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Chapter 689: Before the Holiday
🕑 Added 2025-04-10 11:06:39 +0000 UTCWhat happened in the Department of Mysteries yesterday spread quickly across the wizarding world, thanks to The Daily Prophet. However, the newspaper did not mention the prophecy globe. It only reported that Voldemort had led his Death Eaters in an attempt to seize something and wreak havoc in the main hall.
To many, this was Voldemort openly declaring war on the Ministry of Magic. It also signaled that he had gathered enough followers and was ready to strike at any moment—leaving the wizarding world feeling frightened and uneasy.
But none of this concerned the students at Hogwarts.
That afternoon, nearly the entire school gathered at the Quidditch Pitch to witness the most crucial final of the school year: Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor. The score difference was a mere 20 points, meaning the winner of this match would claim the Quidditch Cup.
From the very start, cheers and shouts of encouragement filled the stands, as everyone rooted enthusiastically for their team.
“For both teams, this is a game they absolutely cannot afford to lose...”
Lee Jordan’s voice boomed from the commentary booth. “Whether it’s Cedric and Ted from Hufflepuff or the Weasley brothers and Angelina from Gryffindor, none of them want to leave Hogwarts with regrets in their final year!"
“…Oh no, the Quaffle’s in Kyle’s hands again—that’s bad news for Gryffindor! Angelina’s closing in on him, but her broom just can’t keep up with the Firebolt!”
This time, Lee refrained from his usual quips and playful remarks, delivering a highly professional commentary instead. After all, the players he mentioned weren’t the only ones graduating; this was also his final year, making the match deeply significant to him.
“Oh, look! Harry’s spotted the Golden Snitch!” Lee’s voice, hoarse from prolonged shouting, carried a note of urgency as he leaned halfway out of the commentary stand. “It’s near the Ravenclaw stands, and Cedric’s seen it too! They’re both speeding up—who will catch it first? Someone lend me a pair of Omnioculars!”
“Meanwhile, Kyle’s at the Goalposts… he’s thrown the Quaffle—it’s heading for the center hoop! Can Ginny block it? Oh, she’s done it! A brilliant save by the temporary Keeper! That could be the most critical block of the game!”
Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the air as Lee let out an earsplitting shriek.
The Golden Snitch had been caught.
Harry raised his arms high, the Snitch’s golden wings fluttering weakly between his fingers. The stands erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause. The game was over.
210 to 220.
Gryffindor had won. For the first time in six years, they had defeated Hufflepuff and ended their unbeaten streak.
The players rushed together in jubilant celebration, with Harry and Ginny at the center of the group.
Once everyone returned to the pitch, Dumbledore stepped forward, smiling as he held the gleaming Quidditch Cup.
“Congratulations!” he said warmly, handing the trophy to Cedric.
Yes, Gryffindor had won the match—but in a way, they had lost as well. Hufflepuff had entered the game twenty points ahead, but by the end, they were only ten points ahead overall.
“What a shame...” Neville sighed in the stands. “If only Harry had caught the Snitch when we were seventy points ahead.”
“He knew it wasn’t possible,” Hermione said, her voice firm. She had only just been released from the hospital wing. “Hufflepuff’s Chasers were too strong. Dragging the game out would have risked them overtaking us entirely.”
“Ah, you’re right,” Neville agreed before joining in the celebrations. After all, they had at least managed to defeat Hufflepuff once.
“To be honest,” Cedric asked Kyle in the Changing Rooms, “did you miss that last goal on purpose?”
“Miss it on purpose?” Kyle replied, folding his jersey. “What do you mean?”
“That last shot,” Cedric clarified. “You were so close, and Ginny was just a stand-in Keeper. I didn’t think you’d miss.”
Kyle chuckled. “Ginny wasn’t bad, actually. And you’re overestimating me. Even professional Chasers don’t score every single time."
“Besides, isn’t this the best outcome? Both teams win in their own way… everyone’s happy.”
“You’ve got a point,” Cedric said, placing his jersey into his bag.
