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Chapter 679: Bellatrix and Umbridge
🕑 Added 2025-04-05 14:49:56 +0000 UTCAs May began, the weather grew steadily clearer, with the sky as bright and blue as the forget-me-nots swaying in the breeze.
Not long before, Hufflepuff had played their second Quidditch match, achieving a landslide victory against Slytherin. Slytherin had attempted to mimic Ravenclaw’s strategy, using their numerical advantage to trap Kyle, who flew in his Firebolt.
However, Slytherin lacked Ravenclaw’s star player, Cho Chang, and Kyle easily broke through Montague and the others’ formation with the Firebolt's unmatched speed. The sluggish Nimbus 2001s were no match and could hardly keep up with him.
The game turned into a dazzling solo performance, with cheers from the stands barely pausing. Half an hour later, Cedric caught the Golden Snitch right under Malfoy’s nose, locking the score at 360 to 10.
This resounding win placed the Quidditch Cup firmly within Hufflepuff’s reach. They now held a commanding lead in points, and just a few goals in their final match would secure the title. The Hufflepuffs were elated, celebrating their imminent triumph.
Not everyone shared their joy. From the stands, Snape observed Kyle at the center of the crowd, his expression dark and brooding as though lost in some private grievance. When the players landed, Snape let out a dismissive snort and strode back to the castle without a word.
After the match, however, reality set in. With exams looming ever closer, the Hufflepuffs’ excitement lasted only a day before they had to bury themselves in their heavy workloads again.
Three days later, on the first weekend of May, the sixth-year students gathered in the Great Hall for another Apparition lesson.
“As before, practice freely,” Twycross instructed.
Yet enthusiasm was scarce. Recent practices had been fraught with Splinching accidents, some severe enough to leave parts of students' bodies temporarily behind. Though Professor McGonagall had expertly restored everyone, the disturbing incidents had made many students apprehensive, slowing their progress.
Some, however, remained unaffected.
A sharp pop drew Twycross’s attention as Kanna landed precisely in the wooden circle five feet away. He clapped enthusiastically. “Excellent! Five weeks without a single mistake,” he praised with a broad smile. “No need to return—you’ve mastered Apparition. Just wait for the exam in a month.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Kanna replied cheerfully.
Under the envious gazes of her peers, she ran over to Kyle, who was practicing on the other side of the hall.
In fact, Twycross had given up monitoring Kyle after the very first lesson, rewarding him with a large bag of sweets, which Kyle had promptly shared with everyone, including the professor.
“I’ve mastered it,” Kanna announced.
“Congratulations,” Kyle said at the same time, and the two laughed as they left the Great Hall together.
“How are those Dragon’s Claws holding up?” Kyle asked as they walked.
“They’ve been ground into powder. Should last me through exams,” Kanna replied with a smile. She handed him a small box. “Oh, this is for you.”
“What’s in it?” Kyle asked.
“No idea. Professor Snape told me to give it to you,” Kanna said nonchalantly.
Kyle froze mid-reach. “It’s not... frog brains or rat spleens, is it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Kanna said, rolling her eyes. “Professor Snape wouldn’t give you something like that.”
“It’s not impossible...” Kyle muttered under his breath. Given his recent domination over Slytherin, it wasn’t far-fetched to imagine Snape holding a grudge.
“Huh?” Kanna narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all,” Kyle coughed, hastily taking the box.
Under her sharp gaze, he steeled himself and opened it.
To his relief, the contents were not as alarming as he’d feared. Inside lay a collection of eggshell fragments and a pristine unicorn horn. Kyle’s breath caught as he recognized the horn, its golden spirals unmistakable. Such an item was rare—and expensive.
The six eggshell fragments were equally remarkable. Three were a glimmering silver, almost like finely crafted metal; only Occamy eggshells had this distinct sheen. The other three were orange with striking red streaks, their colors vivid and bold.
“Ashwinder eggshells?” Kyle murmured, his surprise deepening. These weren’t ordinary items—they were nearly as valuable as a unicorn horn.
Altogether, the contents of the box were worth at least a hundred Galleons. Snape, giving him something so expensive? It didn’t sit right. Was it April Fools’ Day? No, that had been a month ago.
Scratching his head, Kyle turned to Kanna. “Kanna, I think these are for you...”
“Of course not,” Kanna replied firmly. “Professor Snape specifically told me to give them to you.”
“Huh?” Kyle frowned at the box in his hands, his thoughts spinning. After a moment, the realization struck him.
The contents of the box were worth just over a hundred Galleons—the same price as the Dragon’s Claw he had given Kanna. It added up.
