Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 787: Dumbledore’s Purpose

Because there were still matters to attend to, Professors McGonagall and Sprout left early, just before noon.

Mr. Weasley also had to return to the Ministry earlier than planned due to urgent business.

With the Ministry of Magic only recently rebuilt, it was an exceptionally busy time. The fact that they had managed to take even half a day off was already quite difficult.

As Moody was preparing to leave, Kyle caught up with him first and asked, “Alastor, are you certain that Bathilda is really herself?”

“I can’t guarantee there’s absolutely no problem,” Moody’s magical blue eye spun quickly as he spoke. “But so far, I haven’t found anything suspicious. She hasn’t had anything to drink for nearly three hours, so we can rule out Polyjuice Potion. As for the Imperius Curse... with Dumbledore here, there’s nothing she could do.”

With that, Moody hobbled past the protective enchantments, then Disapparated.

“Yes, with Dumbledore around, there really isn’t much to worry about,” Kyle muttered.

Still, being stared at the whole time was hardly comfortable. After thinking it over for a moment, he decided to clear things up.

He walked up to Bathilda, but before he could even open his mouth, the old witch immediately scolded him:

“Why are you still here!”

“What?” Kyle was caught off guard. He had no idea what she meant… why shouldn’t he be here?

“Well, I’m here for Lupin and Tonks’ wedding,” he explained. “Madam Bathilda, you—”

“Why haven’t you gone to apologize to Aberforth?” Bathilda interrupted again, this time leaving Kyle even more confused.

Aberforth?

As far as he knew, Aberforth should still be at the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade, keeping company with that goat of his. Why would he need to apologize to him?

However, in the next second, he heard a name that absolutely shouldn’t have been mentioned here.

“Listen to me, if you hadn’t insisted on dragging Albus into conversation, he wouldn’t have forgotten to prepare lunch for Ariana.”

“It was your mistake, so you should apologize—not just to Aberforth, but also to Ariana. That poor child has suffered enough.”

“Wait…” Kyle blurted out instinctively. “Who did you just say?”

“Ariana Dumbledore. She’s my younger sister,” a familiar voice answered from behind.

Kyle turned his head.

At some point, Dumbledore had appeared beside them.

“You’ve seen her before,” Dumbledore continued. “She’s the largest portrait in my office.”

With Dumbledore’s arrival, the noise of the wedding seemed to fade away. The music and the Weasley twins’ excited shouts grew fainter, as if they had suddenly been moved miles away.

“But, Professor, why is Madam Bathilda saying these things to me?” Kyle asked.

“Clearly, she’s mistaken you for someone else,” Dumbledore said vaguely.

“And you, Albus, shouldn’t you be at home right now? Why are you out wandering again?” Bathilda looked at Dumbledore and then frowned. “And if I may say so, could you take off that ridiculous fake beard? It looks absolutely absurd.”

“My beard isn’t fake, Bathilda. Take a closer look,” Dumbledore replied.

With a slight wave of his hand, a clear, melodious song suddenly drifted from afar.

From where the clouds gathered, a golden-red figure emerged—Fawkes, the phoenix, flapping his wings as he descended and landed gracefully on Dumbledore’s shoulder.

The phoenix’s song flowed through the air like a crystal-clear stream, passing through everyone’s ears.

As the music surrounded them, Bathilda blinked twice, her cloudy eyes refocusing as she looked up at Dumbledore.

“Albus, I’m so glad you’ve come to see me again.”

For some reason, Kyle thought she suddenly sounded much older than before, her frail frame appearing even more hunched.

“Where am I?” she asked, as if she had completely forgotten what had just happened.

“You were out for a walk,” Dumbledore said, stepping forward. “But we should be heading back now. This way—we’ll need to take a turn up ahead.”

“I’m not senile. I know the way. I don’t need you to remind me,” Bathilda grumbled, though her tone carried little bite. “But honestly, is Hogwarts so idle these days? You just visited me yesterday, and now you’re here again?”

Dumbledore didn’t respond, only giving a slight nod.

But Kyle knew the truth—Dumbledore had just lost the Elder Wand, the Ministry had been attacked by Death Eaters, and he had been caught up in endless crises. There was no way he had come to visit Bathilda yesterday. She must have gotten the timing wrong again.

The two of them walked further and further away. Kyle glanced back briefly at the lively wedding dance floor behind him, but without a moment’s hesitation, he followed.

Dancing wasn’t nearly as interesting as whatever was about to happen next.

Bathilda shuffled along the path, retracing her steps. After passing a few houses, she turned into a narrow lane, fumbled for a key, unlocked a door, and stepped aside to let them in.

