Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 968: Grindelwald: What Ugly Gloves

After a long standoff, Kyle finally entered the headmaster’s office with Grindelwald.

Grindelwald was clearly displeased, feeling that this was a sign of distrust and an insult to his character. But Kyle remained firm, and he had no choice but to follow.

There was no helping it—Hogwarts was the place Dumbledore cherished most. If they started a fight here, their just-barely-repaired relationship would definitely fall apart again.

That was something Grindelwald couldn’t accept.

“You’re even more annoying than that Scamander...” he muttered.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Kyle said casually without looking back. “A lot of people have said that. But more people think I’m a law-abiding, outstanding wizard.”

“Maybe I should ask you for some tips on using the Confundus Charm.”

“Even Professor Dumbledore said the same thing.”

“No surprise there. Albus has always had terrible taste. He once said Scamander was his favorite student.”

“In the Hogwarts Trophy Room, I have the most Special Awards for Services to the School.”

“I won nine Durmstrang Gold Medals.”

“You know exactly how you got those honors,” Kyle said stiffly.

Those medals were all awarded to Grindelwald during his peak, when Durmstrang wanted to polish its own reputation by giving him a bunch of accolades—including the title of honorary alumnus.

And they did it nine years in a row... Truly shameless. No wonder that guy Karkaroff could become headmaster—it clearly runs in the bloodline.

“Doesn’t matter. I have them, and more than you, for sure,” Grindelwald said indifferently.

He used to think Durmstrang was a bit shameless, but in hindsight, that shamelessness turned out to be pretty useful.

...

The two bantered as they climbed to the top of the rotating staircase.

Kyle was the first to push open the oak door and walk in.

“Wait here a second, I’ll go turn the portraits over first—”

Before he could finish, Grindelwald stepped right in.

“Hey, who are you talking to?”

“How rude—he actually wanted to turn us all around...”

The headmasters in the portraits all opened their eyes. Phineas even leaned sideways, trying hard to see through the open door.

“Let me see—did you bring a wanted man into Hogwarts?”

Kyle froze in place, eyeing Grindelwald, who was casually wandering around the office.

Judging from the headmasters’ reactions, they didn’t seem to see Grindelwald...

But that was impossible. Kyle could see him—clearly.

“What, want to learn?” Grindelwald turned, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“If you can offer something satisfactory, I’ll teach you.”

“Who’s talking?” In an instant, nearly all the portraits looked toward the voice.

They couldn’t see anyone—but they definitely heard someone speak.

It had come from inside the headmaster’s office.

“Is it Harry Potter? I remember he has an Invisibility Cloak.”

“No, sounds like an older wizard.”

“Who’s in here?!”

The headmasters all started shouting. But Grindelwald didn’t care in the slightest. He just waited patiently for Kyle’s response.

“No. I’m not interested,” Kyle said flatly. “I’ve got nothing to hide. Why would I need a charm that hides from portraits?”

“What a shame.” Grindelwald sighed, the disappointment flashing briefly across his face.

“If it’s a different charm, I might consider it,” Kyle added. “I’ve still got a few things in reserve.”

“I refuse,” Grindelwald replied, turning away.

He didn’t need to guess what Kyle wanted to learn. But he had already promised Dumbledore not to teach Kyle any powerful dark magic.

“Hey! Who are you talking to?!” Phineas was practically pressing his face against the picture frame.

“Bringing someone into the headmaster’s office without permission—kid, I swear I’ll report you to Minerva...”

“So noisy.” Grindelwald frowned. “This noisy guy was also a headmaster?”

“What did you say?” Phineas froze, then shrieked, “You—thief! How dare you speak that way about the great Headmaster Black...”

“Silence!” Grindelwald waved his hand, and Phineas immediately fell silent.

He didn’t move. Neither did the other portraits—or the decorations within them. Everything was frozen, like an ordinary painting.

Only one portrait remained unaffected: the one behind the desk—Dumbledore’s.

