Hogwarts: I'm Truly a Model Wizard-Chapter 793: Dumbledore’s New Nickname

Soon, Kyle returned to the upstairs room with twenty bottles of spirits.

"What’s that?" Fred asked, eyeing the large package in Kyle’s hands with curiosity.

"Something good. Drink it, and you should feel a bit better," Kyle replied.

Hearing this, Fred’s stomach churned again.

"If we’re going back now, can I be the last one to go?"

"I really don’t want to Apparate again anytime soon."

"Don’t worry, we’re using a Portkey this time." Kyle pulled out a grimy glass.

Under his arrangement, the group formed a circle, ensuring everyone had a finger touching the glass.

As for the unconscious Mrs. Tonks and her husband, they would remain behind, with Nymphadora Tonks responsible for getting them to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing for treatment.

Having just been attacked by Death Eaters, they couldn’t exactly march two injured people into St. Mungo’s without drawing attention, so the closer Hospital Wing at Hogwarts was the better option.

This had been the standard approach whenever members of the Order of the Phoenix were injured. Madam Pomfrey was already accustomed to working an extra shift or two during the holidays.

"Darling, it’s enough for me to stay behind alone. You have to go back with them," Tonks said, glancing at Lupin before kissing his cheek. She then turned to the others.

"Hurry up, George," she reminded, as a dazzling blue light began to glow from the cup. George quickly pressed his index finger against it.

It felt as if an invisible hook yanked them forward from their stomachs. Their feet lifted off the grimy floor, and in the blink of an eye, they vanished from the second floor of The Hog’s Head...

Kyle felt the familiar disorienting spin, his fingers glued to the Portkey. But compared to the Phoenix Apparition, this sensation was nothing more than a ride on a fairground carousel.

A few seconds later, everyone landed with a firm thud. But no one lost their balance—each of them touched down smoothly.

12 Grimmauld Place.

Mrs. Weasley rushed forward, throwing her arms around Fred and George in a tight hug.

Chris was there too, looking tense, though his expression relaxed slightly when Kyle met his gaze.

Standing beside him were Mr. Weasley, Alastor, Kingsley, and a figure clad in a hood and cloak—likely someone who had also received the news.

With so many wizards living in Godric’s Hollow, an incident of that scale was bound to reach the Ministry’s ears.

But Kyle didn’t focus on them. Instead, his attention locked onto the hooded figure whose face remained obscured.

To be honest, their attire bore a striking resemblance to that of a Death Eater—the only distinguishing feature was the intricate gold-threaded symbols on the black cloak.

Kyle had seen robes like this before—back when he had been summoned to the Ministry of Magic for questioning. It was the uniform of the Department of Mysteries, the same type his mother, Diana, had worn at the time.

But he was certain—this person wasn’t Diana. Even with their face concealed, their height and build didn’t match.

"This is an Unspeakable." Seeing Kyle’s confusion, Chris took the initiative to explain. "Your mother is very worried about you, but for some reason, she can’t leave the Department of Mysteries. The only one who can make contact with the outside world right now is one of her colleagues, an Unspeakable, so she sent them to check on the situation."

"If that’s the case..." Kyle nodded, just about to say something, but when he turned around, the Unspeakable had vanished.

There was no sound, no trace—no one had any idea how they disappeared. It was as if they had never really been there at all, just an illusion.

"Don’t be surprised. They’re always like this—mysterious and secretive," Chris said.

"What exactly is the Department of Mysteries up to?" Kyle couldn’t help but ask. "They can’t even step outside for a moment?"

"No idea." Chris shook his head, lowering his voice. "But I heard—just heard, mind you—that there are several doors inside the Department of Mysteries. Whenever something major happens outside, like a war, those doors become particularly unstable."

"So what’s behind them?"

"No one knows," Chris blurted out. "Except for the Unspeakables."

"And your mother never talks about it. Even what I just told you—I only heard it from someone else."

"Who?"

"Xenophilius."

"Who?" Kyle blinked, thinking he must have misheard.

"Xenophilius Lovegood," Chris repeated. "You forgot? Luna’s dad—he lives in Ottery St. Catchpole. You’ve met him."

"Of course I haven’t forgotten." Kyle rubbed his forehead, and whatever thoughts he had been forming disappeared in an instant.

"But didn’t he once say that the Department of Mysteries was secretly making poisons for Fudge to get rid of his political opponents?"

"Well, Fudge isn’t Minister anymore." Chris glanced around, then lowered his voice again. "And honestly, I think he might have been onto something. Remember? There really are some very mysterious doors in the Department of Mysteries."

"Yeah," Kyle said, letting out a dry chuckle.

Compared to poisoning Fudge’s enemies, this theory actually sounded... normal. So normal, in fact, that it hardly seemed like something you’d find in The Quibbler.

To be honest, Kyle wasn’t sure if Xenophilius had told Chris this in person, or if he had written it in the latest issue of The Quibbler.

If it was the latter, then Kyle could only conclude that Xenophilius had fallen—abandoning his usual eccentricity and lofty ideals, crashing down from the whimsical clouds into the realm of cold, hard logic.