”Come in, Albus, but I have no tea to offer you.”

”Iʼve had more than enough to drink already,” said Dumbledore as he stepped inside, waving his hand with practiced ease.

A gust of wind swept through the house, dispersing the stale, unpleasant odor.

Kyle followed him in.

”Who is he?” Bathilda asked.

”One of my students,” Dumbledore replied. ”He mentioned wanting to visit the historian who wrote A History of Magic, so I brought him along.”

”Ah, yes,” Kyle quickly chimed in. ”Iʼve always been a great admirer of A History of Magic.”

”Good taste,” Bathilda remarked. ”A History of Magic took me over a decade to write. I interviewed countless people in the process—it remains my proudest achievement.”

She smiled at Kyle, the deep wrinkles on her face folding together so much that they nearly concealed her eyes, making her resemble a cabbage split in half.

Kyle nodded in response.

Even though Dumbledore had cleared out most of the stifling odor, Kyle could still detect the distinct scent of mildew and rotting food. It seemed as though the smell had fused with the house itself—short of blowing the place up, there was no getting rid of it.

”So, what is it you wanted to ask me?” Bathilda moved past Kyle, untying her musty, moth-eaten headscarf to reveal a head of sparse white hair.

Kyle instinctively glanced at Dumbledore, but the older wizard suddenly clapped his forehead. ”Oh, I nearly forgot—I need to remind Minerva of something. You two wait here for a moment, Iʼll be right back.”

With that, he hurried out of the house, leaving Kyle standing there, utterly bewildered.

”Sit down, don’t just stand there like a fool,” Bathilda said.

Kyle hesitated before carefully settling into a sofa that looked as if it might collapse at any moment.

”Iʼd bet heʼs not running off to remind Minerva of anything,” Bathilda said suddenly. ”Heʼs gone to see Ariana.”

”He always comes here for Ariana—stopping by to visit me is just an occasional afterthought. I know how it is.”

”His sister, Ariana Dumbledore?” Kyle followed along. ”Sheʼs here too?”

”Just two miles away, near the church,” Bathilda said, giving him a searching look. ”Iʼm surprised you know her name. Did he actually tell you about her? That’s rare.”

”I saw a picture of a girl in his office,” Kyle explained.

”Yes, that would be Ariana,” Bathilda murmured. ”But what does it matter? That poor child...”

It seemed that Bathilda had gone a long time without speaking to anyone. Now, with someone willing to listen—someone brought by Dumbledore, no less—she immediately launched into a steady stream of conversation, speaking at length about Dumbledore’s younger years.

She even rummaged through an old, battered trunk and pulled out a few heavily faded photographs.

The images depicted two young men, both brimming with vitality. Kyle immediately recognized one of them as a younger Dumbledore.

He had seen the middle-aged Dumbledore in the Pensieve, and the young man on the right side of the photograph bore a striking resemblance to him. The other man, about the same age, was lean and handsome, his eyes sharp and full of fire.

”That’s my nephew,” Bathilda said, her voice taking on a bitter edge. ”But when it came to Ariana, he was just as much of a bastard as Albus.”

”Look—this is Ariana.” She pointed to a corner of the photograph.

It showed the attic of a house, and within it, a small figure could be seen peering through the attic window.

Due to the effects of the developing solution, the photograph had been split into two strikingly different halves. The most eye-catching portion, of course, was the two spirited young men, full of life and ambition.

But in stark contrast, the other half revealed a neglected, imprisoned Ariana, confined to the attic, yearning for sunlight and companionship.

The contrast unsettled Kyle deeply. An idea crept into his mind—one so bold it startled even him.

He wanted to punch Dumbledore.

At this moment, he had no wand, one arm was still out of commission… Maybe, just maybe, he could actually manage it.

At the thought, Kyle quickly shook his head, forcing himself to focus back on the photograph—or more precisely, on the man standing on the left side of it.

Gellert Grindelwald—Dumbledore’s former best friend and greatest rival—is currently imprisoned in Nurmengard.

Kyle recalled that Bathilda Bagshot was supposedly his great-aunt.

Just as he was about to take a closer look at the photograph, Bathilda put it away.

”Iʼve never dared to look at this for long. It always brings back painful memories,” she said.

Kyle considered asking about Grindelwald but decided against it. Instead, he continued, ”Back then, Professor Dumbledore didn’t seem to care much about his sister.”

”That’s right,” Bathilda nodded. ”He was nothing like he is now. When he was young, he always believed he had more important things to do than stay home, looking after his sister day after day. To be honest, he saw Ariana as a burden.”

”A Squib?” Kyle hesitated.