By the time they left the Changing Rooms, the once-boisterous stadium had fallen silent. The crowd was gone, and only echoes of their earlier cheers seemed to linger. Cedric paused at the doorway, standing quietly as if listening to the remnants of the celebration.
The rest of the team emerged behind him.
“Want to stay a bit longer?” Kyle asked.
“No,” Cedric replied, shaking his head and walking on. He joined the others, chatting as they strolled toward the stadium exit.
“I still can’t believe we’ve won six years in a row…”
“Professor Sprout was thrilled. I haven’t seen her that happy in ages.”
“Professor McGonagall seemed pleased too.”
“Yeah, this really was the best outcome…”
“We’ve got to have a feast—”
“Imagine celebrating with Gryffindor—it would’ve been hilarious.”
“How about a feast in the Great Hall?”
“That’s an idea, but the Slytherins and Ravenclaws might not like it. If you get hexed, don’t blame us!”
...
When the teams returned to the castle, they were met with the lively atmosphere of Gryffindor's celebrations already in full swing. Groups of Gryffindors were scattered across the common areas, laughing and chatting exuberantly. Even when Slytherins attempted to taunt them about losing the Quidditch Cup, the Gryffindors remained unfazed, greeting Kyle and his teammates warmly whenever they crossed paths.
After dropping his broom off in the dormitory, Kyle decided to step out onto the grounds once more. The blazing sun illuminated the field, where students lounged on the grass, enjoying the warmth. Some were sunbathing, others chatting in groups, nibbling on snacks, or flipping through The Daily Prophet—everyone relishing the rare moment of tranquility.
As Kyle passed by, a few students waved and complimented the day’s match, calling it the best they had ever witnessed. He smiled and acknowledged them, but deep down, he didn’t think much of the praise. He had heard the same remarks after previous matches.
Kyle’s thoughts briefly wandered. He figured Kanna was likely in the library—undoubtedly the only one still studying at a time like this. Fred and George were occupied with preparations for their joke shop, making them a rare sight these days. Feeling somewhat aimless, Kyle decided to return Fluffy first.
Making his way toward the forest, Kyle stayed as far from Hagrid’s cabin as possible, uncertain if he wanted to risk an encounter. But as he neared the woods, Hagrid's booming voice called out, shattering his hopes of avoiding notice.
“What are you daydreaming about? You’re going the wrong way—it’s this way…”
Kyle sighed, resigned, and turned to head toward Hagrid’s cabin.
“That was a great match today,” Hagrid said cheerfully, pouring a glass of dandelion juice as Kyle entered the hut. “I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.”
“Actually, I couldn’t have either,” Kyle admitted, accepting the glass and taking a cautious sip of Hagrid’s newest concoction. The juice was slightly bitter, though the honey added just enough sweetness to make it bearable.
“I’ve heard all about it…” Hagrid began, his tone suddenly turning serious.
Kyle froze. His first thought was that Hagrid might have discovered the truth about Fluffy. He quickly prepared an explanation, but Hagrid continued before he could speak.
“You went too far this time, Kyle.”
Kyle blinked, confused. “What?”
“You kept the whole thing about the Wampus Cat from me!” Hagrid exclaimed, his expression filled with reproach. “The Wampus Cat! I heard it saved Harry’s life—twice—at the Department of Mysteries. You know how much I love magical creatures, and yet you didn’t tell me about it. That’s not fair, Kyle, not fair at all.”
Kyle exhaled in relief but tried to cover it quickly. “Ah, no, of course not, Hagrid,” he said hastily. “I didn’t mean to leave you out. It’s just… well, alright, you’re right. I was wrong.”
Deciding it was best to come clean, Kyle opened his suitcase. In a flash, the Wampus Cat leapt gracefully out and began surveying its surroundings. Finding no immediate threats, it stretched and then reclined by Kyle, licking its fur with a casual air.
Hagrid’s hand, halfway to his tea, froze as his wide eyes locked on the Wampus Cat. His fascination was palpable.
The creature, sensing Hagrid’s gaze, glanced at him briefly before resuming its grooming.
