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Chapter 698: Plotting and Strategizing, the Choice of a Hero
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 11:14:53 +0000 UTCBack when he was in the Giant tribe, life had been harsh. They all lived in tents, and every night was a struggle. Either the thunderous snores of the Giants woke them up, or the sounds of fighting and roaring kept him from sleeping at all.
Now that he was back in St. Catchpole Village, Kyle went straight to his room without even stopping for dinner. He slept until noon, then emerged briefly to grab something quick to eat.
But instead of staying home for the rest of the day, Kyle headed straight to the Ministry of Magic.
When he arrived at the lobby, Chris was just returning from outside.
“Why are you here at this time?” Chris asked as they waited for the elevator. “Don’t you need more rest?”
“No, I’m fine. I rested all morning,” Kyle replied, shaking his head. “How are the Dementors?”
“It’s a problem,” Chris sighed. “The Ministry has sent everyone who can cast a Patronus Charm, but it’s still not enough."
“But honestly, it’s thanks to you for convincing Cedric to work here. He’s been a huge help these past few days.”
Just then, the elevator arrived, and the two stepped in together. In the distance, someone was running toward them, waving frantically to get them to hold the doors.
Neither Kyle nor Chris made a move to help. The elevator doors closed swiftly.
“How are things with the Giants?” Chris asked quietly as the elevator began to ascend.
“It’s sorted,” Kyle replied. “There was a big fight among them over who gets to be the next Gurg. That should keep them busy for a while, so we don’t have to worry about them getting involved in the war.”
“That’s a relief. If the Giants got involved, it wouldn’t end well for us,” Chris said. “Oh, and don’t mention any of this to your mother. She still doesn’t know you left with Newt to deal with the Giants.”
“I understand,” Kyle nodded.
The elevator stopped at the floor for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Chris stepped out, then turned back, reconsidering something.
“I’d avoid Arthur’s floor if I were you. Fred and George have been pestering everyone about when you’ll be back.”
“I know,” Kyle said, rubbing his forehead. Truthfully, he’d been planning to lay low for a while.
Soon, the elevator stopped again.
“First floor...”
Kyle stepped out and walked to the end of the corridor, stopping before a grand golden door in the center.
Office of the Minister for Magic.
He knocked.
“Come in.”
The room was smaller than he’d expected but elegantly furnished. Like the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts, portraits of former Ministers of Magic adorned the walls. All of them appeared to have their eyes closed, feigning sleep—but Kyle knew well that magical portraits didn’t need to sleep.
Fudge sat behind a large mountain-ash desk. When he saw Kyle, he smiled.
“Oh, Kyle, you’re back. Is it done?”
“Yes, it’s over,” Kyle replied.
“How was it? Was it dangerous?” Fudge asked, standing. “I didn’t approve of Dumbledore sending you and Mr. Scamander to deal with the Giant problem. You haven’t even graduated yet! But Dumbledore insisted you’d be fine. You know how stubborn he can be—impossible to argue with.”
“Luckily, with Mr. Scamander’s help, we didn’t face any real danger,” Kyle said calmly.
“Is that so?” Fudge’s expression darkened. “Then why did I hear otherwise? Letting an ungraduated student face the Giant Gurg alone—if Diana knew about this, she’d destroy my office. I don’t condone sending students on such dangerous missions.”
“Sorry, Minister,” Kyle said. “I was rash. I thought I could handle it. You know I’ve always been good in school.”
“Giants aren’t just classroom obstacles at Hogwarts,” Fudge said sternly. Then his face softened into a smile. “But you succeeded, didn’t you? A sixteen-year-old defeating a Giant Gurg and saving the Wizarding World from disaster—that’s worthy of the Order of Merlin, First Class."
“Unfortunately, the Order committee seems to believe Mr. Scamander did most of the work, and you were just his assistant.”
“That’s fine,” Kyle replied. “Mr. Scamander was essential in resolving the situation.”
“True, true...” Fudge muttered, though he didn’t seem to care much. “I’ll handle it. Now, tell me about the past few days—I want all the details.”
“Of course, Minister.”
For the next hour, Kyle recounted everything that had happened. There was little to hide. Newt had pointed out on the first day that the Portkey they’d used was fully authorized, meaning the Ministry had been aware of their journey all along.
Even the moment Kyle killed the Giant Gurg had been reported—there was no one else around to do it, so it was clear who had informed Fudge. Now, Kyle was merely repeating what the Minister already knew.
An hour later, Fudge murmured, “It seems Dumbledore wasn’t hiding anything after all...”
“Minister, what were you saying?” Kyle asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, nothing,” Fudge replied quickly, shaking his head. “I was just saying that you've had a hard time recently, and I should give you a few days off, but…”
He hesitated, looking slightly embarrassed. “You probably don’t know yet, but the Ministry is critically short-staffed. The Death Eaters have been unusually active, and everyone’s on edge—including me. Many staff members haven’t been home for three days straight.”
