Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 934: This Damn Hogwarts, I Can’t Stay Here Another Minute

The early morning sunlight broke through the clouds and spilled over the rooftops of Hogsmeade Village.

At some point, dawn had quietly arrived.

Kyle had finally understood what Dumbledore intended to do—but his reaction was surprisingly calm, even indifferent.

“There’s no need for that, Professor,” Kyle said, waving a hand dismissively. “I only did what needed to be done. The Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts—we had every right to fight back. And even if killing them wasn’t wrong in the slightest, why should you be worried anyone would come after me for it?”

“Kyle, this isn’t about right or wrong,” Dumbledore said seriously. “Even Tom never killed over two hundred wizards in one go. That kind of unchecked power—whether just or not—will inevitably make others fearful, even hostile... even if they know youʼre not a Dark wizard.”

“Believe me, Kyle—no one understands this better than I do,” Dumbledore added earnestly.

It wasn’t that Kyle didn’t believe him. He knew exactly how the Ministry operated—better than most.

“But I never killed that many Death Eaters,” Kyle said. “Two hundred and sixty? I’m not even sure I’ve killed twenty-six.”

He pulled over a chair and sat down, glancing at Dumbledore. “The Death Eaters wrecked the school greenhouse—that’s what let the Chomping Cabbages loose. What’s that got to do with me? If they got themselves bitten, that’s on them.”

“And as for the Fiendfyre, all I did was trap those Death Eaters. I never meant to kill them. Voldemort’s the one who got angry at their incompetence and deliberately redirected the spell, lost control of the fire, and ended up roasting his own followers. Then he tried to blame me for it. That two-faced Dark wizard—absolutely vile.”

“But I believe in Minister Bones—she’s fair and impartial. She’ll see through his schemes and clear my name.”

Kyle’s voice was calm, steady—but Dumbledore was staring at him in a daze.

Especially with the way Kyle said it, so full of conviction. Someone who didn’t know him might’ve taken every word at face value.

But Dumbledore knew him well. And he’d seen the whole battle unfold.

Not a word of it was true.

First of all, even if the school’s greenhouse did contain that many Chomping Cabbages, how could they have all bypassed the castle and avoided every Death Eater just to end up exactly where they caused the most damage?

And Tom? Tom, in the middle of a war, sacrificing over a hundred Death Eaters just to frame Kyle?

Dumbledore thought even if Tom ground his soul into black pepper, he’d never come up with a plan that absurd.

But Kyle didn’t seem bothered. He continued, completely unbothered:

“So what if he tried to pin it on me? He’s a notorious Dark wizard, the one responsible for tearing countless wizarding families apart. Who’s going to believe anything he says?”

“That doesn’t mean everyone won’t,” Dumbledore finally interrupted, shaking his head. “All it takes is one dissenting voice to cause you trouble… especially from someone at The Daily Prophet. There are people there who love digging into the hidden sides of famous wizards.”

The Daily Prophet?

Kyle paused—then burst out laughing.

“Oh, Professor, if you’re talking about Rita Skeeter, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Hmm?” Dumbledore thought of his own past encounters. “I’m afraid you underestimate her. That woman always gets what she wants—and she doesn’t care if you’re a hero.”

“True enough,” Kyle chuckled. “I admit, Rita Skeeter is excellent at what she does. But, Professor, there’s something you probably don’t know—something most people don’t know… In a way, Rita Skeeter and I are actually partners.”

“Partners?” Dumbledore blinked, unsure he’d heard correctly.

“Let me put it this way,” Kyle said after a moment’s thought. “I provide her with a steady stream of high-quality, exclusive information. So, at the moment, we’re in a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“Oh, and by the way, she’s at Hogwarts too. She was here for the entire defense of the castle.” Kyle suddenly remembered. “If I had to guess, she’s probably in some corner right now writing up her report.”

“Voldemort fled in disgrace, the Death Eaters were wiped out—I bet the next issue of The Daily Prophet is going to sell like crazy.”

Dumbledore listened, momentarily stunned.

What is going on? Rita Skeeter is at Hogwarts too?

“Anyway, that’s how it is,” Kyle went on. “Rita Skeeter may be questionable when it comes to character, but I can guarantee this: she won’t betray a partner, and she won’t publish anything that puts me in a bad light.” He said it with absolute certainty.

Dumbledore wasn’t so sure. For a moment, it felt like he and Kyle were talking about two different people.

He was aware of some cooperation between Kyle and Rita, but it was hard to believe that a witch so addicted to exposing secrets would simply leave Kyle untouched.

Betrayal wasn’t just in her nature—it was practically her brand.

Still, Dumbledore said nothing more.

Just then, Harry groggily pushed himself up from the floor.

