Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 614: Learning More Ancient Runes is Still Useful

In the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, Umbridge sat dazed on the floor, as if she couldn’t process what had just happened. She only snapped out of it when a tingling sensation spread across her body.

“Damn it, you... how dare you...” she began to sputter.

Pop!

Another sharp sound rang out. A decorative plate with a kitten on it flew off the wall and smashed squarely onto Umbridge’s head.

Then came a second plate, then a third.

It wasn’t until the fourth plate was airborne that Umbridge finally remembered to duck. Scrambling to her feet, she darted about, frantically dodging the plates that had once been her treasured decorations.

Meanwhile, Kyle sat comfortably in the armchair, his wand in hand. He moved it slowly and deliberately, like a conductor directing a symphony.

Umbridge clenched her teeth in fury. She tried to speak, but every time she opened her mouth, a plate struck her. When she reached for her wand, another plate smacked her wrist, forcing her to retreat.

The plates, propelled by magic, hit with surprising force, drawing squeals of pain from Umbridge. For several moments, the room resounded with sharp cracks and crashes, resembling a chaotic fireworks display.

It wasn’t until the last plate on the wall had been hurled that Umbridge, battered and bruised, slumped against the door, panting heavily. She glared at Kyle, her face contorted with rage.

“How dare you assault the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic...” she hissed through gritted teeth. “You will pay for this!”

Kyle smiled nonchalantly. “I just need to make sure you don’t tell anyone,” he said casually. “It’s not a hard task.”

He raised his wand again.

Umbridge flinched violently, nearly falling over. Her first instinct wasn’t to fight back but to run.

She turned and grabbed the doorknob, frantically trying to wrench it open. There were students and professors outside. If she could just make it out of the office, Kyle wouldn’t dare lay another hand on her.

But her escape plan fell apart instantly. The doorknob refused to budge, as though welded shut.

“Don’t waste your strength,” Kyle said with a smirk.

His gaze flicked to a Sneakoscope on the desk. It spun wildly, emitting a faint whirring noise. Kyle recognized it as a device to prevent eavesdropping, one he’d seen during the holidays at 12 Grimmauld Place in Professor Moody’s possession.

“If you thought of locking the door, did you think I wouldn’t?” Kyle continued. “I sealed it when I walked in. Without the Unlocking Charm, no one’s getting in—or out.”

“Unlocking Charm...” Umbridge stammered, fumbling for her wand.

“Expelliarmus!”

Umbridge watched in horror as her wand shot out of her hand, spinning through the air before landing neatly in Kyle’s grip.

“A simple Disarming Charm,” Kyle said lightly as he caught the wand. “Surely, as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, you’re familiar with it?”

Kyle examined the wand briefly, then tossed it to the ground with an expression of disdain.

Most wands were around ten inches long, but this one was barely seven. Kyle couldn’t help but find it laughable. With a wand like this, spells would naturally take longer to reach their targets.

“You... you...” Umbridge sputtered, her face red with fury. She tried to look intimidating but only managed to seem pitiful.

“I am Dolores Umbridge!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and Hogwarts High Inquisitor! If you attack me, it will be considered a provocation against the Ministry of Magic! You’ll be expelled! The Aurors will come for you, and not even Dumbledore will be able to save you!”

“If anything happens to me, the Aurors will figure it out,” she added, her tone growing shriller.

Kyle yawned theatrically. “Terrifying. Could you stop shouting? It’s giving me a headache.”

“If you put down your wand...” Umbridge stammered, trying to steady her voice, “I might consider sparing your life.”

“Oh, of course,” Kyle said agreeably, setting his wand down on the table beside him.

Umbridge froze, staring in disbelief. Her expression shifted as hope surged within her.

He’s scared, she thought. He’s finally realized who he’s dealing with.

Straightening her disheveled sweater, Umbridge regained her composure and tried to restore her usual air of authority.

“Now, I order you to open the door,” Umbridge said curtly, trying to regain her authority. “If you don’t want to be expelled, you’d better do as I say.”

“That’s no problem at all,” Kyle replied calmly. “But Professor, aren’t you forgetting something? I’m here for detention. I still need to write my sentences.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right.”

The reminder reignited Umbridge’s anger, which she barely concealed beneath her ever-present fake smile. Inside, she seethed.

Damn you, you lawless little brat… You think I’ll let you off? Dream on!

“I want you to write, ‘I cannot be rude to Professor Umbridge,’ one hundred—no, five hundred times, until you’ve learned it by heart,” she declared.

“Yes, Professor,” Kyle said with a nod.

But despite his agreement, he remained seated.

“Why aren’t you writing?” Umbridge snapped. “Hurry up! Use the quill I gave you earlier, or I’ll change my mind!”

“Just a moment,” Kyle replied as he retrieved a suitcase and began rummaging through it.

“What are you doing?” Umbridge demanded, her tone wary. “Put that down, on the floor!”

“Okay.” Kyle obeyed, placing the suitcase on the ground.

Umbridge, sensing something amiss, cautiously approached the suitcase. But the moment she reached for it, a vine covered in sharp, menacing thorns shot out, wrapping around her in an instant.

“Damn it! What is this?” Umbridge shrieked, flailing in panic.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, Professor,” Kyle said with a calm tone. “These are Venomous Tentacula. If one of those thorns pricks you… well, I think you know the consequences.”

Umbridge froze, her eyes wide with terror as she stared at the glinting spikes dangerously close to her skin. Of course, she knew the plant—a highly venomous species and a regulated Class C Non-Tradeable Material.

“What do you want?” she stammered, her voice trembling. “Venomous Tentacula is illegal to cultivate without permission!”

“No, Professor, you’re mistaken,” Kyle said, wagging a finger at her. “This is a seed your Ministry of Magic gave me.”

“What?”

“As for what I want to do...” Kyle continued, ignoring her confusion. “I’m going to complete my detention, of course—writing those 500 sentences you just assigned.”

Kyle casually picked up the long, sharp-pointed quill from the table, inspecting it closely.

It didn’t take long for him to determine its function.

Finding a piece of parchment, he lightly pressed the quill’s tip against it. A sharp sting pricked his hand, confirming his suspicions: this quill was designed to use the writer’s blood as ink, the razor-sharp tip cutting into the skin with each stroke.

Dark magic, no doubt.

After observing the quill for a moment, Kyle drew his wand and added a few runes to it.

“Not too complicated,” he muttered to himself. “This should work.”

Without a word, he walked over to Umbridge and pressed the quill into her hand.

A piercing scream escaped her lips as blood began to stain the black feathers of the quill.

Kyle calmly tapped the parchment with the quill again. This time, he felt no pain, but Umbridge gasped audibly, her face contorting in agony.

“It works perfectly,” Kyle said with a satisfied nod. He retrieved a blank piece of parchment and began writing:

I must not be rude to Professor Umbridge.

Umbridge trembled violently, the sharp pain burning through her hand, but she dared not move. All she could do was spit curses at Kyle.

Kyle ignored her completely.

By the tenth repetition, her curses had morphed into threats—against Kyle, Chris, and even Dumbledore. None were spared.

By the fiftieth repetition, her tone had shifted yet again. Now she was pleading for mercy, her voice shaky and uneven, the pain making it hard for her to speak.

Kyle continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

“Don’t worry, Professor,” he said with mock reassurance, starting a fresh sheet of parchment. “Didn’t you say you wanted 500 copies? I’ve only done a tenth of it. I can’t just give up halfway.”