Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, 12 Grimmauld Place.

Unlike most days, there were only two people here today: the retired Dumbledore, and Snape, just returned from a Death Eater meeting.

"Oren took a golden cup from the vault."

"A golden cup." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Snape's words. "A Horcrux?"

"You really don't know whether it's a Horcrux?" Snape said sharply. "Hufflepuff's Cup has been in Kyle's possession for some time—he hasn't even bothered hiding it."

"So Tom still doesn't know it was stolen?" Dumbledore asked.

"I don't know." Snape paused in thought, then shook his head.

"As far as I'm aware, the Dark Lord was once furious with Bellatrix—he even used the Cruciatus Curse on her."

"The reason? She lost something. Something important that had been hidden in the Gringotts vault."

"Though he didn't say it outright, it must've been Hufflepuff's Cup."

Snape went on, "At the time, the Dark Lord couldn't appear in person, so I went to Gringotts instead… Kyle and that dog were careless. After taking the item, they didn't even bother to erase the goblins' memories."

"So you helped Kyle?" A glint of teasing flashed in Dumbledore's eyes. "You pretend not to care, but deep down, you still worry about him. Is it because of Miss Prince?"

"Shut up!"

Snape exploded, snapping, "Worry about Kyle? Are you insane?"

"What those two idiots do has nothing to do with me—I just didn't want their recklessness to ruin everything and make things harder for me!"

"I see." Dumbledore didn't press further. He simply nodded and said, "Go on."

"There's nothing else to say." It took Snape a moment to calm down.

"I don't know what Bellatrix did afterward, but she somehow earned the Dark Lord's forgiveness. That was the end of it."

"I'd wager Miss Lestrange told a little lie," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Impossible. No one can deceive the Dark Lord," Snape said reflexively.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore looked at him, silent.

Snape's eye twitched slightly.

Right—he, the double agent, had deceived the Dark Lord more than once.

"Tom wouldn't have gone to Gringotts himself. It was probably Miss Lestrange who discovered it. Not realizing how important the item was, she must've let something slip."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, recalling what Snape had told him previously.

"Then you went to Gringotts, altered the goblins' memories, made them forget about Kyle and Sirius, and incidentally… helped Miss Lestrange."

"I helped her?" Snape frowned, confused. "I only did it to pin the blame on her."

"That's what you think," Dumbledore said lightly. "But since no one's been to the Lestrange vault, isn't it possible the item's still there, and she simply misjudged?

"I think it's quite likely—and I'm sure she went back to Gringotts after that."

Snape didn't respond, which in itself was agreement.

There was a stretch of time when Bella had been making frequent trips to Gringotts. After that, she'd never been punished again.

"Death Eaters are loyal to Tom—but if necessary, they won't hesitate to tell a small lie."

Dumbledore's gaze grew distant and calm.

"Tom is arrogant. The fragmentation of his soul has robbed him of a normal wizard's judgment. I suspect he still believes Miss Lestrange would never dare lie to him."

"He probably still thinks the Horcrux is safely locked in the Lestrange vault. Which, for us… is a good thing."

Snape remained silent. He didn't fully agree with Dumbledore's view, but he also knew that Dumbledore understood the Dark Lord better than he did.

And besides, Bellatrix was already dead—so what did the truth matter now?

"Let's go check on Kyle," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. "He must be frightened."

"I'm not ready to reveal myself yet," Snape said flatly. "And frankly, I doubt Kyle would be shaken just from running into a Death Eater at Gringotts."

"Instead of worrying about him, you should be worrying about the goblins."

With that, Snape turned and left the room without a backward glance.

Dumbledore didn't try to stop him. At this point, it truly wasn't a good idea for him to be seen outside Hogwarts.

...

Leaving 12 Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore headed straight to the Ministry of Magic.

"Oh! Headmaster Dumbledore, what a pleasure to see you here," said a Ministry wizard who recognized him and came over to greet him.