“I understand, Minister,” Kyle said. “And I’ve already taken the liberty of giving myself half a day off. Just don’t dock my pay.”
“Haha, you’ve earned it! In fact, I was considering giving you a raise,” Fudge said with a laugh. “So, what do you think we should do, given the current situation?”
Kyle paused for a moment, considering. “I think we should create pamphlets to teach everyone how to protect themselves during these dangerous times. In addition, we need to boost morale quickly and demonstrate the Ministry’s determination to fight back.”
Fudge’s eyes lit up. He had asked the question casually, not expecting a thoughtful solution so soon.
“No need to rush,” he said, waving his wand. A glass of Butterbeer appeared on the table, which he gestured for Kyle to take.
“Thanks,” Kyle said, taking a sip before continuing. “First, about the self-help pamphlets—I’ll handle the content. I can bring them to you tomorrow morning. Once you’ve approved them, we can distribute them along with The Daily Prophet.”
“No problem,” Fudge agreed. “What about morale? How do we handle that?”
“We could create a few heroes,” Kyle suggested. “Right now, people need someone to look up to—symbols of hope.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Fudge said, clearly pleased. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
“How about Harry Potter?” Kyle proposed. “The Chosen One—it’s a natural fit for the current situation.”
Fudge nodded, his approval evident. “We’ve already been doing that. Lately, there’s been something about Harry in the papers nearly every day.”
“And what about Senior Undersecretary Umbridge?” Kyle added. “As a prominent anti-Death Eater figure, her name might inspire people even more than Harry’s at the moment.”
Fudge hesitated. “Dolores… She’s still at St. Mungo’s after being tortured twice with the Cruciatus Curse. Her condition is serious. What if the Death Eaters strike St. Mungo’s again?”
“I understand,” Kyle said thoughtfully. “But Minister, in times like these, the story of a tragic hero can ignite more courage in people’s hearts than that of a savior.”
Fudge seemed to mull this over, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll need to think about that some more.”
“Of course,” Kyle replied. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll get started on the self-help pamphlet.”
“Go ahead,” Fudge said with a nod. “And be as detailed as possible.”
“I will,” Kyle promised, before leaving the room and heading to his office next door.
The moment he opened his office door, two pairs of hands clamped down on his shoulders—one on each side.
“Well, look who’s back…”
“Our very own Senior Assistant…” Fred and George stood on either side of Kyle, their eyes narrowed and glinting menacingly.
“Now, now, don’t be hasty,” Kyle said, raising his hands in surrender. “I have a good reason.”
“Explain yourself…”
“If you don’t satisfy us, you’re dead!” George warned.
“I’m doing this for your own good,” Kyle argued, wriggling free from their grip. “You’ve graduated now. It’s time to start thinking about your families. Don’t forget that your department used to fall under the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”
He paused for emphasis. “Just think how much work Mr. Weasley would have to deal with if you two weren’t helping out at the Ministry.”
Fred and George fell silent, exchanging a glance.
They had barely had a moment to breathe in the past few days, let alone time for meals. With so few people in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, all hands were needed on deck. Without their help, Mr. Weasley wouldn’t have had a chance to sleep, let alone go home.
“Don’t try to fool us,” Fred said, narrowing his eyes. “This clearly falls under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”
“Are you sure?” Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that most counterfeit defensive products are made from Muggle materials.”
Fred hesitated, muttering, “You’ve got a point. But why didn’t you tell us in advance?”
“There wouldn’t have been any surprise,” Kyle replied nonchalantly, walking over to the table and sitting down. “Besides, Cedric and I are both working in the Ministry of Magic. Does it really seem appropriate for you two to be out having fun? Don’t you feel even a little guilty?”
“Not really,” Fred said with a shrug.
George nodded in agreement. “Our consciences are just fine.”
“In that case, you can go,” Kyle said, waving them off. “Just head to Diagon Alley tomorrow and open your shop. No need to come back here. As for the Minister, I’ll explain it to him.”
Fred and George froze, momentarily stunned by Kyle’s words. They exchanged a quick glance.
“Are you serious?”
“We can really leave the Ministry?” George asked cautiously.
“Of course,” Kyle said smoothly. “But you’ll need to find someone to take over your current responsibilities. I can’t just dump everything on Mr. Weasley.”
Fred and George’s eyes widened in alarm before they hastily backpedaled.
“Look, we were only joking,” Fred said quickly, his tone taking a sharp turn.
“Exactly,” George added with a forced grin. “And with the Ministry being so busy right now, it would be selfish of us to leave. No way, absolutely not.”
“Besides,” Fred said earnestly, “you and Cedric are our best friends. How could we even think about leaving you two to handle all this on your own?”
