Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 847: Rumors Spread, a Divide Between Brothers

Leaving the Ministry of Magic, Kyle looked up at the bright, blinding sunlight.

He wondered whether such a scene could be seen from inside the Department of Mysteries. After all, this was something Ariana had always longed for.

It should be possible...

Though the Department of Mysteries was located on the lower levels of the Ministry, with the Unspeakablesʼ magical prowess, creating a window to the outside wouldnʼt be difficult.

And in any case, this was already the best arrangement.

It was impossible to bring someone from the past into the future. That simply wasn’t realistic. Even before he used the Time-Turner, he had spent a whole month drinking “raspberry juice.”

And then there was the most important point... Kyle extended his hand, staring blankly at his wand.

Since last night, he had begun to feel a subtle but persistent sense of rejection. The most obvious sign was that casting spells no longer felt as smooth as before.

It wasn’t glaringly apparent, but it was real.

The reason was simple—he didn’t belong here. Though he had returned using the Time-Turner, he was out of sync with everything around him.

Nicolasʼs “raspberry drink” could temporarily suppress this issue, but its effects were fading over time.

And if this was happening to him, then Ariana—brought forward a hundred years—would be no exception.

That’s why taking her to the Department of Mysteries was the best option.

At least there, Ariana wouldn’t be bored. The Unspeakables were incredibly busy—he could tell just from how rarely his mother was home.

And when people are busy, they don’t have time to dwell on sorrow. Maybe this job would help Ariana adjust more quickly to life without her brother.

Besides, the Unspeakables’ salaries weren’t low—higher even than Hogwarts professors, and only slightly less than the Heads of House. It was a stable, high-paying position.

There were times even Kyle felt tempted. Unfortunately, their recruitment was based entirely on prophecy, not performance.

Kyle shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside.

After leaving the Ministry, he found a secluded spot and used Apparition to return to Godric’s Hollow.

His most urgent task now was to confirm Dumbledore’s condition.

Kyle returned to the road where he had taken Ariana away and once more walked into the silent valley.

Although it was nearly noon, the valley felt stifling. Nearly everyone had gathered near a church to the south.

A funeral was being held... Ariana’s funeral.

Kyle stood quietly at the edge of the crowd. Through the throng, he could clearly see Aberforth collapsed over the freshly carved gravestone, sobbing uncontrollably.

The young Dumbledore, too, was in tears, his eyes filled with boundless remorse.

“You’ve got no right to cry!”

Aberforth suddenly erupted, spinning around and landing a heavy punch squarely on Dumbledore’s face.

Blood gushed from his mouth and nose. Dumbledore’s nose was broken on the spot, but he made no move to wipe it away. He just stared blankly at the gravestone, letting the blood smear across his face.

“You hypocritical bastard!” Aberforth tried to hit him again, but by then the others had snapped out of their daze and rushed to restrain him.

“That’s enough, Aberforth, that’s enough.” A middle-aged wizard held him tightly. “Albus is just as heartbroken. He’s already suffering enough.”

“Let go of me, you don’t understand!” Aberforth struggled furiously. “That cold-blooded bastard is probably relieved to be rid of the burden—secretly glad! How could he possibly be grieving... Let me go! I’ll kill him!”

But no one believed him. They assumed Aberforth was simply overwhelmed with grief and looking for someone to lash out at.

So they held him back tightly, not letting him strike Dumbledore again, and the scene quickly descended into chaos.

Yet Kyle noticed that only a few people had stepped forward to intervene. Most stood silently where they were.

It wasn’t that they were heartless, or unfamiliar with the Dumbledores. Godric’s Hollow was small—everyone saw each other regularly, and the ties between neighbors were naturally close. It was just that most of them hadn’t grasped what was going on.

Or rather, until today, they hadn’t even known the Dumbledore family had a teenage girl who had never once appeared in public.

“When did you get here?” someone suddenly asked, appearing beside Kyle.

“Oh, Corder.” Kyle turned and greeted him. “What happened here?”

“It’s Albus’s family…” Corder paused before continuing, “Honestly, I still find it hard to believe—they actually had a daughter.”

“And it’s not just me. Look over there—Bathilda seems clueless too. I always thought the two families were close. Back when Kendra was alive, the two of them used to have afternoon tea together all the time.”

Kyle followed the direction of his pointing finger and saw Bathilda Bagshot, her face full of confusion.

“You all didn’t know the Dumbledores had a daughter?” Kyle asked.

“No idea,” Corder replied with a firm shake of his head. “And neither did a lot of people. Kendra never mentioned her.”

