Hogwarts: I'm Truly a Model Wizard-Chapter 794: Arrangements and Protection Plan

Fred and George found the idea that Kyle had killed seventy Death Eaters utterly ridiculous—they simply didn’t believe it.

And strictly speaking, Kyle hadn’t done so. He had roughly estimated that the Basilisk had the highest kill count, with around thirty in total, including the initial ambush and its indiscriminate attacks afterward.

The main reason was that the Basilisk’s gaze was nearly unbeatable—anyone who met its eyes was as good as dead. With such a small group of enemies, it had taken the Death Eaters completely by surprise.

Norbert had joined the fight later. Although a dragon’s destructive power was immense, in terms of efficiency, it was nowhere near the Basilisk. When all was said and done, Norbert had only managed a fraction of the kills.

Combined, the two creatures had taken out just over half of the Death Eaters.

So when Kingsley had brought it up earlier, Kyle had been able to calmly state that he hadn’t killed them all.

After all, he had only taken care of half of them. As for the rest—Kyle had no idea what had happened.

Maybe Voldemort had silenced them himself. After all, Kyle hadn’t exactly whispered when he mentioned the surname "Riddle."

And Voldemort’s Muggle father had always been a taboo subject for him. If he wanted to maintain his identity as the heir of a pure-blood Slytherin line, he couldn’t risk letting Death Eaters who might have overheard that secret walk away.

Given Voldemort’s personality, he wasn’t the type to waste time sifting through potential liabilities one by one. The simplest solution was to eliminate them all—no loose ends, no chance for mistakes.

Of course, this was all just Kyle’s speculation. What really happened after he left was something only Voldemort himself would know.

...

Meanwhile, at the dining table...

"Molly, Sirius, you’re really misunderstanding this." Kingsley sighed. He looked like he wanted to explain further, but after a moment of hesitation, he decided against it.

The truth was, his question had only been a matter of standard Auror procedure—Moody would have thought the same way.

If anyone else had been in Kyle’s position today, even Dumbledore, they would have been asked the same thing.

But at this point, there was no need. Because, like Fred and George, they didn’t believe that Kyle could have killed that many Death Eaters in just fifteen minutes.

Seventy in fifteen minutes—that was nearly five per minute. Even if they were dealing with warthogs, that speed would be absurd.

And even if it were seventy warthogs, they would still try to flee the moment they sensed danger—let alone seventy trained wizards.

In a place like Godric’s Hollow, if someone was determined to escape, it wouldn’t be easy to chase them down.

So there had to be something else at play here, something they didn’t yet understand—but whatever it was, it had nothing to do with Kyle.

"I’m sorry," Kingsley said, turning to Kyle. "This is my duty—I hope you understand."

"Of course," Kyle replied. "And I don’t mind."

The two exchanged a brief smile, and with that, the conversation seemed to come to a quiet close.

Sensing the tension in the air, Mr. Weasley quickly changed the subject. "By the way, has anyone seen Dumbledore? His phoenix is here, but he’s nowhere to be found."

As he spoke, he instinctively glanced at Fawkes, who was perched on Kyle’s shoulder. Whether it was from too many Apparition jumps or simply exhaustion, Fawkes was fast asleep, utterly undisturbed by the conversation happening around him.

But despite Mr. Weasley’s curiosity, the others all shook their heads. No one had any idea what was going on. It seemed that since noon, no one had seen Dumbledore at all.

Once again, all eyes turned to Kyle.

It was inevitable—after all, Sirius had just mentioned that Kyle could direct the phoenix’s movements, and the fact that Fawkes was comfortably napping on his shoulder only reinforced that claim.

If anyone here knew where Dumbledore was, their first guess would be Kyle.

"Don’t look at me—I have no idea," Kyle shrugged. "Dumbledore just said he had something important to take care of and asked me to look after Fawkes."

It was the same excuse he had used at the Hog’s Head. In fact, they had planned this explanation in advance while they were still at Bathilda’s house.

Dumbledore didn’t want too many people knowing he had used a Time-Turner, so he came up with a vague excuse—something important needed his attention.

After all, he was always on the move, so his absence wouldn’t raise suspicion at first. But if he was gone too long, that would be another matter.

For now, Kyle was just playing along, hoping Dumbledore would return soon and not disappear for half a year—or worse, a whole year.

He had to admit, at times like this, Dumbledore’s name had become more than just a name—it was a symbol. As long as he was still around, people believed victory was possible.

And when facing the Death Eaters, that belief was crucial.

...

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley arrived with a late-night snack.

It wasn’t anything extravagant—just simple sandwiches with corned beef and fried ham—but they paired well with Firewhiskey.

