Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 702: Gubraithian Fire

After a brief nightʼs rest, Kyle and Cedric resumed their search for Dementors—an endeavor that had become their primary focus for quite some time. Although Fudge believed such tasks were better suited to professional Aurors, he did not object when Kyle insisted on taking part.

Kyleʼs suggestion to offer a reward to encourage more wizards to join the hunt was swiftly dismissed. Fudge, naturally, wanted to resolve the Dementor issue as quickly as possible. Even the Muggle Prime Minister had stressed its urgency during their most recent meeting. However, Kyleʼs proposal, while undoubtedly effective, required a considerable amount of funding—something in short supply.

Since the return of You-Know-Who, Fudge had been inundated with reports of mounting expenses almost daily, leaving no room in the budget for such measures. This financial strain was a key reason he allowed Kyle to proceed with the mission. In the current circumstances, even one more person on the task could make a meaningful difference.

...

Kyle, having left the Ministry of Magic, didn’t rush to search for the Dementors. Instead, he first made his way to 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Kyle? Darling, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed happily as she opened the door. “Have you had breakfast yet? Would you like some sandwiches?”

“I’ll have two,” Kyle replied with a smile.

“More if you like,” Mrs. Weasley offered warmly, ushering him into the kitchen and setting a large plate of corned beef sandwiches in front of him.

“Where are Fred and George?” Kyle asked as he bit into his sandwich.

“They didn’t come back yesterday,” Mrs. Weasley said with a sigh. “The shop’s been so busy, they’ve had to keep making those Anti-Dementor Necklaces... And what brings you here today? Are you off school?”

“Of course not,” Kyle said, reaching for a second sandwich. “I came to see if Professor Dumbledore was here.”

“Dumbledore?” Mrs. Weasley repeated. “He hasn’t been here since Harry was sent here.”

“I see...” Kyle murmured, a trace of disappointment in his voice.

“What did you want to see Dumbledore about?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“I wanted to ask him if he had any Gubraithian Fire,” Kyle said, finishing his second sandwich and washing it down with a glass of pumpkin juice.

Upon learning that Dumbledore wasn’t there, Kyle prepared to leave. However, just as he was rising from his chair, Sirius and Lupin walked in from outside. They looked utterly exhausted, as though they hadn’t slept in days.

“Those Werewolves are really dangerous,” Sirius grumbled. “Remus, I’d say they’re not on our side at all, so you’re wasting your time.”

“No, it’s still worthwhile,” Lupin countered. “We’ve managed to win over twenty Werewolves so far.”

“That’s only because the others don’t think much of them,” Sirius retorted. The Werewolves Lupin had befriended were either old, weak, or toothless—hardly useful in a fight.

Lupin, however, was undeterred. “This is just the beginning,” he said patiently. “And I’ve recently been in contact with a group of Werewolves hiding in Diagon Alley. They’ve been oppressed for refusing to join Fenrir Greyback, and I think this is a good opportunity.”

“I wouldn’t trust other Werewolves as much as I trust you,” Sirius muttered. Knowing he couldn’t sway Lupin, he let the matter drop and turned his attention to Kyle, who had just finished eating.

“Long time no see, Kyle,” Sirius greeted him. “I think you mentioned something about Gobfire? What’s that?”

“Gubraithian Fire,” Lupin corrected, his tone instructional. “It’s a magical flame that never goes out. A top-tier alchemical creation, and very rare... Kyle, why do you need it?”

“To fight the Dementors,” Kyle answered honestly. “Apart from the Patronus Charm, magical fire is one of their weaknesses, but using the Fiendfyre Curse is far too draining.”

At the mention of Fiendfyre, Mrs. Weasley flinched. “Kyle, you’re not of age yet,” she admonished. “You shouldn’t be using such dangerous dark magic.”

“I know,” Kyle said calmly, “which is why I want to ask Professor Dumbledore if he has any Gubraithian Fire.”

Lupin considered for a moment. “As far as I know, there might be some. Hagrid once took Gubraithian Fire as a gift to the Giants. Even Dumbledore wouldn’t have a second supply of such a rare alchemical item.”

“What? A gift to the Giants?” Kyle groaned. He recalled Hagrid mentioning a special gift for the Giants during a past conversation, but he hadn’t known it was Gubraithian Fire. Now, he couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret. Such a valuable item, wasted.

Sighing, Kyle stood up, resigned to the fact that obtaining Gubraithian Fire was unlikely. However, just as he turned to leave, Sirius spoke up.

“Wait a minute,” Sirius said suddenly. “I don’t know if it’s the Gubraithian Fire you’re looking for, but I do know where there’s a magical flame that never goes out.”

“You do?” Kyle asked, surprised.

“Come with me,” Sirius said, already heading toward the door. “The sooner we go, the sooner we’ll be back. I’m really sleepy...”

