Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 786: Dumbledore’s Sudden Visit

“A neighbor?”

Fred stared at the hunched witch in the distance, trying to place her, but no familiar face came to mind.

It wasn’t until George nudged him that he realized—this was Godric’s Hollow, not Ottery St. Catchpole. Of course, he wouldn’t know any of the neighbors here.

“Should I invite her in?” Fred hesitated.

With the Fidelius Charm in place, the witch would only be able to see part of the wedding—specifically, the areas outside the magical boundary. To fully enter, someone would need to tell her the exact location.

But since he didn’t know her, he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Oh! What an honor to meet you, Madam Bathilda Bagshot!”

Before Fred could decide, Mr. Weasley, who had been keeping watch, spotted the situation and hurried over, Sirius by his side.

His sudden movement caught the attention of the guests. Heads turned as people began murmuring.

“Bathilda Bagshot?” Ron ran a hand through his hair. “That name sounds really familiar… Where have I heard it before?”

“If you actually stayed awake in class,” Hermione said, shooting him a pointed look, “you’d know she’s the author of A History of Magic.”

“Oh! Now I remember!” Harry exclaimed, slapping his thigh. “No wonder—I’ve seen her name on the book list before.”

“But Hermione, you can’t blame us for this,” he added. “No one can stay awake in History of Magic. I bet even you struggle.”

“At least I’ve read the book,” Hermione huffed, her face flushing slightly. She glared at Harry and Ron, who had clearly formed a defensive alliance. “Unlike you two, who—after six years—still don’t even know the author’s name.”

That shut them up.

Hermione, satisfied, turned back toward Bathilda Bagshot. After a moment, she murmured, “She really does look like a witch.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” Ron asked. “She is a witch.”

“No, I mean she looks like the kind of witch from Muggle storybooks,” Hermione clarified. “Hunched back, messy hair, a face hidden in shadow… In a lot of Muggle fairy tales, that’s exactly how witches are described.”

“Huh?” Ron looked puzzled. “But real witches don’t look like that. You don’t look like that.”

“Well, thank you for that glowing compliment,” Hermione said dryly. “Of course I know that. But Muggles don’t. In their imagination, witches do look like Bathilda.”

“Is that true?” Ron turned to Harry.

“I have no idea,” Harry admitted, shaking his head.

Although he had lived with the Dursleys for eleven years, he had never read any of those so-called fairy tales. Those were the kinds of books Dudley had access to. Even if the Dursleys threw them out, Harry wouldn’t have been allowed to touch them.

And knowing how much his aunt and uncle despised magic, he doubted Uncle Vernon would ever let a book with wizards or witches into their home.

“But Hermione’s probably right,” Harry said thoughtfully. “I remember Dudley once told me that wizards were all ugly. He even asked if I’d turn into one of them. So I guess the only wizards he’s ever seen in pictures must’ve looked really bad.”

“What about male wizards?” Ron asked, curious.

“Well…” Hermione considered. “Probably someone like Professor Dumbledore. Wherever he goes, he looks like the perfect image of a wizard.”

“Good thing it’s just their imagination,” Ron muttered, glancing at Bathilda Bagshot again. He patted his chest in mock relief. “If all witches looked like that, it’d be terrifying.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” Harry agreed.

For a second, he pictured Hogwarts filled with nothing but Dumbledores and Bathilda Bagshots teaching classes.

That would be terrifying.

“But why is she here?”

“No idea. Probably just drawn by all the noise. Not much else happens these days, does it?”

...

As they spoke, Mr. Weasley and Sirius had already escorted Bathilda Bagshot inside.

But despite being welcomed in, the ancient witch—who was even older than Dumbledore—didn’t seem interested in talking to anyone.

Just like before, she stood silently, watching them all with unreadable eyes.

To be honest, being stared at like that was more than a little unsettling.

“Have you confirmed her identity?” Kyle asked as he approached Mr. Weasley.

“She should be fine,” Mr. Weasley replied. “Alastor’s Sneakoscope didn’t react, which means she’s not someone using Polyjuice Potion to impersonate her. As for the Imperius Curse… we can’t be sure, but we’ll be keeping an eye on her.”

“Bathilda Bagshot is something of an old friend,” Sirius added. “When James and Lily moved here, she helped them a lot. She even helped us escape from the Death Eaters more than once.”

