Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

The Alchemical Mist was one of Beauxbatons' most vital defensive wards. Nicolas Flamel even used it at the entrance to his estate—its effectiveness went without saying.

Kyle's alchemy skills weren't on par with Viktor's or Nicolas Flamel's, but he didn't need to protect the entire Hogwarts campus. He only needed a patch along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, enough to block the castle's line of sight.

It wasn't all that difficult to set up. By the end of the day, he had most of the sigil framework etched out. Hagrid had made over a dozen trips between the hut and the castle, helping him check visibility from every direction. Once everything was confirmed, Kyle finally lowered his wand.

This wasn't the kind of project you finished in a day or two. The rest could be completed slowly over time.

"Here, have something to eat. I got this just for you from the kitchen." Hagrid came over, carrying an entire roasted leg of beef, and shoved it into Kyle's arms without waiting for a reply.

Kyle's arms sagged under the weight—he almost dropped it. For a moment, he seriously wondered if Hagrid had mistaken him for Grawp.

"Thanks... I guess."

"Oh, don't be so polite."

Kyle gave a strained smile, cradling the beef leg awkwardly, unsure where to start. Eventually, he just used his wand to slice off a piece.

He glanced back at Hagrid—who was now grinning like a child and trying to get close to the Hungarian Horntail, completely forgetting how many times its tail had already whipped him bloody.

The Horntail had been busy all day and was clearly tired. It lay sprawled on the ground with its eyes shut, ignoring Hagrid entirely.

Still, Hagrid finally got his wish—he touched its rough scales and the sharp, solid barbs on its tail.

"Oh, Kyle, look! He finally acknowledges me!" Hagrid's eyes shimmered with tears. He looked as joyful as a child—albeit a three-meter-tall one.

"If thinking that makes you happy..." Kyle swallowed a mouthful of beef with some difficulty, then dangled the rest of the leg in front of the Horntail.

When it didn't react, he simply stuffed it into the dragon's mouth.

The Horntail shot up in rage, whipped its tail straight into Hagrid, and looked ready to go berserk on Kyle.

But after chewing thoughtfully for a moment, it flopped back down and calmly devoured the beef leg like it was a pile of fries.

"Hagrid?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine..."

Hagrid hobbled over, clearly hurting.

Kyle took one look and shrugged it off.

By now, he understood—half-giants weren't just massive, they were absurdly durable. Add in the beating resistance Hagrid had built up living with his giant brother, and Kyle figured the Horntail could rough him up, but it wasn't going to kill him.

So after giving Hagrid a few early warnings, he stopped interfering.

After another round of adoring the Horntail, Hagrid reluctantly tore himself away and walked over.

"Kyle, are you really going to keep dragons in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Of course. Why else would I go to all this trouble?" Kyle said. "Why—are you against it?"

"Are you kidding?" Hagrid said loudly. "I've dreamed of raising dragons in the Forbidden Forest! But I'm worried the Aurors will come after you. Keeping dragons's no minor offense."

"Don't worry about that." Kyle pulled out a parchment. "I've got a license—completely legal."

"A license to keep dragons?" Hagrid glanced at the parchment, eyes full of envy. "You really were the Minister Assistant—how'd you even get your hands on something this good?"

After being expelled, Hagrid had basically lived at Hogwarts full-time. He had no idea how valuable that license actually was. He just assumed Kyle had pulled strings at the Ministry.

It was the same as with clearing Sirius Black's name—Hagrid knew it was difficult, but couldn't quite grasp why.

Kyle didn't bother explaining.

"There's one more thing you might want to watch out for," Hagrid added, as if suddenly remembering something. "If dragons show up in the Forbidden Forest, the centaurs probably won't be thrilled. They'll definitely stir up trouble."

"They're all transplants from other regions, and they really think the Forbidden Forest belongs to them?" Kyle snorted. "Whatever. If they don't like it, they can try to chase the dragons off. If they can, I won't stop them."

Hagrid nodded.

