Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 805: Animagus

“Pretend to be Dumbledore?”

“I’m not doing it!”

Inside the compartment, Kyle quickly tossed the envelope to Professor McGonagall, silently cursing whoever came up with such a ridiculous idea.

Pretend to be Dumbledore—who even thinks of that? What if the Death Eaters suddenly attacked Hogwarts? Sure, the chances were slim, but not zero.

Voldemort had already gotten his hands on the Elder Wand. What if he got cocky and decided to launch the final battle early? The first person heʼd come after would definitely be Dumbledore. And then Kyle would be completely screwed.

Even if the Death Eaters didn’t attack, getting exposed while impersonating Dumbledore would be humiliating enough.

At that thought, Kyle almost wanted to open the window and jump out of the train right then and there.

“Don’t be so quick to say no,” Professor McGonagall said, placing the letter back on the table.

“Dumbledore specifically named you for this task, which means he believes you’re the best person for it—and the only one who can pull it off.”

“No, no, no, I think you could totally do it, Professor McGonagall,” Kyle protested again.

“I can’t,” she shook her head. “I still have classes to teach, and I have to be at the Start-of-Term Feast. I just don’t have the time.”

“What about Professor Flitwick...”

“They’re all the same,” McGonagall cut him off. “None of the Hogwarts professors are suited for this task.”

“What about Sirius?” Kyle immediately thought of someone outside the school. “He seems pretty free these days, teaching Harry Animagus transformation—not that thereʼs been any progress.”

“No,” McGonagall continued to shake her head. “Dumbledore doesn’t want too many people knowing he’s not at the school. That includes members of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“But...”

“Dumbledore said he’ll give you a reward you’ll be satisfied with.”

“...”

“What kind of reward?”

“No idea,” McGonagall replied with a shake of her head. “That’s exactly what he wrote in the letter—if you can convince everyone that he’s still at the school, he’ll give you a reward that you’ll definitely be satisfied with... see for yourself.”

Kyle fell silent.

To be fair, Dumbledore always did keep his promises... A reward that would truly satisfy him...

Without thinking, Kyle picked up the envelope from the table.

“You’re agreeing to it?” McGonagall chuckled softly.

“I’m just reading it first,” Kyle said as he opened the envelope. “And let’s be clear—even if I agree, it’s not because of the reward. I just don’t want everyone to be anxious.”

“No need to explain.”

“I believe you.”

“Same here.”

All three Heads of House nodded in agreement, lips pursed.

They had to keep a straight face—nothing was done yet, and it would be bad if they let a smile slip too soon.

Meanwhile, Kyle had already taken out the letter Dumbledore had written. It said pretty much what McGonagall had told him: he was to pretend to be Dumbledore, make a few appearances around the school, and avoid being found out. In return, he’d be given a reward he’d find more than satisfactory.

There was also a small pouch inside the envelope. It contained a bottle of potion and a tuft of hair. Not a lot, but not too little either—Kyle roughly counted around fifty strands.

Honestly, for someone Dumbledore’s age to still have enough hair to cut off fifty strands... that was impressive in itself.

There was also a small note inside.

“For use with transformation. Keep it in the box Nicolas gave you, just in case.

P.S.: Getting Polyjuice Potion shouldn’t be difficult for you, so I’ve only prepared one bottle. (Do not go to Severus—he doesn’t know what I’m doing.)

Good luck.”

“Hah, he sure thinks highly of me,” Kyle muttered, picking up the bottle for a glance.

The amount was only enough to last about two hours—just enough to get through the Start-of-Term Feast that night.

So stingy. Did Dumbledore not realize Polyjuice Potion takes a month to brew? And Boomslang skin isn’t exactly easy to find, either. What if someone needed to see Dumbledore in the meantime?

Kyle shook his head and set the pouch aside.

Something else that bothered him was that Dumbledore hadn’t told Snape about any of this. Including escorting the students today—Snape was the only Head of House not present.

Was there another arrangement? Or was Dumbledore worried he might leak the secret...? That didn’t seem likely. With Snape’s level of Occlumency, Voldemort shouldn’t be able to see through it.

Kyle frowned, but he couldn’t figure out what Dumbledore was thinking.

Still, this did cause some issues for him.

He had originally planned to ask Snape for some Polyjuice Potion. But now, if Snape had to be kept in the dark, that plan was out.

Maybe he could check with Slughorn. Kyle remembered that last year, at the beginning of the term, Slughorn had brewed a giant cauldron of Polyjuice Potion just to show off his potions skills to the students.

Maybe he’d done the same thing this year.

Or he could try Fred and George. Their shop had stocked Polyjuice Potion before. Even though the Death Eaters had destroyed the place once, they probably still had some left. After all, brewing this stuff was such a pain and took so long that potion vendors usually made it in bulk using their biggest cauldrons, then sold it off gradually.

And Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was such a small shop, with so many different products, there was no way they could put everything on display.

If all else failed, he could ask Director Sykes... though he’d have to make sure it didn’t come from him personally.

Kyle didn’t even realize that while running through all these possibilities, he’d already tacitly agreed to take on the job.

The three Heads of House exchanged smiles, silently agreeing not to bring it up again.

The train continued toward Hogwarts, and before long, it was noon.

The snack trolley squeaked to a stop at the compartment door...

“Children, would you like to buy something to eat?”

Professor McGonagall opened the compartment door.

“Oh, Minerva,” the old witch pushing the trolley looked a little surprised. “So the rumors are true—you’re riding the train today as well.”

“Yes, for the students’ protection,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“How wonderful. Want to buy something? I promise the Liquorice Wands taste exactly the same as they did sixty years ago.”

“That was always my favorite.” Professor McGonagall hadn’t planned on buying anything, but after hearing that, she couldn’t resist and picked up a few Liquorice Wands.

The trolley creaked its way down the corridor and stopped at the next compartment.

Professor McGonagall closed the door and handed out the Liquorice Wands to everyone.

“Thank you, Professor,” Kyle said, casually setting his aside.

He noticed that Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout did the exact same thing. Clearly, they weren’t particularly fond of the treat either.

“She wasn’t wrong—it really does taste the same as it did sixty years ago,” Professor McGonagall said with a small bite and a smile.

“Sixty years ago?” Kyle asked curiously. “She was already working on the train back then?”

“Even earlier than that,” McGonagall explained. “In fact, by the time I started school, she’d already been working for quite a while—and she looks exactly the same now as she did then.”

“She must be over a hundred,” Kyle said in surprise, glancing out of the compartment.

“At least a hundred and seventy,” McGonagall replied. “Because even when Dumbledore was in school, the trolley witch was already her.”

“She’s aged well,” Kyle muttered.

Looking the same for sixty years definitely counted as good preservation.

“Kyle, we’ve still got a long way to go before reaching Hogwarts. Don’t you want something to eat?” Professor Sprout pulled out a few pies. “Beef and fennel pasties—if you like, I can give you one.”

She wasn’t the only one. Professor Flitwick had brought lunch too, an apple pie—just one, but he generously offered to share half if Kyle wanted.

“No need, I’ve got something too,” Kyle declined with a smile.

Even though he’d been dragged onto the train at the last minute without any preparation, he had his suitcase.

To the professors’ astonishment, Kyle hauled out an entire cured ham—so big the little table in the compartment could barely hold it.

“You just carry this around with you?” Professor Flitwick asked, still holding his apple pie, unable to hide his surprise.

“Ah, just a little snack,” Kyle replied casually.

And that wasn’t all. After the ham came flour and water—meant originally for the Mooncalves. They could eat the herbs grown inside the suitcase, but they occasionally needed something special. The flour was for rolling their food into little balls to dry—something he’d learned from Newt.

As it turned out, it was coming in handy now.

Following Kyle’s guidance, the flour and water mixed and stirred on their own, quickly forming small balls of dough that flattened into round little pancakes.

A small flame flickered to life in the air, and the pancakes began to slowly rotate over it.

“Gubraithian Fire!” Professor McGonagall, well-versed in rare magical items, instantly recognized the source of the flame.

Her voice rose slightly.

“You’re using such a precious magical object to cook flatbread?”

“Yep. Magic’s meant to make life easier, after all,” Kyle replied matter-of-factly, nodding. “And this stuff’s incredibly efficient.”

Just like he said, within a few minutes, the surface of the flatbreads had turned a beautiful golden brown.

Then several slices of ham passed over the flame in sequence before hopping into the flatbreads, which automatically opened in the middle to receive them.

Since it was cured ham, no seasoning was necessary.

“Professor, want to try one?” Kyle offered one of the meat-filled flatbreads to Professor McGonagall.

She took it instinctively and bit into it.

To be honest, it didn’t taste particularly amazing, but it wasn’t bad either. And thanks to the Gubraithian Fire, the whole thing had a certain extra charm to it.

Even for her, it was the first time tasting something cooked over Gubraithian Fire. It was a strange sensation—a kind of luxurious novelty.

In that moment, Professor McGonagall began to understand, at least a little, why Dumbledore had chosen Kyle to stand in for him.

In some ways, the two of them really were alike—both prone to doing things that defied logic… or to put it more bluntly, things that were downright eccentric.

There were only a handful of wizards in the entire magical world who possessed Gubraithian Fire. Every single one of them treated it like a priceless treasure. Kyle might very well be the only person who would pull it out to grill flatbread.

McGonagall glanced at Kyle again. He had already handed the remaining two sandwiches to Professors Flitwick and Sprout and was busying himself once more.

