Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

“I've done what you asked. Where's the stuff? Have you brought it?”

A hoarse, deep voice echoed from an isolated, empty classroom on the eighth floor of Hogwarts, as chilling as a poltergeist's whisper.

“Don't worry, you'll get your share.”

Kyle pulled a suitcase from his Mokeskin pouch, placed it on the table, flipped it open, and pushed it forward.

“Two hundred enhanced crackling and popping balloons, not one less.”

With Zonko’s Joke Shop closed, Kyle had sourced them from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Fred and George had hidden them in a hollowed-out book to avoid detection by Filch.

Kyle had suggested a more practical approach—just using a small box with an Undetectable Extension Charm—but the Weasley twins had disagreed, calling it too boring, not nearly exciting enough.

Peeves immediately swooped over to inspect the suitcase, tapping it lightly. Indeed, there were plenty—thirty more than promised, even. But instead of looking pleased, he frowned.

“That’s not right. There were supposed to be a hundred Dungbombs, and I don’t see a single one.”

“Don't worry, Dungbombs can’t be transported like balloons. It'll take a few more days,” Kyle explained. “And this time, they’ve made some... improvements.”

“Improvements...” Peeves's eyes gleamed. “They've made them bigger?”

“No.” Kyle shook his head. “They've added some real stuff to them.”

Peeves's expression shifted immediately. A mix of revulsion and deep admiration flickered in his eyes, two contrasting emotions blending seamlessly.

Though he was a poltergeist, Peeves wasn’t ignorant.

“Dungbomb” was just a name—the foul stench was typically a concoction of various herbs. But mixing in real stuff... Hogwarts students would lose their minds.

This was pure evil.

You lot are the real Dark Lords.

Silently, Peeves gave Kyle a thumbs-up, though suspicion lingered in his gaze.

“Kyle boy… no, Mr. Kyle, do you have a grudge against Hogwarts?”

“Of course not,” Kyle replied smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong. I was just about to explain—the special Dungbombs don’t count toward the agreed quantity. They’re a bonus.”

“A bonus?” Peeves tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain right now,” Kyle mused, “but just keep them somewhere safe for now. When the time comes, you’ll understand.”

Peeves scratched his head in irritation. He really disliked vague answers. If it had been anyone else, he’d have pestered them until he got the truth—probably while pelting them with a dozen vinegar-filled balloons.

But for now... out of respect for his supplier, he held back.

Putting away the suitcase, he eyed Kyle curiously.

“I still don’t get why you had me place that cabinet on the second floor and lure that Slytherin brat over there. If you wanted him to have it, wouldn’t it have been easier to just give it to him?”

“If I had given it to him outright, he wouldn’t have wanted it,” Kyle said simply. “So? They took it?”

“Of course. There’s nothing I can’t do if I set my mind to it,” Peeves said smugly. “They took the cabinet right away—laughing so hard I could hear them from upstairs.”

“Good.” Kyle nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait...” Peeves called after him. “You still haven’t told me why you’re doing this.”

“You’ll find out in time,” Kyle said with a wave, not bothering to stop.

Peeves scowled, scratching his head in mid-air, but there was nothing he could do.

Kyle was his biggest supplier—especially now that Zonko’s was closed and prank supplies were running low. He had even thrown out all his stock at the Halloween feast.

These days, Kyle was the only one who could get him a large batch of balloons. And Kyle was not someone to be easily offended.

Still grumbling, Peeves grabbed a handful of balloons from the suitcase, slammed the door behind him, and zoomed downstairs.

He had an appointment outside the Hufflepuff common room.

The moment some first-years fumbled the password, he’d seize the opportunity to pelt them with vinegar-filled balloons.

The problem was, the Hufflepuff password wasn’t particularly difficult. Most students got it right after two tries.

So, to speed things up, Peeves had his own little trick—causing just enough of a commotion to distract them mid-knock.

It never failed with first-years.

…

On the other hand, Kyle, who had left the classroom, didn’t head back to the dormitory. Instead, he went straight to the eighth floor, making his way to the principal’s office.

“Acid Pops,” Kyle said, and the gargoyle guarding the entrance sprang aside, revealing a spiral staircase behind it.

Kyle climbed the stairs with ease, and when he reached the oak door at the top, he knocked. There was no response.

It seemed that Dumbledore was out again.

Still, Kyle didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the brass knocker on the door.

“Dissendium!”

The knockers transformed into two fire-breathing dragons, which promptly flew off in opposite directions. Kyle then pushed the door open with the ease of someone walking into their own home.

As expected, Dumbledore wasn’t there.