Honestly, he didn't have much love for the centaurs either. Back when he brought in the Three-Headed Dog, Fluffy, they'd treated him coldly. More recently, when he wanted to let his brother Grawp stay in the Forest, they'd fiercely objected—only quieting down once he invoked Dumbledore's name.

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out," Hagrid said.

Kyle nodded and opened his suitcase again.

One by one, a group of dragons emerged—a blazing red Fireball Dragon, a silvery Ironbelly with a metallic sheen, and a majestic Romanian Longhorn with glittering golden horns. They flapped their wings and soared into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

These dragons were still young, bursting with curiosity. Since they had a new environment to explore, Kyle let them stretch their wings a bit.

Clang!

Kyle could've sworn he heard something... like Hagrid's jaw hitting the ground.

When he turned around, he saw Hagrid standing there, stunned—his eyes wide as saucers, glinting with excitement like two glowing Golden Snitches.

"Fireball Dragon..."

"Ironbelly..."

"Oh, that's a Romanian Longhorn—a live Longhorn... By Merlin, I must be dreaming!"

"You're not." Kyle tugged at Hagrid's arm. "Come on. You'll have plenty of time to see them later."

One pull. Nothing. Another. Still nothing...

Hagrid stood firm, rooted to the spot like a boulder.

"I'm not leaving. I'm staying right here!" he said, just as determined. "I've made up my mind. I'm going to live here from now on."

"That's... not really appropriate," Kyle said, frowning.

He didn't mind adding an extra bed for Hagrid, but the problem was the Horntail—it was far too unpredictable.

Sure, during the day it didn't seem to care about Hagrid, but Kyle couldn't guarantee it wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night and launch a surprise attack.

"Please, Kyle," Hagrid said, eyes still locked on the dragons in the distance.

A man over three meters tall, with fists the size of a young wizard's head, speaking in a choked voice on the verge of tears?

Who could say no to that?

Kyle rubbed his arms awkwardly.

"Fine. Do whatever you want." With that, he turned and walked off.

He needed to head to the castle.

Raising dragons in the Forbidden Forest wasn't exactly a minor undertaking. Even with a license, he had to inform Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

Only with their approval could he move forward.

If they said no, he'd just keep the dragons there temporarily—treating the forest like a giant playground for them.

...

When Kyle found Professor McGonagall, she was just about to go see Dumbledore about something. But the moment she heard Kyle had released five dragons into the school grounds, the parchment in her hands slipped straight to the floor.

"What did you just say?!"

"Raising dragons in the Forbidden Forest?" Professor McGonagall completely forgot her original reason for coming and said firmly, "Absolutely not. The Forbidden Forest is far too close to the castle—this would put the students in danger."

"Now, now, Minerva, don't be so hasty," Dumbledore said, gently stroking his beard. "I think it's worth considering."

"If Kyle was able to obtain a legal dragon-keeping license, that means he has the capability to control them. It's not necessarily as dangerous as it sounds."

"That's still not acceptable. What if Kyle lets his guard down and one of the dragons escapes?"

"Well, I'll be here too," Dumbledore replied. "Besides, dragons are incredibly rare. If Hogwarts becomes the only school legally housing dragons, it would greatly boost our standing in the magical world."

"I'd rather not have that kind of prestige," Professor McGonagall said grimly. "And Albus—might I remind you—I'm the Headmistress now."

"Oh, of course. It's your call, then." Dumbledore immediately backed down, casually picking up the cup of tea on the desk and taking a sip.

His sudden surrender left McGonagall momentarily stunned. Her once-firm resolve wavered.

Because, in her experience, Dumbledore was not someone who acted on impulse. On the contrary—every decision he made had depth and long-term significance. Even if the reasoning wasn't clear in the moment, it always became apparent later.

McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore, then at Kyle, who stood quietly nearby, well-behaved and respectful. Her gaze drifted to the window, toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and she fell silent for a long time.

Eventually, she sighed and looked toward a portrait on the wall.

