Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 757: Punishment and Detention

During dinner, Dumbledore, who had been absent for a long time, appeared punctually in the instructor’s seat.

He looked like he had been traveling for quite some time—his silver hair and beard were dull and disheveled, and though he tried to conceal it, a closer look revealed the exhaustion on his face.

“He must have been busy lately,” Kanna remarked, glancing toward the instructor’s seat.

“Yes,” Kyle nodded.

Even though he was at Hogwarts, he could tell from the latest issue of The Daily Prophet that much of the morale in the fight against the Death Eaters was due to Dumbledore.

To counter their growing threat, Dumbledore had to leave Hogwarts more frequently, making his presence known beyond the castle walls. After all, the entire wizarding world knew that Voldemort feared Dumbledore more than anyone else, and as long as he remained active, people could cling to hope.

That was why Dumbledore had been so busy lately.

“By the way,” Kanna said suddenly, as she spread jam on her toast. “I heard Potter and Malfoy had a fight in the bathroom?”

“Yeah...” Kyle nodded absentmindedly but then froze. “Wait, who told you that?”

He distinctly remembered Kanna being in the common room all afternoon, buried in her homework. He hadn’t mentioned it to her—so how did she know? It couldn’t have been Snape...

“Oh, it was Mikel,” Kanna replied casually. “He went to the Hospital Wing this afternoon to get some Pepperup Potion so he could stay up all night working on his homework. He overheard it there.”

“Almost all of Hufflepuff knows about it now, and he said you were involved.”

“Tsk,” Kyle clicked his tongue, pursing his lips.

Mikel was practically born to be an Auror—he never failed when it came to gathering information.

“Well, it’s true,” Kyle admitted. “And they were both dead serious, like they were determined to win at any cost.”

“Then what about you? How did you get involved?” Kanna asked.

That was what she didn’t understand.

Wasn’t Kyle supposed to be in the Room of Requirement? How had he ended up on the seventh floor, caught up in a fight between Potter and Malfoy?

“It’s kind of a funny story,” Kyle said, rubbing the back of his head. “I decided to take the day off, and when this happened, I saw an opportunity to step in.”

He briefly recounted what had happened—how he had overheard the explosion, rushed to the seventh floor, and intervened just in time to keep Harry and Malfoy from being carried straight to the Hospital Wing.

“So you’ve already learned it, haven’t you?” Kanna’s eyes lit up with excitement. “The method of changing the nature of magic using runes that Professor Lagord talked about...”

Lagord, was the Charms professor in the Room of Requirement, who looked exactly like old Tom from the Leaky Cauldron.

Kanna had attended a few of his lessons with Kyle before. She hadn’t understood much, but she had remembered some of the key points.

And the one that stood out the most was changing magic with runes, which basically meant nullifying magic.

She also distinctly remembered Kyle being scolded the most in that class. It was hard to forget, considering he had been reprimanded for 55 minutes of the one-hour lesson.

But Kyle had no idea what she was thinking.

“I’ve sort of learned it,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Another reason it worked is that the spells Harry and Malfoy were using weren’t particularly complicated. They were relatively easy to counter. If it had been two professors, it definitely wouldn’t have worked.”

“That’s still pretty impressive,” Kanna said with a laugh. “At least Professor Lagord won’t scold you anymore, right?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kyle sighed, rubbing his forehead. Just thinking about the grumpy old professor gave him a headache—and this was only one of the many things he still had to learn.

After dinner, students began getting up from the long tables, preparing to return to their common rooms.

Kyle, however, didn’t move. He remained seated, waiting for a bit. He had a feeling he’d be summoned to the headmaster’s office soon, and staying put would save him the trouble of walking back only to be called out again.

But after ten minutes, when the Great Hall had nearly emptied, no one came for him.

During that time, Nearly Headless Nick drifted by, but he wasn’t looking for Kyle—he was searching for Harry and Malfoy instead.

Kyle stood up awkwardly.

“Looks like you were wrong,” Kanna said with a small smile. “Professor Dumbledore wasn’t looking for you as the one who stopped the fight.”

“So I was wrong,” Kyle shrugged, unconcerned. “What a pity... I thought I’d at least get fifty points for it.”

“Never mind, Hufflepuff doesn’t need those fifty points right now,” Kanna replied.

This year, Hufflepuff had been leading the house points ranking ever since Christmas, holding an 80-point lead over second-place Slytherin.

Gryffindor, on the other hand, was still dead last—and rightly so. Ravenclaw had been in last place initially, but just a few days ago, Harry had lost fifty points in one go, dropping Gryffindor even further down the ranks.

With that, the two made their way back to the common room.

