Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 908: Tom’s Multiple Choice

The best thing about being the Ancient Runes professor might just be the abundance of free time.

After the first day of term, Kyle followed tradition and promptly vanished from Hogwarts Castle—mealtimes excluded, of course.

The office Professor McGonagall had assigned him might as well have been a prop. It was completely empty—not even a single chair. When Hermione came by to ask a question, she actually thought she’d walked into the wrong room.

But that too was tradition. When Professor Bubblay had held the position, her office had looked exactly the same.

Outside, heavy snow was falling. From time to time, loud thuds echoed from the direction of the Black Lake—giant squid slapping at the frozen surface, trying to scare off students who dared to skate or wander across the ice. It had become a daily habit for them—and one they clearly enjoyed.

Not far away, in a wooden cabin, Kyle poured two cups of tea and handed them to the two identical figures sitting across from him.

“So your memory’s back?” Kyle looked from one Draco Malfoy to the other. “Sorry for asking, but… which one of you is the real one?”

He had been out in the garden until he received a letter from Dumbledore informing him that Malfoy had returned from St. Mungo’s.

And, ever thoughtful, Dumbledore had brought both of them along with the letter.

“It’s him!” the Malfoy on the left immediately said, pointing at the one on the right. “I drank Polyjuice Potion just before we came. Itʼll be over an hour before it wears off.”

The real Malfoy said nothing, only looked at Kyle with a complicated expression.

“Does our deal in Knockturn Alley still stand?”

“Seems like your memory really is back,” Kyle said.

“It is. I remember everything now,” Malfoy replied. “And I also know you didn’t keep your end of the bargain.”

“What are you talking about?” Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You’re at Hogwarts, aren’t you?”

“But that wasn’t your doing—it was the Dark Lord’s,” Malfoy said. “He was the one who figured out how to get me back here.”

“You really think someone officially identified as a Death Eater could just waltz back into school by claiming they’ve reformed?” Kyle let out a short laugh.

“Don’t forget—the current Headmistress is Minerva McGonagall. She prioritizes student safety above all else and isn’t nearly as easygoing as Dumbledore.”

“If I hadn’t gone to Professor Dumbledore to plead your case, even the Minister of Magic wouldn’t have been able to convince her to let a former Death Eater back in.”

Malfoy stared at Kyle without blinking, clearly trying to judge whether he was telling the truth.

Kyle, for his part, looked completely at ease.

Malfoy’s return to Hogwarts had been the result of discussions between Kyle and Dumbledore. It was only after that that Dumbledore persuaded Professor McGonagall. One way or another, Kyle had played a key role.

Neither of them spoke for a while, and the room settled into silence.

“I can tell you what the Dark Lord asked me to do,” Malfoy said at last. “But you have to promise me... no—Dumbledore has to promise me he’ll rescue—”

“You don’t have a choice,” Kyle cut in, not letting him finish.

“Ever since Lady Narcissa Malfoy took you to see Snape, you’ve had no way to stay on the Death Eaters’ side.”

“You should be glad the Dark Lord still doesn’t know what you’ve done. Otherwise, that scene outside the Ministry would’ve looked a lot more convincing.”

Kyle knew exactly what Malfoy wanted—to have Lucius and Narcissa rescued. But he couldn’t agree to it. Neither could Dumbledore.

He was certain that Lucius and Narcissa were under heavy guard, and Voldemort was using them to keep Malfoy under control.

Trying to rescue them would be tantamount to declaring open war on Voldemort.

And knowing him, if he sensed anything was wrong, he might just kill them outright.

“I’m begging you, Kyle,” Malfoy said quietly. “Even if it’s just for the times I passed you information—please help me.”

“If you agree, I’ll tell you everything—anything you want to know. I’ll even have my father donate to the school, all of it if you want. Everything the Malfoy family owns...”

He knew he was asking too much—but he didn’t have any other options.

The Malfoys had already failed Voldemort too many times. They were walking on thin ice. If he failed this task, Lucius and Narcissa wouldn’t survive.

But the task itself was impossible—Voldemort had never intended for them to succeed. He had no intention of letting them live.

To be honest, Kyle was wavering.

But just then, a voice came from outside the cabin.

“I can agree to that.”

Dumbledore stepped through the door and sat down beside Kyle.

“You want to save Lucius and Narcissa, right?”

“Yes, Professor,” Malfoy said, and the moment he saw Dumbledore, he completely abandoned Kyle and turned all his attention to the greatest living wizard.

“Please, Professor.”

“I can agree,” Dumbledore said. “But in return, we need you to share some information. Weʼve been waiting for this.”

“The Dark Lord sent me to kill you,” Malfoy said without hesitation.

Dumbledore’s expression remained calm, unsurprised—as if he had already guessed.

Again?

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

This wasn’t Malfoy’s first attempt to assassinate Dumbledore—and he had failed the last time. So why did Voldemort think it would work now?

It was starting to look like he simply wanted an excuse to get rid of the Malfoy family.

As the three of them exchanged glances, Cedric sat stiffly, as if on pins and needles.

He had just overheard something monumental.