At that, Corder suddenly lowered his voice.

“This isn’t the place to talk. Let’s go to the pub…”

“Is that okay?”

“It’s fine. The ceremony’s already over.”

Kyle nodded and followed Corder away from the church to the Valley Pub. He was just as glad to get away from the scene.

He took the initiative and ordered two glasses of their best brandy, then handed Corder a familiar brown paper bag.

“What’s this?”

“Something I borrowed from you,” Kyle said. “I told you I’d return it. Now it’s back where it belongs.”

When he had met the Unspeakable, Kyle had already removed the Invisibility Cloak from Ariana. The witch hadn’t brought it up again before leaving, which likely meant the Department of Mysteries had their own ways of handling an Obscurial—no need for him to worry.

“You’re really giving it back?” Corder still sounded incredulous.

“What, you don’t want it?” Kyle raised an eyebrow. “In that case, I’ll just keep it for myself…”

“Who said I don’t want it?” Corder snatched the paper bag and clutched it to his chest, lowering his voice. “I just didn’t expect you to actually return it. Honestly, the day I gave you the Cloak, I never thought I’d see it again.

“And truth be told, I even felt a bit relieved at the time.”

“How so?”

“Because it’s a massive headache.” Corder took a sip of brandy. “For centuries, wizards have hunted for the Deathly Hallows. It’s kind of ridiculous, really. Last night was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.”

“How about you sleep soundly for a few more nights, then?” Kyle chuckled. “I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Corder didn’t reply—he just hugged the paper bag tighter to show where he stood.

“Just so we’re clear, even though you gave it back, whatever you left behind is mine now… I drank all of it.”

“I never expected it back,” Kyle said. “Like I told you before—that was payment.”

“But seriously,” Corder glanced at Kyle with hesitation before finally blurting out, “This is a legendary Hallow. Are you really okay with giving it back?”

“It’s just a magical object.” Kyle waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, I’ve seen Ravenclaw’s Diadem—why would I care about this?”

“Hah! You’re drunk before we’ve even started drinking.” Corder let out a laugh. “If you’ve really seen Ravenclaw’s Diadem, then I… I…”

He glanced around theatrically. “I’ll take off my pants and run around Godric’s Hollow.”

“Make sure to give me a heads-up,” Kyle said, smiling. “So I can prepare some eye-cleansing potion in advance. We’ll make a killing.”

“Only if you’ve actually seen it,” Corder snorted. “Ravenclaw’s Diadem is way more mysterious than any of the Hallows. There aren’t even many legends about it. I’d bet Rowena Ravenclaw hid it somewhere no one could ever find it. Stop talking nonsense.”

“Let’s just leave it at that.” Kyle shrugged and didn’t bother to explain further. “So, tell me—what did you bring me here to talk about?”

“Just some gossip. Wasn’t a good idea to talk about it over there.” Corder took another sip of brandy. “Some people think the Dumbledore girl was a Squib. That’s why Kendra kept her locked away at home. Poor kid.”

“Why do they say that?” Kyle asked, clearly intrigued.

“Because of Kendra’s personality, of course,” Corder replied. “You don’t know—she was a fearsome woman… Well, maybe ‘fearsome’ is a bit much, but she was definitely proud. Overbearing, really.”

“Of course, Kendra had her good side too. Anything she got involved in was always handled beautifully, and most of the time, she was willing to help anyone in need—unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Her background,” Corder said, clearly conflicted. “I wasn’t really supposed to tell you this… but never mind. You’re not exactly an outsider.”

“Here’s the thing—Kendra was said to be Muggle-born, but she always insisted that she wasn’t. Anyone who brought it up would send her into a rage.”

“If someone like that gave birth to a Squib, there’s no way she’d let that child be seen—especially after Albus started showing such remarkable magical talent.”

“Muggle-born?” Kyle frowned. “Who said that?”

“Apparently, it came from a fellow Hogwarts student from her year.”

“Just one person?” Kyle tapped his fingers on the table. “Do you buy it?”

“To be honest, I don’t,” Corder said without hesitation, shaking his head. “And even if it’s true—so what? Everyone around here has a few Muggle-borns in the family somewhere.”

“It’s just that this girl suddenly showed up and brought all those old rumors back to life. I still can’t figure out why Kendra would lock her own daughter away.”

The more Corder spoke, the clearer a picture Kyle formed of her.

A strong-willed, straightforward, but highly capable witch.