”Oh, I shouldn’t have said that,” Bathilda muttered. ”Officially, the Dumbledores claimed Ariana was ill, but no one ever saw her at St. Mungo’s.”

”Forget it,” she sighed. ”Whatever the truth is, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

”In any case, Ariana’s death changed Albus completely—but it also shattered his relationship with Aberforth. That was when his nose got broken.”

Bathilda shuffled over to the table, carefully placing the photograph back into the box. Then, she began rummaging through it.

”Would you like to see the manuscript for A History of Magic? There are plenty of interesting details that never made it into the book.”

”Of course,” Kyle said.

Though he was more interested in Dumbledore’s past, it was clear Bathilda didn’t want to continue that conversation, so he didn’t push.

”That’s odd…” Bathilda muttered as she searched the box. ”Maybe I left it upstairs. I’ll go check.”

She slowly made her way to the staircase and ascended.

With Bathilda gone, Kyle took his first real look around the place.

The room was cluttered and poorly maintained, dust covering nearly everything.

Beside the sofa stood a chest of drawers, lined with photographs. Kyle’s eyes landed on one in particular—a portrait of Grindelwald alone. He looked even younger than before.

From inside the silver frame, Grindelwald smiled lazily at Kyle.

Click.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Dumbledore stepped inside.

What a coincidence. The moment Bathilda went upstairs, he returned.

Kyle looked at him, then picked up the silver frame from the dresser. ”I’m guessing Bathilda mistook me for this man,” he said. ”Her nephew.”

Dumbledore paused for a moment before nodding. ”That’s likely. She rarely speaks to others in that tone.”

”But we don’t even look alike—especially not our hair color,” Kyle said, glancing at the photo.

The man in the frame had golden hair, while Kyle’s was black. That was a pretty significant difference.

Besides, being mistaken for a dark wizard wasn’t exactly flattering. Kyle had always thought of himself as a good person.

”I’m not sure either,” Dumbledore admitted. ”Perhaps it’s her age. Her eyesight isn’t what it used to be.

”And lately, she’s been more and more confused. She’s even mistaken me for my father a few times—though, in reality, we don’t look alike at all.”

”Is that so?” Kyle set the photo frame back down. Dumbledore seemed to relax slightly.

He stepped closer to Kyle and asked, ”Does it seem strange to you that I came here so suddenly?”

”A little,” Kyle replied.

To be honest, he had already considered one possible reason—but he didn’t voice it. He simply watched Dumbledore.

”After I left last night, I went to Devon,” Dumbledore finally said, his expression tense as if he was struggling with something. After a long pause, he spoke in a low voice. ”But Nicolas told me that what I was searching for… is with you.”

”Nicolas?” Kyle wasn’t surprised in the slightest. ”Last time I visited his estate, he did give me a gift.”

Kyle rummaged through his Mokeskin pouch for a moment before pulling out a golden pocket watch with five hands.

For a fleeting moment, Dumbledore’s breathing hitched.

Kyle felt a sudden chill down his spine, his body instinctively tensing.

He was certain—Dumbledore had, for a brief second, considered snatching the watch away.

But he held himself back.

”May I borrow it?” Dumbledore asked, his voice carefully controlled. ”It’s very important to me.”

”Because of Ariana?” Kyle asked casually.

He looked up and met Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes.

”How did you know?”

Kyle wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but despite the question, it felt as though Dumbledore had already expected the answer.

”A guess,” Kyle replied. ”Bathilda told me a few things about your past.”

He opened the box in front of Dumbledore and placed the pocket watch inside.

Dumbledore remained motionless, watching in silence until Kyle closed the lid.

”Let me take another guess,” Kyle said. ”You brought me here from the start because you wanted Bathilda to tell me about Ariana.”

”Yes,” Dumbledore admitted without hesitation. ”Bathilda has been reminiscing more often lately. When she saw me leave, she must have assumed I was visiting Ariana—and that naturally led the conversation in that direction.”

”But why?” Kyle frowned. He couldn’t understand why Dumbledore had gone to such lengths.

He could have just told him directly—so why go through all this effort to have Bathilda do it instead?

”Because I needed that Time-Turner,” Dumbledore said, lowering himself into a chair across from Kyle. ”But I didn’t have the courage to tell you why.”

”I was afraid to remember the past. Even more afraid to speak about it. So I had to find another way to let you know.”

”And what if Bathilda never mentioned Ariana?” Kyle asked. ”Or what if I didn’t care enough to ask?”

Dumbledore gave a small, almost amused smile.

”I suppose my luck has always been rather good,” he said. ”This time was no exception.”