Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

To be honest, the moment the shopkeeper saw the money pouch Kyle pulled out, his eyes practically turned red.

The cost of acquiring a dragon egg was only around fifty Galleons. As long as it could be transported safely and discreetly, he stood to make a clean profit of 150 Galleons.

In 1899, that kind of money was a rare fortune. Most shops in Diagon Alley couldn't make that much in half a year. Now, all he had to do was figure out a way to get a dragon egg, and the money would be his... It was hard not to be tempted.

"Come in."

The owner glanced around quickly, grabbed Kyle's arm, dragged him into the shop, and locked the door without hesitation.

"What's this about?" Kyle calmly gripped his wand.

"There are too many people outside. If someone reports us to the Ministry of Magic, it'd be trouble for you too, wouldn't it?" the owner said with a smile, then poured Kyle a cup of the shop's best red tea.

"You're aware, of course—the International Confederation of Wizards is planning to establish a dragon reserve. The Ministry has been cracking down on dragon-related items, especially dragon eggs. If a deal like this gets exposed, it won't just be confiscation… You wouldn't exactly enjoy life in Azkaban, would you?"

"So, you're saying you don't want to do this deal?" Kyle asked.

"No, no, no. There's always some risk in making money, that's normal," the owner shook his head. "As it happens, I know someone who has a dragon egg and is looking to sell. But…"

He trailed off.

"What is it?"

"He's not in the UK, so I'll have to go meet him myself. That definitely raises the risk. And if I leave, I'll have to shut the shop. It's Hogwarts holiday season right now—peak business time in Diagon Alley. I'd lose a lot."

Kyle understood immediately—he was angling for more money.

Did he think Kyle was some clueless, rich fool?

Two hundred Galleons could still get you a dragon egg even a century later. And he wasn't satisfied?

Without hesitation, Kyle grabbed a handful of Galleons from the pouch.

"In that case, one hundred ninety Galleons."

"Wait a second, that's not right—we agreed on two hundred…"

"One eighty," Kyle narrowed his eyes, set down his teacup, and made to leave. "I'm sure even at one fifty, there'd be plenty of people willing to bring me a dragon egg."

Seeing Kyle's firm stance—it clearly wasn't a bluff—the shopkeeper's face twitched with regret. He had to admit Kyle was right. Forget one fifty—even less would still get people lining up for this kind of deal.

He had been hoping to squeeze out a bit more, but ended up losing twenty Galleons instead.

"One eighty it is," he quickly stepped forward to stop Kyle. "No matter the risk, I'll take it."

"As you should." Kyle shot him a look. "And if you get caught by the Ministry's Aurors, I'll deny ever having dealt with you. This is all your idea."

The last trace of wishful thinking vanished from the shopkeeper's face.

"Don't worry—I know how this works."

"Also…" Kyle began stacking gold coins on the table one by one. "If you can meet two small conditions, we can go back to the original deal—two hundred Galleons."

"Name them, sir," the shopkeeper thumped his chest. "Not just two—ten would be fine!"

"No need for that many," Kyle said with a small smile. "First off, it can't take too long."

"No problem at all," the owner replied. "Hogwarts holidays are prime time in Diagon Alley—I'd hate to miss it."

"Good." Kyle continued, "Second, it's about the breed of dragon. If you try to pass off a Common Welsh Green egg on me, the price will need to be renegotiated."

Though all were Fire Dragons, their breeds made a difference. The Common Welsh Green was the smallest and most numerous, and the only species that could be kept in captivity. Most of the dragon blood and liver on the market came from that breed.

The shopkeeper gave an awkward smile. "Don't worry, sir—I'll make sure you get a dragon egg worth two hundred Galleons."

He was now sure of it—this man in front of him was no clueless mark.

"You're not doing this for me. You want that egg for your own sake," Kyle reminded him, then stood up, ready to leave.

But he left behind twenty gold coins on the table.

He didn't say it outright, but the shopkeeper understood—it was a deposit.

"Sir, please wait," the shopkeeper quickly swept the coins into his hands and suddenly called after Kyle.

"What is it?"

"There's something I should warn you about. When we were talking at the door just now, Horlick happened to be nearby—that limping wizard in black robes… He might've overheard us."

"Oh…" Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Is he with the Ministry?"

"No," the shopkeeper shook his head. "But he's a notorious Dark wizard. I pulled you inside because I saw how hungrily he was eyeing your money pouch."

"You think he'll come after me?" Kyle asked, intrigued.