“If she wants to attend Lupin’s wedding, there’s no way we could refuse.”

“I understand,” Kyle said with a nod. “It’s just… something seems off about her.”

“Probably just her age,” Sirius reasoned. “She was already over a hundred when we first met her, and that was more than twenty years ago. It’s not surprising if she’s grown a little… absent-minded.”

“Was she always like this? Not much of a talker?” Kyle asked curiously.

“No,” Sirius shook his head. “I remember Bathilda being quite chatty. As a historian, she couldn’t have written A History of Magic just by digging through old records. She had to gather information from other elderly wizards, learning secrets that weren’t written anywhere.”

“As far as I know, she had plenty of friends. Sometimes she’d be gone for weeks at a time, visiting them.”

“Huh…”

Their conversation was interrupted by Lupin’s arrival. He had come to ask Sirius to dance.

Kyle wasn’t quite sure why Lupin had ignored Tonks in favor of dancing with Sirius, but Sirius seemed delighted.

They moved to the dance floor in the center of the garden, twirling to a lively dance Kyle had never seen before.

“Oh, the Marauders’ Celebration Dance…” Professor Sprout walked over, holding a mug of Butterbeer. “I haven’t seen it in twenty years. Brings back memories.”

“Nineteen years,” Professor McGonagall corrected her calmly. “And I wouldn’t say I miss it. Ever since they graduated, my workload has been significantly lighter—at least until the Weasley boys arrived.”

“Thankfully, they have finally graduated too.”

Professor Sprout let out a chuckle.

Now that she thought about it, all the troublemakers of recent years had come from Gryffindor—the infamous Marauders back then, the Weasley twins now. No wonder McGonagall had her hands full.

By comparison, Hufflepuff was far more peaceful. Professor Sprout could spend her days in the greenhouse, tending to her beloved plants, without constantly worrying about what sort of chaos her students might unleash next.

As that thought crossed her mind, she turned to Kyle with a cheerful greeting. “How’s life after graduation?”

“Not bad,” Kyle answered honestly. “Just a little… aimless.”

“That’s normal for fresh graduates—unless you find a job quickly and keep yourself busy,” Professor Sprout said with a knowing smile. “But I thought you already worked at the Ministry? Weren’t you promoted to Senior Assistant to the Minister last year?”

“Minister Bones has reminded me several times,” Kyle admitted.

“Bones… Oh, that’s right, she’s Minister now,” Professor Sprout said. Her smile faltered slightly, no doubt remembering the recent Death Eater attack on the Ministry.

“Why haven’t you taken the job?” she asked, shifting the topic. “Do you not like working there?”

“Not really,” Kyle admitted.

“Then maybe you should travel—search for rare magical plants,” Professor Sprout suggested. “It’s a job that’s never boring, and it pays well. Some plants are incredibly valuable.

“I could introduce you to some expert Herbologists.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Kyle said with a smile.

“Oh, it’s just a suggestion.” Professor Sprout waved a hand dismissively. “But I do think, given your connection to Mr. Scamander, you might enjoy working with magical creatures more.”

“Or,” she added, “you could combine the two. While you’re searching for magical creatures, you could also look for unique plants from different regions. Even if you don’t have time to care for them yourself, you could send them to Hogwarts—we’d pay whatever price you name.”

“In that case, I’ll have to set a very good price,” Kyle joked.

“As you should,” Professor Sprout agreed, unfazed.

...

Watching the lively conversation between the Hufflepuff Head and her former student, McGonagall quietly sipped her soda.

Kyle hadn’t ignored her, of course, but she found it difficult to share the same excitement as Sprout did.

Just as Sprout hadn’t been as deeply moved as she was while watching Lupin and Tonks exchange vows.

A few minutes later, Cedric arrived.

McGonagall observed the three of them chatting happily. For some reason, her once-sweet soda was starting to taste strangely sour.

Fortunately, the arrival of Bill and Charlie provided some small comfort.

But the sense of relief didn’t last long. The moment Professor McGonagall spotted Fred and George playfully chasing each other, her thoughts immediately went to Weasleysʼ Wizard Wheezes, and a familiar headache began to throb in her temples.

She had once believed that, after Zonko’s Joke Shop closed, Hogwarts would finally become a quieter place. But never in her wildest dreams had she expected the Weasley twins to step in and not only replace Zonko’s business but surpass it in popularity.

