Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 583: The Chaos at School

For a time afterward, Harry became the subject of wary attention, as if he were a dangerous person to avoid. Everywhere he went, people cast him complicated glances. Even Hermione and Ron, by association, found themselves under similar scrutiny, becoming part of the group everyone preferred to steer clear of.

Gradually, those looks of suspicion morphed into open ridicule. As the holidays approached, some students even seemed to enjoy mocking Harry. Dumbledore’s request that no one question Harry didn’t extend to other forms of harassment, and people like Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle seized the opportunity.

They made a point of passing by Harry and loudly discussing The Daily Prophet’s portrayal of him, their voices dripping with derision. At first, Harry tried to argue, offering explanations in defense of himself. But after days of this, he lost his patience and flung a book straight at Malfoy’s face.

Harry had been bottling up his frustrations: his sudden abduction by a Death Eater, the traumatic resurrection of Voldemort, and the Ministry-fueled smear campaign. It all weighed heavily on him. Malfoy’s taunting simply provided the perfect outlet for his anger.

Almost instinctively, Ron and Hermione jumped into the fray, targeting Crabbe and Goyle. The Malfoy trio, caught off guard, barely had time to react.

What began as a brief altercation quickly spiraled. Other students passing by soon got involved, and the narrow corridor devolved into a full-blown brawl between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

In this chaotic melee, magic was set aside in favor of fists, as if everyone had silently agreed on a more physical form of confrontation. By the time it was over, the Hospital Wing was overflowing with students nursing bruises and cuts. Madam Pomfrey’s wand was practically smoking as she conjured beds to accommodate everyone and worked through the night brewing several cauldrons of healing potion.

The sheer number of patients even forced Filch to vacate his bed early, though he still required more treatment.

The fallout was severe: both Gryffindor and Slytherin were docked 500 points each, marking one of the largest point deductions in Hogwarts history. But no one seemed to care, as both houses had been so deep in negative scores thanks to Snape and Sirius that even 100 points would have been hard to come by.

For Kyle, however, the incident was barely a blip. He had avoided the conflict with Fudge and had remained uninvolved in the fight. As such, his name was absent from The Daily Prophet, and few outside his close circle of friends even knew where he had gone after disappearing into the maze.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Kyle said, tossing a bottle of Essence of Dittany to Fred and George as they sat in the Hufflepuff common room, grinning despite their bruises.

“What’s that?” Fred asked, uncorking the bottle and applying it to his arm.

“Definitely something about fighting You-Know-Who’s forces,” George guessed, rubbing some on his face.

“Not even close,” Kyle replied. “I mean, why on earth are you coming to me for injuries instead of the Hospital Wing? I’ve only ever treated magical creatures.”

Fred shrugged. “The Hospital Wing was packed. No room for us there.”

“And our injuries are minor,” George added nonchalantly. “No need to bother Madam Pomfrey over a few bruises.”

“You haven’t seen her today,” Fred said with a shiver. “She looked terrifying.”

“With that many patients, it’s no wonder,” Kyle muttered, glancing at the twins’ injuries. They were nothing serious—just some bruises from the scuffle. Essence of Dittany wasn’t the ideal treatment, but it was all he had on hand.

“Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle,” George began, rubbing his arm. “Weren’t those names on the trial lists from ten years ago?”

“You must’ve seen them,” Fred added, looking to Kyle.

“Maybe,” Kyle said. “But the Death Eaters were masked. Hard to say.”

“I came in late and missed most of it,” George admitted. “Harry probably knows more.”

“True,” Fred said thoughtfully. “But Dumbledore told us not to ask him.”

“And Dad wrote to say we shouldn’t pester Harry about it,” George added.

“What if we ask him on the train tomorrow?” Fred proposed with sudden excitement. “The term will be over by then—it’s fair game, right?”

Cedric, who had been listening nearby, stared at them in disbelief. “You’re not supposed to ask at school, so you’re waiting until vacation?”