How could something so rational appear in The Quibbler? What would its loyal readers think? They’d be devastated! This would only cause trouble for St. Mungo’s.

Incidentally, The Quibbler’s best-selling location was St. Mungo’s—or, to be more precise, the Psychological Magic Treatment and Rehabilitation ward in the Spell Damage department.

Healers had discovered, quite by accident, that reading The Quibbler had a calming effect on witches and wizards suffering from magical-induced mental distress. It even helped them exhibit brief moments of logical thinking—something quite rare for certain patients.

No one knew why it worked, but that didn’t stop the hospital from buying several issues every month—some for reading, some for research, and the rest for... wallpapering.

Rumor had it that some of the ward walls were completely covered in unaltered clippings from The Quibbler.

Kyle had no idea how effective this method really was, but there had to be a reason why they’d stuck with it for so long.

...

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley had ushered everyone inside.

She looked pleased—everyone was accounted for, the same number as when they had left that morning.

"Today calls for a celebration," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. "I’ll go make a late-night snack."

She headed to the kitchen, and although a few people offered to help, she promptly shooed them away.

From what Kyle knew of Mrs. Weasley, she probably just wanted a moment alone.

Everything that had happened today had been overwhelming for her. Aside from Percy, who was at St. Mungo’s, and Arthur, who had returned to the Ministry early, the rest of the Weasley family had all been at the wedding.

When she saw Bellatrix—and the swarm of Death Eaters behind her, outnumbering them nearly three to one—Mrs. Weasley had felt as if the sky was caving in.

If the Phoenix hadn’t appeared just in time to get them to safety, she didn’t even want to think about what might have happened.

Even now, she hadn’t fully recovered. Kyle had noticed earlier that her hands were still trembling slightly.

Mr. Weasley wasn’t much better. When Kyle handed out the drinks he had picked up from the Hog’s Head, it took him three tries just to pull out the cork.

For a while, no one spoke.

Even Fred and George, usually the loudest in the room, sat quietly, each holding a bottle, taking deep gulps. It was as if they were drinking a potion meant to steady their nerves—while also trying to suppress the lingering dizziness from their abrupt escape.

As for Ginny and Hermione, who either weren’t old enough or didn’t like drinking, Kyle mixed them a special drink: half water, half vinegar, and the juice of three whole lemons, peels included.

Since they hadn’t seen how it was made, they were quite pleased when Kyle handed them their glasses.

"What is it?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Special lemonade," Kyle said, tilting his head slightly. "From my experience, the best way to shake off the dizziness from Apparition is to drink something really sour. Alcohol comes second."

"Thanks," Hermione said.

"Uh... you’re welcome," Kyle replied. "Go ahead, try it." freewēbnoveℓ.com

"Can I have one too?" Ron suddenly asked.

He was old enough to drink but didn’t care for the taste of Firewhiskey or brandy. Compared to that, lemonade seemed like the better option.

"Of course, no problem." Kyle grabbed a few smaller glasses and poured some out. "Harry, want some?"

"Ah, no thanks," Harry said, shaking his head.

He didn’t like strong drinks, but he didn’t like sour things either.

"Alright then." Kyle handed Ginny her drink. Feeling too woozy to hesitate, she took a sip.

A second later, an intensely sour and bitter taste shot up her tongue, straight to her skull.

Ginny’s whole face scrunched up.

"What, is it bad?" Ron asked, eyeing her suspiciously, his own glass frozen midway to his lips.

"No, not at all! It’s sweet," Ginny said quickly, forcing her face to relax as if nothing had happened. To sell it, she even took another sip.

"Then why did you make that weird face?" Ron didn’t seem suspicious anymore. Without hesitation, he raised the glass and took a big gulp.

And then—

"Oh—Merlin, that’s sour!" Ron’s face contorted, his features scrunching together until he resembled a cabbage that had been stomped on by a unicorn.

"Oh—why is it so bitter?!"

"Because of the lemon zest," Kyle said, barely holding back a laugh. "Drink up, it’s good for you."

"Absolutely not." Ron shook his head firmly. "Ginny, you lied to me."

"I lied to you about what?" Ginny shot him a look.

"You told me this was good!"

"It is good."

"Then take another sip." Ron glared at her. "If you drink another sip, I’ll believe you."

"Why should I care whether you believe me?" Ginny said coolly. "I feel better now, so I don’t need any more. What’s wrong with that?"

"You—" Ron was livid, his face turning red.

What he didn’t realize was that Ginny was telling the truth. After her second sip, the dizziness that had been making her head spin finally started to fade. She wasn’t back to normal yet, but she felt much better than before.

Ron, on the other hand, had spat his drink out—so naturally, he didn’t feel any different.

The two of them sat across from each other at the table, glaring over Harry’s head.

But their little argument had lightened the mood. The tension at the table eased, and everyone felt just a little less on edge.

"What a close call today," Kingsley was the first to speak. "If we had known this would happen, we never should have gone back to the Ministry."

"We didn’t expect it, that’s why," Sirius said, finishing an entire bottle of Firewhiskey and opening a second. "I still can’t figure out how they knew Remus was marrying Nymphadora. We only told a handful of people, and they were all our own."