Without further explanation, Sirius strode outside. Kyle quickly followed, curiosity piqued.

...

Five minutes later, Kyle and Sirius arrived at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in Diagon Alley.

“I need to access the Black family vault,” Sirius said, handing over a key.

The goblin behind the counter inspected the key carefully before offering a small smile. “Welcome, Mr. Black.”

“Cut the small talk,” Sirius waved dismissively. “If there’s no problem, take us there quickly.”

“As you wish...”

Another goblin approached and gestured for them to follow. They were led down the familiar passage toward the carts.

“You’d better brace yourself, Kyle. This isn’t going to be a pleasant trip,” Sirius muttered as he reluctantly climbed into the cart. “I’ll never understand why Gringotts can’t just use the key to access the vaults underground.”

“A key alone is not secure enough,” the goblin accompanying them replied curtly.

Kyle climbed aboard, and the cart shot forward, speeding through the twists and turns of the underground tunnels. They passed the Thiefʼs Downfall and the massive dragon guarding the lower vaults, continuing deeper into the dark. The number of vault doors dwindled, and the dim light faded further until they finally reached their destination.

Sirius looked pale, visibly nauseous, but managed to step out of the cart as it came to a halt. There was only one vault door in sight.

The goblin leapt off first, using the key and performing a series of intricate maneuvers to unlock the vault. When the heavy door finally swung open, the dim passageway was suddenly bathed in a golden glow.

Kyle’s eyes widened at the sight of the treasure inside: mountains of Galleons, multicolored gemstones, gleaming armors, and ornate swords scattered haphazardly, as though discarded.

Sirius stepped inside, kicking a gem-encrusted mirror aside without a second thought. His gaze wandered past the piles of wealth and settled on a torch affixed to the top of the vault, its flame small but unwavering.

Kyle immediately recognized it as the Gubraithian Fire. Of course, it made sense—such an extraordinary flame, which never extinguished in any condition, was the perfect emblem of a prestigious pure-blood family like the Blacks.

“What do you think? Is that what you were looking for?” Sirius asked.

“Yes,” Kyle nodded. “It’s Gubraithian Fire.”

“Take it.” Sirius raised his wand, ready to remove the torch.

However, the torch was held in place by a Permanent Sticking Charm, rendering his attempt futile. Frustrated, Sirius prepared to use more destructive spells, even muttering about blowing up the vault wall if necessary.

The goblin accompanying them finally intervened, snapping his fingers with a sour expression and detaching the torch effortlessly.

“I’ll return it after I’ve dealt with the Dementors,” Kyle said, taking the torch carefully.

“Are you kidding me?” Sirius bristled. “I’ve never gotten anything back once I’ve given it away—especially for dealing with Dementors.”

His tone softened as he added, “I spent twelve years tortured by those creatures. I’ve wanted to destroy them for ages. Unfortunately, I’ve got other responsibilities now.”

“You can have it,” Sirius said with a dismissive wave. “And everything else in here too, if you want it... except for the deed to the Black family home. I still need that place.”

Kyle glanced at the heaps of gold and treasure but shook his head. “No need. The Gubraithian Fire is enough.”

Just then, he froze, as if struck by a thought. “Sirius, do you really want to deal with the Dementors?”

“I dream of it,” Sirius replied without hesitation. His conviction was palpable—anyone who had suffered in Azkaban would feel the same.

“I have an idea...” Kyle said quietly, explaining his earlier proposal to offer a bounty for hunting Dementors. “The only issue is that the Ministry is strapped for funds. But if someone were willing to donate, I’m sure Fudge wouldn’t refuse. It could even help restore your reputation.”

“Money isn’t a problem,” Sirius said thoughtfully. He paused, however, and asked, “But what happens if the hunters can’t extinguish the Fiendfyre? That curse is more dangerous than the Dementors themselves if left unchecked.”

“Don’t worry,” Kyle assured him, pulling out a small vial and giving it a shake. “The ashes left behind by the Dementors can serve as proof. Hunters will need to extinguish the Fiendfyre to collect them. Only then can they exchange the ashes for Galleons.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“The remains of a Dementor,” Kyle explained. “And as an alternative, they can bring back a Dementor’s hood. Both carry the same cold aura as the creatures and have built-in anti-counterfeiting measures. No ordinary wizard could fake them.”

“In addition, the Auror’s office has a magical device that detects Fiendfyre. It will raise an alarm and pinpoint the exact location if the fire grows beyond a certain size.”

Sirius considered this and finally nodded. “If that’s the case, I’ll fund it. Let’s say... 5,000 Galleons.”

...

After gathering everything they needed, Kyle and Sirius returned to the Gringotts entrance in a rattling wheelbarrow-like cart. This time, Sirius, preoccupied with more pressing matters, refrained from complaining about the uncomfortable ride.

It wasn’t until they had exited Gringotts and were walking along the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley that Sirius spoke up. “Do you really think this will help Remus?”

