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Chapter 660: Hagrid’s Confusion: Is Dumbledore Up to Something Again?
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 13:25:06 +0000 UTCWhen Kyle returned to the second floor of St. Mungo’s, he was greeted by the sound of an angry growl from Sirius’s room.
“If you lot don’t shut up, I’ll hang you upside down from the ceiling in the corridor!”
Moments later, the door burst open, and three disgruntled figures were unceremoniously shoved into the hallway by Mr. Weasley.
Ron stood in the corridor, muttering as he glared at the closed door. “Honestly, we only said a few things. We weren’t bothering him…”
“But we did bother him,” Hermione countered matter-of-factly. “Waking him up twice? Sirius was right to throw us out.”
“It’s not our fault,” Ron protested with a shrug. “That room’s so small, even whispering would be too loud.”
“Never mind,” Harry said, trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s the holidays. We can come back whenever we want. Where’s Mr. Weasley?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione replied. “He’s probably outside looking for Bill. He said he wanted to go back with us.”
As they continued talking, Kyle descended the stairs, avoiding drawing attention to himself. He had no interest in explaining—again—how he had managed to get to St. Mungo’s from Hogwarts. Without a word, he walked past the trio and headed straight to the waiting room on the first floor. From there, he exited through the passage and stepped outside.
Outside, Mr. Weasley was chatting enthusiastically with Bill.
“How about I drive us back?” he asked, eyeing Sirius’s car with barely concealed glee.
Bill chuckled and, with no objection, handed him the keys.
Mr. Weasley grinned and took the keys, but as he looked up, he noticed Kyle emerging from the department store’s enchanted window.
“You’re done talking with Director Sykes?” Mr. Weasley asked.
“Yes, we’re finished.”
Kyle felt a pang in his chest at the reminder. Seven thousand Galleons, gone in the span of one tea session. No matter how logical the decision, it was hard not to feel a little regretful.
Unaware of Kyle’s inner turmoil, Mr. Weasley gestured to the car. “Come on in. I’ll fetch Harry and the others, and we can all head back together.”
“No need, Mr. Weasley,” Kyle said, shaking his head and pulling a teapot from his pocket. “I asked Director Sykes to make me a Portkey—it’ll take me straight to Hogsmeade.”
“Hogsmeade?”
“Well,” Kyle admitted with a wry smile, “I did sign the stay-behind list at school, so technically, this whole trip is sneaking out. I need to get back before anyone notices I’m missing.”
Glancing at the time, he added quickly, “Sorry, Mr. Weasley, the Portkey activates in a minute. I’ve got to get ready.”
“Ah, alright,” Mr. Weasley said, opening the car door. “Do you want to wait in here? It’s safe enough.”
Kyle had been considering heading back to the telephone booth, but Mr. Weasley’s offer was more convenient. Without hesitation, he climbed into the car.
...
When Kyle returned to Hogwarts, it was already 7 o’clock—just in time for dinner.
This year, only about thirty people had chosen to stay at school, so the Great Hall had been rearranged. Instead of the usual four house tables, a single long table had been set up in the middle, where both students and professors sat together for the evening meal.
To Kyle’s relief, Umbridge was nowhere to be seen. She must have left the school as well, which was a stroke of good fortune. If she had been there, Kyle doubted he would have been able to eat.
Dumbledore was also absent, but Professor Flitwick took charge of the festive spirit, leading everyone in singing Christmas carols. As was tradition, he also pulled streamers and firecrackers filled with trinkets like oddly shaped hats and wizard chess pieces. Professor Flitwick delightedly donned a leather cowboy hat he opened from one cracker.
Kyle’s cracker revealed a sequined hat, which he decided would make a perfect Christmas gift for the Niffler. After all, anything that sparkled was a treasure in a Niffler’s eyes.
Soon, the table filled with an array of delicious food.
Kanna, sitting nearby, spread marmalade on her toast and asked quietly, “How is Professor Black?”
“The Runespoor venom has been removed from his system,” Kyle replied. “I think he’ll be out of the hospital in a few days.”
“That’s good.”
“By the way, when did Umbridge leave?”
“This morning, I think. Or maybe last night,” Kanna mused. “I haven’t seen her at all today.”
“You won’t see her for the next two weeks either,” Kyle said with a grin.
Kanna laughed. “I have to say, that’s the best Christmas present ever.”
Despite the smaller crowd, the dinner was as lively as ever. During dessert, Professor McGonagall conjured twenty dancing Yetis, making the Great Hall feel like a Yule Ball. Afterward, the Yetis transformed into ice sculptures, frozen mid-dance in various poses around the hall.
The room filled with applause as everyone returned to their common rooms, cheerful and laughing.
The next morning, Christmas arrived.
Kyle woke to find his room overflowing with presents. Having gotten up late, it took him until noon to unwrap them all.
Most of the gifts were books and sweets, as usual. Kyle couldn’t even recall the last time he’d visited Honeydukes.