"Maybe someone let it slip," Chris mused. "Or maybe the Death Eaters have been watching those close to us for a while. Capturing Andromeda and Ted and tracking their movements to pinpoint Godric’s Hollow wouldn’t be difficult. All it would take is a bottle of Veritaserum or some skilled Legilimency."

"We weren’t careful enough this time," Lupin said, his head lowered. "We should have been more cautious."

"No, I bear responsibility too," Sirius said. "When I saw Dumbledore arrive, I let my guard down without thinking. If I had been more vigilant, I might have noticed the Death Eaters earlier."

"No, at the end of the day, we shouldn’t have left early..."

The group sat around the table, sharing the blame.

But in Kyle’s mind, the real blame lay with Dumbledore. He had shown up just long enough to give everyone the illusion that they were safe with him around—only to slip away without a word.

That kind of irresponsibility? He absolutely deserved a share of the blame.

"And Kyle!" Sirius suddenly turned to him. Instinctively, Kyle looked over.

"Why did you have the phoenix send me away first?" Sirius’ eyes were slightly red. "You told Fred that it was Dumbledore who ordered the phoenix to save everyone, but I don’t believe that."

"I..."

"No need to explain. I could tell—you were the one directing the phoenix. It only came back for me because you told it to."

"No, I..."

"Did you even think about how I would have felt if you hadn’t come back? How much guilt I would have carried, knowing that a child had risked his life for me? How could I have faced Chris again?"

Kyle, who had been cut off twice, didn’t say anything right away. He waited until he was sure Sirius was finished before clearing his throat.

"Are you done?"

"What I actually wanted to say is—I didn’t need the phoenix’s help to Apparate. Remember? When I got you out of the encirclement?"

As he spoke, Kyle held up his hand and pointed to the ring on his finger.

But after using it for three Apparitions, the ring’s color had dulled significantly. It clung so closely to his finger that it was hard to notice unless you looked carefully.

"That doesn’t change anything," Sirius said stubbornly. "I have to stay behind you all."

"Ah, sure," Kyle said without argument. "Next time, for sure."

"There won’t be a next time," Chris interjected, trying to smooth things over. He turned to Kyle, his expression serious. "So, after you sent Sirius away, what did you do?"

"Nothing much," Kyle replied lightly. "Just gave them a little surprise and left."

His tone was casual, and he deliberately withheld any mention of Voldemort.

"Surprise?" Chris raised an eyebrow. "By ’surprise,’ you don’t mean... killing all seventy Death Eaters, do you?"

The moment he said that, the entire room fell into stunned silence. Everyone turned to look at Kyle in disbelief. Even Mrs. Weasley rushed out from the kitchen, her pupils shrinking as if she had just heard something horrifying.

To be fair, they had all fought and killed Death Eaters before, back during the war. It wasn’t unheard of.

But seventy?

Aside from Alastor Moody, no one here had ever taken down that many. And even for Moody, that was a number built over decades as an Auror.

But Kyle... if he really killed seventy Death Eaters in one go...

For some reason, Ron’s legs began to tremble. It wasn’t something he could control—it had nothing to do with how well he knew Kyle.

"There must be some mistake, Chris," Mrs. Weasley said at last, snapping out of her shock. "Kyle is a good boy, he wouldn’t—"

"No, Molly," Mr. Weasley interrupted, shaking his head. "The reports we received confirmed it—seventy Death Eaters were killed in Godric’s Hollow. If I’m not mistaken, Scrimgeour and the Aurors are already on the scene."

"No, what does that have to do with me?" Kyle looked innocent as he quickly denied it. "I didn’t do it."

"But you were the last one to leave," Kingsley pointed out.

He had wanted to ask about this earlier, but with Chris around, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

Now that Chris had put it out there, he took the opportunity. "You were the last one there. No one knows what you did."

"But it really wasn’t me," Kyle said earnestly, raising his wand. "If you don’t believe me, you can use a magical contract to verify whether I killed seventy Death Eaters or not."

"Ah, no need." Kingsley hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "Believe me, I wasn’t accusing you..."

"Of course, you shouldn’t be accusing him," Mrs. Weasley interjected, quickly stepping forward. "Let’s look at this logically. From the moment I was sent to The Hog’s Head until Kyle came back here, at most, twenty minutes passed."

"Do you really think Kyle could have killed seventy Death Eaters in twenty minutes?"

"No, it should be fifteen minutes," Sirius corrected. "That’s when I got back, and the Death Eaters were still chasing us."

"You heard that?"

Mrs. Weasley continued, "If Kyle really could take out seventy Death Eaters in fifteen minutes, would we even have needed the phoenix’s help?"

"Just admit it, Kyle—you’re going to be a legend," Fred said, unable to hold back a laugh.

"Even Dumbledore will have to call you ’Young Kyle’ in the future," George added, grinning.

"No, no—’Old Kyle’ is more fitting."

And with that, the twins couldn’t hold it in any longer—they burst into laughter.

Read lat𝙚st chapters at fre(𝒆)novelkiss.com Only