The atmosphere in Umbridge’s office had grown eerily quiet, the only sound the steady scratching of Kyle’s quill as it moved across the parchnt. Sunlight stread through the window, highlighting the thick stack of parchnt on the desk, each line bearing the sa sentence over and over.
Kyle had added ink multiple tis, his hand cramping as he pushed through the monotonous task. By noon, he had finally finished the required 500 lines.
“That was exhausting...” he muttered, rubbing his sore wrist. The last ti he’d written so much in one sitting was the night before the holiday last year, frantically finishing his Potions howork.
He stood and walked over to Umbridge. An hour earlier, she had stopped speaking entirely, her voice stolen by pain and exhaustion. All she could do now was glare at him with venom in her eyes.
Though the wounds on the back of her hand had healed, the skin remained raw and pink, as if fresh flesh had just begun to grow back.
“I’m finished, Professor,” Kyle said, holding up the hefty stack of parchnt. “As you can see, exactly 500 lines.”
Umbridge didn’t reply, but her glare sharpened. She had pieced things together: this was Hogwarts, a school. Kyle wouldn’t dare kill her, nor could he keep her locked up indefinitely. Sooner or later, she would get out—and when she did, she would make him pay.
“Professor, I suppose you’re thinking that I wouldn’t dare kill you,” Kyle said, his voice calm and asured. “And you’re right. I wouldn’t. After all, this is Hogwarts.”
His smile deepened. “But whether you’ll rember this conversation when the ti cos... well, that’s another matter.”
Kyle drew his wand, pointing it directly at Umbridge’s head. Her bravado faltered, giving way to panic.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked. “I’m the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic!”
“I know,” Kyle said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve ntioned it—more than once. And that’s exactly why I can’t have you causing any trouble.”
He tilted his head, as if considering sothing. “You know, a professor—one who also taught Defence Against the Dark Arts—taught a very useful little trick for situations like this.”
“Oh, and before I forget,” Kyle added, gesturing toward the thorny vines encasing her. “I made an error earlier. Venomous Tentacula have round, needle-like spikes. These jagged, triangular ones? They’re characteristic of Fanged Geranium.”
“What?!” Umbridge gasped, her eyes darting to the plant around her.
“Fanged Geranium,” Kyle repeated with a smile. “It’s only mildly poisonous. At worst, it causes brief discomfort. So, if you’d found the courage to rush over and grab the wand on the floor earlier, you probably could’ve escaped.” He shrugged. “I was pretty focused on my writing—I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“You lied to ...” Umbridge whispered, her face pale with fury and humiliation.
“Obliviate!”
A silvery flash erupted from Kyle’s wand, and Umbridge’s furious expression lted into a vacant, confused stare.
Taking advantage of her dazed state, Kyle quickly moved to erase all traces of what had transpired.
With a few precise waves of his wand, the shattered plates reassembled themselves, flying back onto the walls as if they’d never been disturbed. The overturned table and broken vase righted themselves, their pieces rejoining seamlessly.
Kyle turned his attention to the door, undoing the Locking Spell and dispelling the Muffliato Charm that had blanketed the room in silence.
Finally, he crouched down and stuffed the Fanged Geranium back into his suitcase, snapping it shut.
The office now looked untouched, as though nothing unusual had occurred.
There was, however, one last detail to address.
Kyle pointed his wand at the raw, red scar on the back of Umbridge’s hand.
The mark vanished instantly.
But Kyle hadn’t actually healed it. Wounds inflicted by dark magic items like the quill were far more complicated to nd. Instead, he had used a clever bit of Transfiguration to mask the scar.
With his current skill level, the illusion would hold at least until the end of the sester—unless soone used a counter-spell.
...
At that mont, Umbridge seed to fully regain her senses. Her gaze filled with confusion as she stared at Kyle, trying to piece together what had happened.
But confusion quickly gave way to anger.
“Get out! Why did you co into my office without knocking?” she snapped.
“Sorry, Professor,” Kyle said with a pleasant smile. “I did knock, but you seed to have fallen asleep and didn’t hear .”
“I fell asleep?” Umbridge muttered, her expression blank.
But she did feel oddly groggy, as if she hadn’t quite woken up. Raising her hand to rub her forehead, she was startled by a sudden sharp pain in the back of her hand. She yelped instinctively, looking down—but to her surprise, there was nothing unusual to see.
“Professor, is sothing wrong?” Kyle asked, his tone innocent.
“None of your business!” she snapped out of habit but quickly corrected herself, adopting her usual high-pitched, saccharine tone. “I an, of course, I’m fine. But you’re late!”
She pointed to the clock on the wall and added, “Your detention was supposed to start at eight o’clock, but it’s now been more than three hours. Therefore, your punishnt will be doubled.”
As she spoke, she rubbed the back of her hand again, wincing faintly.
“That’s reasonable, Professor,” Kyle replied with a nod. “But I think I should explain why I behaved as I did in class.”
Umbridge arched an eyebrow. “And what reason could you possibly have?”
“I needed an opportunity to speak to you in private,” Kyle said. “Detention was a convenient excuse.”
