Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 664: I’m Just Doing the Right Thing

“Please believe me, Professor Umbridge, I didnʼt mean to hide anything. In fact, my owl flew to the Ministry of Magic three hours ago.”

In the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, Kyle looked at the furious Umbridge and spoke calmly. “There are detailed investigation results up there, containing all the information I recently learned from Hagrid.”

“I hope youʼre not lying to me,” said Umbridge sharply, her usual high-pitched tone absent.

“Of course not,” Kyle replied, shaking his head. “If Iʼd known you were returning early, I wouldnʼt have sent the owl to the Ministry.”

Umbridge had indeed returned early, storming into the castle that very afternoon, her anger evident. This was the day after Kyle had confined Harry in the Room of Requirement.

“I should never have left the school,” Umbridge said through clenched teeth. “Tell me what you have found out.”

“Someone is writing to Dumbledore,” Kyle said evenly. “And there are a lot of them.”

Umbridge’s sharp eyes scrutinized Kyle as he spoke. Finally, she nodded slowly. “It seems you are not lying to me.”

“Of course not,” Kyle responded. Then, as if curious, he added, “Professor, how did you know about this?”

“You’re not the only one at this school,” Umbridge replied, her tone laced with implication. “The Minister wants to see you.”

“Great,” Kyle said with a smile. “Are we going to the Ministry now?”

“Of course. The sooner, the better.” Umbridge grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace. “Hurry up—don’t keep the Minister waiting.”

Kyle hesitated for a moment, surprised. At Hogwarts, aside from the Headmasterʼs office, the fireplaces were generally not connected to the Floo Network, including those in the professors’ offices. However, it quickly occurred to him that Umbridge likely had no trouble arranging such a connection.

With composure, Kyle stepped into the fireplace and called out, “Ministry of Magic!”

In the next instant, Kyle found himself in the bustling main hall of the Ministry of Magic. A row of fireplaces lined the walls, and witches and wizards constantly emerged and disappeared through them.

Moments later, Umbridge arrived.

“Follow me,” she instructed, leading Kyle through the crowded hall toward the lift without a hint of subtlety.

Even at the Ministry, Umbridge’s reputation preceded her. Staff members quickly moved aside as she passed, greeting her enthusiastically. Yet, as soon as she was out of sight, their expressions shifted to ones of disdain.

Oblivious, Umbridge continued with her head held high, resembling a smug toad.

They soon reached the elevators. Umbridge selected the one that had just arrived, and though many others were waiting, no one dared enter. The golden fence closed, leaving only Kyle and Umbridge inside.

Umbridge seemed unbothered, as though long accustomed to this treatment.

“Professor, what does the Minister want with me?” Kyle asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Umbridge replied curtly, offering no further explanation.

Kyle nodded, refraining from pressing further.

The lift ascended swiftly, unimpeded by other passengers.

“First floor,” announced the monotonous female voice. “Office of the Minister for Magic, including the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, Office of the Minister’s Personal Assistant, and the Department of Magical Maintenance.”

They stepped out and walked down the corridor.

Kyle noticed an impressive golden door with a sign reading “Minister’s Office.” Strangely, however, Umbridge didn’t stop there. Instead, she continued to the end of the hallway, halting in front of a door marked “Pantry.”

Her earlier arrogance dissolved, replaced by a servile demeanor, as she knocked lightly.

“Come in,” came the voice of Cornelius Fudge.

At the invitation, Umbridge pushed the door open.

The room was about the size of a Hogwarts classroom, and it contained only one person.

“Minister,” Umbridge said respectfully.

“Well, youʼve worked hard, Dolores,” Fudge replied with a nod. Turning to Kyle, he forced a smile. “Sorry, my boy, for calling you in during the holidays.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Minister,” Kyle said sincerely. “I’d rather do something useful than spend a boring holiday.”

“It’s rare to hear such dedication,” Fudge said with a more natural laugh this time.

Hypocrite, Umbridge thought bitterly, though her outward expression remained a pleasant smile.

“Sit down,” Fudge said, gesturing to the seat opposite him. “What would you like to drink? Butterbeer? Black tea? I’d suggest Red Currant Rum, but you’re not of age yet, are you?”

“Butterbeer, then,” Kyle replied. No sooner had he spoken than a bottle of Butterbeer appeared on the table in front of him. The label indicated it was from the Leaky Cauldron.

“I just received your letter,” Fudge said, as though he hadn’t noticed the drink’s arrival. “To be honest, I’ve never seen an owl that size before. Dawlish was convinced it was some new species of Magical Creature.”

“Ratton is just gluttonous,” Kyle said with a grin. “He’s grown a bit.”

“So, is everything in your letter true?” Fudge asked suddenly. “Has someone really been contacting Dumbledore recently?”

