Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

"You deliberately sent those newspapers to Gringotts, didn't you?"

After leaving the Ministry of Magic, Chris asked with interest, "If I'm not mistaken, that wasn't the original content either—it was something thrown together at the last minute, wasn't it?"

"Ah, you noticed?" Kyle smiled. "It was all Rita Skeeter's doing. She said she'd been wanting to publish a special issue for ages, and this was the perfect chance."

perfect chance.

"Though honestly, she's not that good at it."

"Yeah, the content was too monotonous. It wasn't just me—Scrimgeour noticed too," Chris said. "If the goblins had kept calm and waited for the real Daily Prophet to arrive by owl, they probably would've realized they'd been duped."

"They're not the calm type," Kyle shrugged.

Goblins looked down on wizards—and by extension, their newspapers. Even though they read the Prophet daily, it was only to keep track of essential information.

Expecting them to understand the Daily Prophet as thoroughly as Chris or Scrimgeour?

Impossible.

So when they saw the familiar paper, layout, and font, the goblins never questioned whether it was fake.

"Not bad at all," Chris couldn't help but laugh. "But after making the goblins suffer such a loss, I doubt Gringotts will welcome you back."

"Doesn't matter," Kyle said. "All my money's in my own hands now—I don't need Gringotts..."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Kyle slapped his forehead, then pulled a ruby from his pocket and gave it a little wave.

Chris looked at it, puzzled, not quite sure what he meant.

But before he could ask, a black blur shot out with a whoosh and latched onto Kyle's hand.

When Chris saw what it was, he couldn't help but blurt out, "Niffler?"

"Yeah." Kyle grabbed the Niffler by the scruff and lifted it up, casually stuffing the ruby—transfigured from a rock—into the pouch on its belly, while pulling out his suitcase from inside it.

Chris's eye twitched.

He was starting to put the pieces together.

"You said you lost those Galleons... Don't tell me—"

"Ah, didn't lose a thing. It's all right here." Kyle opened the suitcase, and the dazzling pile of gold nearly blinded Chris.

Before he could even get a good look, the Niffler dashed over again, eager as ever, pawing at the gold and stuffing it into its pouch.

Kyle didn't try to stop him—he figured it could count as a reward.

On the way to St. Mungo's, he'd taken the chance to release the Niffler with the suitcase.

These magical creatures could squeeze through the tiniest gaps; even if the Aurors and goblins dug three feet down, they still wouldn't find it.

In no time, the little guy had stuffed all the Galleons inside, then plopped down on the floor looking utterly blissful and dazed, as if drunk.

Chris smacked his lips and frowned. "Aren't you afraid the goblins will come after you for this?"

"Nope. They'll never know," Kyle said matter-of-factly. "And besides, I was only targeting the goblins."

"Because of their attitude?" Chris asked.

"Yeah." Kyle nodded.

"Oren's Protean Charm wasn't even clever. I spotted it almost instantly, but the goblins didn't."

"Maybe they were careless, or maybe something else is going on—but I don't believe they're innocent."

"You mean the goblins and the Death Eaters…"

"I doubt it," Kyle shook his head. "The Dark Lord looks down on goblins. To him, goblins, house-elves, werewolves—they're no better than livestock. Not even worth calling servants."

"Take Fenrir Greyback, for instance—a werewolf leader, a fairly important figure. And he doesn't even bear the Dark Mark. That alone proves the Dark Lord doesn't see them as equals. It's probably the same with goblins—he wouldn't bother recruiting them."

"And goblins aren't stupid," Kyle continued. "They know perfectly well that staying neutral is the best move. No matter who wins, Gringotts will remain untouched."

"But that doesn't mean their attitude or intentions are neutral," Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Deep down, they're probably hoping the Dark Lord wins."

"Because the Death Eaters don't follow the rules?" Chris offered.

"Exactly," Kyle said. "They're ruthless and arrogant. More importantly, they hate Muggles. Once the Muggle Protection Act is thrown out, it'll be much easier for goblins to rake in profits."