Tsk...
With a resigned sigh, Kyle closed the box and tucked it away. “Alright, I get it. Thank Professor Snape for me. Did he say anything else?”
Kanna hesitated, glancing away. In truth, when Snape had handed her the box, he had gritted his teeth and warned her to stay away from Kyle. But she chose not to mention that, especially since she had removed a note that had been attached to the box before bringing it here.
“I don’t think so,” she said lightly.
Kyle shook his head, unconvinced, but let it go. “Fine. I’ll take these, then. Just don’t forget to thank him for me.”
“Okay,” Kanna nodded.
“Oh, and here,” Kyle said, pulling out a small, crumpled object about the size of his palm. “Give this to Professor Snape for me.”
Kanna took the object, examining it with a raised brow. “What is this? Snake skin?”
“Something like that,” Kyle replied with a grin. “It’s Basilisk skin. Just tell him it’s from me. Professor Snape will like it.”
...
The next day, Kyle was preparing to head to the Ministry of Magic as usual to goof off. However, the moment he stepped out of the Hufflepuff common room, he froze. Snape stood in the outer corridor like a shadowy specter, his piercing gaze locking onto Kyle. Without a word, Snape grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside.
“You really have the Basilisk!” Snape growled, his face as stormy as ever.
“Now, now, Professor Snape, you can’t say that,” Kyle replied calmly. “Professor Dumbledore dealt with the Basilisk. I don’t know anything about it.”
Snape’s expression darkened further as he pulled out the snake skin. “Then how do you explain this?”
“Oh, I just picked it up,” Kyle said nonchalantly. “You gave me something so valuable, I thought it was only polite to give you something in return. If you don’t like it, no problem—I’ll take it back.” He reached for the skin.
Instinctively, Snape pulled it out of reach. Kyle’s hand grasped at empty air.
“You…” Snape’s face shifted between suspicion and greed before he finally muttered, “Do you have more of this? Hand it over!”
“No,” Kyle said quickly. “But Professor Dumbledore entrusted the Basilisk to Mr. Scamander. If you want more, you could ask him.”
Snape’s complexion turned ashen. If he’d known where Newt Scamander was, he wouldn’t have bothered interrogating Kyle.
“How about this,” Kyle offered with a wry smile, “I can contact Mr. Scamander on your behalf. He might still have a stash of skins. What do you think? I’ll even have Kanna deliver them to you.”
“No need,” Snape snapped, his tone icy. “And you—stay away from her!”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked away, his cloak billowing behind him like an ominous shadow.
Kyle watched him go, shaking his head with a helpless shrug. “All this over a Quidditch match?” he muttered to himself. “The score wasn’t even that bad. I let Slytherin score at least once! What a petty person.”
Ahead of him, Snape abruptly stopped mid-stride, his back stiffening. Just as he seemed ready to whirl around, Harry and Ron came barreling down the stairs on their broomsticks, narrowly avoiding a collision with the professor.
“What do you think you’re doing!” Snape barked, his face twisted with irritation.
“We were just heading to the Quidditch pitch,” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re training today…”
“Before you explain, you’ll apologize,” Snape interrupted coldly. “Five points from Gryffindor.”
“Oh, sorry,” Harry said quickly.
“No manners,” Snape said, dragging out the words with exaggerated disdain. “Another five points from Gryffindor.”
“Fine. Sorry, Professor Snape,” Harry repeated through clenched teeth.
“Hmm,” Snape sneered. “And since chasing and playing on the stairs is forbidden, that’ll be five more points.”
Harry’s fists clenched at his sides, his teeth grinding as he stared at Snape. He wanted nothing more than to punch the smirk off the professor’s face, but he forced himself to hold back.
Snape seemed almost disappointed by Harry’s restraint but turned away, his mood oddly improved after docking fifteen points from Gryffindor. He swept toward the dungeons, ignoring Harry and Ron’s livid expressions.
“He must be picking on us because of that Quidditch match,” Ron grumbled as soon as Snape was out of earshot. “I heard Montague and the others got a serious dressing down, and Malfoy—Cedric caught the Snitch right in front of him. Snape must have been livid.”
Hearing this, Harry’s anger began to fade. He thought back to the match, easily the most thrilling he’d ever seen. With Slytherin trailing by over 300 points, the energy in the stands had been electric, and Harry hadn’t stopped cheering the entire time. He’d even bought a Hufflepuff flag, waving it so much his arm had ached for days afterward.
In comparison, losing fifteen points seemed trivial. Gryffindor was already dead last in the House Cup standings. What difference did fifteen more points make?
