Hogwarts: I'm Truly a Model Wizard-Chapter 795: Fawkes’ Perch

The discussion continued late into the night.

The best candidate to go to Hogsmeade had been Nymphadora Tonks. As a Metamorphmagus, she could easily deceive everyone’s eyes and perfectly conceal herself.

Mundungus was also a good choice—his frequent dealings in shady business had made him a master of disguises, allowing him to blend in effortlessly.

However, at Sirius’s insistence, the group ultimately agreed that he would be the one to take on the task of protecting Harry.

The only condition was that he had to ensure he drank Polyjuice Potion consistently, maintaining a different appearance at all times when in public. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Sirius agreed without hesitation.

It wouldn’t be difficult. Just ten miles from Hogsmeade, there was a Muggle village. When the time came, he only needed to wait until nightfall and find a Muggle with a full head of hair.

Harry was pleased with this decision.

Compared to the other two, he obviously preferred to be with his godfather. Even though they had to pretend not to know each other in public, just being nearby was better than nothing.

After that, the people who had rushed back from the Ministry of Magic got up to leave.

Kingsley had received an urgent message from Scrimgeour through the Aurors’ special channels—there weren’t enough people in Godric’s Hollow, and they needed to head there immediately.

The others also had to go and help.

Kyle had originally planned to take the opportunity to return to St. Catchpole Village. Judging by the time, he hadn’t stayed there for quite a while, and passing by his home earlier had made him miss that old Kneazle of his.

However, just as he was about to step outside with Chris, he was suddenly pushed back.

"You’re staying here for now," Chris said, turning his head.

"Why?" Kyle didn’t understand. "I have to go to the Ministry of Magic tomorrow. It’d be more convenient to stay at home."

"It’s safer here than in St. Catchpole Village," Chris replied, giving him a look.

The others might not know the details, but Chris was well aware of what Kyle kept inside his suitcase.

A Dragon, a Nundu, a Wampus Cat, a Basilisk, a Three-Headed Dog... Even among 5X-classified magical creatures, these were among the most dangerous.

Every time Chris thought about Kyle walking around with that deadly suitcase, he couldn’t help but feel a shiver of unease.

In terms of quantity, Kyle’s collection was no match for Newt’s. But in terms of sheer danger and lethality, they were just as terrifying.

Chris understood very well that if Kyle used his creatures wisely, they could help him take down a large number of Death Eaters in a short amount of time.

And that wasn’t even mentioning the Basilisk.

The Basilisk was an artificially created species. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t even classified as a magical creature but rather a product of ancient dark magic—one that had been most popular a thousand years ago. It had been created for one purpose: killing.

A Basilisk’s eyes were like two living Killing Curses—no incantation, no wand movements required. Just a single glance was enough. Direct and deadly.

Combined with scales as tough as dragon hide, allowing it to shrug off most magical attacks, the Basilisk was nearly unstoppable in battle.

Against a creature like that, unless one was a wizard on the level of Dumbledore or Voldemort, sheer numbers wouldn’t make a difference.

Of course, Chris didn’t say any of this out loud. Even though he trusted the others, he still chose to keep this information to himself.

"You’ve let it out before, haven’t you?" Chris asked in a low voice while Kingsley and Moody were talking.

"Yes," Kyle answered without hesitation. He knew exactly what Chris was referring to and didn’t bother to deny it.

"That’s the reason," Chris said, shaking his head.

"I don’t know what you’ve done, but one thing is certain—you’ve angered You-Know-Who. And in this situation, St. Catchpole Village is no longer safe."

"To prevent him from retaliating against you, you should stay here."

"That’s right, you should stay," Mrs. Weasley said, walking over.

She hadn’t fully understood what Chris was talking about, but she caught the last part, and when it came to safety, there was no place more secure.

As the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Grimmauld Place had been fortified with countless protective spells by Dumbledore. The Fidelius Charm was just the most basic of them. There were also Anti-Tracking Charms, Indestructibility Charms, Permanent Portkeys—seven spells that she knew of, at least.

Even if Voldemort himself knew the exact location of 12 Grimmauld Place and came here personally, it would take him a long time to break through its defenses.

In some ways, this place was even more secure than Hogwarts without Dumbledore.

So of course, she wanted Kyle to stay.

"Then... alright." Kyle glanced at Chris, who remained calm. "I’ll stay here."

Chris nodded. "Also, stay away from the Ministry for now. Just lay low here for a while—I’ll handle things with Amelia."

"Alright." Kyle nodded again.

It seemed Chris had already been thinking about this for some time.