This time, though, he wasn’t using the Gubraithian Fire. Instead, he’d conjured a simple flame spell—several wisps of fire floated gently around the flatbreads, distributing heat evenly.

“Why the change?” Professor McGonagall asked curiously.

“Oh, I just remembered—I used Gubraithian Fire once to burn a Dementor,” Kyle said. “Feels kind of wrong to use it for food after that.”

The compartment instantly fell silent.

Professor Flitwick looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand, then at Kyle. His face sank.

“You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?”

“I just now remembered,” Kyle replied. “Really, it’s fine. That fire’s completely clean—nothing to worry about.”

“Uh… I think I’ll stick to my apple pie,” Professor Flitwick said.

Kyle hadn’t thought much of it, but now that he’d said it out loud, he did feel a little off too.

The other two professors also quietly set down what they were eating.

“Well, don’t let it go to waste. We’ll take it back to Hogwarts for Fang. He’s not picky.”

...

While Kyle was still busy, Professor McGonagall watched him for a moment, then suddenly asked,

“By the way, earlier you mentioned Sirius is teaching Potter Animagus transformation?”

“Yes, said it was to give him an extra way to defend himself,” Kyle nodded, adjusting the flame to rotate evenly beneath the ham.

“It’s been a whole month and there’s still no progress… though that’s not really Sirius’s fault. It’s mostly because Harry keeps treating Mandrake leaves like snacks.”

“I think he’s eaten at least half a pound of them by now.”

One of the prerequisites for learning to become an Animagus was holding a Mandrake leaf in your mouth for an entire month—but Harry couldn’t even last a day.

The longest he managed was eight hours. He got through the day carefully, surviving on porridge, and then swallowed the leaf in his sleep.

Honestly, it was only because Sirius came from money that Harry could afford to munch on such expensive leaves like they were candy.

“Speaking of which...” McGonagall asked, “Are you interested in learning the spell? I’m sure you’ve got the foundational skill for it. If you’re willing, I could teach you this term.”

“Animagus?” Kyle blinked, then shook his head. “No, I’m not interested.”

“Not interested?”

“Mainly because it’s not all that useful,” Kyle said, looking up.

If becoming an Animagus meant he could turn into a magical creature, he’d absolutely go for it.

Not even something as rare as a dragon or a Nundu—he’d settle for a Niffler, just for the ability to slip through tight spaces.

But if it only meant turning into ordinary animals, it wasn’t nearly as tempting.

Kyle had once thought the greatest strength of an Animagus was stealth—being able to gather intel while transformed, or escape when outmatched.

But neither of those applied to him anymore.

A Niffler or a Bowtruckle could already help him scout around, and they were safer and more discreet.

As for escaping—sure, that might’ve been useful five years ago, but now? Honestly, there weren’t many wizards who could force him to run. And if he couldn’t escape using his ring, then turning into an animal wouldn’t help either.

So at this point, Animagus just felt kind of redundant.

Plus, the spell came with a major limitation: once you transformed into an ordinary animal, you were subject to all its physical limitations—and you couldn’t immediately switch back.

Take Rita Skeeter, for example. Once she turned into a beetle, a regular glass jar was enough to trap her.

Even Professor McGonagall, as a tabby cat—if someone managed to catch her, she wouldn’t be able to change back. And if they wanted to, they could squash her with ease.

It was basically creating a vulnerability for yourself. That’s why Kyle had always been hesitant to learn it.

Oh, and by the way—Animagus was currently the only known method of escaping from Azkaban.

But Kyle didn’t need that either. He had people on the inside… well, maybe not anymore, but he could always get someone new in there.

Either way, it was far more effective than turning into an animal and trying to slip out.

Kyle gave a brief explanation, and after listening, McGonagall thought it over and didn’t press further.

She had to admit—Animagus wouldn’t be of much help to Kyle. While the spell was often seen as a benchmark of Transfiguration skill, Kyle had already demonstrated exceptional ability at Lupin’s wedding. He didn’t need Animagus to prove anything.

Seeing she wasn’t going to bring it up again, Kyle felt relieved.

Actually, besides all that, there was one more reason—not that it was a real one...

Though it had never been officially confirmed, most people believed that a wizard’s Patronus usually matched their Animagus form.

If your Patronus was a cat, your Animagus form would probably be a cat too—like Professor McGonagall.

Sirius’s Patronus was a dog. James Potter’s was a stag—fitting for someone nicknamed “Prongs.”

One or two could be coincidence, but when it kept happening, it started to seem like a pattern.

That would be fine—except Kyle’s Patronus was a jellyfish. A water-dwelling creature.

What if his Animagus form ended up being a jellyfish too?

Transforming with a dramatic flash... only to flop onto the ground with a wet splap—how embarrassing would that be?