Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 902: Christmas, a Special Gift

The next day—Sunday—Hogwarts was steeped in a joyful atmosphere from the moment the sun rose.

The long-awaited Quidditch match had begun: the fated showdown between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

The young lions had been anticipating this for months, eager to shake off the shadow Hufflepuff had cast over them on the pitch.

In this kind of excitement, even losing that inexplicable 150 points no longer seemed like such a big deal.

After all, theyʼd already hit rock bottom in the standings. Compared to the House Cup, what they truly wanted was to reclaim the Quidditch Cup that had eluded them for seven years.

Ever since Harry had joined the team, Gryffindor had been nearly unbeatable on the field—except when they faced Hufflepuff. Every time, their dreams of victory were crushed on the spot—seven times in a row.

The first time, they blamed it on Hufflepuff’s high morale. The second, they claimed the new Seeker wasn’t used to the pitch. The third, it had rained… But after seven straight defeats, they were running out of excuses.

This time, they were determined to take back everything they’d lost...

Wait a second.

“Hey, that guy sitting in the staff section… doesn’t he look kind of familiar?” a third-year lion leaned over and whispered to his friend. “The one next to Professor Hagrid.”

His friend instinctively looked up—and immediately froze.

“Kyle? Didn’t he graduate?!”

Kyle had only left the school less than a year ago, so plenty of students still remembered him—along with his reputation.

In an instant, memories of the terror Kyle had brought with his Quaffle came flooding back.

There was a saying that circulated around the Hogwarts pitch: If your opponent is Hufflepuff, you’d better pray your Seeker catches the Snitch within twenty minutes—that’s your only shot at winning.

Because Kyle always scored 150 points within that timeframe. If the match dragged on, the score gap would only widen, and catching the Snitch wouldn’t save you.

You could say that Kyle had single-handedly elevated the importance of the Chaser—and made it clear to everyone that winning in Quidditch wasn’t just about catching that cursed little golden winged egg.

He wouldn’t have come back just to stop Gryffindor from winning… would he?

The little lion shuddered. What kind of grudge does this man hold to make a comeback like this?!

“Hey, did you see the bulletin board notice?”

Someone came rushing in, breathless.

“We’re getting a new professor!”

“What—Snape finally got arrested by the Aurors?”

“Or maybe he got trampled by a warthog.”

At the mention of a new professor, everyone’s minds immediately jumped to Defense Against the Dark Arts. After more than fifty years of rotating teachers, nothing surprised them anymore.

“Snape?” The newcomer paused. “No—Professor Babbling.”

“Professor Babbling? Who’s that?”

“She teaches Ancient Runes,” someone offered.

“Oh… and what’s that?”

“One of the third-year electives.”

“There’s a class like that?”

“Do us all a favor—get your head out of your arse and take another look at that damn schedule. Then you’ll know if Ancient Runes is real.”

“Hey, that’s not the point!” someone cut in, ending the bickering.

“The point is—the new professor replacing Babbling is also named Kyle. Could it be the one we know?”

“It has to be,” came a low voice from behind.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s already here.” The student pointed to the staff table—Kyle was there, talking with Hagrid.

Though deep down, he let out a breath of relief.

A professor? Excellent. Professors couldn’t play in Quidditch matches...

More and more students poured into the Great Hall for breakfast. They’d seen the notice posted outside, and now they saw Kyle seated up front with the faculty.

Whispers spread through the hall—after all, it wasn’t every day that a recent graduate turned around and became a professor. It was… novel, to say the least.

Among the crowd were a few familiar faces.

“So it is you, Kyle!” Ginny stood beside him, eyes wide. “Why didn’t you tell me?! And Mum too—how could she not write me about something this big?”

“Actually, you found out before she did,” Kyle said with a grin. “So? Surprised? Excited?”

“A little surprised,” Ginny admitted. “But I didn’t pick Ancient Runes, so… not really excited.” She shrugged—point made.

No class with him, no excitement.

Kyle’s smile vanished instantly.

“You’re just like your brother. Lazy and unmotivated.”

Ginny bristled.

She had at least five O’s under her belt, and here he was comparing her to Ron, whose highest mark was an E. That was beyond insulting!