Kyle didn’t particularly want to stay cooped up indoors, but he had killed dozens of Death Eaters using the Basilisk. Even in wartime, casualties on that scale were rare.

That was why Kingsley and the others had to rush back to work overnight.

So, for the sake of not testing Chris’s nerves any further, Kyle figured it was best to comply.

Seeing Kyle agree, Chris let out a long sigh of relief and shot him an exasperated glare.

In truth, Chris didn’t want Kyle to develop a taste for killing. Thinking back, nearly every Death Eater Kyle had encountered had failed to walk away alive.

It started with the Triwizard Tournament, where Kyle first used Fiendfyre to kill a Death Eater. Later, when he and Cedric had dealt with the Dementors, two more had died.

Then came the Death Eaters in the Hogwarts tower, the werewolves in the Forbidden Forest, and now Godric’s Hollow... It could be said that Death Eaters had a better chance of surviving an encounter with Dumbledore than with Kyle.

Chris was deeply worried that if this continued, Kyle would eventually be consumed by the darkness of his own actions and become a Dark wizard like Voldemort.

But he couldn’t say anything.

Because despite all the lives Kyle had taken, his magic remained utterly untainted. There was no trace of the corruption Chris had feared, which rendered his concerns moot.

This left Chris feeling somewhat conflicted. He looked at Kyle, sighed, and shook his head before following Kingsley and the others out of the square.

...

Inside the house, Ron and the Weasley twins were having a small celebration, setting off the last of the confetti cannons left over from the wedding in the dining room.

They didn’t dwell on the complexities of the situation. Their thoughts were simple—so long as the Death Eaters suffered, it was worth celebrating. The heavier the casualties, the greater the victory.

They had no idea what had actually happened in Godric’s Hollow, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the Death Eaters had taken a serious hit, and for the Order of the Phoenix, that was a major win.

If the circumstances had allowed, they would have thrown a proper party.

"Fred! George!" Mrs. Weasley stormed into the room, her temples throbbing as she took in the mess of streamers.

"Can you lot be quiet for a moment?" she shouted. "I step out for a little while, and the whole dining room looks like a disaster zone!"

"It’s just some streamers, Mum, you’re exaggerating," Fred said, waving his wand. A gust of wind swept the colorful ribbons into a neat pile.

"See? Good as new."

"That’s not the point!" Mrs. Weasley huffed. "You two need to show some restraint. If you can’t set a good example for your younger siblings, at least don’t lead them astray."

"Us? Lead Ron astray?" Fred gestured between himself and George, then turned to Ron. "I’d say he was more excited about this than we were."

"Exactly," George agreed. "He set off more cannons by himself than the rest of us combined."

"I counted five from him."

"We each only did two."

"Ginny did one..."

"So, really, half the mess in this room is his doing."

Fred and George spoke in perfect sync, leaving Ron red-faced and speechless.

"The only reason I set those off was because you gave them to me!" Ron sputtered.

"We only asked you to hold them," George countered, feigning innocence. "We never said you should actually set them off."

Ron gaped at them, lost for words. He turned to Hermione, hoping for support, but she had opposed the idea of celebrating from the start and had no intention of coming to his defense now.

"Enough," Mrs. Weasley cut in, silencing the bickering. "All of you—off to bed. Now."

Ron bolted from the room.

The twins grumbled but didn’t argue further, reluctantly heading upstairs. As they went, they muttered under their breath about how unfair it was that their mother always scolded them but not Ron.

Mrs. Weasley ignored their complaints. She might not have known the full story, but she knew Fred and George well enough—scolding them was never a mistake.

"And you should all get to bed as well," Mrs. Weasley said to the remaining people. Then, turning to Kyle, she added, "Do you need me to make an extra perch for Fawkes? Though, I can only use firewood with the materials we have here."

"Ah, no need," Kyle shook his head.

Just as people preferred sleeping in beds, phoenixes preferred perching on branches—and the rarer the wood, the more comfortable it was. Like the one in the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office.

Kyle recalled that the perch there was golden, not just because of an added decoration, but because the wood itself had a natural golden hue. Under sunlight, it looked like solidified Felix Felicis.

Though Kyle didn’t have anything quite like that, he did have an entire forest inside his suitcase. Fawkes would undoubtedly be much more comfortable staying there than perching on a single branch...

Still, Mrs. Weasley’s words reminded him that if he ever came across the right kind of wood, he could try making a proper perch for Fawkes.

He considered this as he walked out of the kitchen.

...

"Kyle."

