Kyle stayed for the next few days, drawn not only by the library but also by the food—Mrs. Weasley's cooking was a far cry from the bread and smoked sausages he was used to at ho. During this ti, he also t many new people.
There was Kingsley Shacklebolt, a Ministry of Magic employee; Dedalus Diggle, who seed reckless and a bit scatterbrained; and Mundungus Fletcher, whose popularity left much to be desired.
These individuals were equally curious about Kyle, surprised to find him here. Yet, Kyle offered little explanation, rely ntioning during als that he was a friend of Harry's.
Most of Kyle's ti was spent in the underground library, where few ventured—even Hermione. She avoided it because Kreacher’s constant presence made it hard for her to concentrate. Instead, she had Sirius bring books to her room. Ron, unsurprisingly, couldn't understand why anyone would want to read during the holidays.
Harry, however, thought reading could be beneficial and initially tried joining them. His enthusiasm, unfortunately, waned after a day, and the book he’d chosen was quickly abandoned on the corner of the table. He struggled to focus, distracted by even the faintest sounds outside.
When the Hogwarts letters arrived, his attention wandered further. This ti, the owl brought not only the usual booklist but also a surprise: Hermione had been made a Prefect. Her badge was tucked into the envelope alongside her booklist.
Harry wasn’t shocked—Hermione was an obvious choice for fifth-year Prefect. But what caught everyone off guard was Ron being nad the other Prefect.
"A house full of Prefects!" Fred exclaid loudly, his voice echoing through the room. "Isn't that wonderful?"
"If you don't count us," George quipped.
"And don't forget !" Ginny chid in, disgruntled. "I'm only in fourth year! Maybe they'll send a badge next year, too."
"Only a fool would think so," Fred said, his tone a little sour.
At any other ti, Mrs. Weasley might have scolded him for such a remark, but not today. She was too overjoyed, practically glowing as she admired Ron's Prefect badge. Promising him a new broomstick, she was already figuring out how to budget for the expense. While good flying brooms were costly, a basic new one was within reach with so thriftiness.
"We could get our own brooms," George muttered. "And buy them ourselves."
"Exactly," Fred agreed.
After her initial surprise, Hermione offered Ron her congratulations. But as she looked across the table, it seed she rembered soone else in the room who wasn’t a Prefect.
"Harry?" she asked hesitantly. "How are you?"
"Fantastic, Hermione," Harry replied, his enthusiasm overly cheerful. "Congratulations on becoming a Prefect. And, of course, Ron."
He then busied himself packing his things to avoid letting Hermione see his face.
Harry couldn't fully articulate how he felt. He didn’t want to admit he was jealous of Ron, but he couldn’t deny the pang he felt when he heard the news.
He didn’t think he was any less deserving than Ron—perhaps, in so ways, he might even be more so. He was an excellent Quidditch player, the youngest mber of the school team.
But I didn’t lead the team to win the Quidditch Cup, Harry thought bitterly.
Most of their school adventures had been accomplished together. Still, Harry didn’t want to feel envious or begrudge Ron his first mont of outshining him. He tried convincing himself that perhaps Ron truly deserved it. After all, Ron had been at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters earlier in the sumr. Maybe Dumbledore had made up his mind then.
Yet, the more Harry tried to justify it, the worse he felt. He forced a smile for the rest of the day, hiding his turmoil.
Unaware of Harry’s struggles, Kyle remained engrossed in the library. One book in particular, Secrets of the Darkest Art, captured his attention. It offered a detailed explanation of Horcruxes, including the thods for creating them.
To Kyle's surprise, the magic was not as complex as he had imagined. He felt confident that if he wanted to, he could enlist any Death Eater and use the book before him to create a Horcrux on the spot.
But that wasn’t Kyle’s goal. His study of Horcruxes had begun with a thought he’d had after eting the Longbottoms. What started as a fleeting idea had grown into a determination to bring change—not just to save a few lives but to reshape certain perceptions within the wizarding world.
For instance, Kyle dread of reducing the number of Unforgivable Curses from three to two. The Cruciatus Curse was deed unforgivable because of the irreversible damage it caused to the soul. But if Kyle’s theory succeeded and could be refined further, could it not beco a counter-curse instead?
He wasn’t sure, but it was worth exploring.
However, there was a problem. The thods described in Secrets of the Darkest Art were sufficient for personal use. But modifying the process to work on soone comatose was far beyond Kyle’s current capabilities. The inability to actively draw out a soul was a significant obstacle.