“I can only say it’s possible,” Kyle replied thoughtfully. “It’s a good opportunity, but the outcome depends on Fudge. The problem with the Werewolves runs deeper than just closing the gap between them and wizards.”

“I don’t care about the other Werewolves,” Sirius muttered, his tone firm. “I only care about Remus.”

“Well, that simplifies things,” Kyle said with a small smile.

Leaving Diagon Alley, they made their way back to the Ministry of Magic to meet with Fudge.

“You’re willing to donate a sum of money to the Ministry?” Fudge exclaimed as soon as he understood the purpose of their visit. He stood abruptly, his face lighting up with enthusiasm. It had been a long time since he’d received any good news, especially after Malfoy’s sudden disappearance.

“Of course, Mr. Minister,” Sirius said, maintaining a composed demeanor. “No one understands the danger of Dementors better than I do. I’m more than willing to contribute.”

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Black,” Fudge said cheerfully, gesturing toward a chair. “The Ministry will not forget your generosity.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Sirius replied, casting a quick glance at Kyle.

Kyle subtly shook his head, signaling Sirius to remain calm and let him take the lead.

The three settled into a discussion, delving into the specifics of the proposed bounty system for Dementor hunting. The focus turned to practical matters, such as how to prevent damage to buildings or harm to Muggles during hunts. Kyle and Fudge carried most of the conversation, with Kyle offering practical suggestions and Fudge nodding in eager agreement.

The lively discussion attracted additional attention, and soon Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office, and Alastor Moody joined them, having heard of Sirius’s presence. The Minister’s office grew increasingly animated as ideas and plans were debated.

Sirius, however, found himself out of his depth with the technical details and struggled to stay engaged. Feeling drowsy, he resorted to drinking cup after cup of strong tea to keep himself awake.

After an unknown length of time, Sirius jolted awake, startled by a familiar name.

“Speaking of Werewolves...”

The words caught his attention just as Kyle nudged him under the table.

“I haven’t thought of a solution to this problem yet, unlike the Giants, they’re clearly aligned with the Death Eaters, and unlike the Dementors, they read newspapers, so offering a reward wouldn’t work.”

“Yes, the Werewolves are a real problem,” Fudge sighed.

“But,” Kyle interjected, “I know someone who has been working tirelessly to address the Werewolf issue—and without asking for anything in return.”

“Who?” Fudge’s curiosity was piqued.

“Remus Lupin,” Kyle replied.

“Lupin...” Fudge repeated, his expression thoughtful. “Yes, I remember him. He was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts a few years ago. I believe he’s the only Werewolf to graduate from Hogwarts in the past three centuries. Oh, and wasn’t he also a close friend of Mr. Black?”

Although Fudge and Lupin had never interacted personally, the minister’s recall of such details was impressive. It was clear he hadn’t risen to his position on luck alone.

“Yes, we are indeed friends,” Sirius added hastily after another subtle kick from Kyle. “We were just in the Black Forest together the other day. He hasn’t slept in days, working himself to exhaustion over the Werewolf situation.”

“That’s really admirable...” Fudge said, glancing at Sirius. His tone faltered briefly but quickly resumed its usual cadence. “I also heard that during his time at Hogwarts, he was one of the most popular Defence Against the Dark Arts professors. If not for his being a Werewolf, he might have been the first to hold that position for more than a year.”

“Who’s to say?” Sirius sighed. “His status as a Werewolf restricts him in every way. Sometimes, I wish there were something more I could do for him.”

“How were his grades?” Fudge asked suddenly.

“He was a Prefect,” Sirius said, “and after graduation, he earned ten certificates.”

“Quite an impressive record,” Fudge remarked, turning to Scrimgeour. “Rufus, I thought you were always saying you didn’t have enough staff? What do you think of him?”

“Remus Lupin?” Scrimgeour frowned, clearly caught off guard by the shift in topic. “But he’s a Werewolf...”

“I don’t think it matters,” Fudge said, shaking his head. “No one chooses to be a Werewolf. The fact that he’s willing to help us is enough. And he’s certainly qualified to be an Auror, isn’t he?”

“But...” Scrimgeour hesitated. “Having a Werewolf as an Auror has never been done before.”

“That’s because of prejudice,” Moody interjected gruffly.

“I have no prejudice!” Scrimgeour shot back sharply. “But I have to consider the other Aurors’ safety. What if one of them is bitten?”

“Remus wouldn’t bite anyone,” Moody scoffed.

“On a full moon, even the best Werewolves lose control,” Scrimgeour countered stubbornly.

“All right, all right, let’s not argue,” Fudge interjected, raising his hands to diffuse the tension. “These are extraordinary times. We need to show as many Werewolves as possible that there’s another path, one that doesn’t involve joining the Death Eaters.”

“Remus Lupin could be a perfect example of that, Rufus. I strongly urge you to consider it.”