The Dark Lord had used Malfoy’s parents to coerce him into assassinating Dumbledore—yet Malfoy had turned around and revealed the plan, defecting to Hogwarts and begging Dumbledore to save his parents.

And from what Malfoy had said, this wasn’t the first time. He had passed information to Kyle before.

Was he a spy... or a double agent?

And should someone like him really be hearing this kind of sensitive information?

What if he accidentally let something slip?

Cedric fidgeted restlessly. He didn’t want to keep listening, but leaving now might seem rude.

“It’s all right, Mr. Diggory,” Dumbledore said, seemingly reading his thoughts. He smiled gently. “I trust you completely—just as I trust Kyle.”

“That may be true,” Cedric sighed, “but some secrets don’t stay secret just because you keep your mouth shut.”

Legilimency wasn’t exactly an obscure art, and Veritaserum was even easier to come by. As someone working at the Ministry of Magic, he couldn’t guarantee he’d never be put in a compromising position.

“Don’t worry,” Dumbledore said. “Very few people know youʼre a member of the Order of the Phoenix. The Death Eaters wouldn’t think twice about an ordinary new hire at the Ministry.”

“Well... all right.” Cedric hesitated for a moment, then settled back down.

Besides, he was genuinely curious about what would come next.

“Go on, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said. “Tom must’ve given you a plan. He knows it’s not easy to kill me.”

“That’s right,” Malfoy nodded. “That’s why he gave me this.”

He reached into his robes with trembling hands and took out his wand, eyes full of dread, as if he were handling a bundle of explosives that could go off at any moment.

“Hm?”

The moment he saw it, Dumbledore’s expression turned serious.

He leaned in, carefully studying the wand Malfoy placed on the table.

“A dreadful piece of dark magic,” he murmured.

Cedric leaned in, confused. To him, it just looked like any ordinary wand.

“This is... my wand,” Malfoy said with a shaky voice. “But the Dark Lord modified it. It can fire a single Avada Kedavra...”

“That’s all?” Kyle raised an eyebrow, almost amused.

A wand that could cast the Killing Curse—was that supposed to be impressive?

Plenty of Death Eaters could use the curse, and none of them had managed to kill Dumbledore.

If that was all Voldemort had offered, it seemed remarkably half-hearted.

“It’s not the same,” Dumbledore said, adjusting his glasses. “If I’m right, the curse is designed to rebound if it fails, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes,” Malfoy stammered.

“Rebound?” Kyle asked. “What does that mean?”

“It’s simple,” Dumbledore explained. “Think of it as a fusion between Avada Kedavra and Protego. If the spell doesn’t succeed in killing its target, it automatically rebounds on the caster.”

Kyle’s eyes widened in realization.

“So if Malfoy fails to kill you with it… he dies himself?”

”Thatʼs right,” Dumbledore said with a faint smile. ”Tomʼs tactic was to force a choice: sacrifice myself, or watch one of my students die right in front of me.”

”And he made it obvious—deliberately so—just to be sure I’d see it.”

Though Dumbledore was smiling, his voice was colder than the snowstorm outside.

Kyle clicked his tongue.

He had to admit, this was a vicious move from Voldemort. No wonder Dumbledore was so furious.

Malfoy might be a Death Eater, but the moment he returned to Hogwarts, he was once again a student—and there was no way someone like Dumbledore would just stand by and watch one of his own be killed.

Which meant, even if he knew it was a trap, he’d probably take the Killing Curse himself.

Still...

“Did You-Know-Who forget about the phoenix?” Kyle muttered under his breath.

Fawkes had only recently gone through rebirth, but phoenixes were immortal creatures. Even if they took Avada Kedavra every day, it wouldn’t matter.

At worst, it would delay their growth—maybe leave them stuck as fledglings for a few more years.

Dumbledore, who had been burning with anger just moments ago, suddenly froze. His entire body went stiff for a second.

“Professor… don’t tell me you forgot too,” Kyle said, giving him a suspicious look.

“Of course not,” Dumbledore replied, a bit stiffly. “I simply... didn’t want Fawkes to go through rebirth on my behalf. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“Oh, how noble. Fawkes must feel so honored,” Kyle said flatly, the sarcasm barely hidden in his voice.

Now he was sure—Dumbledore had completely forgotten about Fawkes.

He hadn’t shown the slightest hesitation when plucking Fawkes’ tail feathers to knit wool socks, but now he was being considerate? That made no sense.

“Yes, well… Tom clearly forgot about the phoenix,” Dumbledore said abruptly, changing the subject with all the grace of a bludger.

“Heʼs a staunch believer in pure-blood supremacy. He looks down on all half-bloods and Muggle-born wizards—let alone magical creatures.”

“In Tom’s eyes, anything that isn’t a snake—be it a phoenix, a dragon, or a caterpillar—is all just the same: beasts.”

“Mmhmm,” Kyle replied absently, not bothering to argue.

“Anyway, back to the point.” He turned again to Malfoy. “The mission You-Know-Who gave you was to cast the Killing Curse on Dumbledore the moment you were alone with him. That right?”