Umbridge’s brow furrowed slightly, and she cast Kyle a sidelong glance, her displeasure thinly veiled. While Fudge’s words confirmed Kyle had sent a letter, Umbridge hadn’t expected it to bypass her entirely and go directly to Fudge. Though annoyed, she couldn’t show it in front of the Minister. She made a mental note to address it with Kyle back at Hogwarts.

“That’s true,” Kyle said, oblivious to her irritation. Setting the Butterbeer down, he continued, “As far as I know, Dumbledore has been in contact with some prominent figures in the wizarding world recently: Dugald McPhail, Nicolas Flamel, and Madam Maxime of Beauxbatons.”

“Of course, there are likely others. They don’t communicate directly, but Hagrid, the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts, acts as their messenger. However, Hagrid is... well, very secretive. I don’t see the letters or know their exact contents.”

“Of course it’s to oppose the Ministry!” Fudge suddenly snapped, his expression twisting as he slammed a hand on the table.

“It might not be that serious,” Kyle suggested softly. “It could be about something else...”

“No, you underestimate them,” Fudge said sharply, turning to Umbridge. “Show him.”

“But...” Umbridge hesitated.

“It’s fine. Kyle is one of us; we can trust him completely,” Fudge reassured her.

Reluctantly, Umbridge produced an opened letter and placed it on the table.

Kyle glanced at it and immediately recognized its contents.

[You should have done this a long time ago, Albus. Iʼll see you on the 20th.]

He nearly laughed aloud. He knew this letter well—it had been intended for Hagrid but had somehow fallen into Umbridge’s hands. Clearly, someone had intercepted the owl and stolen it.

Though he fully understood the situation, Kyle kept his expression neutral and asked curiously, “Professor, what is this?”

“Letters from Dumbledore to his associates,” Umbridge declared in a dramatic tone, “proving their attempts to defy the Ministry of Magic. Such appalling actions, and at Hogwarts, no less!”

She added with a self-satisfied smirk, “They even placed a Self-Destructing Spell on the envelope. If anyone tried to open it, the letter would self-destruct. But I managed to break the spell in the end.”

Kyle blinked in disbelief. Self-Destructing Spell? If that had been the case, the letter would have been destroyed the moment it was tampered with. Did she mean Anti-Muggle protections? Since when did the Owl Post Office offer such services?

Clearly, Umbridge was trying to take credit. If he hadn’t known the truth, her act might have been convincing.

Watching her bask in her supposed triumph, eagerly awaiting Fudge’s praise, Kyle barely managed to suppress his laughter.

“I think we should capture that Rubeus Hagrid. If we hand him over to the Aurors for questioning, perhaps we can uncover Dumbledore’s true intentions,” Umbridge said, continuing to speak as though to herself.

She failed to notice the growing displeasure on Fudge’s face.

Fudge had been irritable for days, more so than usual. The threat to his position as Minister of Magic loomed larger than ever.

The trouble began two days ago when a Phoenix was reportedly seen delivering a letter to Director Sykes at St. Mungo’s.

In the wizarding world, only one person was known to have a Phoenix: Dumbledore.

If Dumbledore’s Phoenix was at St. Mungo’s, it could mean he was attempting to win over Director Sykes. Fudge wasn’t certain, but he couldn’t dismiss the possibility.

Director Sykes was a pivotal figure in the wizarding world. Her potions had saved countless lives, and her support could sway many witches and wizards. If she aligned with Dumbledore, even Fudge’s staunchest supporters might abandon him.

Fortunately, no concrete news had emerged, suggesting Sykes hadn’t made any commitments.

Still, Fudge couldn’t sit idle. He decided to hint to Lucius Malfoy that a generous donation to St. Mungo’s on behalf of the Ministry would be timely. It was a strategy he’d employed before, and Malfoy had always obliged in exchange for influence.

But this time, there had been no response. Days had passed since Fudge sent the letter, an unprecedented silence from Malfoy.

With these troubling events piling up, Fudge was on edge. He even suspected Malfoy might have switched sides to align with Dumbledore.

Fudge knew well the Malfoy family’s knack for winning loyalty with Galleons. Few could resist their charm—or their gold.

Adding to his frustration were today’s letters from Kyle and Umbridge. The mention of Nicolas Flamel had especially rattled him. Flamel, the legendary alchemist who still possessed the Philosopher’s Stone, was a figure of immense influence. Wizards eager to befriend him could form a line from London to Paris.

If Dumbledore was truly rallying such figures, Fudge feared his chances were slim.

He didn’t want to lose his position as Minister, but his options seemed limited. Desperation clouded his judgment, leading him to consider a risky plan that might turn the tide in his favor.

But his thoughts were interrupted by Umbridge’s incessant chatter. Her grating voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Leave us,” Fudge snapped abruptly.

