Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 863: Let Me Buy You a Drink

“You want to find the Basilisk? Sure, no problem—now roll over and show me...”

Bang!

In a cloud of dust, Kyle struggled to pull himself free from a tangle of vines, sitting on the ground and grimacing as he rubbed his shoulder.

Not far away, Newt—who had been weighing the Liondragon—glanced over, rubbed his forehead in exasperation, and drew his wand.

“Incarcerous!”

A dozen thick vines, each as wide as a bowl, shot in from all directions, wrapping tightly around the Hungarian Horntail’s limbs and tail, pinning it in place. One vine even wrapped around its mouth to stop it from breathing fire.

“Thanks,” Kyle said, limping over.

Getting smacked by a dragon’s tail really hurt. Even though he’d prepared in advance and blocked the two-foot-long spikes on its tail with a spell, Kyle still felt like his whole body had been torn apart.

“I can help you this time, but I think you’d better stop provoking it,” Newt said, not even turning his head.

“I know. I just wanted to test its tolerance,” Kyle shrugged.

The Horntail had been bitten by the Basilisk some time ago. Though it hadnʼt been killed by the venom, it had fallen unconscious for several days, and even after waking, it remained wobbly and unsteady.

But the Horntail didn’t care about its condition. As soon as it was able to fly again, it took off looking for the Basilisk, hell-bent on revenge.

Kyle had appeared at just the right moment, released the Basilisk, and—when the two were locked in battle—had forcibly commanded the Basilisk to return to its cave to sleep.

That... had been a bit of a risky move. The real problem started after the Basilisk left—because the Hungarian Horntail promptly turned its attention on Kyle.

Thankfully, Newt had been nearby and managed to pull Kyle out of the dragon’s jaws at the last second.

After that, Kyle took on the role of a well-meaning parent, constantly separating the two and keeping them from meeting again.

Neither of them seemed particularly grateful.

“I’m telling you,” Kyle said, pointing at the Horntail’s chin, clearly annoyed, “if you smack me with that tail again, I swear I’ll make the Basilisk sleep in its cave for the next two hundred years. You’ll never see it again.”

The Hungarian Horntail’s pupils narrowed into vertical slits, and it began thrashing violently.

Whether it was intentional or just the dragon’s brute strength, the vines binding it were quickly torn apart.

With a single claw, it ripped the restraint off its mouth and lunged toward Kyle.

Kyle stood there calmly. “Go ahead, kill me. You’ll never find the Basilisk and get your revenge.”

The Horntail abruptly lifted itself higher, wings beating hard, and flew past Kyle—its wings barely brushing his hair.

“Tch. Still think you can mess with me...” Kyle raised his left hand and flicked the Horntail off with his middle finger.

That did it. The dragon exploded in fury, spewing flames wildly in all directions. Chaos broke out once more.

But curiously, not a single flame came near Kyle.

“Ahh...” Newt sighed again.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d sighed by now. His original idea had been for Kyle to use the Basilisk to occupy the Horntail’s attention, giving it time to cool down and build some trust while recovering from its loss.

Kyle’s ability to communicate with magical creatures was his biggest asset. Even if the Horntail’s personality meant it would never be as friendly as Norbert, peaceful coexistence should’ve been possible.

But Newt hadn’t expected Kyle to take such a... confrontational route. He was convinced that if the Horntail ever defeated the Basilisk, it would immediately roast Kyle alive.

Kyle had spoken so fast that by the time Newt realized something was wrong, it was already too late to stop him.

Oh well. What’s done is done.

Newt went back to combing through the spiny ridge atop the Liondragon’s head. The spikes were gradually hardening now. He ignored the Hungarian Horntail raging in the background, acting as if he hadn’t seen a thing.

Even if that day did come, Kyle was strong enough now to handle the Hungarian Horntail on his own. There was no need to worry.

Newt gave the Liondragon’s spines another careful prod. It seemed to annoy the little creature, which promptly snorted two fireballs from its nostrils—nearly setting Newt’s beard alight.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. No wonder they were called Fireball Dragons—their flames really were perfectly round.

He walked over and sat down, and Iron Belly and Longhorn immediately came bounding over. Their massive heads pressed up against him in unison.

Kyle’s mood instantly lifted. He pulled out a large pile of snacks and began feeding them.

Honestly, if you wanted to raise a dragon, you had to start from the egg. The whole experience was so much better than dealing with a certain stubborn breed.

Too bad the Dragon Reserve didn’t accept returns... Kyle glanced over at the still-raging Hungarian Horntail and felt a surge of irritation.

They were both dragons—how could the difference be this drastic?

“How’s it going? Any progress?” Kyle turned to Newt and asked.

“Cleared up quite a few questions,” Newt replied. “The next edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them will have a lot more on Liondragons.”

“When will that be?”

“Might take a while,” Newt said. “Lochneal’s new paper is about to be published. It’s on a completely new magical creature, and that’s going to be the centerpiece of the next edition.”

