Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Umbridgeʼs reaction was quicker than Kyle had anticipated.

By Friday afternoon, it was time for the sixth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Before Sirius had been taken away, the original plan had been to learn new spells. But now, the professor had changed.

When Kyle and Kanna entered the classroom, they found Umbridge already seated behind the podium, dressed in her usual hideous, shaggy pink cardigan.

The room was silent. Kyle, without a word, chose a random seat at the back. Despite sitting as far away as possible, he couldn’t avoid catching Umbridgeʼs attention.

First, there were the rigid rules.

Umbridge required every student to append the words “Professor Umbridge” to the end of their responses—for example, “Yes, Professor Umbridge” or “No, Professor Umbridge.” Everyone followed the rule, except Kyle, who ignored it entirely, acting as though he hadn’t heard.

Umbridge, unsurprisingly, took note and called him out directly.

“Why don’t you do as I ask?” she asked in her high-pitched voice. “Are a few insignificant honors making you so arrogant that you think you can ignore your professor?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Umbridge,” Kyle replied. “If the Second-Class Order of Merlin is considered ‘insignificant,’ I assume you must have plenty of them. How about bringing them out and showing them off?”

Umbridge’s expression darkened instantly. If she had a Merlin medal, she wouldn’t have needed Kyle to say anything—she would have flaunted it already.

“No way, you can’t not have one,” Kyle added in an exaggerated tone. “If you don’t even possess such an ‘insignificant’ honor, how can you be a professor? Or did you bribe the headmaster with a few Galleons?”

The class collectively held its breath. Kyle’s words had turned every eye toward him in shock.

For as long as they’d known him, Kyle had always been a textbook Hufflepuff—gentle, polite, and respectful to everyone. But now, he seemed like an entirely different person. Not even the boldest Gryffindor would have dared to say what Kyle just had.

Umbridge’s entire body trembled with fury.

“How dare you!” she shrieked. “How dare you speak to me like that!”

“Oh, come now,” Kyle said, sounding utterly unbothered. “Maybe you used a Sickle instead—it would make the purse look a little fuller.”

Umbridge’s face flushed red, then turned green. It was clear she was fighting for control. Then, as if struck by an idea, her expression changed.

“All right, I admit, you do possess a modicum of commendable honor,” she said, her voice reverting to its usual sickly-sweet affectation. “But that does not give you the right to cast aside basic manners.”

“It’s a pity, really, that Dumbledore never taught you proper discipline. Of course, it’s not surprising. I think we all know how irrational he’s been lately, always spouting the most absurd nonsense.”

No one responded, but the room felt heavy with tension.

They all knew what she meant—her words were a thinly veiled jab at the reports in The Daily Prophet. Specifically, she was alluding to Dumbledore’s declaration at the end of the previous school year: the warning that You-Know-Who had returned.

“I think you do too,” Umbridge said, her gaze locking onto Kyle with a malicious gleam in her eye. “You think what Dumbledore said was ridiculous, and that he himself is becoming confused.”

“Dumbledore is not confused,” someone blurted out, unable to hold back.

“In my class, students must raise their hands if they wish to speak,” Umbridge said sharply. “Who are you?”

“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” the student replied.

Umbridge’s gaze lingered on Justin momentarily before she turned her attention back to Kyle.

“So, what is your opinion?” she asked, her tone deceptively sweet.

“I think...” Kyle shrugged nonchalantly, “that he’s at least a lot smarter than you.”

“So you agree with him?”

“Of course,” Kyle said firmly. “I believe Professor Dumbledore, and I believe he saw... Voldemort with his own eyes.”

A collective gasp filled the room, followed by a faint, uncontrollable squeal of shock.

“Twenty points from Hufflepuff!” Umbridge declared, her voice brimming with satisfaction. Her smirk deepened as she basked in the result of her provocation. “As punishment for your nonsense and for earning detention, you will report to my office tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”

“And let me remind you,” she added with a smug tone, “if you continue spreading such ridiculous claims, the Ministry of Magic—on behalf of the Order of Merlin—may decide to withdraw your medal.”

“Ah, I’ll remember that,” Kyle said calmly.

To the astonishment of everyone in the room, Kyle stood, pushed the door open, and walked out without another word.

Umbridge, standing at the lectern, seemed more delighted than ever. She pulled a piece of parchment from her handbag, scribbled something onto it, and sealed it with magic.

“Kanna...” Mikel asked dazedly, staring after Kyle. “What’s wrong with him? Could it be someone used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate him?”

“No,” Kanna said, shaking her head. In truth, she was just as bewildered.

The rest of the class dragged on painfully slowly, but when it was finally over, Kanna was the first to bolt out the door. She hurried to the Hufflepuff common room, where she found Kyle casually playing with a Niffler.

She rushed over and sniffed around him.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asked, bemused.

“Checking for traces of Polyjuice Potion,” Kanna replied. “Well, there aren’t any...” She flopped into a nearby armchair.

“What was that all about in class?” she demanded.