"He absolutely will," said the shopkeeper. "Horlick's a greedy, ruthless wizard. He might've already had his eye on you. Frankly, you've been drawing too much attention these past few days…"

"And the Ministry just lets someone that dangerous roam Diagon Alley?"

"They don't dare interfere. Horlick's from Knockturn Alley—he's got powerful backers. The Ministry doesn't want the trouble."

"Is that so? How terrifying," Kyle said. "But aren't you worried he'll come after you for telling me this?"

"Of course I'm worried. But your safety matters more, sir," the shopkeeper said earnestly.

Kyle let out a quiet laugh. He knew full well—this man wasn't warning him out of kindness. He just didn't want to risk missing out on the rest of his payment.

But he didn't mind and walked out the door, heading back to Diagon Alley.

By now, it was almost noon. Kyle first stopped at the Leaky Cauldron, had a simple lunch, and rented a long-term room for himself.

As for heading to Godric's Hollow to find Dumbledore… there was still plenty of time. No need to rush.

Besides, he needed somewhere to stay—he couldn't just live in that abandoned barn Grindelwald had mentioned forever.

After tidying up a bit, Kyle returned to Diagon Alley that afternoon and began his treasure hunt. However, he didn't come across the so-called Horlick—everything was peaceful.

A few days later, Kyle's name had become increasingly well-known in Diagon Alley. Now, wherever he went, shopkeepers greeted him enthusiastically, stuffing free snacks and drinks into his hands.

But Kyle had already visited all these shops—or rather, over the past few days, he'd been to nearly every shop in Diagon Alley and had bought almost everything he needed. So, he didn't go in again.

Most importantly, when he checked his trunk at noon, he was a bit embarrassed to discover he was nearly out of money. Though prices were low during this time, buying items by the trunkload added up fast.

This made Kyle regret not borrowing a bit of gold from Sirius beforehand, knowing now what he'd run into.

Half of the glittering pile of Galleons in Norbert's lair had been replaced with various goods. Although a fair amount remained, Kyle no longer intended to spend that money on more shopping...

At the moment, he was sitting at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, sipping Butterbeer and eavesdropping on a conversation between two wizards in the corner using an Extendable Ear.

They seemed to be Ministry of Magic employees, sneaking away during their lunch break and grabbing an early dinner.

Earlier, as Kyle passed by them, he'd overheard something that piqued his interest, so he casually dropped a disguised Extendable Ear on the ground.

Now it was finally proving useful. Kyle sat with his back to them, attaching the other end of the Extendable Ear to his clothes.

"This is such a pain..." one of them grumbled. "I haven't slept in two days because I've been watching those bloody beasts. Why can't the Ministry send us more help?"

"Keep your voice down, this is classified," the other wizard said, nervously glancing around.

Kyle feigned indifference, tilting his head slightly as he focused on The Daily Prophet in front of him.

"Probably because they don't see the need."

After a pause, the wizard's low voice came through the Extendable Ear.

"Once the Dragon Reserve is established, our whole department will be dissolved."

"That really ticks me off. The International Confederation of Wizards passed that bill years ago—so why hasn't there been any progress on the Dragon Reserve?"

"What else? No money."

"Most powerful wizarding families are involved in the dragon trade in some way. Once the Dragon Reserve is up and running, that business is finished.

"The bill clearly states that all dragon-related goods and potion ingredients will go to the Reserve. Selling them privately would be illegal. They don't want to give up their cash cow, so of course they're not donating. The Ministry and the Confederation don't have the funds, so the project's been shelved."

"But if they donate, they'll get a cut, right? I remember the Chief Warlock said they wouldn't let people contribute for nothing."

"What kind of cut? Most of the money would go into maintaining the Reserve. The rest gets divided according to the donation plan in the bill. A rough estimate says it would take a hundred years just to break even. How's that better than running your own business?

"And donations don't come with management rights. If the Dragon Reserve plan falls apart, all that money goes down the drain. No one's stupid."

"So we're just stuck here wasting time? I was hoping to transfer to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement soon."

"There's nothing we can do. I'd like that too, but this isn't up to us... Come on, let's head back. If we're late again, Bubblay will start yelling."

The two quickly finished the bread on their plates and left the Leaky Cauldron.

Kyle took another sip of Butterbeer. As he stood, he accidentally dropped a Sickle. He picked it up and retrieved half of the Extendable Ear from the floor in one motion, then casually walked out of the bar as if nothing had happened.