“I see.” Kyle nodded, then couldn’t resist reaching out to tease the Liondragon.

Two more fireballs shot out, but this time Newt wasn’t so lucky—his hair and beard were both smoking, accompanied by the acrid scent of burning.

“If you’re really that bored, go help Dobby take care of your Dementor. He’s too scared to go near it,” Newt said, finally losing patience. “Honestly, I don’t even know where you got that thing, or what you’re feeding it.”

“Nothing. Doesn’t need feeding—it can’t die anyway,” Kyle replied offhandedly.

Truth be told, if it weren’t for the ongoing renovation of his suitcase, he would’ve completely forgotten about the Dementor.

It mostly stayed in the remote, cold zone Kyle had partitioned off—and since it was the only thing in there, Kyle didn’t always remember it existed.

After helping Newt put out the flames on his head, Kyle swung himself onto Iron Belly’s back and gave it a pat.

The little dragon immediately stood up, spread its wings, and soared forward with Kyle. It wasn’t as fast as a fully grown dragon, but the ride was still satisfying.

Dobby was in a pitch-dark cave not far away. When Kyle found him, he was clutching a wooden bucket and trembling as he stared ahead.

“Sir...”

When he saw Kyle, his tennis ball-sized eyes looked over with a pitiful gleam.

“I get it. I’ll handle it.”

Jumping down from the dragon’s back, Kyle took the bucket, opened the lid, and casually tossed it aside.

From the bucket floated a glowing orb, flickering like a firefly. At the same time, a layer of frost began forming on the cave walls. A Dementor in a black hood floated out at an eerie speed, gliding straight to the bucket and greedily sucking the glowing orbs into its mouth.

Dobby was even more terrified, instinctively gripping a nearby rock for support.

“What is that stuff?” Kyle asked curiously.

“Itʼs... Physalis... Iris...” Dobby’s voice was trembling so hard it sounded like his tongue might knot itself.

Kyle gave him a glance, then led him out of the cave.

Only once they were outside did Dobby finally return to normal, gasping for air like a man who’d just narrowly escaped death.

“You mentioned Physalis and Iris earlier. What else?”

“Put them inside the body of a glowing hound for an hour, then take them out and roast them. Mix the smoke into the saliva of a Fwooper,” Dobby said. “It was Mr. Newt who told me to do it.”

A glowing hound... a Patronus?

Kyle rubbed his chin. He remembered Newt’s Patronus was a Basset Hound—short legs and all, kind of adorable.

Since a Patronus was the embodiment of happiness, it made sense that any herbs it came into contact with might change in some way. But could happiness really transfer to herbs?

Kyle honestly had no idea... Still, the Dementor seemed to be enjoying itself. It had already devoured all the glowing orbs and was now rubbing its face against the wooden bucket, looking like it hadn’t eaten in days.

Kyle curled his lip.

Youʼre a Dementor—the dreaded warden of Azkaban, the embodiment of darkness and evil, Harry Potter’s ultimate sleeping aid... and now youʼre licking a bucket?

Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?

Just then, another Longhorn Dragon flew in from the distance, bringing news from Newt.

Dumbledore had arrived.

Kyle immediately forgot about the Dementor and hurried back with Dobby in tow. The poor house-elf was so frightened when he climbed onto the dragonʼs back, he nearly passed out.

From far off, Kyle spotted Dumbledore.

“Professor, is it finished?” he asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said with a smile, taking out a suitcase and opening it. “Want to take a look? I promise you’ll be satisfied.”

Kyle jumped straight in.

The inside of the suitcase had completely transformed. Nearly half the forest was gone, replaced by towering cliffs and steep crags.

Thankfully, there were no blue castles or pink trees. Aside from the odd shapes of some cliffs, everything looked fairly normal.

The lake had expanded several times over, stretching so far it vanished into the horizon. In the middle of it was a large island, and for some reason, it looked oddly familiar to Kyle.

“This was modeled after Newt’s suitcase design,” Dumbledore said, walking up behind him. “I figured the Hungarian Horntail would enjoy this kind of environment. And you happen to have one, don’t you?”

“That stubborn beast?” Kyle snorted. “I think a patch of grass would do just fine. No need to spoil it with a place this nice.”

“That’s your call,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle. “I had planned to expand the space in here as well, but I ran out of time. I need to take Ariana somewhere tomorrow, and I also have to squeeze in the Sorting Ceremony in the evening.”

“Maybe you can take care of it yourself. I imagine the Undetectable Extension Charm isn’t beyond you.”

“Wait a second,” Kyle said, brushing off the space issue. “Sorting Ceremony... Hogwarts is starting?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded. “Why? You didn’t know? I do wish I could be there.”

Kyle genuinely hadn’t realized.

He’d been so caught up in bonding with the dragons that he hadn’t noticed at all.