The twins’ attitudes shifted completely, their voices now dripping with enthusiasm and sincerity.
There was no other choice. Over the past few days, they had confiscated countless counterfeit defensive products and illegal magical items. While most of the items were fakes, they had sparked ideas for numerous real products. With a bit of tweaking, these ideas had quickly turned into bestsellers for their shop.
In fact, their Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had introduced over a dozen new products in just two weeks, all incredibly popular. Take, for example, their Dementor-repelling necklaces—they had sold twenty in a single day earlier that week.
More importantly, this department was tasked with regulating Wizarding Props stores. If someone else took over their roles, the store would likely face constant inspections—ten times a day wouldn’t be out of the question. The shop might not even survive.
And Fred and George had no doubt that Kyle was entirely capable of orchestrating such persistent, shameless scrutiny.
With that sobering thought in mind, the twins eagerly sprang into action. George pulled out Butterbeer, while Fred placed a tin of cookies on Kyle’s desk.
“You must have been working really hard these past few days…”
“Try these! Mum baked them this morning—they’re delicious.”
Kyle didn’t comment on their sudden change in attitude. He casually picked up a cookie and bit into it. It was, indeed, very good.
Then, without a word, he pulled a stack of parchment.
“What are you doing?” George asked, curiosity sparking in his tone.
“Getting to work, of course,” Kyle replied, glancing up briefly. “I need to write a guidebook on 'How to protect yourself'.”
“That’s a great idea,” Fred said, his eyes gleaming with interest. “I think everyone could use a bit of magical protection right now.”
“Especially against Dementors,” George added. “I know of something that, when broken, releases a large cloud of Patronus light. It’s not a real Patronus, but it’ll keep a Dementor away long enough for you to escape.”
“And it’s not too expensive either—just ten Galleons,” Fred chimed in.
“Oh?” Kyle put down his quill, his expression intrigued. “Where can I find something like that?”
“37 Diagon Alley,” Fred said smoothly.
Kyle raised an eyebrow. He knew full well that 37 Diagon Alley was the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes’s address. However, he didn’t dismiss the idea outright. Instead, he asked thoughtfully, “Does it actually work?”
“It does,” George said, sounding unusually serious. “Don’t forget, this is what we do for a living. We can’t afford to ruin our reputation.”
“Even Tonks and Moody bought two each after seeing it in action,” Fred added. “That should tell you everything you need to know.”
Kyle tapped his fingers on the desk, deep in thought. If seasoned Aurors found it useful, then it likely was effective.
After a pause, he said tentatively, “If you can lower the price to five Galleons, I can include your shop’s address in the guidebook.”
“That’s impossible,” Fred said immediately. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to store the Patronus Charm? We use Unicorn horns and Dragon’s blood to carve the runes—it costs us seven Galleons and fifteen Sickles just to make one, not counting production costs.”
“Six Galleons, then,” Kyle countered.
“I just told you, the cost is seven Galleons and fifteen Sickles,” George said, exasperated. “We’re not making that up—”
“Hold on,” Kyle interrupted, raising a hand. “What if the Ministry subsidized one Galleon for every unit sold? How does that sound?”
Fred frowned. “Even then, we’d be losing fifteen Sickles on each one. Look, we’d love to do something for the wizarding world, but we can’t sell at a loss. Maybe if we added just one more Galleon…”
“Too much,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “Fudge wouldn’t agree. Without Lucius Malfoy’s contributions, the Ministry’s budget is stretched thin. Besides, some things can’t be measured in Galleons alone. This guidebook is for all wizards, and it’s the best advertisement you could ask for. If it works, the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Shop will become famous overnight.”
Fred and George exchanged a long look, hesitating. Kyle was right—it was an incredible opportunity for exposure. The shop’s name could spread across the wizarding world in a matter of days. The potential benefits were enormous.
But the risk was just as daunting. The more units they sold, the more they would lose. Fifteen Sickles might not seem like much, but sell a hundred—or a thousand—and they’d be facing bankruptcy. Fame wouldn’t mean much if it left them broke.
“We really shouldn’t have come here today,” Fred muttered through clenched teeth.
“If we hadn’t, we wouldn’t be stuck in this mess,” George grumbled.
The twins began pacing back and forth in Kyle’s office, clearly torn.
“Maybe there’s another way,” Kyle suggested, breaking the silence. “The Ministry of Magic might be able to source Dragon’s blood and Unicorn horns at a lower price.”
Fred and George stopped pacing, their expressions brightening. “If the costs come down, we’d be fine,” they said in unison. “We could even sell them at cost price if needed.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Kyle said with a faint smile. “It’s just a possibility for now. I’ll need to look into it.”
“That’s fine,” George said. “Even if we only lose a few Sickles per unit, we can live with that.”
“Though it’d be even better if we didn’t lose anything at all,” Fred added.