The portraits lining the walls stirred at the sound of movement, their eyes flickering open.

“It’s you again...” Phineas Nigellus Black was the first to speak. “This is the Headmaster’s Office! How can you just barge in like this? You’re only a student!”

“To correct you, Headmaster Black,” Kyle said coolly, “I didn’t break in. I walked in—as if I had a key.”

“Even if that’s the case, it doesn’t justify—”

Before Phineas could finish, he suddenly flew out of his frame, landing unceremoniously in the next room on a patch of painted grass.

“He must be looking for Dumbledore. Don’t stir up trouble!” interjected Headmaster Dippet, giving Phineas a not-so-gentle shove with his foot.

Kyle, however, couldn’t help but think Dippet had done it on purpose, taking advantage of the opportunity to give Phineas a good kick.

“That’s right,” Kyle nodded. “Do you happen to know where Professor Dumbledore is?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dippet replied dismissively.

“Ha! You liar, of course you don’t know!” Phineas suddenly reappeared in front of Dippet, raising his arm as if to strike back.

But Dippet, clearly anticipating this, turned swiftly, and the two headmasters were soon grappling with one another, entirely ignoring Kyle’s presence.

The other portraits, evidently accustomed to this behavior, watched with indifference.

“So, is there something urgent you need to discuss with Dumbledore?” asked a witch with streaks of gray in her hair from a nearby frame. She positioned herself in front of the wrestling pair, shielding Kyle from their antics.

“It’s not particularly urgent,” Kyle replied, “but I’ve just thought of a way Voldemort might attack Hogwarts. It can wait until next time.”

The witch fell silent for a moment.

“Just a moment...” she said at last, turning toward the chaotic scene behind her. Taking a deep breath, she raised a clenched fist and brought it down sharply.

What happened next was obscured by the figure of a knight in another frame, but the clanging sounds that followed made the result clear.

Two minutes later, Phineas reappeared in his original frame, now sporting a visible fist-shaped mark on his face.

“Well,” he grumbled, “Dumbledore is at 12 Grimmauld Place. I’ve already sent word to notify him, so he should be back shortly...”

…

As soon as he finished speaking, a faint sound echoed around him.

Dumbledore had returned, crumbs still clinging to his beard, as if he hadn’t had time to brush them away.

“Mrs. Weasley was very kind… She insisted I try some of her freshly baked bread. I must say, it was truly delicious.”

He took a seat at the table and turned his gaze to Kyle. “Phineas tells me you have something important to discuss?”

“Sort of,” Kyle replied. “I think I know how Draco Malfoy plans to help Voldemort get into Hogwarts.”

“What?” Dumbledore looked momentarily taken aback before composing himself with a light cough. “That is a very serious accusation. If there is no evidence—”

“Then forget the name,” Kyle said with a shrug, unconcerned by Dumbledore’s hesitance. Instead, he got straight to the point.

“It’s the Vanishing Cabinets.”

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. As a master alchemist, he was well aware of what those particular cabinets could do.

They functioned like a physical manifestation of Apparition—two cabinets linked together. Step into one, close the door, and you would emerge from the other, regardless of distance. Unlike Apparition, they were fixed in place, unaffected by magical restrictions. He had used them in his youth and found them particularly convenient.

The only problem was their rarity—far more precious than even the Mirror of Erised. Among the few capable of crafting them, only Nicolas Flamel might still have the skill to do so.

“You’re saying Voldemort managed to acquire two Vanishing Cabinets—and even smuggled one into the school?” Dumbledore’s expression grew serious.

“It wasn’t Voldemort,” Kyle corrected. “It was Mal—well, someone else. And it didn’t even need to be smuggled in. It was already here.”

“You mean… the Vanishing Cabinet that Peeves broke?” Dumbledore’s brow furrowed in thought.

“But there was only one,” he continued. “I tried stepping inside it before, but nothing happened. If the other cabinet no longer exists, then it’s useless.”

He had always known about the Vanishing Cabinet at Hogwarts, but without its counterpart, it was nothing more than an elaborate cupboard.

“Or it could simply be broken,” Kyle suggested. “Creating a Vanishing Cabinet is difficult, but repairing one? That’s much easier. I could do it myself.”

“In fact, I already repaired the one Peeves broke.”

Dumbledore’s eye twitched.

He had deliberately ignored the cabinet for a reason.

As an alchemist, he would never willingly destroy such a rare and valuable artifact, even if it posed a potential risk. Peeves knocking it over had been a convenient accident, one he had chosen not to interfere with.

He had not expected Kyle to not only find it but restore it.