Kanna had given him a box of chocolates that looked homemade. Summoning some courage, Kyle tried one and was pleasantly surprised—it was delicious. There seemed to be magic in them, too. The sleepiness that had lingered since waking vanished as soon as he ate one, leaving him alert and refreshed. It reminded him of an Awakening Potion but had a pleasant vanilla aroma.
Mrs. Weasley’s annual Christmas jumper was a cozy grey one this year, soft and comfortable.
Hagrid’s gift was a fur wallet with sharp teeth, which came with a note saying it was burglar-proof and perfect for keeping Galleons safe. Hagrid was right, though the wallet’s defenses were so effective it didn’t recognize Kyle either—his Sickles were stuck inside.
Professor Snape’s gift, as usual, was peculiar: a bottle of air.
Dumbledore sent a wool scarf, while Director Sykes surprised Kyle with a bottle of Felix Felicis. The shimmering, golden potion outshone the rest of the presents.
“I should have opened this one last,” Kyle muttered, holding the vial in awe.
After finishing with the gifts, Kyle left the dormitory and headed to the Great Hall with Kanna. The ice sculptures from the night before were still in place, now dressed in magnificent robes that appeared to be Professor Flitwick’s handiwork.
After lunch, Kanna stuck to her plan of spending the holidays reading, heading to the library to dive into three books on potions.
Kyle, on the other hand, left the castle and made his way to Hagrid’s hut.
Hagrid had been in low spirits recently, possibly because of Umbridge or other reasons, so Kyle wanted to check on him.
When Kyle arrived, Hagrid was sitting by the pumpkin patch, stirring a thick, gooey mixture in a pot next to an empty bucket. It seemed to be food for some kind of Magical Creature.
“Merry Christmas, Hagrid. What’s this?” Kyle asked, frowning at the contents of the pot.
Hagrid, lost in thought, started at Kyle’s voice. “Merry Christmas, Kyle,” he said, glancing up. “It’s stew—meat, giblets, couscous…” His tone held a hint of guilt. “Well… it’s for Fluffy. He likes it.”
“Oh, I see.” Kyle nodded in understanding. No matter how unusual the food seemed, it made perfect sense when it was for the Three-Headed Dog. Fluffy wasn’t exactly picky about what he ate—or how it looked.
Kyle pulled up a chair next to Hagrid and asked, “What’s wrong with you lately?”
“What?” Hagrid replied quickly, “I’m fine.”
“Then why were you ten minutes late for class? You’ve never been late before, and...” Kyle’s gaze shifted to Hagrid’s face. “And what happened to your injuries?”
Hagrid’s eyes were swollen, with a large, obvious circle of bruising around them, as if he’d been struck by a Bludger.
“No, it’s nothing,” Hagrid mumbled, lowering his head and trying to shield his eyes with his hands. “I just... accidentally hit a tree.”
“You sure hit it hard,” Kyle chuckled, choosing not to press further on Hagrid’s transparent lie.
“Well... actually, it’s because of that annoying Umbridge,” Hagrid admitted reluctantly, his voice hesitant. “She told me that after the holidays, she’d be inspecting my classes again. And if she’s not satisfied, I’ll get another suspension notice.”
Hagrid’s words trailed off as he angrily grabbed a handful of wood and threw it into the fire, causing the pot of mysterious stew to bubble furiously.
“But what would satisfy her?” Hagrid muttered bitterly. “She’s always looking for a reason to give me a bad mark, no matter what I do. And if I so much as talk normally, she’ll write it down as ‘intimidating students.’”
“It’s ridiculous,” he growled. “She’s doing it on purpose—just because I said I’d always stand by Dumbledore!”
“Of course she does,” Kyle agreed calmly. “That’s exactly why she’s here at Hogwarts.”
Hagrid sighed heavily, clearly reluctant to continue discussing the subject.
“Why didn’t you go back for the holidays?” he asked, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I thought you’d spend Christmas at Sirius’s house with Harry.”
“I’ve got something to do,” Kyle said vaguely, “but I need your help. It’s something I can only manage here at school—and only while Umbridge isn’t around.”
“No problem,” Hagrid said immediately, his loyalty unwavering. “Just name it. What d’you need me to do?”
“Not so fast,” Kyle said with a wave of his hand. “Before that, I want to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s about the school owls. Have there been any unusual incidents lately?” Kyle asked. “Like injuries or lost letters?”
“How’d you know about that?” Hagrid growled, his voice darkening. “No letters’ve gone missing, but owls’ve been hurt—more than just one, too. I don’t know who the scoundrel is, but if I catch the one attacking those messengers, I’ll give ’em a piece of my mind!”
“Great,” Kyle said absentmindedly, his mind already working on something.
“What? Great?” Hagrid frowned, his expression growing serious. “You’re wrong, Kyle. Those owls were attacked—most likely because someone wanted to steal the letters they were delivering. That’s no good thing.”
“Then let them try,” Kyle said with a sly smile. “We won’t need to catch them. Just toss them a decoy.”
Hagrid’s confusion deepened, though he couldn’t suppress his curiosity. “What’re you on about? What’s this plan?”