He stared at the empty space in front of Kyle with a complicated expression.

At the same time, Grindelwald also looked at him, unconsciously raising a hand. And then—

A figure flashed into place, stepping between him and the portrait.

“Move aside, you annoying pest!” Grindelwald’s expression darkened.

“No way.” Kyle stood with his back to the portrait, locking eyes with him.

“I warned you—look, don’t touch. And as for what you did to the headmasters’ portraits—if Professor Dumbledore were here, he’d definitely throw you out.”

“I just made them quiet for a bit,” Grindelwald scoffed.

“Move.”

“Not happening!”

Neither of them backed down—until Dumbledore couldn’t stand it anymore and decisively left the portrait.

With Dumbledore gone, Grindelwald lost interest and walked off on his own.

But Kyle stayed alert, keeping his eyes on him.

Neither Professor McGonagall, who had served two terms, nor Snape, who had been pushed into the position, had made significant changes to the office.

So the headmaster’s office looked nearly identical to how it was during Dumbledore’s time.

The only real difference was the absence of Fawkes’ perch.

…

Grindelwald first walked over to the shelf, carefully inspecting the neatly arranged silverware.

“Albus’s work... He was obsessed with alchemy for quite a long time.”

Then he glanced behind the shelf at a collection of scattered trinkets—small objects that no longer worked due to a lack of upkeep. Since Professor McGonagall didn’t understand alchemy, they’d gone neglected.

Still, she hadn’t removed them, leaving them in place as decorative curios.

Among the clutter were things like a half-knitted wool scarf and several mismatched pairs of wool gloves.

Grindelwald didn’t spare them a glance. He brushed them aside casually and picked up something shaped like a teapot.

“How about giving this to me? Consider it a souvenir.”

“Of course not—”

“Give it to him.”

Before Kyle could even refuse, Dumbledore’s voice came from behind. At some point, he had returned to his portrait.

“Then get him out of here quickly,” said the portrait of Dumbledore with a stern face. “Hogwarts doesn’t welcome him. He’d best leave soon.”

“You’re the one who agreed to let me come, Albus,” Grindelwald said, a note of smugness in his voice.

“That must have been out of necessity,” Dumbledore replied firmly.

“Do we always have to be like this? At odds every time we meet?” Grindelwald said after a moment of silence.

“It’s always been this way. I tore my sheets to shreds writing you countless letters... but not once did I get a reply.”

“Don’t tell me you never received them…”

“I didn’t,” Dumbledore replied flatly. “But you don’t have to care about my opinion. After all, I’m dead.”

“You really haven’t changed. Not even your words,” Grindelwald chuckled suddenly, slipping the little silver teapot into his pocket.

Since Dumbledore—the original owner—had given his consent, Kyle couldn’t say anything more.

Grindelwald then walked to the corner and stopped before a massive velvet curtain.

Kyle had no time to react.

With a flick of his hand, Grindelwald lifted the curtain, revealing a large mirror beneath it.

He stood before the Mirror of Erised, running his fingers along the intricate magical runes and symbols carved into the frame.

“Whatever you see in there—it’s not real,” Kyle said nervously. “And you absolutely can’t take this one.”

“Why not?” Grindelwald continued staring at the mirror, not even turning his head.

“It’s school property.”

“It’s mine.”

“What?”

“I gave it to Dumbledore—a long time ago,” Grindelwald said, turning to face Kyle with a faint, amused smile.

“What? Surprised?”

Kyle instinctively nodded.

He had always assumed the mirror was something Dumbledore had crafted himself using alchemy—or perhaps a magical relic from the Founders’ era.

He never imagined...

“Though Albus modified it many times, the original mirror really was my gift.”

Grindelwald turned back to the mirror, seemingly caught in a distant memory.

After a long pause, he spoke softly.

“Back then, I wanted to mend things between us. I was desperately searching for the Resurrection Stone.”

“I never found it, but in the process, I stumbled upon this... extraordinary mirror.”

