Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 626: Why Don’t You Teach Us Instead?

In addition to Divination and Transfiguration classes, Umbridge also attended Professor Flitwickʼs Charms class.

According to Cedric, it was the most lifeless Charms lesson he had ever experienced. Professor Flitwick wore a somber expression the entire time, responding to Umbridgeʼs questions with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, a stark contrast to his usual spirited demeanor.

“We have to do something,” Cedric said worriedly during dinner, pushing his food around without taking a bite. “If this continues, she’ll ruin not just Defence Against the Dark Arts but all the other subjects too.”

“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” Kyle replied. “The professor inspections shouldn’t take too long. After all, she has to rotate between classrooms every day. Umbridge must have other responsibilities and can’t possibly spend all her time monitoring classes.”

“I hope you’re right,” Cedric sighed. “Even if she only ruins Defence Against the Dark Arts, that’s already bad enough.”

“You-Know-Who is back, and his Death Eaters must be plotting against us. At such a critical time, we’re not learning anything in Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Mikel and Ryan nodded in agreement. Cedric was right. They weren’t expected to confront You-Know-Who directly—that was Headmaster Dumbledore’s responsibility. But in a war, the Death Eaters wouldn’t spare Hogwarts simply because they were untrained. They needed to know how to protect themselves.

A heavy silence hung over the table as everyone reflected on the gravity of the situation.

Kyle remained quiet, lost in thought about the last time he had encountered Fudge at The Three Broomsticks. Judging by Fudge’s behavior, he seemed tempted to take action. If Fudge publicly acknowledged You-Know-Who’s return on behalf of the Ministry, it would surely change the state of Defence Against the Dark Arts. They might even see the arrival of one—or several—reliable professors.

What surprised Kyle was how long Fudge had managed to stay silent.

Perhaps Fudge was prioritizing his efforts to neutralize Dumbledore. Or maybe he was still wavering...

Announcing Voldemort’s return carried both benefits and risks. While wartime would solidify his leadership, it could also ignite widespread panic. Mishandling the situation might cost Fudge his position entirely.

If Fudge could see all these potential outcomes, perhaps he wasn’t under enough pressure to act decisively yet.

Kyle shook his head. It didn’t help that Rita Skeeter, due to recent scrutiny from the Ministry, was unable to publish anything useful. With Dumbledore unwilling to step in, finding a way to push Fudge seemed nearly impossible.

“Sorry...”

Kyle was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar voice. He looked up to see Hermione standing nearby, having crossed over from the Gryffindor table. Harry and Ron were close behind, looking a little uneasy.

“What’s up?” Kyle asked.

“Well...” Hermione glanced around the busy dining hall and lowered her voice. “There are too many people here. Can we go somewhere quieter?”

“No need for that,” Kyle said, drawing his wand and tapping it lightly.

“Muffliato.”

With a flick of his wand, Kyle cast the Charm, which created a subtle, undetectable buzz to block anyone nearby from overhearing their conversation.

Hermione looked both surprised and impressed.

“That’s clever,” she said, trusting Kyle’s assurance even though she had never encountered the spell before. “Anyway, I think you already know how terrible Umbridge is as a teacher. We’re not learning anything about defending ourselves.”

“Of course,” Kyle agreed. “In fact, we were just talking about that. What’s on your mind?”

“And if you’re thinking of rallying us all to oust Umbridge, forget it. She’s got Fudge backing her. Even Professor Dumbledore can’t do anything about it.”

“No, I know we can’t get rid of her,” Hermione admitted, hesitating briefly. “But I was thinking... maybe we could take matters into our own hands.”

Cedric perked up. “You mean we should learn Defence Against the Dark Arts on our own?”

“Yes, exactly!” Hermione’s voice grew more animated as she continued. “We need to prepare ourselves for what’s coming. We need to learn how to defend ourselves, not waste time in class daydreaming over theory and parchment exercises.”

“What we need is a proper teacher—someone who can show us how to cast spells and correct our mistakes. Someone like Sirius or Professor Moody.”

Hermione’s enthusiasm grew as she spoke, and she couldn’t help but glance at Kyle.

“And we have someone like that right here with us, and I dare say he’s more than suitable for the job.”

“I think I know who you mean,” Cedric grinned. “And you’re right—he is very suitable.”

Kyle noticed Hermione’s glowing eyes and Cedric’s mischievous expression and instantly understood what they were hinting at. Before Hermione could say anything, he instinctively cut her off.

“Yes, I completely agree with you. This is a good idea.”

“So you agree?” Hermione asked, her excitement rising.

“Yes,” Kyle nodded. “I know you want Cedric to teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts, and of course, there’s no problem with that. I’m the first to support it.”

“Great…” Cedric said, clapping Kyle on the shoulder. But just as he was about to add something, he froze, realizing something was off.

“Wait... Hermione said…”

“I know,” Kyle interrupted smoothly. “You’re too modest to agree, so I did it for you. No need to thank me.”

Both Cedric and Hermione were momentarily speechless.

Hermione hadn’t come here to propose Cedric as a teacher. She had intended to ask Kyle himself to take up the role. The idea wasn’t hers alone; she had discussed it at length with Harry and Ron the night before, and they all agreed Kyle was the ideal candidate.

The reasoning was clear. Kyle’s achievements were unparalleled and well-documented. His accolades in the Trophy Room spoke for themselves: two unprecedented Special Awards for Services to the School, the Transfiguration Today Most Promising Newcomer Award, the youngest-ever Triwizard Tournament champion, and the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin.

In short, Kyle’s extraordinary accomplishments made him the perfect alternative to Umbridge. Harry and Ron had wholeheartedly agreed with Hermione’s plan.

“In fact, we want you to teach,” Ron muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “If it were anyone else, we’d rather have Harry.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Harry interjected quickly, shooting Cedric an apologetic look. “Sorry, Diggory, that’s not what we meant—”

“It’s okay,” Cedric said with a dismissive wave. “Honestly, I was thinking the same thing.”

“No, I’m not suitable,” Kyle said firmly, shaking his head. “Wanting to share what you know and actually being able to teach are two very different things.”

“I don’t see the difference,” Ron argued, crossing his arms.

To Ron, powerful wizards made good teachers. Professors like Deputy Headmistress McGonagall were clearly exceptional, and Headmaster Dumbledore was unparalleled. What was the issue?

“There’s definitely a difference,” Kyle replied, casting Ron a pointed look. “Take Transfiguration, for instance. I mastered the sixth-year spell under Professor McGonagall before I even started sixth year. Because I learned it so quickly, I can’t break it down for you—I don’t know the process or what pitfalls you need to watch out for.”

The room fell silent as Kyle’s words sank in.

Harry and Ron looked stunned, their expressions as though Salamanders had just landed on their faces. Sixth-year Transfiguration wasn’t something they dared think about yet; even the fifth-year syllabus was a major challenge. Despite Hermione’s constant help, they had barely managed to scrape by.

Now Kyle was claiming he had mastered an advanced spell effortlessly? The gap in their abilities was glaring, and it was hard for them to process.

Even Hermione, normally unshakable, was rendered speechless. It felt like Kyle had just shown off—whether intentional or not—and the evidence of his skill left no room for debate.