"Headmaster Dippet, would you please summon the Heads of House and Madam Pomfrey from the Hospital Wing? We need to hold a meeting."

"No need to go to all that trouble, Minerva," said Armando Dippet, lounging in his frame. "There are already plenty of dangerous magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest. A few young dragons won't make much of a difference."

McGonagall pressed her lips into a tight line and raised her head to look at him.

"Very well. I understand." Dippet straightened at once. "I'll see to it right away."

...

Before long, the Heads of House and Madam Pomfrey arrived.

Having already heard the general situation from Dippet, they began arguing the moment they entered the room.

And, interestingly, the vote came out evenly split.

Professor Flitwick and Snape supported letting the dragons settle in the Forbidden Forest, while Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey firmly opposed the idea.

The reasons were straightforward: Professor Sprout worried that the temperamental dragons might destroy the nearby greenhouses, while Madam Pomfrey opposed any creatures that could pose a threat—this included, but was not limited to, Three-Headed Dogs, Basilisks, Dementors, Dragons, and Voldemort himself…

3:3.

The debate reached a stalemate once again.

What surprised Kyle the most was that Snape had initially voted in favor.

Of course, he had his own motive.

"I need certain dragon parts for my research," Snape said, narrowing his eyes with a hint of menace. "You will provide them to me. Unconditionally."

To which Kyle responded—absolutely not. Not even a scrap of dragon dung.

And so, Snape promptly changed his vote.

But the tally remained 3:3.

Because at the mention of "dragon dung," Professor Sprout suddenly switched sides.

She realized that with dragons at the school, she'd have a limitless supply of fresh, natural dragon dung fertilizer—and all the money she saved could be put toward acquiring more magical plants.

Kyle even promised to donate twenty pots of Mandrakes, a hundred pots of Chomping Cabbages, and a full-grown Devil's Snare to the greenhouses once everything was settled.

Professor Sprout didn't hesitate in the slightest.

Snape ground his teeth audibly.

...

The debate dragged on late into the night. Eventually, Dumbledore suggested a short break—some snacks, a bit of pumpkin juice to soothe the throat—and then they could continue.

Everyone agreed.

Except Madam Pomfrey, who stood up and left the Headmistress's office without a word.

Her stance was crystal clear: it would not change, and there was no point in further discussion. Professor McGonagall didn't try to stop her.

She herself was deep in thought, head bowed, still mulling over something Professor Flitwick had said earlier.

He'd pointed out that having dragons at the school might actually be a tactical advantage—if Death Eaters ever attacked Hogwarts, the dragons could serve as an unexpected line of defense.

That one remark shook McGonagall's conviction.

Her foremost concern had always been student safety. But compared to Death Eaters, the dragons suddenly didn't seem like the greater threat.

Still, that alone wasn't enough to fully sway her. She remained hesitant.

The house-elves brought in steaming trays of late-night snacks. With Dumbledore's quiet nod, a few glasses of wine were served as well.

Not much—just one glass per person, nothing that would cause anyone to lose their senses.

Professor Flitwick, holding a glass of mead, made his way over to Kyle.

"Kyle, you really got a legal license to raise dragons?"

"Of course I did," Kyle nodded. "I wouldn't have dared release them into the Forbidden Forest otherwise."

Professor Flitwick's eyes lit up.

He wasn't as fanatical about dragons as Hagrid, but he was a passionate duelist.

Dueling wizards thrived on facing formidable opponents—including powerful magical creatures. And dragons, classified as top-tier 5X beings, were among the most formidable of all.

To stand with wand in hand amid blazing fire, watching a colossal dragon descend from the sky and crash before you—that was a scene every duelist had dreamed of at some point.

But it remained just that—a dream.

Dragons were rare, and the reserves would never allow anyone to duel them. For the past century, the title "Wizard Who Defeated a Dragon" had vanished from the world.

Perhaps now was the chance.

Professor Flitwick rubbed his hands together, glancing excitedly out the window toward the Forbidden Forest.

That was why he'd voted in favor.