He clearly hadn’t fully recovered from the effects of the Dementor. He looked like he’d just climbed out of the Black Lake in the dead of winter—his face pale, and he kept rubbing his arms for warmth.

“It’s so cold... What happened to me...” Harry sat on the ground, instinctively glancing to the side.

“Ron, Hermione, you...”

“They’re fine,” Kyle said, waving his wand. An invisible force gently moved the two unconscious figures onto a more spacious patch of floor nearby.

Since it was chilly in the early morning, Kyle thoughtfully conjured two sleeping bags for them.

“Why didn’t you wake them up?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“Because I didn’t want to explain why I knocked them out in the first place,” Kyle replied matter-of-factly. “How are you feeling? Can you still connect to Voldemort’s mind?”

That question brought it all rushing back, and Harry shivered again.

The close encounter with the Dementor had been awful—especially when it had nearly given him the Kiss.

That sensation of his soul being pulled from his body still haunted him. Even just remembering it made him uneasy. If he could help it, he never wanted to go through that again.

“Harry, are you listening?”

Kyle’s voice snapped him out of it—and reminded him there was still work to do.

“Oh… I’ll give it a try,” Harry said.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the pain from his scar.

He’d done it so many times before—the scar on his forehead acted like a second eye. As long as it flared with that familiar burn, he could see Voldemort’s thoughts.

But this time, nothing.

No vision. No pain. Nothing at all.

The scar, which used to sear like a branding iron, had fallen completely silent. If he didn’t reach up and touch it, he wouldn’t even know it was there.

“I... I don’t know,” Harry said reflexively. “I can’t feel anything. I don’t know where Voldemort is.”

“That’s how it should be,” Kyle nodded. He wasn’t surprised—if anything, he looked relieved.

If the Dementor had sucked out Voldemort’s soul fragment and Harry still had access to his mind, then Kyle would’ve had no choice but to hand him over to test the Killing Curse.

Luckily, it hadn’t come to that.

“I forgot to ask—what are you doing here?” Kyle asked, watching Harry try to wake Ron. “Is everything at the school already wrapped up?”

“Ah, no,” Harry replied. “We came here to find a Runespoor. It’s another one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. He hid it here, along with the Malfoy family.”

“I realized he didn’t take it with him when he fled, so I thought I’d come back and try my luck.”

As he spoke, Harry glanced around the room.

He didn’t see the Runespoor—and the Malfoys were nowhere in sight either. They must have fled before Dumbledore arrived.

The realization left Harry deeply disappointed. He couldn’t help but think: if he hadn’t gone to the headmaster’s office to view Snape’s memories—if he’d come straight back here—maybe he could’ve been the one to send the Malfoys to Azkaban.

What a waste. He sighed.

“If the Horcrux you’re talking about is a thirty-foot-long Runespoor, it’s over there,” Kyle said, pointing to a corner on the left.

Harry turned his head and saw a scorched mark along the wall.

“That’s the Runespoor you mentioned,” Kyle explained. “If you look closely, you might be able to scrape together what’s left of it.”

“It’s already dead?” Harry looked stunned. “But... no one else knew it was here, except us…”

“Then why do you think I came here?” Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. “Next time, you or Ron should take some time to learn a Concealment Charm. Don’t both squeeze under the Invisibility Cloak. It can’t hide the two of you anymore.”

“What?” Harry nearly jumped. “Don’t tell me you’ve been—”

“Yes,” Kyle said calmly. “I’ve been following behind you ever since you entered the passage. When Voldemort turned to chase you, it gave me just enough time to double back and deal with the snake.”

“What about Malfoy? Did you see Malfoy?” Harry asked urgently.

“No... I didn’t,” Kyle shook his head. “When I came back, the snake was the only one here. I’d say they fled early.”

“I see...” Harry dropped his head again, looking gloomy.

“Don’t worry,” Kyle said, patting his shoulder. “You’ll get another chance to see Draco Malfoy.”

“I’d rather not,” Harry muttered.

“Fair enough,” Kyle said. “But we should head back. Everyone else is busy, and we’re the only ones slacking off—it’s not a good look.”

“R-right.” Harry nodded, then glanced down at Ron and Hermione, hesitating.

“Oh—almost forgot.” Kyle pulled out his wand and tapped it against a few nearby stones.

Seconds later, the stones sprouted thick arms and legs, picked up the sleeping bags, and carried them into the passage.

“Oh—wait for me!” Harry called out, hurrying after them.

But Kyle, who had just suggested returning to the castle, remained standing where he was.

“Professor,” he said, turning again to Dumbledore, “Harry just reminded me—there’s something I think I should tell you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about Nurmengard,” Kyle said, and gave a brief summary of what he’d overheard earlier.

“After Professor Snape looked into it, he came to the conclusion that Voldemort still believes Grindelwald is the true master of the Elder Wand.”

