Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 994: The Calm Snape

“What did you say?”

In the Longbottoms’ garden, Fred and Cedric stood stunned, staring in disbelief at Kyle and Kanna.

And they weren’t the only ones. Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Sykes, standing nearby, wore nearly identical expressions.

None of them could have imagined that they’d hear such shocking news at what was supposed to be just a Christmas dinner.

Kyle had proposed to Kanna...

Well, perhaps it wasn’t all that shocking.

At Hogwarts, aside from a certain emotionless ghost professor, almost everyone was aware of their relationship. Even Hagrid knew they were bound to get married someday.

It was just that no one expected Kyle to be so... well, brave?

Or perhaps decisive.

When the professors chatted, they often brought up the school’s outstanding students.

Kyle and Harry were always among the most frequently mentioned.

And when it came to Kyle, you couldn’t avoid mentioning the six-person group he was part of—just like it was impossible to mention Harry without bringing up Hermione and Ron.

Within that little circle, Kyle and Kanna, along with Cedric and Cho, were the two acknowledged couples.

So naturally, the professors had often speculated about which of them would be the first to get married.

Most, including McGonagall, had bet on Cedric.

Not only because Cedric was older than Kyle, but also because of Kyle’s status as a genius wizard.

Magic is infinitely complex. The more you learn, the more captivating it becomes. Once a wizard starts devoting most of their focus to runes and spellcraft, it’s easy—consciously or not—to overlook personal emotions.

They had seen it happen to countless young wizards, including some of the professors themselves.

Of course, it wasn’t always the case.

Take James Potter and Lily Evans, for instance. They were married not long after graduating.

But strictly speaking, they weren’t exactly the brightest magical prodigies—at least not ones who could defeat Voldemort.

Kyle, on the other hand, could. And he had.

Which meant his understanding of magic extended far beyond what James had ever seen.

And then there was Kanna—the youngest ever member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, breaking a nearly two-hundred-year-old record.

Yet neither of them had gotten lost in their fields. They still held on to the raw, personal emotions that made them human.

What, was magic not seductive enough? Had potions lost their allure?

It was in that moment that Minerva McGonagall finally understood something Dumbledore had once said.

Back when Kyle had just graduated, Dumbledore—completely out of character—had willingly taken on the role of school governor and spent a fortune in Galleons to establish alchemy classes, all to keep Kyle at Hogwarts.

At the time, McGonagall had instinctively thought of Voldemort, or rather, Tom Riddle in his youth.

Both were brilliant students, yet Dumbledore had treated them in completely opposite ways…

One had his job applications rejected time and again, while the other had the school practically paying him to stay.

She’d asked Dumbledore about it but received only a vague response.

He had simply said that Kyle and Voldemort were fundamentally different—Kyle was unlikely to be drawn into the vortex of power.

McGonagall hadn’t quite understood then, but now she suddenly did.

The ability to retain normal human emotions—that was probably the key difference.

By the time McGonagall came back to her senses, Kyle and Kanna were already surrounded.

Cho, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks led a group of excited witches who clustered around Kanna, firing off a flurry of curious questions.

Meanwhile, Cedric and Fred had Kyle by the collar, wearing fierce expressions as if interrogating him...

“Sorry to interrupt,” McGonagall said, “but I must ask—do your parents know about this?

“Chris, Diana, and... Severus.” She paused noticeably at the last name.

For a moment, she thought she heard Professor Snape’s furious snarl echoing in her ears—though she couldn’t tell if it was just her imagination.

The lively atmosphere froze in an instant.

“…All right, I see.”

There was no need to press further. With her wealth of experience, the headmistress of Hogwarts instantly understood what was going on.

...And it was understandable.

Because of that little episode, some people no longer felt like staying at the ball.

Minerva McGonagall and Sykes escorted Kanna back to Hogwarts, while Kyle left with the Weasley family and Cedric for the village of St. Catchpole.

...

“That’s just unfair! I wanted to do that too!”

On the way back, Fred kept muttering under his breath, occasionally casting a resentful glance at Kyle.

