Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

France, the old Flamel residence.

Kyle had slept for almost an entire day and night, only waking in the early hours of the third day.

The moment he opened his eyes, he saw a House-elf holding a potion bottle, ready to pour its contents into his mouth.

"Oh, you're awake," came a familiar voice beside him.

Nicolas Flamel, holding a book, shuffled over with small steps. "I saw someone sneak into my library yesterday, so I figured it had to be you."

"How are you feeling? That's an Invigoration Draught Tata's holding—drink it, it'll do you good."

"Ah, thank you." Kyle didn't hesitate. He took the potion and downed it.

A warm current flowed from his throat through his limbs, restoring some strength. The fogginess in his mind cleared almost instantly.

"You're welcome. It's just a bottle of Invigoration Draught," Nicolas said with a smile.

"It's not just the potion." Kyle shook his head and picked up the damaged Portkey he'd set aside earlier. "Thanks to this, I managed to escape… Nicolas, did you know ahead of time that I'd be hunted down by Voldemort in the Hebrides?"

"What…" Nicolas paused, then shook his head vigorously. "Of course not. You're giving me too much credit. I'm just an alchemist—how could I possibly know what would happen six or seven years in the future?"

"But I remember you have a crystal ball," Kyle said, blinking.

Everyone who knew Nicolas was aware of his unique crystal ball—famous for its near-perfect prediction rate.

"Oh, that," Nicolas said with a chuckle. "That crystal ball was crafted three hundred years ago by me and seven of the most renowned Seers of the time. But it can only predict events that concern me, and only those that are already unfolding."

"We met for the first time six years ago. That's beyond the crystal ball's predictive scope."

"Huh?" Kyle looked puzzled.

"That doesn't make sense. When you gave me the Portkey, you said I'd need it one day."

"I was nearly killed by Voldemort this time, and it was that Portkey that saved me—just like you said."

"Hmm… that…"

Nicolas fell silent for a moment, then said, "Honestly, I didn't think too deeply about it. You struck me as a bit impulsive—very different from Albus. Your actions and thoughts are unpredictable."

"In my experience, people like you usually aren't the most well-behaved. Giving you the Portkey was a spur-of-the-moment decision—just a way to make sure you had an escape route. That's all."

"Impulsive?" Kyle pointed at himself. "Me?"

"Mmhmm?" Nicolas raised an eyebrow, teasing, "A normal person, upon first meeting that little girl from the Delacour family, wouldn't immediately think about adding her to their Magical Creatures collection."

"Sure, she has Veela blood—but only a quarter. She's mostly a witch, not a creature."

"Uh…" Kyle was at a loss for words.

Okay, fine—he had thought that when he first met Fleur. But he'd always believed he'd hidden it well. No one should have known.

"Er… Nicolas… you—"

"Don't worry. Olympe doesn't know. And neither does that Delacour girl," Nicolas said, clearly anticipating Kyle's question, smiling as he added, "It's just my personal guess—an old wizard's intuition."

"Good." Kyle let out a breath of relief.

Madam Maxime wouldn't care, but Fleur was now quite close to Kanna. They even lived together. If she ever found out that he had lumped her in with magical creatures… Merlin knows what she might tell Kanna.

Terrifying.

Better she never finds out.

Seeing Kyle's lingering anxiety, Nicolas chuckled even more wickedly… thoroughly pleased.

"Seems my instincts were pretty spot-on. You just used the Portkey later than I expected."

"You call that late?!"

"I heard all about your exploits from Albus," Nicolas said, giving Kyle a meaningful look. "I honestly thought Voldemort would've come for you after he was resurrected."

Let's not even mention the three Horcruxes Kyle had taken—Voldemort would never have let that go. And then there was the identity and symbol he'd stolen… that Basilisk.

That alone was a declaration of eternal enmity.

"Maybe you should thank that kid, Harry Potter. He's taken a lot of Voldemort's hatred onto himself."

"Harry, huh…" Kyle rubbed his chin.

That was fair. Up until recently, Voldemort's attention had been locked on Harry—the Boy Who Lived. Kyle had mostly been an afterthought.

Then again, considering everything he'd done…

In second year, he'd danced around Voldemort's nerves, threatening him for the method to create Horcruxes.

Third year… oh, that was the diary. Technically, that was Tom Riddle's doing, not the current Voldemort.

Fourth year, he tossed Wormtail into Azkaban. Fifth year, he caused havoc during the resurrection ritual. Sixth year, he dragged Voldemort out from the shadows and into the spotlight…

Each of those things had been a direct challenge. Yet Voldemort's eyes had remained fixed on the Chosen One.

It wasn't until the incident at Godric's Hollow, when he saw the Basilisk, that Voldemort finally carved out a place for Kyle in his mind.