He returned to the same shop as before, but the "Closed" sign still hung in the window—clearly, the shopkeeper hadn't come back yet.

Kyle felt a bit disappointed. He'd stayed in Diagon Alley in hopes of collecting the dragon egg before leaving, but there'd been no updates at all. He didn't even know how to contact the person.

"I should've asked for his name," Kyle muttered, rubbing his forehead. "At least then I could've sent an owl to check in."

Since the man still hadn't returned, Kyle had no choice but to wait. He pulled his robe tighter and turned to head back to the Leaky Cauldron.

By now, the sky was completely dark, and the once-bustling Diagon Alley was silent and empty.

Kyle instinctively quickened his pace, mentally calculating how many Galleons would be reasonable to deduct for lost time.

But then he noticed the path ahead was blocked. Still, he didn't think much of it and turned to go around from the left.

The figures moved too—once again blocking his way.

That's when Kyle realized something was off. He looked up… Five figures stood before him, all cloaked in black hoods, their faces obscured.

"You're that rich wizard, aren't you?" The lead wizard limped forward a few steps when he saw Kyle stop.

"What do you want?" Kyle asked in a low voice, showing no sign of fear.

"This is Diagon Alley. Believe it or not, if I shout right now, the shopkeepers around here will come running."

"I believe you," the lead wizard replied. "They've made a good amount off you—of course they wouldn't just stand by and watch you get into trouble."

That was exactly where Kyle's confidence came from. He had been spending money like water in Diagon Alley, and the locals would instinctively protect him. Keeping him safe meant continued profit. Anyone who went against Kyle would be going against all of Diagon Alley, and no title or status would change that.

"Since you know that, step aside," Kyle said coolly. "Otherwise, I can't guarantee you won't get beaten to death by an angry mob."

"I'm guessing someone's been badmouthing me, gave you the wrong idea," the wizard said, taking another two steps forward.

"Let me introduce myself—Horlick. I deal in... grey-area goods."

"So you're looking to do business with me?" Kyle asked, intrigued. "Money's not a problem—the question is, do you have something worth my attention?"

"Of course. This." Horlick lifted his robe and pulled out a round object.

"A dragon egg!" Kyle recognized it instantly and frowned. "That shopkeeper still hasn't returned. Don't tell me you—"

"Don't misunderstand," Horlick said, shaking his head. "I thought about it, sure—but that old geezer Willie Tom is too sly. I lost him. Got this through my own channels."

"You don't need to explain all that. I don't care whose egg it is," Kyle said. "Since you found me, that means you overheard our conversation. I'll offer the same price: one hundred Galleons. Cash for goods. Deal?"

"But I heard two hundred," Horlick replied. "Or are you looking down on us wandering wizards?"

"No, no. I just need to confirm the breed first before considering a higher price."

"Relax—we're as honest as they come." Horlick raised his head, revealing a scar-covered face.

Kyle instinctively took half a step back.

"Sorry if I startled you," Horlick said, though there was a hint of pride in his tone.

He raised a hand, and the dragon egg floated into Kyle's hands.

It was warm to the touch, blue in color, with sharp spikes at the top and streaked patterns across the shell. It looked like an oversized blue pineapple—larger than a typical dragon egg by a noticeable margin.

"Ukrainian Ironbelly?" Kyle asked, slightly surprised. "Not something you see every day."

"Sharp eye," Horlick said, just as surprised. He hadn't expected Kyle to identify the egg so quickly.

"You must be from one of the pure-blood families, right?"

Kyle didn't respond. He simply pulled out a pouch and tossed it to Horlick.

"I'm satisfied with the egg. That's two hundred Galleons."

"Straightforward—I like doing business with people like you," Horlick said with a grin. "I've got a second dragon egg, even rarer—Hebridean Black."

"You managed to get a Black?" Kyle sounded doubtful.

"See it for yourself," Horlick replied. "I don't have it on me, and something like that isn't safe to carry around in public. We'd have people after our heads. If you want to see it, you'll have to come with us—to our base."

Kyle hesitated.

"Relax—it's close by, and still within Diagon Alley," Horlick said in a lowered voice. "You really think we'd try anything here?

If we laid a finger on you, the shopkeepers would tear us apart."

"Who's afraid?" Kyle seemed convinced, lifting his chin. "Where's your base? Take me there now. If it really is a Black, I'll pay another fifty Galleons."

"Right this way." Horlick extended his arm with a courteous smile. "It's not far."