"You've really thought this through," Chris glanced at him. "Isn't that more the Ministry's job?"

"That's only part of it—something we can say openly," Kyle said with a shrug.

"So what's the part you can't say?" Chris asked, intrigued.

"Causing trouble for the goblins," Kyle said without hesitation. "This time it was me—but if it had been another wizard, who's to say the Death Eaters wouldn't have killed him once he outlived his usefulness?"

"Besides, after all the trouble I went through just to withdraw some money, and I get nothing for it? No way. Consider the 6,000 Galleons a service fee."

"I don't come cheap. The goblins got off easy."

6,000 Galleons is getting off easy?

Chris raised his brows. Honestly, even inviting Dumbledore wouldn't cost that much.

Donating 2,000 Galleons to Hogwarts... Dumbledore definitely wouldn't say no to that.

"And aside from all that," Kyle added quietly, "I just couldn't stand how they were torturing that dragon."

"You didn't see it—that Ukrainian Ironbelly was in such a miserable state, not a single good scale left on its body. It's the largest of all the dragons, and yet it was trembling just from the sound of a metal plate."

"If Hagrid had been there, he would've torn those goblins apart and stuffed them into the cracks in the stone."

Chris's expression darkened immediately.

Even without seeing it for himself, Kyle's description was enough for him to imagine the torment the Ironbelly had endured.

As Newt's student and the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Chris shared Kyle's disgust for the goblins' cruelty.

On this point, he and Kyle saw eye to eye.

6,000 Galleons... It still felt like too little.

"How's that dragon doing now...?"

"No idea," Kyle said. "But it should be on its way to Romania by now, escorted by dragon keepers. I plan to donate 600 Galleons to the dragon sanctuary. Hopefully, it'll recover."

"Only 600 Galleons?" Chris raised an eyebrow. "You made 6,000, didn't you?"

"Is 600 Galleons not enough?" Kyle turned to him, incredulous. "That's probably three months of your salary as Department Head. It's more than enough to cover treatment and recovery for a dragon."

Chris was left speechless.

Come to think of it... that might actually be true.

And with Kyle pointing it out, Chris suddenly remembered something important.

The Galleons in the suitcase, plus the compensation from the goblins... Kyle now had a total of 12,000 Galleons.

Twelve thousand?

That number was getting out of hand.

His own monthly salary was barely over 200 Galleons—and that was after he got promoted to Department Head.

And yet his son's savings... amounted to fifty months of his own salary?

Chris felt a little dizzy, like he was dreaming.

"Where did you get that kind of money?" he couldn't help but ask.

"It's a long story—hard to explain in just a few sentences," Kyle said. "But I earned it all through proper means. Professor Dumbledore can vouch for that."

"Hmm... alright."

Hearing Kyle bring up Dumbledore, Chris dropped the subject, trying to come to terms with the fact that Kyle was richer than he was.

Nope—still couldn't accept it.

Chris sighed. The comparison was just too stark.

Back when he had just graduated, he wasn't dirt poor, but he barely had a few Galleons to his name. Buying a gift for Diana meant counting every coin.

And yet Kyle, freshly graduated, already had more money than him.

Actually more money... Chris had never done the math, but his own savings barely passed 10,000 Galleons.

Diana's might be more—everyone knew the pay for Unspeakables was the best in the Ministry, more than double his.

But still, Kyle had just graduated. It was hard not to feel a bit defeated.

Kyle, unaware of what Chris was thinking, noticed the silence and that Chris was still following him. He couldn't help but ask, "Dad, it's not even the end of your shift yet. Is it really okay for you to just walk off like this?"

"Huh?" Chris snapped out of it. "Oh, it's fine. The work on the Hebrides Islands isn't exactly easy. I'm taking today as a personal day."

"So, where are you headed?"

"Not sure. I'll go home first, have a drink with Arthur after work, and then get some proper rest."

"So you're free right now?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Why?"