…

Meanwhile, in the headmaster’s office on the eighth floor, Dumbledore forced himself to appear cheerful as he addressed the two standing before him.

”Donʼt worry, I won’t expel you, Mr. Malfoy, but you must recognize your mistake.”

His tone was light, but there was no mistaking the gravity of his words.

”So, I’ll deduct 100 points from Slytherin, and detention is necessary as well. You’ll be under Professor Snape’s supervision every Saturday from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m. until the end of the school year.”

Malfoy lifted his head slightly, his eyes flickering as he looked at Dumbledore.

But before he could say anything, someone stepped in front of him, blocking his view.

It was Snape.

”No problem, Headmaster Dumbledore,” Snape said smoothly. ”If there’s nothing else, shall we take our leave?”

”Of course,” Dumbledore nodded, then added in a hushed tone, ”Professor Snape, I hope you will ensure that Malfoy understands the weight of his actions today. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to turn him over to Professor McGonagall.”

”Donʼt worry, I will,” Snape replied, his voice as controlled as ever.

Without warning, he gave Malfoy a firm push forward.

Malfoy, caught off guard, stumbled and nearly crashed into the nearby table. His eyes flashed with anger as he turned toward Snape, but with Dumbledore still present, he swallowed whatever retort he had, took a slow breath, and strode toward the door, pushing it open forcefully.

Snape followed without another word.

The two walked in silence until they reached the hallway outside.

Then, Snape’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and cold.

”Do you realize what you just did?”

Malfoy barely had time to react before Snape was beside him, his tone filled with quiet fury.

”Staring at Dumbledore like that—what were you thinking? Did you want him to figure you out? If I hadn’t stepped in, you would have given yourself away long ago.”

”Yes, well, that was your problem, wasn’t it?” Malfoy shot back, just as coldly. ”I suppose you regret it now—agreeing to protect me, a stupid student.”

”Yes. You are stupid,” Snape said flatly.

Malfoy’s expression darkened. His anger flared, and he kicked the nearest suit of armor with all his strength.

”Hey, boy! What do you want? Are you challenging me to a duel?” a knight bellowed from his portrait nearby.

Neither Malfoy nor Snape paid him any attention.

”You think you’re something special, don’t you?” Malfoy sneered. ”Defending me in front of Dumbledore—should I be grateful now? Should I spill all my plans just because you pretend to be on my side?”

”I never expected that,” Snape said, frowning. ”But let me remind you—when you’re in front of Dumbledore, it’s best to keep all your thoughts to yourself. Never let your ambitions or intentions slip. Otherwise, he’ll see right through you.”

”None of your business!” Malfoy snapped. ”Bellatrix taught me Occlumency over the holidays. Dumbledore can’t see what I’m thinking at all.”

”Really?” Snape scoffed. ”You think a month of rushed Occlumency practice is enough to deceive Dumbledore? Not only are you overestimating yourself, but you’re also underestimating him.”

Malfoy’s defiance remained, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Snape studied him for a moment before continuing.

”Let me put it another way,” he said coolly. ”Do you think you can hide your secrets from the Dark Lord?”

At the mention of the name, Malfoy froze.

A tremor ran through him, his body suddenly stiff. Cold sweat gathered at his forehead.

”I suppose not,” Snape said, his voice edged with mockery.

Malfoy said nothing—because Snape was right.

He didn’t even dare to think of that name in his head. How could he possibly hope to keep his thoughts hidden from him?

”In that case...” Snape continued, his tone cutting. ”What makes you think you can fool Dumbledore?”

Malfoy’s head snapped up, alarm flashing in his eyes.

Snape’s words—treasonous as they sounded—were simply the truth.

”Donʼt look at me like that, I was only making an analogy,” Snape said. ”Anyway, from now on, when youʼre in Dumbledoreʼs presence, youʼd do well to keep all thoughts to yourself and never make eye contact.”

”I know...” Malfoy muttered after a long pause, continuing down the stairs.

Snape walked beside him. ”So why?” he asked. ”Whatever youʼre planning, you should be keeping a low profile right now. Why go looking for trouble with Potter?”

”That Scarhead!” Malfoy hissed. ”He followed me and found out my secret!”

”Secret?” Snape frowned. ”He saw your plan?”

A long silence followed until they reached the first-floor entrance. Finally, Malfoy spoke.

”No, I caught him. He didnʼt see much.”

As he said this, his expression contorted with rage. ”If it hadnʼt been for that meddling Kyle, I would have taught him a lesson!”

”Youʼd better forget about it,” Snape said indifferently.