In truth, he had also planned to propose to Angelina that evening. He’d even prepared special fireworks—currently still sitting under the table where he’d been seated.

All he had to do was light them at the right moment, and then propose to Angelina.

But Kyle had beaten him to it.

The fireworks were still untouched.

What stung even more was that he’d been so caught up in the excitement that he completely forgot about it.

Now that Angelina had already gone home, if he wanted to propose, he’d have to wait for the next opportunity...

“It’s all your fault...” Fred muttered again.

Kyle gave him a puzzled look.

He had no idea what Fred was rambling about, but his instincts told him this was absolutely not the time to argue. Otherwise, it’d be like lighting a fuse next to a powder keg.

So Kyle wisely kept his mouth shut.

...

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts.

Just as Minerva McGonagall had suspected, another powder keg—Severus Snape—had indeed exploded.

A furious roar echoed from the headmaster’s office.

According to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the office, all it felt that day was a sudden gust of wind rushing past. By the time it realized what had happened, something had nearly taken its head off.

Rumor had it that later that night, portraits all over Hogwarts witnessed a dark figure wandering through the corridors of the castle like a homeless ghost.

The figure was muttering constantly, a stream of unintelligible buzzing that filled the halls.

Concerned, McGonagall decided to speak with Snape the next day.

She had always thought highly of Kyle and Kanna as a couple. The two understood each other deeply—no one could be more suited for one another.

To her, Snape’s reaction had been downright childish.

But to her surprise, Snape was completely back to normal the following morning.

No dark scowl, no yelling, no storming around venting his emotions on the suits of armor. He even—rarely enough—appeared in the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Severus, you...” McGonagall opened her mouth, hesitated, then stopped.

She’d wanted to tell Snape not to interfere too much in Kanna’s life, and to avoid doing anything behind the scenes. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Not for Kanna, and certainly not for him.

After all, he was no longer a match for Kyle. If he pushed things too far, not even Kanna would be able to shield him.

“Minerva, I know what you’re thinking,” Snape said calmly, finishing the roasted potatoes on his plate and elegantly dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

“To be honest, if Kyle hadn’t proposed to Kanna, I probably would have handed in my resignation by now.”

“Resignation?”

“Because I can’t very well attempt to kill a former student while still serving as a professor at Hogwarts,” Snape said evenly.

And he had used the word attempt. That alone showed how clear-headed and aware he was.

“Well done. He’s far braver than I ever was.” Snape suddenly let out a soft laugh.

McGonagall felt her whole body tense, goosebumps rising along her arms. Beneath the table, her fingers tightened around her wand. She gave it a discreet twist, pointing it toward Snape.

“Finite!”

A flash of white light burst forth, struck Snape’s back, and exploded violently.

But Snape didn’t react at all. Facing away from her, he merely felt a strange gust of wind brush past.

He didn’t understand why there would be a breeze in the Great Hall, but at the moment, he wasn’t in the mood to dwell on such details.

“No reaction...” McGonagall frowned.

She had just cast a Dispel Charm. The fact that there was no effect meant that Snape wasn’t being possessed by some unusual spirit—and they could also rule out Kyle sneaking in at night and placing him under the Imperius Curse.

It wasn’t entirely unreasonable to suspect something. Snape had just been acting so out of character.

He’d always been at odds with Kyle, constantly scheming to get him expelled—and now, he’d actually praised him?

It was too much for McGonagall to process.

It felt as if Snape had walked in one morning with bubblegum-pink hair... The kind of behavior you’d only expect under the Imperius Curse.

But with the Dispel Charm yielding no result, perhaps she’d overthought it...

Still dazed, she didn’t even notice Snape leaving the Great Hall.

And, surprisingly, the incident caused hardly any stir at all.

After a Christmas filled with unexpected events, everything seemed to settle back into its usual rhythm, as if nothing had ever happened.

Kanna continued studying Potions with Professor Sykes.

Rumor had it that Sykes was teaching her how to brew a type of love potion.

Not Amortentia, but another kind entirely.

It was said to bless couples who truly loved each other. The drinker’s magical power and sensory acuity would both receive a notable boost—somewhat similar to the effects of Felix Felicis.