Kyle was getting way out of line!

Ginny stormed off in a huff, while Kyle—quite pleased with himself—sipped his pumpkin juice and casually left the Great Hall with Hagrid.

...

At ten o’clock sharp, the Quidditch match began.

Almost the entire student body flocked to the stands. Their thunderous cheers echoed through the grounds, loud enough to reach the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Kyle didn’t go to watch. Neither did Hagrid.

Though he’d have liked to cheer for Harry, Christmas was fast approaching, and there was work to be done. Before the feast, the Great Hall needed to be decorated—including the twelve essential Christmas trees.

It was part of the groundskeeper’s job, and even though he now held the title of professor, Hagrid had never once slacked in his duties.

So after breakfast, Kyle reluctantly said goodbye to the dragons in the garden and made his way into the Forbidden Forest.

By midday, a line of perfectly shaped Christmas trees had been arranged outside the wooden cabin, along with holly, mistletoe, and other decorative plants—all handpicked by Hagrid.

By the time the feast began, those decorations would be hung from the walls and ceiling of the Great Hall, drawing the usual round of amazed gasps from the students.

But none of that concerned Kyle. He had no intention of spending Christmas at Hogwarts. That very afternoon, he and Fawkes appeared on the streets of the magical shopping district in France.

Of course he wouldn’t spend Christmas with a bunch of dim-witted Hogwarts students—this was a time to be with the people who actually mattered.

More importantly, their win streak was over.

He’d barely graduated, and Hufflepuff had already been crushed by Gryffindor—beaten in just ten minutes. Just thinking about it was infuriating.

Tie a Galleon in front of a broom and let a Niffler fly it—they’d probably do better than that team.

France was just as festive. Almost every storefront was decked out in magical decorations.

A towering Christmas tree stood in the center of the street—so tall it looked like a second Eiffel Tower. Clearly a magical creation; no normal tree could grow that big.

Kyle easily found Kanna’s shop.

Strange—why was the door closed again?

He knocked, puzzled.

Creak…

The door swung open from within. Fleur greeted him with open arms, practically glowing with excitement as she moved in for a hug.

Kyle was a little taken aback by her enthusiasm—and also a bit torn.

As a friend, he couldn’t exactly dodge her hug. But Kanna was here too. Was this really appropriate?

He stood there awkwardly, stuck between indecision and manners.

But the next moment, all hesitation vanished.

“There you are, finally—wait… damn it, it’s you.”

Fleur came to an abrupt halt.

All that joy on her face instantly twisted into disdain.

Kyle couldn’t understand how someone could change expressions so fast.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You own France now? Why can’t I be here?”

“Didn’t you just visit?” Fleur said, looking at him like he was something unpleasant stuck to her shoe. “If you miss her so much, why not just have Kanna move back to England?”

A lot had happened recently—repairing the Time-Turner, going back to 1899 to find Dumbledore, saving Ariana, busting up a Death Eater plot in Cornwall, and facing off against Voldemort with Fiendfyre in the Hebrides.

But those events had taken place outside of normal time, known only to a select few.

To Fleur, still living in the regular timeline, Kyle had only just left France—and now he was already back.

Annoying, wasn’t even the half of it.

“Not your business,” Kyle muttered, clearly irritated. But still, he couldn’t figure out why Fleur was so fired up today—like she’d swallowed a Blasting Curse.

Was she feeling unwell?

“Where’s Kanna?” Kyle looked around.

“In the basement, brewing potions. You’d better not disturb her.” Fleur had calmed down a bit by then. She reached over and pulled open the curtains, letting sunlight brighten the shop.

“Why are you closed?” Kyle asked. “You were closed last time too. Tomorrow’s Christmas—it’s the busiest time of year.”

“Because…” Fleur’s tone faltered, then continued, “We got a big order from Beauxbatons, and with Christmas coming up, it’s a tight deadline. We decided to close up to get it done.”

“But why are you here again? Things in England all sorted?” she asked, squinting slightly, as if trying to read something in his face.

“Same old story—power struggles, paranoia. But it’s still better than before,” Kyle said.

That much was true. Since the Hebrides, Voldemort had gone unusually quiet. Apart from Oren’s raid on Gringotts, there’d been no reports of Death Eater activity.