"Long time no see, Bob," Dumbledore replied warmly. "Though I'm no longer Headmaster—just call me by name."

"All right then, Mr. Dumbledore," Bob said. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"There is, in fact," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Chopper is at the Ministry today, isn't he?"

"Chris?" Bob thought for a moment. "He's not at the Ministry."

"No—I meant his son, Kyle," Dumbledore clarified.

"Oh, him—he's over at the Auror Office. But…" Bob hesitated, glancing at Dumbledore.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," Bob said quickly, shaking his head. "Just wondering… is he really Chris's son?"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered. "Bob, you should be grateful Diana's not nearby."

Bob gave an involuntary shiver.

If Chris heard that, he'd probably just laugh it off. But if Diana did… Bob would likely find himself strung up from the Ministry's highest tower by morning.

Thankfully, the Department of Mysteries had been unusually busy lately.

"No, I mean—he's nothing like Chris. Not in the slightest. Same goes for Diana," he said in a lowered voice. "It's the first time I've seen someone make goblins that angry… They nearly came to blows more than once. Are you sure Kyle graduated from Hufflepuff?"

"I promise you," said Dumbledore. "But every house has one or two... unique students, doesn't it? Still, he is, through and through, a true Hufflepuff."

Bob let out a dry chuckle.

"Thanks for pointing me in the right direction."

After saying goodbye, Dumbledore stepped into the lift, exchanging greetings as he descended to the second floor of the Ministry of Magic.

Too many people recognized him—everyone wanted to stop and say a few words, ask about his recent plans.

Of course, it was entirely possible that greeting him was the pretense, and the questions were the real objective.

Still, the enthusiasm was exhausting, and it wasn't until Mr. Weasley stepped into the lift as well that Dumbledore had a brief moment to breathe.

The lift stopped on the second floor, and as Dumbledore stepped out, a familiar voice echoed down the hall.

"I'm telling you—six thousand three hundred and fifty Galleons! That's my hard-earned money, and I expect every single Knut returned—not one less!"

The voice was loud enough to be heard across the entire floor.

Dumbledore was surprised—but the others in the lift looked entirely unbothered.

"He's been shouting for two hours," Mr. Weasley sighed. "To keep them from starting a brawl in the Ministry, Scrimgeour's been standing by the whole time."

Dumbledore found himself starting to believe Snape.

As he approached the Auror Office, the shouting only grew louder.

He pushed the door open—and was immediately greeted by the sight of someone completely wrapped in bandages, standing on a chair and bellowing:

"And then you tried to frame a law-abiding wizard! That's worth at least two thousand Galleons in emotional damages!"

"And don't forget—I was tortured by a Death Eater for half an hour because of your negligence. Asking for a thousand Galleons in medical expenses is more than fair!

"So here's what I'll do—I'll give you a discount. Round it all off to ten thousand Galleons!"

"That's not how rounding works!" the goblin across from him was shaking with fury. "Even with rounding, it should be nine thousand!"

"Perfect. Nine thousand it is. Deal."

"No—it's fraud! You're swindling me!" The goblin's face went beet red. "Absolutely not! You can forget it!"

Dumbledore wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light, but the goblin's head looked even bigger than before—like a potato jammed on a fork.

In the end, the goblin was so enraged it actually leapt forward, trying to hit Kyle.

"Oh, you wanna throw hands? Go right ahead!" Kyle started rolling up his sleeves.

Scrimgeour stepped in like clockwork, expertly sliding between them and breaking it up.

...

Dumbledore clicked his tongue. Definitely not the best time to show up... but at this point, it was too late to slip away unnoticed.

"Headmaster Dumble—er, I mean, sir!" Scrimgeour appeared beside him so quickly it might as well have been Apparition.

"Tea? Butterbeer?"

This is Scrimgeour?

Dumbledore blinked, briefly wondering if someone had Polyjuiced into the Auror Office Director.

Because the real Scrimgeour certainly wasn't known for being this polite.

"Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore—just in time!" the goblin said, eyes lighting up like he'd seen a savior. "This wizard is trying to extort Gringotts, you—"

"Apologies, Mr. Goblin," Dumbledore cut in smoothly. "I'm no longer the Headmaster. Just a humble, retired wizard now. I'm afraid I can't help you."

The goblin froze mid-sentence, his entire face turning a purplish shade of frustration.

Kyle, meanwhile, didn't seem the least bit concerned by Dumbledore's arrival. He gave a casual wave in greeting and went right back to arguing.

"Oh, and that's not even counting everything else," he said. "Let's talk about the dragon."

"Gringotts is harboring a dragon in open violation of Ministry regulations. What are you trying to do—launch a rebellion?"

"Of course, that's not for me to handle. But the damage caused by the dragon? That's on you. Diagon Alley's shopkeepers, the burned homes, destroyed merchandise—that's a baseline of thirty thousand Galleons in losses!"

"Impossible! Absolutely not!" The goblin's head seemed to swell again.

"Impossible?" Kyle sipped his Butterbeer. "Then I guess we'll have to escalate things officially."

"Shall I pay a visit to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement right now? Or maybe just ask the Auror next to me what the penalty is for illegal dragon-keeping?"

"A fine—and three years in Azkaban," Scrimgeour chimed in smoothly.

"You heard him?" Kyle raised an eyebrow. "And let me remind you—it's every goblin who knew about the dragon. So I hope Gringotts is ready to shut down for three years."

"You... you..." The goblin started to tremble. "You treacherous wizard! You're all in this together!"

"Calling all wizards traitors?" Kyle's expression darkened. "Are you speaking for all goblins?"

Bogrod instantly broke into a cold sweat and clamped his mouth shut.

This matter… could blow up, or be swept under the rug.

At best, it was just reckless talk. At worst? It could spiral into a diplomatic disaster—especially now that the goblins' dragon had been exposed.

And when people heard "dragon," they thought war machine. Even if the goblins swore they only used it to guard vaults… who would believe that?

After all, the goblins had led rebellions before.

And if someone demanded accountability, it was clear who the scapegoat would be—Bogrod. No doubt about it.

...

Taking advantage of the moment, Dumbledore used the opportunity to get the full story from Scrimgeour.

First off, there was Kyle's terrifying display of bandages… His first stop after leaving Gringotts had actually been St. Mungo's. But after shouting too loudly during an argument with a goblin, he'd been promptly thrown out by the hospital director.

After that, they'd headed straight to the Ministry of Magic.

"So you're saying Kyle's fine?" Dumbledore asked.

Scrimgeour instinctively turned his head.

"They can't hear us," Dumbledore said, waving a hand.

Kyle and the goblins weren't paying them any attention.

"Exactly," Scrimgeour nodded. "Not a scratch. The bandages are all just for show."

"I heard them say Kyle's asking the goblins to pay him ten thousand Galleons? What's that about?"

"Well..." Scrimgeour said, "Kyle had gone to make a withdrawal, but the one who received him turned out to be a Death Eater disguised as a goblin. So he's claiming the money he withdrew was stolen, and he's demanding Gringotts take responsibility."

At that point, Scrimgeour's face twitched involuntarily.

"And on top of that, he's demanding Gringotts compensate for the damages caused by the fire dragon—fifty thousand Galleons in total to cover losses in Diagon Alley."

"The goblins agreed to that?"

"Those greedy creatures? Of course not." Scrimgeour shook his head. "Why else do you think they're still shouting?"

"Tsk." Dumbledore clicked his tongue and subtly moved his fingers.

Kyle's and the goblins' voices became audible once more.

"How can you prove a Death Eater stole your Galleons?"

"Didn't you already check three times?" Kyle snapped. "I've got five Galleons left on me. Where's the rest supposed to have gone? Grown wings and flown off?"

"If I hadn't stayed behind to help you lot protect the vault, my money wouldn't have been taken. I never expected you to be such an ungrateful bunch."