In just one semester since last Christmas, Filch had confiscated over a hundred of their magical contraptions. Adding in what she had confiscated, the total was nearly two hundred—practically matching the amount from an entire school year before.

And this was despite the school conducting strict inspections for Dark magic items. Without those inspections, the numbers would have been much worse.

Truly, they lived up to their reputation—two people managing to cause more chaos than the entire Maraudersʼ group. Even after graduation, they were still finding ways to be a thorn in her side.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Fred and George hesitated mid-stride before casually veering off course and slipping into the house instead.

McGonagall didn’t react. She knew the twins well enough to understand that no amount of scolding would make them stop—not their antics, and certainly not their sale of joke products to students.

Checking the time, she turned to Professor Sprout. “Pomona, I think we should—Oh. Albus, what are you doing here?”

Albus?

Kyle turned his head instinctively—just in time to see Dumbledore standing not far behind him. No one had noticed his arrival.

His sudden appearance immediately caused a stir, drawing people closer.

Lyall Lupin hurried over, his expression filled with gratitude as he grasped Dumbledore’s arm, repeatedly thanking him.

“There’s no need for that, Lyall,” Dumbledore reassured him. “Remus earned this—his kindness and integrity won him the happiness he deserves. I had nothing to do with it.”

“No, Albus,” Lyall choked out. “It was you who let him attend Hogwarts. Without that chance, he wouldn’t have had this opportunity. Compared to you, I’ve failed as a father.”

“Don’t say that,” Dumbledore said gently.

...

“Albus, why are you here?” Professor McGonagall asked, stepping forward. “Didn’t you say you had something important to deal with?”

“I did,” Dumbledore admitted with a slight shake of his head. “But a minor complication arose—I went to the wrong place. As it turns out, the person I was actually looking for… is right here.”

“At the wedding?” McGonagall asked, frowning.

“Precisely,” Dumbledore confirmed.

Before he could say more, he was quickly surrounded by the crowd—including the bride and groom themselves.

“Congratulations,” he said warmly. “This was rather sudden, so I must apologize for not preparing a proper gift in advance.”

“You already gave us one, didn’t you?” Tonks grinned. “Without that Phoenix tear, Remus wouldn’t have been discharged so soon. And if that were the case, we wouldn’t have any idea when this wedding would’ve actually happened.”

“The tear was Fawkes’ doing, not mine,” Dumbledore said. “However, I have decided on a gift. The timing isn’t quite right yet, but if you don’t mind waiting…”

“Of course not,” Lupin said with a smile. He and Tonks were on the same page—it wasn’t really about what Dumbledore would give them.

...

Meanwhile, Kyle watched from a short distance, still curious about Dumbledore’s sudden arrival.

Yesterday, when they had parted ways, the Headmaster had spoken as though he would be gone for quite a while. Yet here he was, back again so soon.

“This is amazing, isn’t it?” Cedric mused beside him. “I really hope Dumbledore can attend my wedding with Cho.”

“What?” Kyle snapped his head around. “You’re getting married? When?”

“Not now, obviously,” Cedric chuckled, shaking his head. “Cho’s parents want to take her out of the country until things settle down. We were just talking about it—that’s why I got here a bit late.”

“You upset about it?” Kyle asked.

“Not at all,” Cedric shrugged. “To be honest, I think it’d be good for her to spend some time abroad—treat it like a long vacation.”

“What about France?” Kyle suggested. “Kanna just opened a potion shop there. It’s a new business, so there’s plenty of work to do. Maybe they could keep each other company.”

“That’s actually what I said,” Cedric sighed. “But Cho doesn’t want to leave. She got into a huge argument with her parents about it.”

“So what did you say?”

“I told her she should go,” Cedric admitted. “She got furious and kicked me.”

He lifted his robe to reveal a very distinct shoeprint.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Serves you right. This is one of those times when you’re supposed to take her side—then work out the details later.”

“Would’ve been nice if you told me earlier!”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Ugh, never mind,” Cedric groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Anyway, there’s something else—I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you notice how Bathilda Bagshot has been staring at you this whole time? Do you know her?”

Kyle hesitated. “I… don’t think so.”

But now that Cedric mentioned it, he had noticed.

At some point, Bathilda had stopped looking at anyone else—her eyes had been fixed on him.

And even when Dumbledore arrived and briefly drew her attention, that unsettling gaze hadn’t truly disappeared.