“You sleep so soundly,” Kyle said coolly, the veins on his forehead visibly twitching. “I never knew Giants could sleep standing up. Are the beds in the house really that uncomfortable?”

It was a strange feeling. He hadn’t expected Hagrid to be much help in the first place, but falling asleep right in front of him—wasn’t that a bit much?

Even if he had gone to sleep inside the room, Kyle wouldn’t have minded.

Hagrid’s face turned beet red.

He hadn’t meant to do it, but the things Kyle had drawn were just too sleep-inducing... The more he stared, the more dazed he felt.

Add to that a full day’s exhaustion, and before he knew it, he’d nodded off.

“Forget it,” Kyle sighed. “You must’ve been a Gryffindor before you got expelled.”

“How’d you know that?” Hagrid asked, puzzled.

He was sure he’d never told Kyle about that, nor had he mentioned it to Harry... The only time he’d ever brought it up was during the occasional conversation with Madam Olympe Maxime.

Could Olympe have told him?

“Because Gryffindor always has the most students sleeping through History of Magic,” Kyle said offhandedly. “Other houses have at least one or two actually listening, but Gryffindor? Not a single one.”

He wasn’t sure about other years, but that was certainly true for his own class.

Hagrid’s face turned even redder.

“No... I…”

Seeing him floundering, Kyle let it go.

“Um... when’s Minerva coming?” Hagrid quickly changed the subject.

“No idea,” Kyle replied, shaking his head as he glanced toward the castle. “It’s the weekend—she’ll probably be here soon…”

“Hagrid, stay here and keep an eye on things for me. I’ve got something to take care of.”

“Alright.” Hagrid had just been thinking about how to make it up to him, so he nodded quickly.

Kyle then pushed the door open and stepped inside.

...

Half an hour later, Kyle came back out. As he looked up, he saw several figures exiting the castle, walking briskly in his direction.

Along with Professor McGonagall were the other three Heads of House, and Dumbledore—Deputy Headmaster and Governor of the school.

They were walking quickly, and the looks on their faces mirrored their mood.

Dumbledore was chatting and laughing with Professor Flitwick, looking relaxed. Professor Sprout wore her usual calm expression, unchanged as ever.

Professor McGonagall’s lips were tight, and she looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept well the night before.

Snape... wasn’t important.

“Kyle, are you ready?” Dumbledore asked, casting a meaningful glance at the nearby wooden door. Clearly, he’d noticed something.

“Of course, Professors,” Kyle said, opening the door. “After you, Professor Snape.”

Snape’s expression was stiff.

His instincts told him Kyle was up to something, but with the Heads of House and Dumbledore present, he figured Kyle wouldn’t dare try anything.

Maybe there was something odd inside the room.

Rather than being worried, Snape was actually a little pleased. He wasn’t afraid of Kyle playing tricks—after all, this was an inspection. If he got injured, even slightly—lost a hair, say—he’d have every reason to make things difficult for Kyle.

Young and reckless.

Just wait. If Kyle didn’t hand over ten pints of dragon blood personally, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Without hesitation, Snape stepped up onto the stone stairs.

The runes on the door lit up, glowing faintly with gold.

But because the door had been opened, the runes carved on its front were now hidden behind it, and Snape didn’t see them.

Then, naturally, he turned a corner, walked back down the steps—and started pacing up and down the stone stairs, turning back and forth in place.

The professors behind him froze, baffled by whatever it was Snape thought he was doing.

Only Dumbledore remained impassive. With keen interest, he stepped around to the side and examined the runes on the door closely.

Click!

A crisp shutter sound brought everyone back to themselves.

Kyle stood nearby, camera in hand, snapping pictures of Snape. Noticing the professors’ attention, he casually put the device away.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just got a new toy and wanted to test it out.”

Professor McGonagall twitched at the corner of her mouth. But even she could tell Kyle had definitely done something to make Snape keep spinning in place.

“It’s a textbook alchemical mist,”

Dumbledore suddenly commented. “Just not very well concealed. The patterns are fully exposed—any wizard with some knowledge of alchemy could spot it immediately.”

“It’s only a temporary lock. It does the job,” Kyle replied.

Dumbledore nodded. “Quite right.”

Hogwarts didn’t offer alchemy classes—at least not yet—so even if the runes were plainly visible, students wouldn’t understand them, much less figure out a way to break through.

At this, Professor McGonagall and the others stepped forward and noticed the dark golden runes on the door.

Even if they weren’t well-versed in alchemy, they could still sense the magic infused in the patterns.

And besides, Snape himself was proof enough—if even he was stuck, then there was no way students could get through.

Unless... another Kyle appeared at the school.

But they all knew how unlikely that was. Students like Kyle were rare at Hogwarts—perhaps one in several centuries.

The last one had been Tom Riddle, sixty years ago...

"Bang!"