"Forget it." Kyle suddenly waved his hand dismissively, sounding bored. "Since you don't want to pay, let's just go by the book. The Aurors are here. Why don't you explain the dragon situation first?"

Scrimgeour promptly stepped forward with a serious expression.

"We—"

"Don't say it was to guard the vault," Kyle cut in before Bogrod could speak.

"If that were really the case, you could've filed a report with the Ministry of Magic and the Dragon Reservation. No one would've opposed it—but you didn't."

"The Ukrainian Ironbelly… sure, guarding the vault during peacetime, but in wartime? Who's to say what it'll do?"

"You—You…" the goblin's eyes were bloodshot. "That dragon couldn't possibly escape!"

"Couldn't escape?" Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Then what was flying over Diagon Alley? A warthog?"

"There's no way it broke free from the chains!" the goblin shouted. "I swear it!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyle shot him a glance. "It couldn't break free... so are you saying I let it out?"

"You want to go ask a troll for your brain back? Why would I release a dragon while fighting a Death Eater—just to make things harder for myself?"

The goblin's chest rose and fell furiously. Kyle had said everything it had been thinking—it had nothing left to retort.

Of course the dragon was there to guard the vault. But for that, it needed to be completely obedient. Which meant... certain necessary measures—training.

That's where all the scars came from: fear through torture. That's how they kept it under control.

But there was no way the Dragon Reservation could ever know. They'd never approve.

Sure, some people knew Gringotts kept a dragon, but due to the goblins' influence, most chose to turn a blind eye.

Who would've guessed it would actually get loose... dragging what had always been a hidden secret into the public eye.

As for who let it out—it was clearly a deliberate act. Either Kyle or the Death Eater. No doubt about that.

But Kyle had too solid a case. There was no arguing with it. The Death Eater had fled, and even if the goblins were in the right, they couldn't say a word.

And everyone in the Ministry was pretending not to hear a thing. It didn't take a genius to figure out they were planning to carve a piece out of Gringotts—and the one in charge of the whole operation was Kyle.

Bogrod wasn't stupid. He could see that much. But what could he do? Gringotts had well and truly stumbled this time. Not only had they failed to recognize a disguised Death Eater, they'd also caused this entire disaster.

He just felt drained.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat. "Mr. Bogrod, would you care to explain the matter of the dragon—"

"Gringotts is willing to compensate," Bogrod suddenly said. "We'll pay ten thousand Galleons for the damages in Diagon Alley."

"No good. Ten thousand's far too low." Kyle shook his head. "At least twenty shops were damaged to varying degrees. The Ministry still has to allocate resources to track down the dragon."

"And if that pulls manpower away and the Death Eaters exploit the gap? All that cost, plus the unseen losses—ten thousand won't cut it. Minimum fifty thousand."

"Impossible. Twenty thousand is our limit."

"Final offer. Forty thousand. Let's call it a friendly gesture."

"Twenty-five. Don't push it."

"Thirty-five. Not a Knut less. And think of the Aurors too," Kyle said, locking eyes with Bogrod—who stared right back.

The tension mounted steadily.

After a long silence, both of them spoke at once.

"Thirty thousand!"

"Thirty thousand."

...

"Deal!"

The word came simultaneously. Kyle and Bogrod reached an agreement in the blink of an eye.

As they spoke, Scrimgeour quietly stepped back and resumed standing silently at the side.

Dumbledore couldn't help but feel puzzled... This wasn't like Scrimgeour at all.

Noticing his confusion, Mr. Weasley—who had been ignored the entire time—sidled over and whispered,

"The compensation will be issued by the Ministry of Magic."

Dumbledore's expression cleared. No wonder the argument had gotten so heated—and the Ministry had only sent Scrimgeour, who wasn't even acting in charge.

Still, something felt off. Scrimgeour, cooperating with Kyle? That wasn't like him either.

"The Auror Office gets to keep fifty percent of the payout," Mr. Weasley added.