As for Dumbledore’s father… no one had ever seen him. When the Dumbledores moved here, it had just been the three of them—Kendra, Albus, and Aberforth.

Gradually, the pub began to fill. Though it was still early, nearly every seat was taken.

And everyone was talking about the same thing—Ariana, the girl who had suddenly appeared, only to die just as suddenly.

People were stunned. How could someone be hidden away by her own mother for so many years, right under their noses?

Anger, suspicion, blame... everyone had their own view. Most condemned Kendra as an unfit mother. A few suggested there had to be some kind of misunderstanding, but their voices were quickly drowned in the rising din of conversation.

Kyle didn’t offer any explanations. He just found it slightly ironic.

Maybe the truth really was what they thought. Kendra was gone, after all, and no one could say for certain what her motives had been.

But in a way, Kendra had saved their lives.

If she hadn’t insisted on keeping Ariana shut away at home, then when the Obscurus finally erupted, no one in the village—no matter who they were—would have survived.

Kyle suddenly felt disheartened, the drink in his glass tasting flat. He stood up and walked out of the noisy pub.

He made his way to a hillside near the church, where he could just see the cemetery in the distance.

Most of the crowd had dispersed, leaving only a few behind—presumably those still connected to the Dumbledore family.

Aberforth and the younger Dumbledore were still there, but they remained far apart, as if separated by an unbridgeable chasm.

Kyle wanted to check on them, but given who he was, he knew there was nothing he could actually do, even if he walked over.

“Let’s give it time,” he murmured, turning away from the hill and wandering aimlessly through the streets of Godric’s Hollow.

Before he realized it, he had arrived near Bathilda Bagshot’s home.

Notably, he hadn’t seen Grindelwald anywhere—not near the church or anywhere else. It seemed he had already left Godric’s Hollow the day before.

Bathilda was sitting in her garden, staring blankly toward the Dumbledore house, lost in thought. She didn’t even notice Kyle standing nearby.

Seeing this, Kyle didn’t disturb her and headed straight for the barn.

If Dumbledore had escaped, this was likely where he would come.

Unfortunately, when Kyle pushed open the door, the barn was empty.

...

Late that night, the lights inside the houses gradually dimmed, and silence settled over Godric’s Hollow.

Beneath the moonlight, a figure moved quickly along the path, heading toward the church.

It was Kyle. He had waited the entire afternoon for Dumbledore, but with no sign of him, he had no choice but to go searching himself.

What he didn’t expect was that someone was still in the cemetery.

It was the young Dumbledore—still standing exactly where he had been before, as if he hadn’t moved at all.

Kyle glanced at him, then at the gravestone, and raised his wand.

What he was about to do probably wouldn’t be allowed by the other party—so he had to deal with this problem first.

In his current state, Kyle was confident he could take him down in an instant.

“Stupefy!”

A beam of red light shot through the air.

Just as Kyle expected, the unguarded Dumbledore was hit directly, his knees buckled, and he crashed to the ground.

Kyle walked over.

“Oh, I should’ve shown up earlier.”

A voice suddenly spoke from behind him.

Kyle turned, startled, then broke into a grin. “Professor, you’re still alive?”

“Uh, for now, yes,” Dumbledore said, stepping forward. “It wasn’t easy fooling them. When the Polyjuice Potion wore off, I nearly gave myself away. Luckily, the chaos at the time gave me a chance to use a Transfiguration charm.”

“You tricked all of them with just Transfiguration?” Kyle asked in surprise.

“I also used a special spell that made me look completely dead.”

“Once I woke up, I just used a pre-prepared Portkey to get out,” Dumbledore explained.

He glanced down at his younger self, unconscious on the ground, then instinctively touched his own head and muttered, “No wonder I woke up next to a gravestone with a splitting headache. Turns out that was your doing.”

“I should’ve set the Portkey to go off earlier. That really hurt.”

Kyle let out an awkward laugh and discreetly kicked a brick away from beside young Dumbledore’s head.

“It’s fine,” Dumbledore said. “At least the pain snapped me out of it.” Then he asked what he truly cared about most.

“How’s Ariana?”

“She’s safe,” Kyle said. “I took her somewhere secure—she’ll be alright.”

“Where?” Dumbledore asked anxiously.

“The Ministry of Magic. Department of Mysteries,” Kyle said, glancing at him. “Don’t even think about going to see her—at least not right now. If you do, everything we’ve done will be for nothing.”

“I know. I won’t go,” Dumbledore replied.

Kyle didn’t press him. On that point, he trusted Dumbledore not to act impulsively.