As for student safety… he wasn't nearly as worried as Professor McGonagall. With Dumbledore around, even moving the entire dragon reserve next door wouldn't concern him.

And after all, they—the Heads of House—weren't made of clay.

This confidence was what had allowed the Forbidden Forest to exist beside Hogwarts in the first place.

The forest was filled with dangerous creatures. Even the most malicious of them—like the Acromantulas, who saw wizards as part of their diet—had never dared challenge Hogwarts directly.

A few dragons, while troublesome, really weren't that big of a deal.

...

Meanwhile, curfew had begun at the castle.

Since Fred and George graduated, Hogwarts had become significantly quieter after hours.

On the eighth-floor corridor, the Fat Lady had returned to her post after a period of psychological recovery.

The dark, silent hallway made her drowsy, and she didn't notice when her portrait was pushed open from the inside, nor the sudden appearance of two pairs of sneaky shoes on the floor.

"Harry, move over—I can't breathe."

"But I'm already at the edge…"

"Quiet! Be careful, or Filch will catch us," another voice whispered from beside them.

"That's easy for you to say, Hermione. Why don't you try squeezing in—it's miserable."

"Well, that's what happens when you never learn the Disillusionment Charm."

"That spell's impossible! No student could ever master it."

"Then how did I learn it?"

"You—you don't count… You're not normal."

Obviously, the three figures sneaking down the corridor were Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

They'd spent the afternoon knocking on the wooden hut's door to no avail. Instead of giving up, they decided to make another attempt under cover of night.

"What if Kyle is a Death Eater in disguise? Hagrid could be in danger."

That was how they justified the excursion to themselves.

What they'd overlooked, however, was the size issue.

Back in first year, the Invisibility Cloak could cover all three of them perfectly. But now they'd grown. Even squeezing two people under it was a stretch.

It was… awkward.

Harry and Ron looked down at their exposed shoes, hoping to somehow tuck them in.

But the cloak was only so big. Unless they could crouch-walk, which they tried briefly and gave up on almost immediately, it just wasn't happening.

If they added Hermione, they wouldn't just be showing their shoes—their calves would be visible too.

So, they had no choice. They kept their voices low and crept carefully down the stairs.

Whether by luck or fate, despite the visible shoes, they didn't run into Filch—or Mrs. Norris—on the way.

The trio slipped out of the castle and sprinted under the moonlight to the door of Kyle's wooden hut.

"Should we knock?"

"Are you joking?"

"But if we just barge in, Kyle's definitely going to notice. He's not as easy to fool as Hagrid."

"It's fine. Colin said he saw Kyle heading to the headmaster's office," Harry whispered. "I just checked—the lights are still on. He might not be back yet."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Ron stepped forward and gave the door a tentative push.

It opened.

That left Hermione—wand in hand, ready to cast Alohomora—momentarily at a loss.

Why was the door open? It had definitely been locked earlier that day.

But she didn't dwell on it. Peeking nervously inside, she quickly stepped over the threshold.

"Good, no one's here."

"Hermione, are we really sure about this?" Harry followed her in cautiously.

But Hermione didn't answer.

Her head was full of the strange scene she'd stumbled upon in the Forbidden Forest yesterday afternoon. She couldn't focus on anything else.

The mystery had gnawed at her all day. She'd checked out at least twenty books from the library, and none of them mentioned a spell capable of conjuring such a mirage-like illusion.

If she didn't get to the bottom of it, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep.

She'd returned multiple times the day before—noon, afternoon, evening—but no matter when she knocked, there had been no response.

Not even a trace of Hagrid.

Whether it was concern, or something else, she'd made up her mind: they were investigating the hut tonight.

The room was clean. The bed was empty.

Hermione's eyes immediately went to the opposite wall.

There it was—the door. Still in the same place, and apparently only visible from this angle.

Her heart began to race. Excitement building, she gripped the doorknob and slowly turned it.

"ROAR!"

The moment the door opened, a blast of searing flame rushed toward them, growing rapidly in their widening eyes...