“The only pity is that they scored a goal,” Ron sighed. “If Hufflepuff’s Keeper had been more competent, Montague’s shot wouldn’t have gone through. They could’ve shut Slytherin out completely.”
“Exactly!” Harry nodded enthusiastically. The thought of Slytherin leaving the pitch with zero points was deeply satisfying.
“We’d better hurry,” Ron said, glancing at his watch. “Snape’s already wasted enough of our time, and training’s started.”
“You’re right. If we’re any later, Angelina will kill us.”
Exchanging worried looks, the two bolted for the castle doors, brooms in hand.
Once the corridor cleared, Kyle stepped out from the shadows and headed down the stairs to the fourth floor. Although Umbridge had been ousted from the school, her office had been repurposed, with its fireplace accessible to students for an hour every weekend to travel to the Ministry of Magic.
When Kyle arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, Cedric was already waiting.
“What took you so long? We’re late,” Cedric said, looking slightly annoyed.
“Ran into Professor Snape,” Kyle said casually. “That held me up for a bit. Anyway, it’s fine. Our hours are different from the regular staff. As long as we’re there before nine, we’re good.”
“True,” Cedric admitted, though he added, “It’s still better to be early.”
The two passed through the fireplace, emerging in the bustling atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Wizards and witches hurried in every direction, their faces taut with worry. The Death Eaters had been increasingly active, and the newspapers carried reports of destruction nearly every day.
“Breaking news: Death Eaters spotted in the south again,” Kyle overheard two witches in the lift discussing the latest headlines.
“This time it was Bellatrix Lestrange. That lunatic seems to have been searching for something.”
“Yeah, and she ran straight into a Hit Wizard team pursuing her. A whole street was destroyed in the fighting.”
“If only an Auror had been leading the team… Maybe they could’ve caught her.”
At first, Kyle dismissed the conversation as yet another exaggerated piece of news, a remnant of Umbridge’s propaganda. But as the witches exited the lift, he caught a glimpse of the newspaper they were holding. To his surprise, there was an actual photo of Bellatrix on the front page.
When the lift stopped on the Department for the Control and Management of Magical Creatures floor, Cedric turned to Kyle, about to speak—only to see him bolting out of the lift.
“Kyle, wait! We’re not even at the office yet!” Cedric called after him.
“I know,” Kyle called back over his shoulder, sprinting toward Chris’s office.
Inside, Chris was bent over his desk, quill in hand. He glanced up when Kyle barged in and joked, “What is it now? Has the Minister sent you with another urgent task?”
“Dad, do you have today’s Daily Prophet?” Kyle asked, skipping the pleasantries.
Chris pointed to a freshly delivered copy on the table. “Just came in. Help yourself.”
Kyle snatched it up and flipped to the front page. Sure enough, a large image of Bellatrix Lestrange dominated the cover, cackling as she repelled a Hit Wizard’s attack before vanishing into a cloud of black mist.
The headline read:
Hit Wizards Encounter Escaped Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange in Hampshire. Fierce Battle Ends in Her Escape.
The article detailed how Bellatrix had been cornered but managed to flee after a chaotic battle. One section caught Kyle’s eye:
'The team leader, Senior Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge, was found showing signs of exposure to the Cruciatus Curse and has been taken to St. Mungo’s for treatment…'
Kyle’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the photograph. In the background, amidst the flames, he spotted a familiar figure—Dumbledore, arriving in a burst of phoenix fire. That had to be the reason for Bellatrix’s panicked escape.
“Dad, do you know what’s going on?” Kyle asked, lowering the paper. “The Order of the Phoenix must have some news.”
Chris’s expression turned serious. With a wave of his wand, he closed the door. “I do. The headmaster went to find someone, and it seems the Death Eaters were after the same person.”
“Who?” Kyle pressed.
Chris hesitated before answering. “Bob Ogden.”
Kyle frowned. “That name again. Who is he?”
Chris shook his head, his expression guarded. “This is Order of the Phoenix business, Kyle. While Dumbledore said we don’t have to hide anything from you, there’s nothing you can do to help with this.”
Kyle considered pushing further but decided against it. Instead, he changed the subject. “What’s the deal with the Hit Wizards? Why not send Aurors?”
At this, Chris let out a short laugh, quickly stifling it. “Funny you should ask. It ties back to that little ‘idea’ you gave Fudge.”
“Hm,” Kyle said, nodding. He had shared that suggestion with Chris long ago, and several Order members knew about it.
“Well,” Chris explained, “we got word yesterday about someone smuggling two Matagots into Hampshire. Umbridge, eager to prove herself, rushed out this morning to investigate.”