“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” Hagrid said, casually tossing his cup aside. His eyes lingered on the Wampus Cat’s six legs. “It must be unbelievably fast when it runs.”
“Mm,” Kyle agreed. “Let’s just say, aside from a Firebolt, the Wampus Cat can outrun any broomstick.”
Hagrid’s eyes sparkled with an almost feverish excitement.
“Can I keep it in the Forbidden Forest?” he asked eagerly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Before Kyle could respond, a sudden whimpering noise interrupted the moment. Fang, Hagrid’s loyal companion, was curled up in a corner near the bed, tail tucked tightly between his legs. The mastiff whined pitifully, pressing himself against the wall as if desperate to squeeze out of the hut.
This behavior wasn’t unusual. Adult Wampus Cats were among the most formidable magical creatures, and their presence was enough to unsettle even the bravest beings. It was remarkable that Fang hadn’t fainted outright, given that he was in the same small space as a 5X-class magical creature. His survival was a testament to his resilience—or perhaps his experience.
As Hagrid’s constant companion, Fang had spent plenty of time in and around the Forbidden Forest, making him a dog that had truly “seen the world.” Though Hagrid often joked about Fang being timid, the mastiff was an ordinary Neapolitan Mastiff with no magical bloodline.
His instinctive fear of creatures like centaurs or unicorns in the forest was only natural. Any other dog wouldn’t even need to venture into the Forbidden Forest to be petrified; just the Wampus Cat’s presence would be enough to send it running.
“Diffindo.” Kyle pulled out his wand and quickly made a small hole in the hut’s wall. Fang bolted through it without hesitation.
“Reparo.” With a wave of his wand, Kyle mended the hole, then turned back to Hagrid.
“I’m sorry, Hagrid, but the Wampus Cat can’t stay in the Forbidden Forest. I borrowed it from Newt to help Harry with Occlumency, and I have to return it by the end of the holidays.”
“Is that so?” Hagrid’s expression fell slightly, tinged with disappointment and envy. “Mr. Scamander must have loads of magical creatures.”
“There are far fewer now,” Kyle replied. “Most of the creatures have been returned to their natural habitats. The ones still with him are either too injured to survive in the wild or unwilling to leave. Some are their offspring.”
He hesitated briefly before adding, “Besides, Newt’s been banned from entering most countries. Even if he wanted to collect more creatures, he couldn’t. And, well, he’s almost a hundred years old now. He doesn’t use the same daring methods he did in his youth.”
Kyle couldn’t help but recall the stories: Newt traveling across countries on the back of a Wyvern, outmaneuvering local Aurors with his expert Apparition. But those adventurous days had ended decades ago, much to Tina’s relief.
“I’d love to visit his collection someday,” Hagrid said wistfully, his gaze fixed on the Wampus Cat.
Kyle remained silent, not intending to offer an introduction. It wasn’t just because of Hagrid’s habit of letting secrets slip—though that was a factor. The real issue was their differing philosophies about magical creatures. Newt valued balance and safety, often focusing on rehabilitating creatures like Mooncalves or Nifflers. Hagrid, on the other hand, had a well-documented fondness for highly dangerous creatures with sharp teeth and claws.
Even the Blast-Ended Skrewts Hagrid had once bred served as a clear example of why he and Newt would never fully see eye to eye.
Perhaps sensing this, Hagrid didn’t press further. Instead, he excused himself and stepped outside for a while. When he returned, his arms were laden with various cuts of meat—ferrets, ox legs, warthog meat—clearly intended for the magical creatures in the forest.
“Take a look—see which one it likes best,” Hagrid said, crouching expectantly in front of the Wampus Cat.
The Wampus Cat sniffed at the offerings, pausing at the ferret with a disdainful glance before nudging it aside, as if baffled by the very idea of eating such “junk food.” After deliberating between the beef leg and the warthog meat, it chose the former. Having feasted on warthog the day before, it seemed in the mood for something lighter.
Kyle lingered in the cabin until late afternoon, eventually leaving under Hagrid’s lingering, wistful gaze.
As he made his way back to the castle, Kyle couldn’t shake the feeling that he had forgotten something. He racked his brain, but nothing came to mind.