“What?” Umbridge paused, startled. “Minister, trust me. Once we have Hagrid identifying Dumbledore, the Aurors can arrest him and bring him to the Ministry, and then—”

“Get out!” Fudge roared, grabbing the wine glass in front of him and hurling it at Umbridge.

“Dumbledore will replace me soon enough... And donʼt you think dragging him here will make it happen even faster?”

“No, Minister, I wasn’t—” Umbridge stammered, stunned. “I was only trying to help...”

Fudge cut her off, pointing furiously at the door. “Out! And if you still want to work in the Pest Advisory Board, stay there!”

Umbridge, too shaken to argue, hurriedly fled the room, practically tripping over herself.

Kyle stood as well. “Minister, I—”

“No, Kyle. This has nothing to do with you.” Fudge forced a smile, his irritation barely contained. “I just can’t have that idiot interrupting our conversation. Now, where were we?”

“Dumbledore’s correspondence,” Kyle prompted.

“Ah, yes.” Fudge rubbed his temples. “You mentioned that Rubeus, uh... what’s his name?”

“Hagrid,” Kyle supplied.

“Yes, him. How are things with him?”

“Not bad,” Kyle said. “He thinks I’m on Dumbledore’s side, so he’s been quite friendly.”

“Do you think you can find out what those other letters say?”

“You’re perceptive, Minister,” Kyle said with a small nod. “I’ll do my best to uncover their plans for the 20th and determine if they involve the Ministry. This could be crucial.”

“That’s exactly what I need.” Fudge’s gaze softened slightly, and he looked at Kyle with approval. “And those names you mentioned—Madam Maxime and Mr. McPhail—you have a good relationship with them, don’t you?”

“I do,” Kyle confirmed. “I could also try to sway them to support the Ministry.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” Fudge’s tense expression eased as he offered a genuine smile. “You’ve worked hard. If there’s anything you need, the Ministry will back you completely.”

“I’m simply doing what’s right, Minister,” Kyle replied earnestly.

“You’re right—this is about doing what’s right.” Even Fudge, who had been nearly consumed by anxiety, managed a chuckle.

“I truly hope you’ll graduate early and join the Ministry,” Fudge added, his mood noticeably lighter. “I’ve already got your office ready—right next door to mine.” He gestured toward the wall behind Kyle.

“Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic,” Fudge said, beaming. “To be honest, no one’s ever been offered such a position so soon after graduation, but you’ve earned it.”

“It would be an honor, Mr. Minister,” Kyle said with a smile.

The tense atmosphere in the pantry gave way to one of apparent camaraderie.

...

By the time Kyle returned to Hogwarts, evening had fallen.

He had barely stepped out of the fireplace when Umbridge came storming toward him, her shrill voice cutting through the air before she even reached him.

“How dare you!”

Kyle arched an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, Professor.”

“How dare you write directly to the Minister!” Umbridge snarled, her face contorted with anger. “Do you have any idea how much time this will delay?”

“Sorry,” Kyle replied nonchalantly, “it was probably a momentary oversight on my part—I must have written the wrong name. But since you were going to show the letter to the Minister anyway, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Wrote the name wrong?

Umbridge let out a bitter laugh, more out of frustration than amusement. She didn’t believe his excuse for a second, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. What she needed was to figure out why Fudge had been so furious with her earlier.

“Tell me what you wrote in that letter,” she demanded. “Maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Sorry, Professor, but that’s confidential information. I can’t share it with you.” Kyle’s tone was indifferent as he added, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re blocking my way.”

“What kind of tone is that!” Umbridge shrieked, her voice rising an octave. “I don’t believe for a second that you made a mistake. As punishment, I’ll have you confined to solitary detention for a month!”

“If you insist, I’m sure I can manage,” Kyle said with an almost bored air. “But, Professor Umbridge, Minister Fudge has entrusted me with a new task. If it’s delayed because of your punishment, I’m afraid you might actually have to transfer to the Pest Advisory Board. Would you enjoy working there?”

Umbridge’s face turned a deep shade of red, and her head seemed to swell slightly as she stood there, gasping for breath.

Was that a threat?

It had to be.

Until today, she could never have imagined Kyle would dare to speak to her like this. The sheer audacity left her momentarily stunned.

Kyle, however, didn’t seem to care. With an easy stride, he walked past her toward the door.

“Oh, by the way...” Just as he reached the doorway, he stopped and turned back, as if remembering something. “Per Minister Fudge’s orders, you’ll need to follow my instructions during the next operation.”

“That’s impossible!” Umbridge shrieked. “I’m the Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts! You’re just a student who hasn’t even graduated!”

“I know,” Kyle said with a polite smile. “But the Minister’s orders were quite clear. If you don’t believe me, feel free to verify it with him. Good luck, Professor.”

With that, Kyle exited the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The silence that followed was brief.

The next second, a loud crackling sound came from inside the office, unmistakably the shattering of a vase.