”What, are you trying to protect Harry Potter?” Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

”No, I was talking about someone else,” Snape whispered. ”That meddlesome Kyle... He does like to interfere, but youʼd do well to forget about it and pretend it never happened. At least until your plan is complete. Donʼt go looking for trouble with him.”

After another pause, Malfoy snapped, ”I know what to do, and I donʼt need you to tell me!”

By now, they had reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Malfoy muttered the password:

”Power.”

The massive serpentine statue slithered to one side, forming an opening. Without hesitation, Malfoy strode inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

Immediately, a crowd gathered.

”Draco, youʼre back!”

”Are you okay?” Pansy asked anxiously.

”What could possibly be wrong with me?” Malfoy responded curtly, brushing past her and heading toward an armchair in the corner. He sank into it, arms crossed.

He knew exactly what Snape had meant.

Donʼt go looking for trouble with Kyle...

That much was clear. The way Kyle had effortlessly controlled himself, the way he had wielded that strange magic that turned a Blasting Curse into a raven—Malfoy couldnʼt afford to provoke him now. Not before his plan was finished.

But it was easier said than done.

The man had given him a task. Besides dealing with Dumbledore, he was to kill Kyle.

No matter how much he wanted to ignore it, he couldnʼt. And the stronger Kyle became, the more uneasy Malfoy felt.

It was already May. If he couldnʼt complete the task before the summer holidays, he would not let Malfoy off the hook.

The pressure was unbearable, almost enough to make him crack.

Although he had come up with a plan, the moment he was about to carry it out, he regretted it.

His plan would involve too many people. Too many innocent students would be caught in the crossfire. He didnʼt want that.

That was why the pressure was suffocating him, why he had broken down in the bathroom—and why Harry had seen him.

Malfoy buried his hands in his hair, gripping tightly, falling once again into silent turmoil.

Crabbe and Goyle hesitated, watching him. They exchanged glances before quietly walking away, choosing not to disturb him.

Meanwhile, back in the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore and Harry were now alone.

Harry stood stiffly, waiting for his punishment.

But his heart felt lighter than before. If even Malfoy hadn’t been expelled, then surely he had nothing to worry about.

As expected, his punishment was the same—points deducted and detention.

Harry didnʼt really mind being confined to his room. As long as he didn’t have to deal with Snape, he could handle it.

The only issue was the upcoming Quidditch match.

”Professor, is there any way I can change the time?” he asked hesitantly. ”Thereʼs a Quidditch match on Saturday morning next month. Could I serve detention with Professor McGonagall in the afternoon instead? I don’t mind doubling the time.”

”I’d love to say yes, Harry, but I can’t,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. ”You must recognize what you’ve done wrong. Missing an activity you enjoy might be a more meaningful punishment than simply being confined.”

Harry sighed but nodded.

”Okay, you should go back to bed now,” Dumbledore said, rubbing his eyes.

”Professor, there’s one more thing!” Harry blurted out. ”Maybe this can make up for my mistake.”

Dumbledore looked up. ”What is it?”

Harry reached into his robes and pulled out a small glass bottle. ”I’ve got Slughorn’s memory.”

Dumbledore’s fatigue vanished instantly. His eyes brightened with interest. ”This is truly exciting news,” he said. ”This is wonderful. I knew you could do it.”

”Hermione helped me a lot,” Harry admitted.

”Oh? Miss Granger?”

”Yeah,” Harry nodded. ”After the first week of holidays, she gave me a glass of pumpkin juice at breakfast and told me to go see Slughorn.”

”After that, it was easy. I went to his office with the bottle, and he was in a good mood, so he drank a lot.”

”Then we got onto the topic of that last Love Potion. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he told me what he thought. He figured someone was trying to manipulate him against someone at Hogwarts—and he guessed it was me.”

”I told him I needed his help. That memory.”

”So Horace gave it to you?” Dumbledore asked.

”Yeah,” Harry said with a grin. ”He did.”

Dumbledore chuckled softly. ”It seems you were quite lucky that day,” he mused. ”You have a very good friend, and a generous one at that.”

It was easy to tell from Harry’s words—Dumbledore knew that the pumpkin juice Hermione had given him wasn’t ordinary. It had been laced with Felix Felicis.

That was why, when the time was right, Slughorn had been in the mood for a drink—and why Harry had managed to get exactly what he needed.

But Dumbledore didnʼt dwell on that thought. There were more pressing matters at hand.

As Harry spoke, Dumbledore stood and took the bottle, striding over to the cabinet where the Pensieve rested.

”Now,” Dumbledore said, setting the basin on the table and uncorking the bottle, ”we shall finally see the truth of it all. Come, Harry...”