“Never mind. It’s probably not important,” he muttered, shaking his head as he climbed the stone steps back into the castle.
...
The day before the holiday, everyone who had been in the hospital wing was discharged. Sirius, Lupin, and Moody accepted Dumbledore's invitation to join the evening’s dinner in the Great Hall.
Unlike the solemn silence that had greeted Sirius the first time he arrived, the atmosphere was entirely different when Moody limped in. A wave of applause and cheers swept through the hall.
All three had been Defence Against the Dark Arts professors, a position that always carried a certain popularity, even among the more cautious students.
“This feels pretty good,” Moody muttered as he took his seat at the Instructors' table, his magical eye scanning the room. He couldn’t help but think that Dumbledore’s long tenure at Hogwarts now made more sense. If it weren’t for his higher responsibilities, being a professor here might actually have been quite enjoyable.
Dumbledore stood, a warm smile spreading across his face, and gestured toward the table where Sirius and the others sat. “I am delighted we can all be together this evening,” he began. “And tonight, we welcome back a few… old friends, you might say.”
Applause erupted once more, echoing off the enchanted ceiling of the hall.
“All right, all right,” Dumbledore said, waving his hand for quiet. “Before we begin this fine feast, I have a few important announcements to make. Let me see…”
He paused for a moment, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room. “First, as I’m sure you’ve read in the papers, there was a significant incident at the Ministry not long ago.”
At this, many heads instinctively turned toward Kyle. The Daily Prophet had recently published a detailed account of the events at the Ministry of Magic. On its front page, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was quoted thanking Kyle for his bravery in saving lives—though the article notably omitted any mention of magical creatures, attributing the rescue instead to reinforcements.
“Yes, it’s true,” Dumbledore confirmed with a smile, his gaze landing on Kyle. “Kyle Chopper has demonstrated remarkable courage and exceptional intelligence during the events at the Ministry. For this, I am awarding Hufflepuff 100 points.”
A cheer erupted from the Hufflepuff table, where students clapped and hollered excitedly.
“And,” Dumbledore continued, raising his voice over the din, “I am also presenting him with the Hogwarts Special Award for Services to the School, along with an additional 200 points for Hufflepuff.”
This announcement was met with an even louder roar of cheers and applause. The Hufflepuff hourglass beside the hall was now bursting with gemstones, the precious stones glittering brightly in the candlelight.
“That brings me to the second piece of good news,” Dumbledore added, his smile broadening. “Congratulations to Hufflepuff—they have won this year’s House Cup!”
The cheers from the Hufflepuff table were deafening, shaking the very rafters of the hall. Students clapped each other on the back, their excitement spilling into joyous laughter.
Dumbledore waited patiently for the noise to subside before waving his hand. Instantly, the golden plates on every table filled with an array of delicious dishes, signaling the start of the feast.
The meal was a jubilant affair, filled with laughter, conversation, and a celebratory energy that seemed to make the food taste even better. It wasn’t until the last traces of pudding vanished from the plates that Dumbledore stood again, his expression much more serious than before.
“Now that we’ve all had our fill, I must share something that will dampen the mood,” he began slowly, his tone grave. “As you prepare to leave for the holidays, I urge each of you to remain vigilant. Pay attention to your surroundings and avoid isolated places whenever possible.”
The hall gradually fell silent as Dumbledore spoke, his words sinking in.
“Be mindful of any unusual activity around you,” he continued. “While I would wish nothing more than for you to enjoy this time with your loved ones, I must remind you that we live in dangerous times. Take care, all of you.”
Though he didn’t explicitly say it, everyone knew what he meant. The shadow of Voldemort and his Death Eaters loomed large, an unspoken weight that pressed heavily on the hearts of everyone in the room.
Some students glanced nervously at one another, their excitement from earlier now tinged with unease. A few even whispered about wanting to remain at Hogwarts for the holidays, though they knew it wasn’t an option.
The school would not be the safe haven it was without Dumbledore and the professors, all of whom had critical tasks to attend to elsewhere.