Looking at it that way, Harry really was a good person—giving him time to grow in peace.

He owed Harry a thank-you…

Kyle mused that maybe, next time he went to Hogwarts, he'd bring Harry some sweets. He remembered the guy had quite the sweet tooth.

"Come on, get up. Tata's made food," Nicolas said, interrupting Kyle's wandering thoughts. "I'm guessing you're hungry too?"

Growl…

He hadn't even noticed, but as soon as Nicolas said it, Kyle's stomach loudly protested.

After a day and a night of sleep, he was definitely starving.

As the two spoke, the House-elf Tata entered from who-knew-where, balancing seven or eight dishes like a circus performer.

The aroma of fried pork chops and roasted beef was enough to make Kyle's mouth water.

"Then I won't say no." Kyle stood up and began stuffing food into his mouth, taking the opportunity to ask about the situation in the Hebrides Islands.

"I don't know," Nicolas replied bluntly. "I don't care much about Voldemort or the Death Eaters. Most of what I know comes from Albus."

"But the Hebridean Blacks hasn't shown up anywhere else, so I assume it's been taken care of."

"That's good." Kyle popped another piece of fried potato into his mouth and washed it down with a gulp of pumpkin juice.

"Nicolas..." After he was full, Kyle blinked and asked shyly, "That Portkey—do you have any extras?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you," Nicolas said. "The one I gave you was made from the last shard of the Philosopher's Stone. There's nothing left."

"No extra Philosopher's Stone?" Kyle asked, still unwilling to give up.

That thing was just too useful—no restrictions, ignored distance, and only needed a trace of magic to instantly return to a safehouse. It was the perfect tool for escaping danger—practically a lifeline.

"Extra Philosopher's Stone?" Nicolas looked up at Kyle with a complicated expression. "Aren't you overestimating me a bit? I'm just a rather long-lived, otherwise unremarkable alchemist."

"Being able to make a second one was already a miracle."

"All right," Kyle sighed quietly.

What a shame.

"But..." Nicolas suddenly paused, then added slowly, "You could try making one yourself. I remember you're on good terms with Albus's phoenix. When it's reborn next time, you'll have the material."

"Huh?"

Kyle's eyes lit up.

Of course—phoenix ashes, left behind after its rebirth, were the most important ingredient in crafting the Philosopher's Stone. And that was something he actually had a way to get.

"How do I make it?"

"You've come to the right person." Nicolas smiled faintly and took out a piece of parchment. "Everything's written here. Have a careful look."

Kyle instinctively lowered his head.

It looked like an ordinary piece of parchment, about the size of a book page—but the moment he saw what was on it, his mind went blank with a buzz.

It felt like he was staring into the universe.

Countless runes, magical formulas, and diagrams stacked upon each other, forming a massive, intricate structure—and then clusters of those formed even more complex formulas, endlessly layered, as if it stretched into infinity.

Merlin knew how this tiny piece of parchment could possibly contain so much.

Kyle had the distinct feeling that if he unpacked every piece of information on it, it could fill an entire library.

Just a single glance made his head throb—like Ron writing a hundred Ancient Runes essays back-to-back.

Luckily, Nicolas reached out and covered the parchment in time.

"It's fine," he said cheerfully. "The Philosopher's Stone is a bit complicated to make. You can take your time with it."

"This is what you call 'a bit' complicated?" Kyle held up his thumb and forefinger close together.

So wizards were into this 'cosmos-between-the-fingers' thing too, huh?

"Anyway, the phoenix's rebirth cycle is about 150 years, so you should have enough time," Nicolas said. "When I first attempted to create the Philosopher's Stone, it only took me a little over a century. I'm sure you can do it too."

"Uhh..." Kyle smacked his lips thoughtfully.

Thinking about it, Nicolas had developed the whole thing from scratch. Now that the full procedure was laid out in front of him, the difficulty had drastically decreased.

Still...

Kyle glanced at the parchment again.

He realized he didn't actually want the Philosopher's Stone that badly. Even without a Portkey, he still had Fawkes.

The phoenix could take him anywhere he needed to go, and it was even simpler and more efficient.

"Nicolas..." Kyle shifted the topic. "Did you come up with all of this on your own?"

"Not entirely," Nicolas shook his head. "I actually referred to the Emerald Tablet."

"You mean the Emerald Tablet?" Kyle asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

"If there's no other alchemy text by that name, then yes," Nicolas said calmly.

Noticing the gleam in Kyle's eyes, he added, "But don't get too excited. That book has a kind of consciousness. After I created the Philosopher's Stone, it vanished—just disappeared for no reason. It hasn't shown up since."