To overco this, Kyle enlisted Kreacher to search for additional books on souls. For now, his research continued.
...
It wasn’t until 6:00 p.m. that Kyle finally erged from the library. Stepping into the kitchen, his eyes were drawn to a bright red banner hanging above the dining table.
It read: Congratulations Ron and Hermione on being elected Prefects.
Oh, right, they’re in their fifth year too, Kyle thought.
Mrs. Weasley was beaming as she set the table. It was the happiest Kyle had seen her all holiday, and not even the arrival of Mundungus Fletcher could dampen her mood.
The kitchen was lively, with several people having returned for the evening: Mr. Weasley, Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, and even Bill, who greeted Kyle with enthusiasm. Bill, dressed in his usual quirky attire, didn’t explain why he was there, nor did Kyle feel the need to ask.
And then, partway through dinner, Dumbledore arrived. His appearance, though late, brought a subtle shift to the atmosphere.
"Dumbledore..." Mundungus was the first to rise, quickly placing the silver dinner knife he’d pocketed back onto the table.
“I see I’ve arrived just in ti,” Dumbledore said as he took a seat and helped himself to a baked potato.
“How did it go?” Moody asked, tilting his head.
“Very well,” Dumbledore replied with a nod before his gaze settled on the banner. “Ah, I almost forgot—today is the day the Prefects are announced.” He raised his glass. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Professor... thank you,” Ron and Hermione mumbled, looking slightly awkward under his attention.
Harry, on the other hand, sat quietly, his feelings a tangled ss. He desperately wanted to ask Dumbledore why he hadn’t been chosen as a Prefect but lacked the courage.
Later, during a conversation with Sirius, Harry learned that his father hadn’t been a Prefect either, and the revelation lightened his mood sowhat.
Fred and George also found so solace. They discovered that many of the adults around the table—including Tonks, who they thought highly of—hadn’t been Prefects either.
The al ended in rare laughter, an atmosphere that had been hard to co by recently.
After dinner, just as Kyle was heading back to his room, Dumbledore stopped him.
“Do you rember what we discussed earlier?” Dumbledore asked.
“Of course, Professor,” Kyle replied. “Has the eting already started?”
Having been engrossed in the library, Kyle had lost track of the days.
“It’s tomorrow,” Dumbledore said. “I was considering visiting St. Catchpole Village, but seeing you here saves the trouble. If you’re free, could you join at six o’clock tomorrow? It’s best to arrive early.”
“No problem, Professor. I’d be happy to,” Kyle replied.
“That’s excellent,” Dumbledore said with a smile.
Neither noticed the group of heads huddled together on the stairs outside the kitchen.
“What are they talking about?” Ron whispered, curious.
“It sounds like they’re going to so kind of eting,” Fred said, holding up an ear-shaped object. “Tomorrow morning, apparently.”
This piqued everyone’s interest. Dumbledore had been absent from most recent etings, so the prospect of his involvent stirred excitent.
But just as they were about to eavesdrop further, the kitchen door opened. The group scrambled to hide behind the stairs, trying to blend into the shadows.
Dumbledore stepped out, pausing briefly before continuing on his way, seemingly unaware of their presence.
“Phew, he didn’t see us,” Ron whispered in relief.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” a voice said.
“Definitely not,” Ron said confidently. “We hid really quickly—”
He stopped abruptly, realizing the voice wasn’t one of theirs. It was eerily familiar, a voice they’d heard countless tis at the Start-of-Term Feast.
It was Dumbledore’s.
A chill ran down Ron’s spine as he broke into a cold sweat. His gaze shifted to the source of the voice—the ear-shaped object in Fred’s hand.
Before anyone could react, Dumbledore’s voice sounded again from the device.
“That’s quite a clever invention. Very practical. However, I believe it’s ti for you to return to your rooms. Molly has made it clear she doesn’t want you staying up too late, and surely you don’t want to see her angry, do you?”
“You’re absolutely right, Professor,” George said quickly, recovering. “We were just testing out the new invention... we’ll head up now.”
“And thank you for your kind words, Professor,” Fred added with a grin. “This is one of our latest creations, available for only two Galleons at the Weasley Joke Shop. Of course, mbers of the Order of the Phoenix get a nice discount.”
Unfazed by the situation, Fred and George took the opportunity to advertise their product, showing their characteristic boldness. Ron, however, remained frozen.
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