“It’s fine, Professor. You don’t have to rush back.” Kyle looked up and reached for Dumbledore’s head. “Just give me a bit of your hair.”

Dumbledore immediately sidestepped.

If you asked a British wizard what their most treasured possession was, hair would definitely be in the top three. At Dumbledore’s age, still not needing a wig was almost unheard of.

He’d rather have Fawkes peck at his beard than give up any from the top of his head.

And Kyle was reaching for a whole handful?

“Polyjuice Potion,” Kyle explained. “I’ve actually been impersonating the Headmaster for a while now. As long as we hand everything off to Professor McGonagall before term starts, we’re good.”

“You... impersonated me?” Dumbledore blinked in surprise.

Before coming here, he’d gotten some word of recent events and knew that “Dumbledore” had made a few appearances at Hogwarts.

But all his attention had been on Ariana, so he hadn’t given it much thought—just assumed he’d gone back at some point.

He hadn’t expected it to be Polyjuice Potion.

Still, that meant he didn’t have to divide his focus now. Judging by Ariana’s behavior earlier, what she had to do seemed quite important.

“So I never actually returned to school?”

“Nope,” Kyle said. “At least, I never saw another Dumbledore while I was there.”

As he spoke, he rummaged through his Mokeskin pouch.

“Good thing I still have a bottle left—should be enough.” He pulled out a small vial of grayish-brown, viscous potion.

Polyjuice Potion—one he’d swiped from Slughorn’s office. He’d used some back in 1899, and this was all that remained.

Then Kyle turned to Dumbledore and gave him a wink.

“All right, I understand,” Dumbledore sighed. “But if it’s just Polyjuice Potion, surely a bit of beard would do...”

“Either is fine,” Kyle said.

Dumbledore’s hair and beard were the same color and about the same length. Kyle hadn’t been sure which to use.

As long as it worked, that was what mattered.

Dumbledore turned around, and a moment later, he returned with a handful of silvery-white beard. Judging by the lopsided look—one side thick, the other sparse—he’d only pulled from one side.

Kyle opened his mouth, speechless.

In truth, he wanted to explain that he hadn’t been acting as Headmaster the entire time at school, so there was no need for so much, but he was worried that saying so might hurt Dumbledore all over again—so he let it go.

Kyle pulled out an envelope and placed the Polyjuice Potion and the beard inside.

The two of them stepped outside the suitcase, where Dobby had already prepared dinner—some toasted bread, with the faint aroma of stew lingering in the air.

“Professor, you’ll also need to write a letter to Professor McGonagall to tell her that I’ll be standing in as Headmaster for a while.”

“What should I write?” Dumbledore asked.

“No idea.” Kyle shrugged. “I only glanced at the letter back then before tossing it, so I don’t remember what it said... Just write whatever comes to mind.”

“All right.”

Before long, the letter was finished.

Kyle gave it a quick look—and in an instant, he was back on the Hogwarts Express, recalling the moment he’d first read that letter.

At the time, he’d silently cursed Dumbledore for being an old fool.

Once Dumbledore had finished writing, the two of them quickly grabbed a few bites of toast, then said a brief farewell to Newt and set off. They needed to get these things to Professor McGonagall before the school year began.

It wasn’t difficult—Professor McGonagall usually returned to the castle about a week before term started. All they needed was to send the letter via owl.

Using the Portkey, the two arrived in Hogsmeade. Judging by the time, Professor McGonagall was likely in the middle of preparing the new student list for the next day.

Kyle entered the nearby owl post office and paid three Sickles to send the envelope.

When the clerk heard that the letter was bound for Hogwarts, he gave Kyle a strange look—like he was staring at a malnourished troll.

Was this the first time someone had used a Portkey just to send a letter to Hogwarts?

Wouldn’t it have been easier to walk? The castle was only a few minutes away—he could’ve saved both time and money.

And any wizard who could use a Portkey surely wasn’t so poor that he couldn’t afford his own owl.

Still, since the customer had already come all this way, the clerk said nothing. He took the Sickles and casually slipped the letter into the claws of a nearby owl.

Naturally, Kyle did have an owl—but there was no way he’d send Ratton with this particular letter. And besides, the Portkey had been made by Dumbledore; Kyle was just along for the ride.

As Kyle walked out of the post office, he spotted Dumbledore staring off in the direction of the Hog’s Head Inn.

“You haven’t gone to see Aberforth yet?”

“No.” Dumbledore shook his head. “Earlier I wanted to tell him the good news, but Ariana said the time wasn’t right—she told me to wait a little longer.”

“Is it time now?”

“Almost,” Dumbledore said.

“Then why did we come all the way here?”

“Because I suddenly realized... I don’t think I’ve ever gone to the Hog’s Head as a regular customer. Every time I’ve been there, he’s yelled at me.”

Dumbledore touched the crooked bridge of his nose, then suddenly broke into a mischievous grin.

“Kyle, how about I buy you a drink?”