"Vanished?" Kyle echoed.

"Yes," Nicolas said. "It was right next to me, then I turned around—and it was just gone. Like it was never there."

To be fair, Kyle was incredibly curious about the Emerald Tablet. He wanted to study it up close.

But who wouldn't? That book was considered the holy grail of alchemy, even more legendary than the Deathly Hallows. From the earliest wizarding records to the present day, its tales had never stopped circulating.

A sentient alchemy book that could wander off on its own... well, sure. That tracks.

"Have a look at this again." Nicolas nudged the parchment toward him.

"You're really giving this to me?" Kyle couldn't help but ask.

"What, you don't want it?"

"I do!" Kyle blurted out.

This was the method for crafting a Philosopher's Stone. Even if it read like divine script, impossibly hard to comprehend, if word got out, it would trigger a bloodbath.

Once Nicolas gave a definite answer, Kyle carefully stored the parchment in his trunk.

He had no plans to look at it anytime soon—he didn't have the alchemical knowledge to make sense of it yet.

So, Kyle decided to stash it somewhere safe.

The Niffler was an option, but the little creature was too mischievous. It could run off at any time—Newt was living proof.

A dragon? No way. It breathed fire in its sleep. He didn't want the parchment turned to ash.

After looking around, Kyle's eyes landed on the Basilisk.

He pried off one of its scales, drilled a hole in it, used an Undetectable Extension Charm to expand the space inside until it could fit the parchment, then sealed it back on with a Permanent Sticking Charm.

He picked a perfect spot—well hidden and deep enough that even if the Basilisk shed its skin, it wouldn't affect it at all.

Absolutely flawless.

After finishing everything, Kyle clapped his hands and stepped out of the suitcase.

Outside, daylight had fully broken, and the morning sun streamed in through the window, casting a quiet, peaceful light.

Nicolas was sitting there, fiddling with a golden model airship.

"Where are you going?" Kyle asked.

He recognized the airship—Nicolas's usual mode of travel. Perhaps it was because his bones could no longer handle Apparition or Portkeys, so whenever Nicolas had to go far, he typically chose this method instead.

"Hogwarts," Nicolas replied, pulling out a golden pocket watch. "Remember? I have to give this to you."

"The Time-Turner?" Of course Kyle recognized the watch. He was the one who had delivered it to Professor Viktor.

"It's today?" Kyle was a little surprised.

If he remembered correctly, the day Nicolas handed over the Time-Turner was the same day he himself returned to a hundred years in the past.

In other words, the time loop was now complete—everything had returned to its proper course.

After the surprise came a sense of delight.

"Want to come along?" Nicolas offered.

"Sure," Kyle said. He needed to look into the situation with the Hebrides Islands anyway, and now he had a ride—much better than relying on sending himself back via owl post.

He stepped forward, and before he could see Nicolas do anything, the view before his eyes suddenly began to shift.

The scene outside the window started to move. The rooftop that had been visible just moments ago was gone—replaced in a blink by drifting clouds.

The whole house seemed to be flying through the sky.

Kyle walked up to the window and looked down.

They were indeed flying. From here, he could even see another old house down on the street below.

It reminded him of what Nicolas had just said… just an ordinary alchemist.

Using an entire house as a vehicle—how perfectly ordinary.

...

The airship moved even faster than Kyle had expected. In just a moment of distraction, the streets of Paris vanished, replaced by the familiar silhouette of a castle.

Hogwarts. Already?

No dizziness, no sense of weightlessness, and none of that being-dragged-through-the-air feeling. Everything felt so natural—like he'd simply stepped outside and walked a few paces. Incredibly smooth.

Kyle blinked. He liked it. He wanted one.

If that wandering wizard Lennis attacked Nicolas's manor, this airship would be right behind the opera house on his list of priorities.

Assuming, of course, that Alastor Moody let him live.

"I get the feeling you're thinking something questionable," came Nicolas's voice from behind.

"How could that be? Must be your imagination." Kyle turned around, flashing a textbook-perfect smile.

"You don't understand the intuition of an old wizard." If Nicolas had only been suspicious a moment ago, now he was sure—Kyle was thinking something questionable.

But he didn't mind. Or rather, he was used to it by now.

If there ever came a day when Kyle wasn't having questionable thoughts, that would be strange.

"Coming with me to Hogwarts?"

"No." Kyle shook his head. "My other self is still there. Until time's completely back on track, it's better if we keep our distance."

"There's still a bit of time. Want me to take you somewhere first?"

"No need. See you later, Nicolas." With that, Kyle Disapparated and vanished from the room.

He was heading to the Ministry of Magic first to look into the Hebrides Islands, and then off to Cornwall to check on Tonks.