"No reason," Kyle said. "If you've got time, want to come with me to Diagon Alley? I've opened a shop there. You're a Department Head, right? You know a lot of people—maybe you could help me bring in a few customers."

"Oh, sure—wait..." Chris suddenly stopped and gave Kyle a strange look. "You opened a shop in Diagon Alley?"

"Yeah, it's been a while now," Kyle replied casually. "It's just that you and Mum have been so busy lately, I haven't had a chance to tell you."

Chris stood there for a long moment.

So not only did Kyle have over 10,000 Galleons in savings—he also had a shop?

And you're telling me all your money came from honest work?

Chris was beginning to have his doubts.

Driven by a mix of curiosity and suspicion, he followed Kyle to Diagon Alley.

...

Chris had considered a few possibilities. In his mind, Kyle had probably opened a magic trinket shop—something like the Weasley twins'.

That would make sense. After all, this was what Kyle was best at. Back at school, he'd made plenty selling enchanted maps and other little gadgets—not even needing pocket money from home.

But the moment Chris stepped into the shop, he realized just how wrong he'd been.

Especially when he looked at the price tags on the merchandise. He fell silent for quite a while.

A single "grape" for 10 Galleons—was that a typo?

And a quill—for 30 Galleons? Wait, oh... Thunderbird feather. Never mind, that checked out.

As an expert in magical creatures himself, Chris immediately recognized the light brown feather—it came from the tip of a Thunderbird's primary wing, the longest one.

The price made sense... but this kind of item was banned, wasn't it? And it was just sitting there on open display, right in front of the Department Head of Magical Creature Regulation and Control?

Was that really appropriate?

And that Mobic Giant Squid ink... honestly, put these two together and skip the fines—just go straight to Azkaban.

"Oops... my bad."

Following Chris's gaze, Kyle quickly stepped forward and flipped the price tag face-down.

"These aren't for sale—they're display pieces only."

Chris turned his head, skeptical.

"I swear, everything here is above board. Completely legal," Kyle said, full of conviction.

Chris let out a cold laugh.

Legal, huh?

Unless he'd acquired them sixty years ago—then it wouldn't be illegal. But Kyle hadn't even been born back then.

There was no way.

"Professor Dumbledore can testify to that," Kyle said. "If you don't believe me, go ask him."

"I will," Chris replied in a low voice.

Even if Kyle was his son, he couldn't openly sell contraband.

Still, he believed that if Kyle dared to put those items on display so openly, he must have solid backing—just like the things he'd done in the past: questionable at times, but never illegal.

That, at least, Chris was confident about.

But then again, where had those things come from? Could they have been given to him by Dumbledore?

If that were the case, then there really wouldn't be an issue.

At Dumbledore's age, it wouldn't be surprising if he had a few rare items stashed away.

With that in mind, Chris went ahead and confiscated all five quills and eight bottles of ink from the shelf—under the pretense of "evidence."

But Kyle knew perfectly well that he was unlikely to get them back… not for any particular reason, just based on his understanding of Chris's personality.

Whatever. Consider it an advertising fee.

Kyle sighed and continued showing Chris around the shop.

Fortunately, aside from the quills and ink, he hadn't put anything too sensitive on display. At most, a few items danced along the legal gray area, but Chris just glanced at them without commenting further.

Five minutes later, Chris turned back to Kyle and asked, "Be honest—what do you have on Professor Dumbledore?"

"Huh?" Kyle blinked in confusion.

"Don't play dumb," Chris said. "If you didn't have something on him, would he be giving you all this good stuff?"

Kyle opened his mouth.

So Chris actually thought all of this came from Dumbledore?

Well… that saved him the trouble of explaining. To be fair, the real story would be hard to explain.

"Do you get many customers for this stuff?"

"Not really," Kyle shook his head. "Most people are wary because they don't know where it came from. They're afraid the Ministry might come after them."

"Understandable." Chris frowned. "How long has this shop been open? Hasn't anyone from the Ministry come to inspect it?"

