedly. “You’re coming back as a professor—Ancient Runes, right?”

“Thatʼs right,” Kyle nodded.

“Too bad we didn’t take that class,” Justin sighed.

Kyle wasn’t surprised.

Ancient Runes only had about ten students across all four Houses. Hufflepuff being the smallest, it was no shock they hadn’t enrolled.

“I’ve seen you a few times already, but you were always up at the staff table.”

“Why, did you need something?” Kyle asked.

“No, just wanted to say hi.”

Justin grinned. “Shame you can’t play Quidditch as a professor. Ever since our House team lost its key players, Hufflepuff’s been on a two-game losing streak. It’s like watching warthogs try to fly brooms… Honestly, I don’t even want to watch the next match.”

“Don’t be like that—they’ve been trying hard,” Kyle said, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, what do you think about Malfoy?”

“Dumbledore must be going senile,” Justin said bluntly.

“Even if Malfoy really has reformed, he shouldn’t have been allowed back at Hogwarts,” Macmillan added beside him. “Honestly, it’s not even good for him.”

“Fair point,” Kyle said with a smile.

Hufflepuffs weren’t as extreme as Gryffindors or Slytherins, which often gave them a more balanced perspective.

And the truth was—Malfoy didn’t belong back at Hogwarts.

After bidding them goodbye, Kyle made his way to the staff table and greeted Slughorn, who happened to arrive at the same time.

“I knew it—you were bound to make something of yourself,” said the Potions professor, clearly delighted. “By Merlin’s beard, I’ve never heard of anyone becoming a Hogwarts professor before the age of twenty!”

“There’s a little dinner party tonight—if you could make it, everyone would be thrilled to see you.”

“Maybe next time, Professor,” Kyle declined politely. “I’ve got a few things I need to take care of tonight. You know how it is—first time stepping into a professor’s role, there’s a lot to prepare.”

“No worries. I have every confidence in you,” said Slughorn warmly.

He was about to extend the invitation again, but Kyle deftly shifted the conversation elsewhere.

Slughorn’s dinner parties were great for making connections, sure—but if you didn’t need those connections, they were nothing but a trial.

Kyle had no interest in sitting through an evening of people trying to out-flatter one another.

Halfway through lunch, Harry arrived.

He looked pretty sour—no doubt heʼd just been “handled” by Dumbledore and hadn’t gotten the answers he was after.

A few minutes later, Dumbledore himself walked in.

He looked surprised when he spotted Kyle, then sat down beside him.

“You sent Harry to me, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Kyle nodded. “Harry and Malfoy never got along, and he clearly doesn’t want him back at school. He came to me earlier, hoping Hagrid and I would speak out against the decision on behalf of the staff.”

“Yes, he was very agitated,” Dumbledore said as he sliced into a custard and berry tart and took a bite.

“You didn’t tell him the truth?” Kyle asked. “Harry’s the Boy Who Lived—the Dark Lord’s nemesis. He’s essential to our fight against him.”

Dumbledore paused, his fork frozen mid-air.

Truthfully, he’d begun to question that prophecy more than once.

Was Harry Potter really the one foretold?

So far, it had been Kyle who destroyed almost all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. He and Harry were born on the same day. He fulfilled the prophecy just as well.

But then, Voldemort had chosen Harry. When Lily Evans’ sacrificial protection caused the Killing Curse to rebound, it forged a magical bond between them. That moment had sealed the prophecy’s fulfillment.

From a Divination standpoint, Harry was the Chosen One—Voldemort had selected him personally.

And yet… Dumbledore couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry was becoming increasingly irrelevant. Maybe it wouldn’t be long before Kyle was able to kill Voldemort on his own.

No—no, that was wrong. Kyle couldn’t kill him.

Dumbledore’s expression shifted. He shook his head slowly.

There was one inescapable truth: unless it was addressed, Voldemort could never truly die. And the burden of that fell to Harry. Only he could resolve it.

Then again… Dumbledore realized he hadn’t taught Harry anything in quite some time. Their one-on-one sessions, the sharing of Voldemort’s memories—he wasn’t even sure when all of it had stopped.

When had it ended?

He thought back. It must’ve been the moment he decided there were more important matters than Harry’s training.

And why had he thought that?

Because of Kyle, most likely.

Dumbledore said nothing, only sighed and shook his head repeatedly, leaving Kyle puzzled. He inched his chair a little farther away.

Maybe the noise of dragging the chair finally brought Dumbledore back from his thoughts.

“I’ll tell him,” he said at last. “But not yet. Could I ask a favor?”

“Depends,” Kyle said. “If it’s too much trouble, I might have to start asking about compensation.”

“No problem—I still have a bit saved up,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle. “I’d like you to keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy. If you can, try to figure out why he’s really come back to Hogwarts.”

“Professor Snape probably won’t approve,” Kyle said after a pause. “He’s always convinced I’m planning something awful for Malfoy.”

“I’ll speak to him about that.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

So Snape didn’t know Malfoy’s real reason for coming back either?

If he had, he’d have told Dumbledore already. There’d be no need to involve Kyle.

“Professor, not even your Legilimency can uncover the memories Malfoy’s hiding?” Kyle asked.

Dumbledore shook his head.

“I don’t use Legilimency on students.”

“So you’re leaving the dirty work to me, huh…” Kyle muttered with a sigh.

“You two already have an arrangement, don’t you?” Dumbledore said with a smile. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Fair enough,” Kyle replied. “But I’ve already tried. I didn’t find anything. Looks like the Dark Lord anticipated Legilimency as a vulnerability.”

“That does complicate things.”

“Well… maybe not,” Kyle said thoughtfully. “Malfoy himself definitely knows.”

“But he won’t tell us, will he?”

“Not necessarily.” Kyle set his fork down. “Malfoy already made the decision to betray the Dark Lord—for real. He just doesn’t remember making it.”

“If we can help him remember, he might come forward with the truth himself… Professor, do you know the counter-curse for Obliviate?”

“Sorry, I don’t,” Dumbledore said calmly. “And as far as I know, there isn’t one… Wait, don’t tell me—you didn’t know that?”

Kyle’s face stiffened.

He really didn’t know.

The notebook Lockhart had given him was full of information about Obliviate—only Obliviate. Not a word about reversing it.

He’d assumed Lockhart simply never needed to reverse it… and that he didn’t either.

“Is there any other way?”

“St. Mungo’s might be able to restore those memories,” Dumbledore said after some thought. “That’s how Lockhart was cured, after all. But getting Mr. Malfoy there without attracting attention… that would be difficult.”

“No problem. Leave that part to me,” Kyle said, agreeing to Dumbledore’s request.