Kyle, oblivious to Dumbledore’s shifting expression, continued, “I noticed someone searching for something, so I placed the Vanishing Cabinet there on purpose. I didn’t expect them to actually take it. And, judging by their reaction, they were quite pleased with themselves.”

Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Just say the name. When did you first notice Draco Malfoy? Not many people should be aware of this.”

“After the last Hogsmeade trip,” Kyle answered. “But Professor Snape insisted on protecting him, and Kanna believed he had some kind of plan. So, I left it alone.”

“Mr. Malfoy obtained that cursed necklace to use against you,” Dumbledore said, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Kyle’s. “And because Miss Prince pleaded on his behalf, you let him go?”

“Isn’t that reason enough?” Kyle shrugged again. “Kanna trusts Professor Snape as much as I trust her. I wasn’t about to put her in a difficult position.”

“Besides, Malfoy abandoned his plan on his own. That counts as repentance, doesn’t it? I had no reason to push the matter further.”

For a moment, Dumbledore was silent.

Then, suddenly, he laughed. A warm, genuine laugh, as if Voldemort’s entire scheme had suddenly lost its weight.

With a wave of his hand, a silver teapot and two delicate cups appeared on the table.

“Would you like something to drink? We can talk about the rest later.”

“If that’s okay,” Kyle thought for a moment. “Could I have a glass of Phoenix Tears Special Blend Felix Felicis Golden Mead? I’ve always wanted to know what that tastes like.”

Dumbledore’s hand paused for a moment. Then, as if he hadn’t heard anything, he picked up the tea canister and carefully pinched out a few leaves.

“Try this one. It’s as good as the Golden Honey Mead from The Three Broomsticks,” he said, placing the leaves into a cup and pouring in steaming hot water. “An old friend gave it to me when I turned a hundred, and I’ve never quite been willing to drink it.”

“In my opinion, it’s the best gift I’ve ever received—far more precious than Felix Felicis.”

Kyle took a skeptical sip. It was good—much better than the black tea he had tasted in the headmaster’s office before.

But how much better? He couldn’t quite tell. Maybe his experience with fine tea was just too limited.

He moved his fingers slightly, allowing the tea to cool instantly before taking another sip.

Dumbledore’s mouth twitched.

What a waste… He shouldn’t have given Kyle something so precious.

Trying to compose himself, Dumbledore asked, “Tell me what you think.”

“It’s quite simple,” Kyle said, adding more water to the cup. “Malfoy took the Vanishing Cabinet because he must have found the other one and is confident he can repair it.”

“Then the Death Eaters can use the two cabinets to enter Hogwarts from elsewhere.”

“So what do we do?” Dumbledore asked. “I assume you have an idea—otherwise, there would be no point in giving him the cabinet you just repaired.”

“I have a suggestion… though it’s a bit unrefined,” Kyle mused, casually picking up the tea canister from the table.

Before he could examine it closely, Dumbledore swiftly snatched it back.

“Just say what you have to say. Don’t touch it.”

“Fine,” Kyle said indifferently. “I was thinking—rather than forcing Malfoy to come up with another plan, why not give him a ready-made solution ourselves?”

“The Vanishing Cabinet is useful, but it has a major limitation: if the Death Eaters use it to enter the school, they will all emerge from the same spot.”

“At that moment, we just need to place the Basilisk directly in front of the cabinet. We won’t have to do anything at all—we can capture all the Death Eaters in one go.”

The headmasters in the portraits stared at Kyle.

Place the Basilisk in front of the Vanishing Cabinet? They could already envision the scene.

The Death Eaters, full of confidence, stepping out of the cabinet, ready to strike—only to be greeted by a pair of massive, unblinking yellow eyes.

It was practically a large-scale Death Eater disposal mechanism. The sheer audacity of it left them momentarily speechless. That a teenage wizard had casually proposed such a plan was almost unbelievable.

Dumbledore, however, showed no particular reaction. He even appeared to be considering it seriously.

“No,” he finally shook his head. “A Basilisk is too obvious. If there were only one Death Eater, this plan might work, but if there are many, someone is bound to escape and alert the others.”

“Besides, not all Death Eaters follow Voldemort willingly. Some fear him, some are under the Imperius Curse. We can’t use a Basilisk against them.”

“Then let’s have people guard the cabinet instead,” Kyle suggested. “The Vanishing Cabinet isn’t that large—only one person can come through at a time. With proper coordination, subduing them the moment they step out wouldn’t be difficult.”

“That’s a good idea,” Dumbledore nodded. “But I think it would also be wise to set up some magical traps in advance. It would reduce the need for constant surveillance and make things much easier.”