Of course, only the people Fawkes had rescued were drinking. The others, who had come from the Ministry, were staying completely sober.

Once everyone had sobered up a little, the conversation drifted back to the Death Eaters.

"I never imagined their numbers had grown this much," Mr. Weasley said worriedly.

"Yeah," Sirius nodded.

Previously, they had only encountered small groups of Death Eaters, usually just a handful at a time. But now, things were different.

Seventy Death Eaters mobilized at once... That was almost as many as there had been at the height of Voldemort’s power more than a decade ago.

Even if most of them had been recruited just to pad out the ranks, with varying levels of skill, it was still a serious problem for both the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic.

And Voldemort hadn’t even shown up in person. Bellatrix alone had been able to bring seventy Death Eaters into the fight. That alone suggested their real numbers were much higher than seventy.

And that was just Bellatrix. There was still Antonin Dolohov, Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch Jr., Thorfinn Rowle, Yaxley... All of them were Death Eaters deeply trusted by Voldemort.

By that estimate, the Death Eaters’ numbers could be at least five times as large—around 350 in total.

By comparison, their side was looking alarmingly outmatched.

Even including both veteran and new recruits, the Order of the Phoenix barely had thirty members. The number of Aurors was about the same, with a few more Hit Wizards, but even then, they had no more than a hundred.

Even if they counted security personnel and other combat-trained wizards, they would be lucky to reach 200.

Two hundred at most. Three hundred fifty at least. The gap was clear as day.

For a moment, an air of helplessness settled over the group.

"Come on, everyone, let’s not be so pessimistic. We’ve faced worse odds before, haven’t we?" Lupin said, trying to lift their spirits. "During the last war, the Death Eaters outnumbered us thirty to one, and they still lost."

But his words didn’t do much to reassure anyone.

Everyone at the table knew exactly why the Death Eaters had lost last time—it had nothing to do with the Ministry of Magic or even the Order of the Phoenix. The real reason was that Voldemort had died.

Or rather, everyone thought he had.

The prophesied Boy Who Lived had seemingly vanquished the Dark Lord, leaving the Death Eaters leaderless. Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of the age, had seized the moment and led the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix to crush what remained of them.

It all sounded heroic and inspiring, but at the end of the day, luck had played a huge part. If Voldemort hadn’t fallen that night, no one could say for sure how things would have turned out.

Even if they had won, it would have been a hard-fought, bloody victory.

That thought weighed heavily on everyone’s minds, and before long, several pairs of eyes turned toward Harry...

"What’s wrong?" Harry asked.

"No, it’s nothing," Kingsley replied. "I just wanted to remind you—losing seventy Death Eaters is not something You-Know-Who will take lightly. He will definitely find a way to retaliate."

"So for now, unless it’s absolutely necessary, you’d better not leave here."

"But I can’t just hide away forever," Harry frowned. "Term starts soon, and I’ll have to go to King’s Cross Station."

"Well... I think it’s best if you don’t go to King’s Cross Station at all," Kingsley said.

"Then how are we supposed to get to school?" Hermione asked, growing anxious. frёewebnoѵēl.com

"It’s not like the train is the only way to get to Hogwarts, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she walked over, setting down a basket of fried potatoes on the table. "We’ll make sure you get there safely. A Portkey, the Floo Network—there are plenty of options."

"I’m more inclined to use Apparition," Sirius said. "Apparating them straight to Hogsmeade is the safest option. To be honest, I don’t trust the Floo Network—it’s under Ministry supervision."

"I feel the same way," Lupin said, glancing at Kingsley. "Of course, this isn’t directed at you, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the Death Eaters had already turned someone inside the Department of Magical Transportation. Plenty of them are skilled in the Imperius Curse."

"I understand, Remus," Kingsley nodded. "No matter what method we use, the main goal is to get Harry Potter to Hogwarts safely."

"As long as he makes it there, he’ll be safe under Dumbledore’s protection."

Kyle sat quietly as they discussed the plan.

Hogwarts... probably wouldn’t be as safe this year.

The only good news was that no one, except him, knew where Dumbledore was. And without any definite information, Voldemort wouldn’t act recklessly.

...

"By the way, we need to station some people in Hogsmeade," Moody said. "Last year, someone tried to use a cursed Dark artifact to target Kyle."

"It was Malfoy," Harry suddenly said. "He admitted it in the tower. And he was also the one who used the Imperius Curse on Madam Rosmerta—he controlled her to give Slughorn the Love Potion."

"Malfoy?" Ron looked surprised. "When did he say that? I’ve never heard you mention it before."