The potion’s effects were powerful, but so were its conditions.

Even more complex than Felix Felicis, this potion required at least six months to brew. One of the partners had to brew it personally, and throughout the entire process, there could be no change in their feelings whatsoever.

Or rather, the bond could only deepen—it could never weaken...

More importantly, if the two people involved weren’t truly in love, the so-called blessing would turn into a curse.

The conditions were simply too demanding, which is why this potion had disappeared from the wizarding world centuries ago.

Sykes had only come across it thanks to the extensive potion archives at St. Mungo’s.

When she heard that Kyle had proposed to Kanna, this was the first thing that came to her mind.

Enhancing magical power and perception—it sounded like such a cliché effect. Like giving someone a pile of Galleons as a gift: flashy, but lacking the mystery and elegance of Felix Felicis.

Still, it remained one of the most sought-after effects in the magical world.

At least, Sykes had never heard of any other substance that could actually increase a wizard’s raw magical power...

Well—except for the Elder Wand.

But that was practically a fairy tale. Most wizards had never even seen it, let alone believed it truly existed.

So over the Christmas holidays, she and Kanna began preparing to brew the potion.

Sykes made several trips out and eventually brought Snape along as well. It took no small effort, but they finally managed to gather all the ingredients.

Kyle dropped by and offered to help, but before he could even finish his sentence, Snape literally kicked him out.

Yes—literally. He was kicked out the door.

And Kyle couldn’t even retaliate. After all, now that the proposal had been accepted, their relationship had shifted in a subtle but significant way.

It was also the first time Kyle had ever seen such an expression on Snape’s face—a look of open provocation, tinged with contempt.

Frankly, it made Snape look like he was asking to be punched.

But aside from that incident, Snape didn’t do anything else.

From then on, everything seemed to return to normal.

Snape’s Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, Sykes’ Potions lessons, and Kyle’s Alchemy lectures all resumed as usual.

The only real change was that Kyle voluntarily took over the first- and second-year Potions classes so Kanna wouldn’t have to rush back and forth.

McGonagall held a staff meeting about it.

Snape was the first to agree—without even thinking it over—and the other professors didn’t object either.

Kyle’s skills in Potions were admittedly nowhere near as strong as his Charms work, but that was only because his Charms were exceptionally advanced.

Just look at the titles he’d earned in the Daily Prophet.

Before graduating, both the Prophet and the Ministry of Magic would praise him as “a young Dumbledore” or “the future Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

But now, after portions of Snape’s memories had been made public during the hearing, the media had started calling Dumbledore “the old Kyle.”

Granted, that nickname was mostly tongue-in-cheek, and laced with a certain reporter’s personal bias, but the fact remained—most wizards didn’t seem to object to it.

Which meant Kyle no longer needed to rely on the name “Dumbledore” to prove the extent of his abilities.

With accomplishments like his, any other talent would simply pale in comparison.

Especially with a true potions prodigy like Kanna at his side, the contrast was even more striking.

That said, Kyle had also earned full marks in Potions for several consecutive years as a student, and held a N.E.W.T. certificate with straight Os.

Teaching a few first- and second-year students? More than manageable.

He even brewed an Elixir to Induce Euphoria on the spot—and that was that. The arrangement was settled with no drama whatsoever.

No unexpected conflict, no classic Snape-style sabotage.

Initially, McGonagall had suspected that Kyle and Snape were just putting on a show—that they’d secretly fought multiple times behind the scenes.

But she later realized she’d been overthinking it.

After Christmas break, Kyle and Snape barely had any contact for quite a while.

And after Easter, Snape suddenly became incredibly busy.

Strangely, even with exams fast approaching, Snape wasn’t spending extra time preparing for them like he usually did.

Nor did he seem especially concerned about whether Slytherin would win the House Cup.

This time of year had always been his golden period for docking points—after all, lowering the other three houses’ scores was an easy way to boost Slytherin’s standing.

But this year... According to McGonagall’s observations, Snape was heading straight back to his office after every class, not even bothering to find excuses for taking points off elsewhere.