Kyle leaned forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “I have an idea that might make Umbridge leave Hogwarts for good.”
Hagrid raised his eyebrows and covered his face briefly with his hand, only to peer at Kyle again with renewed interest. “Tell me,” he urged. “What d’you need me to do?”
“It’s simple,” Kyle said. “Go to the Owl Post Office and send a letter to Hogwarts from there.”
Hagrid blinked. “What did you say?” he asked, as though he hadn’t heard correctly. “You want me to go to the Owl Post Office and send a letter to Hogwarts?”
“That’s right,” Kyle confirmed. “And not just that—you need to ask the owl to take a big detour when delivering the letter, so it looks like it came from a completely different direction.”
Hagrid’s bewilderment grew. He couldn’t make sense of Kyle’s request, let alone its purpose.
But Kyle offered no explanation. Instead, he handed Hagrid a thick stack of parchment. “This is the letter you’re sending,” he said. “Just put your name as the recipient.”
Hagrid took the parchments, curiosity piqued, and glanced down at them.
Something struck him as odd. Though the letters were all from Kyle, the handwriting on each one was different.
He unfolded the first letter, its scribbled handwriting barely legible.
'I would be delighted to accept your invitation, Albus. How about we meet at our usual place and talk in more detail about that thing you mentioned before.'
Hagrid frowned as he read the letter. Is this a letter to Dumbledore? he thought.
But wasn’t Kyle already at Hogwarts? If he wanted to discuss something with Dumbledore, why not just go to the Headmaster’s Office? Why bother writing a letter?
Curious, Hagrid looked at the second letter. The handwriting was entirely different—much neater, as though written by a different person.
'Professor Dumbledore, I have already relayed your message to my uncle, and he has expressed his full support.
In addition, my friends and I share the same thoughts, and we really hope that this Christmas vacation will pass quickly.'
Hagrid scratched his head. Had Dumbledore made a new decision? He hadn’t heard anything about it. And since when did Kyle have an uncle? Hagrid had never heard Chris mention a brother.
He continued flipping through the letters. With each new one, the handwriting changed again.
'You should have done this a long time ago, Albus. I'll see you on the 20th.'
Was something planned for the 20th? The more Hagrid read, the more puzzled he became. Questions swirled in his mind, leaving him feeling as if he’d been hit by a Memory Charm and couldn’t recall something important.
“Don’t read them, Hagrid. I made it all up,” Kyle said, patting Hagrid’s arm reassuringly. “And they’re not for you.”
Hagrid looked up, feeling relieved for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. “You’re writing to Professor Dumbledore?”
“Not exactly,” Kyle replied, shaking his head. “It’s for someone who wants to read the letters.”
Hagrid’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“When you send the letters, make sure you don’t pick a particularly diligent owl,” Kyle instructed. “It’s better to use one that’ll drop the letter and run at the first sign of danger.”
“That won’t be easy,” Hagrid said. “There aren’t any undiligent owls—at least, I’ve never seen one like that.”
Kyle smirked. “Just ask around. Who knows? You might find one.”
Realizing he couldn’t guess what Kyle was up to, Hagrid decided to stop trying. He’d just do as Kyle said.
The two continued discussing the plan, mostly with Kyle giving instructions, until a faint burning smell wafted from the cauldron nearby. Hagrid jumped up, hastily extinguishing the fire with dirt before it got out of control.
“Kyle, I have to take lunch to Grawp now,” Hagrid said, glancing toward the Forbidden Forest. “How about we continue this discussion this afternoon? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Grawp?” Kyle raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said that was for Fluffy?”
Hagrid froze, his mouth snapping shut. Panic flickered across his face.
“Yes, yes, Fluffy, right,” he stammered. “Grawp... that’s the name I gave to the head in the middle.”
“Oh, I see,” Kyle said casually. “I thought Grawp was the name of a Giant.”
“Of—of course not,” Hagrid stuttered, now visibly flustered. He clutched at his coat unconsciously. “Giants have no business in the Forbidden Forest, do they?”
“You’re right,” Kyle said with a knowing smile. “Go on, then—that’s all I needed to say.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Kyle added, his tone turning serious. “When you send the letter, make sure it’s encrypted. The post office can add an Anti-Muggle Charm so the letter can only be opened with a spell.”
Kyle pulled a Galleon from his pocket and handed it to Hagrid. “Here’s the postage.”
Hagrid’s expression darkened immediately.
“What’re you doing?” he asked gruffly, his voice rising. “Take it back! I’m just helping you post the letters—d’you think I’d take your money for that?”
Kyle opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he noticed the redness creeping across Hagrid’s face.
“Alright, alright,” Kyle said with a shrug, slipping the Galleon back into his pocket.
“That’s better,” Hagrid said with a satisfied smile. “I’ll head to the Owl Post Office this afternoon—don’t you worry about a thing.”
“No rush,” Kyle replied. “It’s better if you send two or three letters a day—not too many at once.”
“No problem,” Hagrid said cheerfully, readily agreeing.