“Oh?” Umbridge’s interest was piqued. She leaned forward slightly and asked with a smile, “What exactly did you want to discuss?”
“Dumbledore,” Kyle said simply. “I’ve discovered that he’s planning to run for Minister of Magic.”
The words hit like a thunderclap. Umbridge jerked upright in her chair, but in her haste, she accidentally knocked the back of her hand against the armrest. Another jolt of pain shot through her, but she barely noticed it this ti.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said sharply, trying to keep her tone dismissive. “Everyone knows Dumbledore has no interest in the Ministry. He’s dedicated to being Headmaster of Hogwarts. Don’t think you can make up wild stories to avoid your punishnt.”
“That may have been true in the past,” Kyle said smoothly. “But people change, Professor. You probably don’t know this, but during the holidays, Dumbledore held a secret eting at The Hog’s Head. The topic of discussion? Securing nominations to replace Cornelius Fudge as the next Minister of Magic.”
Umbridge’s smile faltered, her face growing serious.
She did know sothing about this.
The Ministry had been unable to hide the fact that so many foreign wizards had converged on Britain during the sumr. Fudge had been desperate to uncover what was said at that eting, but despite extensive investigations by Aurors and Hit Wizards, they had turned up nothing.
One of her objectives at Hogwarts was to uncover the details of that eting. She had initially planned to start with the professors, but now Kyle had handed her a potential breakthrough.
“How do you know about this?” she asked sharply.
“Because I was there,” Kyle said, his tone confident and self-satisfied. “Dumbledore trusts .”
“And yet you’re telling this?” Umbridge asked, suspicion etched on her face.
“Because I believe Cornelius Fudge is the best Minister of Magic we could have,” Kyle said without hesitation.
Umbridge stared at him, her eyes narrowing as she tried to gauge his sincerity. Then, unexpectedly, she burst into laughter.
“I won’t fall for such a clumsy trick,” she said.
Kyle shrugged nonchalantly. “If you don’t believe , that’s your choice.”
He turned toward the door and began to walk away, adding as he went, “It’s a sha, though. If Dumbledore becos Minister, I wonder how many people will lose their positions. The wizarding world can’t afford that kind of chaos...”
One step.
Two steps.
Just as Kyle opened the office door to leave, Umbridge’s voice rang out sharply behind him.
“Wait!”
She hurried over, slamming the door shut before he could step through.
“Tell everything that happened at the eting, and I’ll let you off this ti,” she said, her tone a mix of eagerness and suspicion.
“I’ve already told you everything I know,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “As for the details, I’m sorry, but I can only share those with Minister Fudge.”
“You know, this could be a big opportunity for ,” Umbridge said, her expression softening slightly as she scrutinized him. “I’ve always wanted to climb higher in the Ministry of Magic.”
Kyle’s casual deanor didn’t waver.
“Are you worried I’ll take credit from you?”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Kyle replied with a faint smile. “But this is my gift to Minister Fudge. And as with any gift, it has to be delivered in person, don’t you think?”
He let the thought linger a mont before continuing, “Besides, I’m still in sixth year. I won’t graduate for another two years. Even if I did get credit, it wouldn’t help much now—maybe just a little advantage when the ti cos.”
Umbridge’s eyes glead. She had almost forgotten Kyle was still a student.
“If you’re lying to ...” she started, her voice threatening.
“I’m only doing this for the stability of the wizarding world, Professor,” Kyle said earnestly.
“A wise choice,” Umbridge murmured approvingly. Her expression softened further. “I’ll inform the Minister. If what you’ve said is true, I’ll personally ensure you have a position in the Ministry as soon as you graduate—in the best departnt of all: the Minister’s office.”
Kyle’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of excitent, but it was gone so quickly it could have been imagined.
Umbridge, however, caught it, her gaze narrowing slightly.
“And as for my detention today...” Kyle ventured.
“Of course not,” Umbridge said with an indulgent smile. “Consider it a reward for providing such valuable information.”
Kyle turned to leave but paused at the doorway, then walked back into the office.
Umbridge, now seated behind her desk and busy preparing a letter, looked up, her expression warr than Kyle had ever seen.
“Kyle?” she said, her tone almost motherly. “Is there sothing else you need?”
“Actually, yes, Professor. Just a small matter...”
“Go on,” she said, gesturing for him to speak.
“Well,” Kyle began, looking slightly embarrassed, “you deducted twenty points from yesterday in class. I understand why, of course, but you know I only acted out to avoid arousing Dumbledore’s suspicion."
“So, if it’s not too much trouble... could you restore the points? It’s still the beginning of the school year, and Hufflepuff is already in second-to-last place.”
Umbridge’s expression turned thoughtful, tinged with a slight disappointnt.
“You’re right,” she said after a mont. “This is Hogwarts, and one must be cautious. Your request is reasonable—defending the honor of your house is only natural.”
She gave him a small, almost approving nod.
“In fact,” she added with a faint smile, “for your honesty and bravery, I’ll award Hufflepuff twenty... no, fifty points.”
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