“Even though the wand is broken now, there’s still a chance they might go to Nurmengard.”

“What?”

Kyle didn’t even catch how Dumbledore got to his feet.

“You mean they’ve gone to Nurmengard?”

“It’s just a possibility,” Kyle shrugged. “Now that the Death Eaters have basically been wiped out, Voldemort will need greater power to take revenge—like fully mastering the Elder Wand.”

“And even though it’s broken, the wand core is still intact, which means there’s a chance it could be repaired.”

“Damn it, I should never have told Severus about Nurmengard,” Dumbledore muttered.

“Huh?” Kyle tilted his head. “You told Professor Snape?”

“For… certain reasons, he found out you’d been there,” Dumbledore said as he turned toward the door.

“Need any help?” Kyle asked, visibly eager.

“If it comes to that…” Dumbledore said, “But I think for now, it’s better if you stay here. You must be exhausted.”

“Fair point,” Kyle nodded.

After battling Voldemort for so long, his legs still felt like jelly.

But if it meant going to Nurmengard with Dumbledore, Kyle was pretty sure he could squeeze out a bit more energy.

Worst case—he still had potions.

“So leave it to me,” Dumbledore said.

Unfortunately, it was clear he had no intention of bringing Kyle along. He turned and made for the exit.

But at the threshold, he paused, looked back, and said, “I’ll be back after dawn. Just like we agreed—”

“No, Professor Dumbledore, I never agreed to anything. That was your own assumption,” Kyle said, shaking his head.

“But—”

“Relax, Professor,” Kyle cut him off. “Even if things turn out just like you said... I can always leave Britain.”

Dumbledore hesitated, watching Kyle closely. A subtle change crossed his expression.

“Professor, do you actually think I’d become the next Dark Lord?” Kyle raised an eyebrow, half-joking.

“Of course not,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “You’re not like Tom. You have friends, you have family. You’ll never become someone like him.”

“But it’s not impossible, is it?” Kyle continued. “Say the Ministry turns its wand on me, starts harassing me nonstop…”

“You know me, Professor—I’m not like you. I’m not going to smile and turn the other cheek when they make trouble for me. I’ll fight back. That, I can promise you.”

He stood up and paced the room slowly.

“And if I do fight back, the Ministry will have every excuse to label me an enemy. At that point, it won’t matter what I want. I’ll be the next ‘Dark Lord’ in everyone’s mouth whether I like it or not.”

Dumbledore fell silent.

And there was something else Kyle hadn’t said out loud: if he did become the next Dark Lord, without Dumbledore around, there was no one in the British wizarding world who could stop him.

The few who might be capable—like Newt or Nicolas Flamel—were his close allies.

Even the Department of Mysteries was deeply entangled with him. Diana was his mother. And Ariana... honestly, Dumbledore wasn’t sure. If it came down to it, he couldn’t say for certain Ariana wouldn’t take Kyle’s side.

“I think you’re overthinking things, Professor. Or is this just how older wizards get? Paranoid and dramatic?” Kyle gave him a wink.

Before Dumbledore could answer, Kyle went on. “The magical world isn’t limited to Britain, you know. If I’m not welcome here, I can leave.”

“France is great. Madam Maxime’s been trying to get me to transfer to Beauxbatons for ages… To be honest, the offer’s really tempting. I’ve nearly given in a few times.”

Dumbledore stared at him in silence, then finally murmured, “I’m sorry, Kyle.”

“It’s only natural, Professor. I get it.” Kyle smiled faintly, then sighed. “And just so you know, I’m not saying that to comfort you—I really do want to go to France.”

“Oh—why?”

Visibly flustered, Dumbledore even pulled his foot back inside and stepped fully into the room again.

“What’s wrong with Hogwarts? If you’re talking about that new Alchemy class, once this mess with Tom is settled, you can start working on it right away.”

“It’s not that,” Kyle said, waving it off.

Any British wizard who’s ever had proper French cuisine can’t help but feel a little less attached to this place.

Sure, the Hogwarts house-elves were talented, but the food was always the same handful of dishes. Kyle had been eating them since first year—and frankly, he was tired of them.

Something new sounded great.

A few years in France. And once he was sick of French food, he’d go somewhere even better.

The more he thought about it, the more doable it sounded. Settling in another country wasn’t easy for a wizard, but Kyle had connections.

Madam Maxime in France—he’d barely have to say a word, and everything would be handled.

Then there were Newt and Nicolas. They knew wizards from all over the world. One letter and the problem would be solved.

At that point, why would he care what the British Ministry thought?

Kyle’s steps quickened as he walked, already daydreaming about where he might live next. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t want to stay in this damn Hogwarts a minute longer.

Across from him, watching Kyle’s eyes practically gleam, Dumbledore pursed his lips—and suddenly realized he might have made a very big mistake.