“Trying to get her to put me in detention,” Kyle said simply. “I had several plans prepared, but in the end, it turned out to be surprisingly easy.”

“You provoked Umbridge on purpose so she’d give you detention?” Kanna asked, still struggling to grasp his reasoning.

“Yes,” Kyle nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Kanna sighed, slightly relieved that his behavior had been deliberate. “Well, that explains it. I’ve just never seen you so... so...”

She paused, searching for the right word.

“You mean cynical, right?” Kyle offered with a grin. “I learned it from Professor Snape. Works wonders—she got mad immediately.”

“But honestly,” he added with a chuckle, “when it comes to being cynical, the whole school—professors and students combined—can’t hold a candle to Professor Snape.”

“What are you talking about?” Kanna glared at him, clearly unimpressed.

“But it’s true,” Kyle muttered. Seeing her expression darken, he quickly backpedaled. “Don’t get me wrong! When I say ‘cynical,’ I actually mean it as a compliment. Really.”

Kanna studied him for a moment before reluctantly accepting his explanation.

“But I still don’t understand—why would you want to get detention?”

“Because it’s more convenient,” Kyle said vaguely, evading the question with a casual wave of his hand.

...

The next day, word spread like wildfire through the halls of Hogwarts: Kyle had walked out of Umbridge’s class and slammed the door behind him. The news traveled fast—unbelievably so, even by Hogwartsʼ gossip standards.

“You really just left in the middle of class?” Fred asked, sitting across from Kyle at the Hufflepuff table.

“Without giving Umbridge an ounce of respect?” George chimed in from the other side.

The twins looked at Kyle with an expression he hadn’t seen from them before: genuine admiration.

Yes, admiration.

When Kyle had received the Hogwarts Award for Special Services or the Second-Class Order of Merlin, the twins had been happy for him. But this time, they were outright excited.

“You all know already?” Kyle asked casually, biting into a piece of toast.

“Hah...” George let out a peculiar laugh. “Did you think it wouldn’t get out? This isn’t like one of those dull answers you give in class, mate.”

Walking out in the middle of a lecture—slamming the door no less—would have made waves if anyone had done it. But for Kyle, a model student with an Outstanding record, it was practically scandalous.

“Have you had Defence Against the Dark Arts yet?” Kyle asked in return, his tone light.

“No,” Fred admitted with a shake of his head.

“Then you’ll understand why I did it once you’ve had your turn,” Kyle replied with a faint smile. He glanced at his watch and stood. “I’ve got to head to detention.”

Before he left, he turned to Cedric. “By the way, I’m not sure how long this detention will take, so about the Quidditch tryouts later...”

“It’s fine,” Cedric said, his concern evident. “We’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

“It’s just detention—no big deal,” Kyle said, reassuring him with a wave before leaving the Great Hall.

Kyle made his way to Umbridge’s office on the fourth floor. He knocked on the door, and a saccharine voice called out from inside.

“Come in.”

He pushed the door open and entered.

The office was almost unrecognizable after six different occupants. Every surface was draped with lace tablecloths, and vases filled with dried flowers perched on small embroidered cushions. The walls were covered with decorative plates, each featuring brightly colored cats wearing different bows.

“Good morning,” Umbridge greeted him, her smile as sweet and fake as her voice.

“Good morning,” Kyle replied warmly, strolling to a nearby sofa and sitting down as if he were a guest. “Do you have any black tea? No sugar, please. Breakfast was a bit heavy on the apple pie.”

Umbridge froze for a moment, staring at him in disbelief. He was in detention, yet he had the audacity to act like a patron at The Three Broomsticks.

Her smile faltered, but she quickly forced it back. She thrived on respect and flattery, but Kyle was utterly indifferent to her authority. He had been this way for years—whether at St. Mungo’s, the Ministry of Magic, or now.

“There is no black tea here,” she snapped, her voice tightening with malice. “And even if there were, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

She pulled a long, thin quill with a sharp, glinting tip from her desk.

“Because you’ve spread vile, attention-seeking lies,” she continued, “your punishment will be to write a few sentences. With this, of course—not your own pen.”

Kyle eyed the quill for a moment before speaking calmly. “If I’m not mistaken, there’s dark magic on that quill.”

“Dark magic? No, no,” Umbridge said with mock sweetness, her smile returning. “This is just your punishment.”

Kyle’s expression didn’t change. “Whatever excuse you use, Professor Dumbledore would never approve of dark magic items being used at Hogwarts.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t control the Ministry of Magic!” she spat, her fake sweetness vanishing. “And he won’t find out. No one will know what happens here until your punishment is finished.”

Kyle nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “I see...”

Then, almost casually, he drew his wand and gave it a flick.

With a deafening pop, Umbridge was thrown backward as though struck by an invisible giant. She flew across the room and slammed into the desk behind her, landing with a dull thud.

A nearby vase teetered, then crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

Kyle smiled faintly, leaning back in his seat.

“Really, why didn’t you say so earlier?” he said smoothly. “If no one’s going to find out, why am I even bothering to talk to you?”