Fred grinned. “Exactly!”

That evening, on the last night before the holidays, Kyle joined the others in the Great Hall for the end-of-term feast. At the door, he bumped into Harry, who still sported a bandage on his arm.

As the instigator of the fight, Harry had only just been released from the Hospital Wing. Yet, despite everything, he seemed surprisingly cheerful—no doubt because Malfoy, standing not far away, was also covered in bandages.

...

This yearʼs feast, as expected, was decked out in Hufflepuff banners celebrating their House’s victory. Kyle, having won the Triwizard Tournament, had not only brought home the glory of the 1,000 Galleons prize money but also earned an additional 200 points for Hufflepuff, courtesy of Dumbledore.

These extra points secured Hufflepuff the first-place position in the House Cup standings, marking their fifth win—a record now tied with Slytherin.

At the staff table, Sirius and Professor Moody, who had been missing for days, were seated with Dumbledore, engaged in a quiet conversation. Nearby, Snape sat beside Professor McGonagall, his face darker than the night sky. Meanwhile, Madam Maxime, who had also returned, whispered with Hagrid.

Kyle suspected their discussion concerned the Giants. The Ministry of Magic would undoubtedly refuse to negotiate with them, leaving Dumbledore to take the initiative. Hagrid and Madam Maxime, as half-Giants, were the most logical choices for this mission. Kyle figured they would likely set out during the holiday.

As these thoughts occupied him, Dumbledore stood up at the staff table, and the Great Hall immediately fell silent.

“Another year,” Dumbledore began, his gaze sweeping over the students. “Tonight, I have something very important to share with you all.”

“The Ministry of Magic has urged me repeatedly to keep this information secret, but I believe you have the right to know the truth.”

A ripple of curiosity spread across the Hall, every pair of eyes fixed on him.

“Have you ever wondered why our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has been in the Hospital Wing?” Dumbledore asked.

Whispers filled the room.

“Because,” he continued, his tone grave, “he was attacked by a crazed Death Eater.”

The Hall erupted in murmurs.

“Death Eater?”

“How’s that possible?”

“Why would they dare come here?”

Dumbledore raised his hand, and silence fell once more.

“And,” he said, his voice steady, “about what was reported in The Daily Prophet—I can confirm the true, it wasnʼt what they claimed. This was not Harry’s imagination.”

“A Death Eater disguised as Mr. Filch abducted Harry Potter from the school and brought him to his master, Voldemort.”

This time, the Hall’s reaction was immediate and explosive. Disbelief, confusion, and fear spread like wildfire. Just moments ago, they had been processing the idea of a Death Eater; now, Voldemort’s name had been uttered aloud.

Dumbledore used magic to amplify his voice, cutting through the chaos.

“And I must tell you—Voldemort has returned,” he declared firmly.

The Hall fell into a stunned silence, save for a few audible gasps.

“I know many of you will find this hard to believe,” Dumbledore continued, his expression grave. “I understand the shock and fear you may feel. But I saw it with my own eyes.”

“I cannot, in good conscience, hide this truth from you. Ignoring it will not make it go away. You may doubt me. You may mock me. But remember this: always be prepared.”

The weight of his words settled heavily over the Hall. Many students stared at Dumbledore, their expressions shifting between disbelief, fear, and grim acceptance.

At the Hufflepuff table, Cedric and Kanna remained silent. They had already known the truth, but witnessing the reactions of their peers was sobering.

Mikel, seated nearby, appeared resolute. As a Muggle-born wizard, he had only read about Voldemort and didn’t carry the same visceral fear. This made him more willing to trust Dumbledore’s words.

Ryan, however, was visibly struggling. Unlike Mikel, he had grown up hearing stories of Voldemort’s reign of terror. The news of his resurrection filled him with dread. Yet Ryan trusted Dumbledore and found himself caught between fear and faith, unsure of what to think or how to respond.