"They have."

"Then how is it still open?"

"Because Fred and George came by," Kyle said. "They showed up last week. I had Dobby give them fifty Galleons each, and they left."

"..."

Got it. In cahoots, then.

No wonder Kyle had been so eager to get Fred and George into the Ministry.

Chris's jaw tightened as his teeth ground together.

But he also understood—the Weasley twins hadn't taken the money for the bribe. They simply trusted that Kyle wouldn't openly challenge the Statute of Wizarding Law.

That kind of silent understanding was just part of their friendship.

Still, just knowing that didn't make it sit any easier.

"I'll be telling Arthur about this," Chris said.

Kyle's mouth twitched slightly, but he quickly composed himself and pretended he hadn't heard a thing.

"To avoid unnecessary trouble, I'm thinking about getting a license that lets me sell these things legally," Kyle said, finally revealing the real reason for his visit. "Think you can help me out?"

"Sure," Chris didn't hesitate. "But I need to know where this stuff came from first."

"There's still some time before the Ministry closes—I'll swing by Hogwarts. If Professor Dumbledore's willing to vouch for you, I can have the paperwork ready for you first thing tomorrow."

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris suddenly caught sight of a familiar package.

It was a type of candy he used to eat as a student—a classic that had been popular for nearly a hundred years. After Honeydukes changed ownership, though, it had been discontinued. He never expected to see it again here.

He glanced at the price… three Galleons a box. That was more than twenty times what it used to be.

Chris reached out and casually grabbed a box, popped a piece into his mouth.

The taste was exactly the same—unchanged.

Chris was genuinely surprised.

He was starting to believe Kyle's explanation. In some ways, getting a hold of discontinued candy like this was even harder than acquiring contraband—especially with the flavor still intact.

Normally, candy couldn't last twenty years, not even with magic... and honestly, no wizard would bother trying.

"But I can only issue the permit..." Chris said, tossing another candy into his mouth, "...Mobic Giant Squid ink is classified as a Category C Restricted Trade Item. You'll need the Minister's signature for that to go through."

"That won't be a problem."

Kyle wasn't too worried. He'd just secured 30,000 Galleons in funding for the Ministry. For a piece of paperwork like this—especially with Dumbledore's backing—Amelia Bones was unlikely to cause trouble.

In the span of a few minutes, Chris had finished the entire box of candy. Without missing a beat, he grabbed a second one.

"Seriously though, how did you get all this stuff?"

"Bought it in 1899," Kyle said.

"Pfft!" Chris couldn't hold back a laugh. "If you don't want to say, that's fine—I'm not forcing you. But is there really any need for jokes?"

"You really don't know?" Kyle looked at him, puzzled.

"Know what?"

"Never mind," Kyle shook his head.

Considering how busy Chris had been lately—so busy he barely had time to appear—Professor McGonagall probably hadn't had a chance to fill him in.

"Aren't you heading to see Professor Dumbledore? He'll tell you," Kyle said.

Strictly speaking, the mission to rescue Dumbledore was classified, but Chris was his father. Dumbledore wouldn't—and couldn't—keep it from him.

Once Chris got there, he'd find out for himself.

"You and your secrets… Fine, I'll go now," Chris said, turning to leave.

But just as he reached the door, he turned back again, grabbed two tubs of Every Flavor Beans and three more boxes of soft candy off the shelf.

"That's a bit much, don't you think?" Kyle's expression soured slightly.

"They're for your mum," Chris said defensively. "She likes this stuff too."

"Really?" Kyle blinked. "Then go ahead, take them all."

Without hesitation, Kyle swept all the remaining candy from the shelf into a bag and handed it to Chris.

"No sneaking any," he warned. "I'll ask Mum—and if the number doesn't match, you'll pay full price."

"Are you serious?" Chris stared at him. "I'm helping you here!"

"So?" Kyle stared right back. "I'm following proper procedures. Why should that earn you a freebie?"