Malfoy nodded.

What made him believe the task was impossible was the assumption that Dumbledore would never sacrifice himself to save someone like him.

Because that’s just how people were.

Faced with a choice between Dumbledore—Voldemort’s only true rival—and a disgraced Death Eater like himself, anyone would know which way to choose.

Even Malfoy wasn’t convinced of his own worth.

As far as he was concerned, this was just Voldemort’s way of getting rid of him.

“Let me ask something off-topic,” Kyle said. “Are you sure this plan came from You-Know-Who himself?”

“I—I don’t know,” Malfoy shook his head. Then he added, “But when he came to find me, someone else was with him.”

“Who?”

“Oren,” Malfoy said.

Of course it was...

Kyle rubbed his forehead.

From the moment he heard what had happened to Malfoy, he had suspected Oren’s involvement.

Just look at the rest of them.

Voldemort, with his soul shattered into pieces; Barty Crouch Jr., who’d been imprisoned under the Imperius Curse for years; and most of the others had spent over a decade rotting in Azkaban.

Not one of them had a sound mind left—except Oren.

But... Oren should’ve known Dumbledore had a phoenix with him.

Kyle rubbed his forehead again, frowning.

Just then, Malfoy, clearly eager to offer more clues, added,

“He’s a relatively new Death Eater, but the Dark Lord values him highly. His position is already above my father’s.”

“So now even named Death Eaters rank higher than Lucius,” Kyle muttered.

Malfoy opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say.

It did seem to be true—but for some reason, something about it just felt... off.

“It seems the only thing Malfoy can do now is bankroll Voldemort,” Kyle went on. “Once your secret vaults run dry, he won’t have any use left at all.”

“No, that’s not true—my father was just... forced into it...” Malfoy said hurriedly.

“Was he ‘forced’ to give Ginny You-Know-Who’s diary too?” Kyle sneered. “Or maybe the attack at the Quidditch World Cup—that was someone else’s idea, was it?”

Kyle could tolerate Malfoy, but Lucius? He had zero interest in helping him. If Dumbledore hadn’t shown up just in time, he never would’ve agreed to Malfoy’s request.

As Kyle had said earlier, Malfoy didn’t really have a choice. After betraying Voldemort—especially now that his memory was back—there was only one path left for him.

Recovering his memory meant Voldemort could see into his mind. Even if he managed to survive this assassination mission, Voldemort would never spare someone who’d turned on him.

Which meant Malfoy couldn’t hide anything. He had to come clean about the mission—there was no second option.

A pity, really... Dumbledore had picked the worst possible moment to walk in.

Once again, the room fell into silence.

Fortunately, Cedric chose that moment to begin changing back into himself, breaking the tension.

Since Cedric was taller, Malfoy’s robes were comically tight on him—stretched snug across the shoulders, looking utterly ridiculous.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore adjusted the size of the robes to fit him properly.

“Well then, that’s enough for today,” he said with a soft sigh. “I appreciate you telling us all this, Mr. Malfoy…”

“Wait—Crabbe and Goyle probably know about it too. And…”

He hesitated, eyes flickering with uncertainty.

“And?” Dumbledore prompted.

“No… nothing.” Malfoy seemed to steel himself, then took a deep breath and said, “You should probably keep an eye on Crabbe. He’s changed a lot—so much that I barely recognize him. He’s starting to act just like those unhinged Death Eaters.”

“We will. Thank you for the warning, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “If we need anything else, we’ll come find you. For now, though, you should head back to the castle and get ready for your afternoon classes. Don’t be late.”

“Oh, and before that, have a word with Mr. Diggory—he’ll fill you in on what’s been going on.”

“I understand, Professor,” Malfoy said.

He got up and left the hut, and Cedric quickly followed.

“I’ve been pretending to be you these past few days,” he said.

“Not too much to worry about—except there’s this one girl who keeps saying hi to you. I don’t know who she is, so I just ignored her.”

“Oh, and Crabbe and Goyle—they were out cold in the Slytherin common room before I got here. You might want to come up with a decent excuse. They’re… not the easiest to deal with.”

...

Their voices faded as the two of them walked away.

Kyle turned to Dumbledore. “Professor, you really agreed to Malfoy’s request?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied. “It’s a reasonable one, don’t you think? And the information he gave us was valuable—arguably life-saving.”

“No, I mean—it’s going to be hard to actually pull off,” Kyle said, shaking his head, ignoring the deeper implications in Dumbledore’s words.

It was Dumbledore who made the promise. Nothing to do with him. He wasn’t going to lose sleep over it.

“You-Know-Who won’t let Lucius and Narcissa resurface. We don’t even know where they’re being held.”

“If you made Malfoy a promise you can’t keep, it’s going to look bad.”

“I hadn’t thought about that…” Dumbledore admitted. “But I do have another plan—one that might still keep them alive.”

“What kind of plan?”

“Mr. Malfoy completes the task,” Dumbledore said, blinking slowly. “And by then, Tom will be desperate for loyal followers. He’ll need manpower—and that might just be enough incentive for him to let Lucius and Narcissa live.”