As he reached the staircase, Kyle heard someone call his name. Turning around, he saw Hermione standing there, as if she had been waiting for him.

"Something wrong?" Kyle asked.

"Well, you’re going to the Ministry tomorrow, right? I’ve been thinking about a few important questions," Hermione said. "It’s about—"

"Hold on a second," Kyle interrupted. "There’s something you might not know—I won’t be going to the Ministry tomorrow after all."

"You’re not?" Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"Because of You-Know-Who," Kyle explained. "Everyone thinks he might retaliate against me for what happened this afternoon, so they’ve grounded me. I probably won’t be going anywhere for a while."

"Oh... sorry," Hermione said quickly. "I must’ve been distracted and didn’t hear about that."

"No, it’s not your fault," Kyle assured her. "They only told me a moment ago while they were outside—you weren’t there."

"Alright," Hermione said. "I’ll head back, then."

"Wait a second." Kyle stopped her. "If you really want to change something, why not try doing it yourself?"

"Doing it myself?" Hermione paused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you should take some time to actually understand the Ministry," Kyle said. "To be honest, you don’t really know how things work there. A lot of what you think you know is actually wrong."

"What’s wrong about it?" Hermione asked, watching him intently.

"A lot of things. For starters, you have a habit of applying Hogwarts-style logic to the Ministry," Kyle said. "But the two are completely different. The Ministry isn’t just another Hogwarts."

"It’s not a place where you can say a few words, make a suggestion, and expect things to change overnight. Every new law goes through careful deliberation before it gets passed."

"And as for what you mentioned before, about the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee—it’s not as simple as grading someone based on school-style assessments. A person’s effectiveness in their role isn’t something that can be measured by a neat, written score."

"But I’ve never seen any real impact from them," Hermione argued.

"That’s because you’ve never needed their help," Kyle said plainly. "You’re a Muggle-born witch. You and your parents already know how to interact with other Muggles. When conflicts arise, you don’t require the Ministry’s intervention."

This time, Hermione didn’t have a rebuttal.

"Tell you what," Kyle said after thinking for a moment. "If you’re free this month, why don’t you volunteer at the Ministry? It’ll give you a chance to familiarize yourself with how things actually work. Plus, they’re pretty short on staff right now."

"Volunteer...?"

Hermione’s eyes lit up. "You mean I can really do that?"

"Not on your own," Kyle replied. "But I can recommend you. I know quite a few people in the Ministry, and I doubt they’d turn down an extra set of hands."

"Just one thing, though—I have to warn you in advance. This is strictly volunteer work, so there’s no salary. If that’s a deal-breaker, then forget it—"

"No, I’ll do it," Hermione said immediately. "I’ll be working at the Ministry after I graduate next year anyway, so I’d love the chance to get some experience ahead of time."

"Alright, then," Kyle nodded. "You should head back for now. I’ll take you there tomorrow."

"Okay."

Hermione started up the stairs, but after only a few steps, she suddenly stopped.

"Wait, Kyle—didn’t you just say they won’t let you leave?"

"That’s true," Kyle shrugged, "but as long as I don’t step outside, it’s fine, isn’t it?"

"But how are you planning to get there? You can’t Apparate from here, there are no Portkeys, and the Floo Network isn’t connected."

"You haven’t forgotten how I got out of Godric’s Hollow, have you?" Kyle smirked.

Hermione froze as realization dawned on her. Then, her face went pale.

"If I have to be carried by a phoenix, I’d rather not go to the Ministry at all."

"You-Know-Who is after me, not you," Kyle said casually. "You can just take a normal route there. We’ll meet up near the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the lobby."

"Fine," Hermione sighed.

As they finished speaking, Kyle’s gaze drifted toward the large portrait hanging nearby.

Phineas Black’s portrait.

The painting itself wasn’t anything special—Kyle had grown tired of seeing Phineas’s face back at Hogwarts. But what caught his attention was the frame.

Phineas came from an old pure-blood family and had been a Hogwarts Headmaster. There was no way he’d settle for an ordinary frame. The wood it was made from...

Without thinking, Kyle reached out and placed a hand on it.

It was excellent craftsmanship. Even after hundreds of years, there wasn’t a single crack in the wood. It felt incredibly smooth—almost like polished jade.

This was good material.

Kyle’s eyes lit up. If he could take this down and fashion it into a perch, Fawkes would love it.

But then he hesitated.

No, that wouldn’t be right. This was Sirius’s great-great-grandfather’s portrait, and they were in the Black family’s ancestral home. Tearing down a family heirloom for a pet project would be... well, rude.

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