Or at least, none that the Aurors or Dumbledore had picked up on.

“It’s Christmas, figured I’d finally take a little time to come visit...” Kyle glanced toward the basement door. “When will Kanna be up?”

“No idea,” Fleur replied. “Usually by evening, sometimes later.”

“You two are really swamped, huh,” Kyle said, glancing at her.

“Obviously,” Fleur said, raising an eyebrow.

...

Kyle waited until evening before Kanna finally emerged from the basement, rubbing her eyes.

When she saw him, she froze for a moment—then lit up and ran toward him with a smile.

Unfortunately, just as Kyle opened his arms to receive the long-awaited hug, Fleur stepped in and shoved him aside.

Kanna ended up hugging her, and Fleur turned her head to shoot Kyle a smug, deliberately nasty smile.

No wonder she was ostracized at Beauxbatons. She really brought it on herself.

Kyle clenched his teeth. He had no idea what had gotten into Fleur today—why she was going out of her way to be difficult when he hadn’t even provoked her.

And that wasn’t all. When Kyle invited Kanna out for a Christmas dinner, Fleur shamelessly tagged along, completely oblivious—or indifferent—to the fact that she was a third wheel.

Later that night, Kyle tried to stay at the shop, only for Fleur to shove him out the door.

Kanna started to say something, but Fleur yanked her back inside.

“I can’t sleep in the street!” Kyle protested from outside, but all he got in return was silence—and a key tossed out the window.

“Number 97, south end of the commercial district. Find it yourself!” Fleur’s voice called out from within.

Left with no choice, Kyle took the key and followed the address she’d given him... only to find himself standing in front of a villa.

Unlike Diagon Alley, the French magical commercial street was more like Hogsmeade, with shops as well as a residential area for witches and wizards. Kyle had never been over that way before.

And he definitely hadn’t expected the housing to be this extravagant.

Unlike the quaint, old-fashioned style of Hogsmeade, Number 97 was a pristine, three-story white marble villa. If the grounds were just a little bigger, you’d call it a manor.

He unlocked the door with the key, and was immediately greeted by the rich, ornate style of classic French décor. In a word: luxury.

Fleur’s this rich?

Well… come to think of it, the Delacours were pretty well known in France. And really, anyone capable of winning over a Veela probably wasn’t just some average nobody.

Kyle lay back in the massive villa, staring at the ceiling with a sigh.

If he had the choice, he’d still rather be staying in the cramped little potion shop.

No bedroom? Who cared—as long as it felt warm and familiar.

But the problem was, Fleur had suddenly turned into a total gatekeeper—like Snape himself had taken over her body.

Wait.

Kyle suddenly sat up.

What if Fleur was Snape, using Polyjuice Potion?

It wasn’t impossible. She had been acting completely off today—like a different person entirely. And with Christmas around the corner, the Hogwarts professors were likely on break.

If Snape didn’t have any afternoon classes, he could’ve made it to France ahead of Kyle.

Did he already guess I’d come looking for Kanna?

Kyle stared thoughtfully out the window for a while before shaking his head.

No, I’m overthinking this.

Polyjuice Potion could change someone’s appearance, but not their bloodline. For example, someone who drank a potion with Hagrid’s hair might look like Hagrid, but they wouldn’t grow to his height—because height was tied to giant blood, and Polyjuice couldn’t replicate that.

And when Kyle saw Fleur earlier, he’d still felt the inexplicable urge to stuff her into a suitcase.

That confirmed it—her Veela blood was still very much intact. There was no way she was Snape in disguise.

Which only made things stranger… What the hell is going on with her?

Kyle spent the whole night thinking it over, but came up with nothing.

...

The next morning, he returned to the shopping district.

And there, already waiting in front of the potion shop, was a familiar figure—dressed in a ridiculous, boxy cardboard getup with a bright red ribbon perched on his head.

Bill Weasley.

The man had literally dressed himself as a Christmas present.

Shameless.

Kyle curled his lip in disdain.

But Fleur seemed completely into it. The two of them were wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing without a care in the world.

“Bloody hell,” Kyle muttered under his breath, pulling out his camera with a blank expression.

Click!