"I haven’t?" Harry asked, confused.

"Of course not. Ask Hermione if you don’t believe me," Ron said.

Hermione nodded. "No, you never told us."

"Then I must have forgotten," Harry said. "He said a lot that day... He even admitted that since our first year, he had been trying to kill Kyle and Dumbledore—he just never succeeded."

"And you kept something that important from us?" Ron exclaimed, looking stunned.

After all, most of the time, Harry told them everything. And now he was keeping secrets?

"I didn’t mean to—I really forgot," Harry quickly explained. "You know, that day, there were far bigger things going on. If Alastor hadn’t just brought it up, I probably wouldn’t have remembered at all."

What Harry was referring to was Kyle storming the tower and unleashing Fiendfyre.

At the time, he had been under Dumbledore’s protection, witnessing firsthand as the entire tower was consumed by roaring flames. That apocalyptic scene—fire raging in every direction—had completely erased all other thoughts from his mind.

And because of that, when Kingsley mentioned earlier that Kyle had taken out seventy Death Eaters single-handedly, Harry hadn’t even questioned it. He had believed it instantly, almost instinctively.

After hearing his explanation, Ron hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "Alright... I guess that makes sense."

"Oh, Malfoy... just as I expected," Moody snorted. "But I doubt he’ll be going to Hogwarts this year."

"That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while," Harry said with a grin.

A Hogwarts without Malfoy... it almost felt like a dream.

"Dumbledore’s just too kind," Hagrid grumbled. "The whole Malfoy family is rotten to the core, but he still thinks Draco was just misled. He’s just like Lucius—evil through and through."

"Don’t say that, Hagrid," Mr. Weasley said, waving a hand. "Dumbledore must have his reasons. We just have to trust him."

Hagrid didn’t reply. He simply grabbed a bottle of brandy, twisted off the cap, and downed it in one gulp.

"Anyway..." Moody continued, "even though last year’s troublemaker is gone, we can’t guarantee there aren’t others like him among the students. And there’s no telling if they’ll set their sights on Harry next."

"For safety’s sake, once the school year starts, it would be best if someone stayed in Hogsmeade long-term."

"Protecting Harry is one thing, but having someone nearby who can respond quickly in an emergency is just as important."

"No problem, I agree."

"I agree too..."

"That would be for the best."

The group nodded in agreement.

Harry, though reluctant to let others take extra risks for him, knew his opinion wouldn’t change anything. He sat in silence, listening.

Moody scanned the room. "Mundungus, you—"

"Alastor," Sirius interrupted suddenly.

"I’ll take care of it."

"You?" Moody frowned, hesitating.

It wasn’t that he doubted Sirius’s ability—Sirius could handle himself just fine. The problem was that ability wasn’t the priority here. What they needed was stealth.

Whether it was protecting Harry or anything else, the entire operation would lose its effectiveness if they were discovered. No Death Eater would be foolish enough to attack Harry with his protectors standing in plain sight.

When it came to staying hidden, aside from Nymphadora Tonks, Mundungus was the better choice.

"Someone else would be better suited," Moody said. "Your face is too recognizable. Every Death Eater out there knows you—and they know you’re Harry’s godfather."

"Dumbledore and the professors are enough for visible protection. We don’t need more people drawing attention."

"I can use the Polyjuice Potion," Sirius said. "And more importantly, I actually have a legitimate reason to be in Hogsmeade—I own property there."

"Property?"

"The Shrieking Shack," Sirius said with a smirk. "Remus and I bought it. It’s ours now."

"No, it’s yours and Kyle’s," Lupin corrected. "I didn’t have that kind of money. Kyle lent it to me, and I still have to pay him back."

At that, Sirius’s expression soured. He still couldn’t wrap his head around why Lupin had chosen to take a loan—from Kyle, of all people, who hadn’t even graduated at the time—rather than just ask him.

Chris, too, seemed taken aback.

He knew Kyle had made some money over the years, but he had no idea how much. He had never asked.

How did he already have property?

In Hogsmeade, no less?

As far as Chris knew, real estate there wasn’t exactly cheap.

Hogsmeade was the only all-wizarding village in Britain, well-known and highly sought after. Even a long-abandoned place like the Shrieking Shack couldn’t have sold for anything less than 3,000 Galleons.

Even if Sirius had covered half, that still left 1,500 Galleons—more than half a year’s salary.

Had Kyle really made that much from the small businesses he ran at school?

Oh. Right. The Triwizard Tournament.

Chris suddenly remembered—the tournament’s champion prize was 1,000 Galleons.

That would explain a lot.

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