“I saw us—reconciled—just like in the days at Godric’s Hollow. I was so happy, I couldn’t wait to give it to Albus.”

“I gave him many gifts. He refused them all—except this one.”

“His attitude toward me never changed... but I was still glad.”

Grindelwald reached out, as if trying to touch something within the mirror.

His fingers traced the surface slowly.

A cluster of blue flames flared up suddenly.

It wasn’t Fiendfyre—Kyle could feel none of Fiendfyre’s typical fury—and the Mirror of Erised wasn’t melting or damaged in the slightest.

Instead, the mirror’s frame began to change. Parts of it melted and reshaped, revealing a different appearance.

Or perhaps... its original one?

Kyle couldn’t be sure.

When the blue flames finally went out, the Mirror of Erised remained unchanged—except the frame on both sides had narrowed.

Above the two claw-like supports, a new letter had appeared on each side.

A “G” on the left, and an “A” on the right.

Kyle was certain these weren’t part of the original magical symbols—they’d been deliberately carved in.

And he could easily guess who had done it.

Gellert Grindelwald.

Albus Dumbledore.

The initials were far too obvious.

Dumbledore must have noticed it too, but he couldn’t bring himself to return the mirror that let him see Ariana. So instead, he’d simply concealed the marks.

That much was clear just from the expression on his portrait—he looked awkward, his eyes slightly averted.

“So, are you going to take it?” Kyle asked.

“Are you going to stop me?” Grindelwald turned, watching him with interest.

“I would have—before,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “But if this mirror really was a gift from you to Professor Dumbledore, then it’s only fair if you want it back now.”

“Forget it. I don’t need it anymore.”

To Kyle’s surprise, Grindelwald refused. With a flick of his fingers, he pulled the velvet curtain back over the mirror.

“Let’s get to the point.” He turned and strode quickly up to Kyle.

“I came here for you. Dropping by Albus’s office was just a side trip.”

“For me?” Kyle pointed at himself. “You must be joking. What could I possibly have that’s worth dragging you all the way from Nurmengard to Hogwarts?”

“Albus said you wanted my help dealing with those after the Horcruxes,” Grindelwald said, giving Kyle a once-over. “So? Was that not true?”

“Horcruxes... He really told you that?”

Kyle instinctively glanced at the portrait behind him.

“Not me,” said Dumbledore in the painting, shaking his head. “It must’ve been the version of me outside this frame. I only told him about your plan.”

“I see.”

As Kyle conversed with the portrait, Grindelwald, clearly bored, picked up a nearby wool glove. After glancing at it twice, he tossed it aside in distaste.

“Minerva McGonagall. Tsk, your current headmistress really does have... eclectic hobbies.”

“But her taste is still just as bad. Even locked up in Nurmengard, I wouldn’t want a pair of gloves this ugly.”

Dumbledore’s portrait suddenly went silent, his expression shifting to something strange.

Kyle couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment, anger—or both.

After all, if someone said Dumbledore lacked talent in something, he’d probably laugh it off. But if someone insulted his hand-knitted wool socks, he’d be grumpy for the whole day.

And while these were gloves, not socks... close enough.

Grindelwald really had no one to blame for getting zero replies to his letters.

“What? What is it—was that true?” Grindelwald asked again, puzzled.

“Ah, yes. I really was considering it,” Kyle quickly nodded. “So... will you help me?”

“I’m not helping you. I’m helping Albus,” Grindelwald said, glancing at Dumbledore’s portrait as if expecting praise—or at least a more familiar look.

Instead, he was met with Dumbledore’s cold, unyielding stare.

For a moment, Grindelwald felt like he’d gone back to the day they had first fallen out.

That same look—like he was a stranger.

Huh?

Grindelwald blinked, confused.

The portrait hadn’t looked like that a moment ago. What had changed?

Then he snapped his gaze to Kyle, his voice sharp.

“What did you do?”