As the group continued talking, the stone steps in the distance suddenly split apart—more precisely, they were blasted open by a spell.

Snape stood there panting, eyes bloodshot.

He was furious.

In fact, by the time he completed his second circuit, Snape had already realized he’d fallen into a trap. But he couldn’t get out.

The scenery around him appeared unchanged, yet constantly shifted. No matter which direction he walked, he always ended up back at the starting point.

It was as if he were trapped in an invisible maze.

But Snape was still a professor. Once he understood what was happening, he acted decisively—casting a spell to shatter the steps beneath his feet and using the resulting disturbance to locate the correct path.

In short, he’d smashed his way out of the maze by brute force.

Kyle wasn’t surprised.

If a rough, hastily made trap could actually hold a professor, that would have been surprising.

Still, Snape’s current expression wasn’t exactly friendly. When he looked at Kyle, it was as though he were staring at a cauldron of spoiled potion.

Kyle instinctively took a step back and moved beside Dumbledore, flashing an innocent-looking smile.

“Much appreciated, Severus,” Dumbledore said with a genial smile. “So, how did it feel? Did that experience clear up some of your doubts?”

Snape opened his mouth slightly but didn’t speak. He simply let out a sharp huff, turned, and walked away.

He could tell Dumbledore had clearly taken Kyle’s side. And there was no way to use what had just happened as an excuse to go after Kyle—especially not with the other professors present. None of them would support him either.

After all, they were here to evaluate security. It wasn’t like they could complain because things were too secure.

He was the only one who had reason to be upset.

Which was exactly why Snape didn’t want to stay a moment longer.

“Looks like Severus approves of your little setup,” Dumbledore said lightly, flicking his fingers. The scattered stones rose into the air on their own and floated back into place over the broken section of steps.

Then he walked straight into the room. Although the dark golden patterns still glowed faintly, they had no effect—almost as if they weren’t there at all.

“Professor McGonagall, would you like me to mark out the correct path?” Kyle asked.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” said Professor McGonagall.

She intended to experience the so-called alchemical mist for herself—only by doing so could she better grasp its finer details.

“But before that,” she added, narrowing her eyes, “may I take a look at your camera?”

“Huh?” Kyle blinked, then replied, “Of course, no problem.”

He handed the camera over to Professor McGonagall, and the three professors all stepped forward together.

They wanted to see whether the mist still worked when multiple targets entered at once.

Kyle realized it too—this wasn’t about the camera. They just didn’t want him snapping any more photos.

Did they really think he was that kind of person? What happened to trust?

Kyle pursed his lips and once again reached into his Mokeskin pouch.

He had never said he only bought one camera.

Because they were mentally prepared, the professors quickly escaped the mist. Professor McGonagall was the fastest—she found the correct path after only three turns and walked straight into the room.

Professors Sprout and Flitwick weren’t far behind, and all three seemed quite satisfied with the result.

Professor McGonagall’s expression finally eased.

She was now certain—if it were a student, they’d have a hard time getting past this trap.

“That’s enough. Take us to see the dragons,” said Professor McGonagall.

Naturally, Kyle didn’t refuse. He quickly stepped into the house and opened the door to the garden.

But as he watched the professors file in one after another, he scratched his head, feeling like something was missing.

Oh well. Probably nothing important.

...

Although Kyle had temporarily turned the garden into a sort of enclosure, it was still quite spacious. Even with three dragons flying overhead, the area didn’t feel cramped at all.

Professor McGonagall had seen dragons before, but seeing so many at once—especially here at Hogwarts—still came as a surprise.

But she quickly noticed something.

“Weren’t there supposed to be five dragons?”

“Ah, Norbert’s an adult dragon,” Kyle explained. “He finds the others too noisy, so he didn’t come out.” He paused, then added, “The last one... oh, there it is!”

Kyle pointed to a tree not far away.

Dangling from it was a large, pitch-black creature that looked fast asleep. Its head lolled over a thick branch, mouth hanging open, tongue draped off to the side—a truly bizarre sleeping pose.

“A Hungarian Horntail!” Professor Flitwick immediately recognized the breed, startled. “Aren’t Horntails supposed to be aggressive? Why is it so quiet?”

“Maybe it’s just got a different temperament,” Kyle replied calmly.

“Then what about those wounds?” Professor Flitwick frowned. “Those holes... they look like bite marks. Is there any magical creature that can bite through a dragon’s scales?”

“Oh, those are old injuries,” Kyle said, his tone still even. “That’s how it looked when the Dragon Reserve handed it over to me. I’ve been trying to treat it.”

“But as you know, Professor, dragons aren’t like wizards—regular Essence of Dittany doesn’t work very well on them.”

Professor Flitwick nodded, still looking doubtful, but said no more.

That would also explain its daytime sleeping. An injured dragon would naturally be lacking in energy.

“You built all this?” Dumbledore looked around. “Such a large area... Kyle, your alchemy has improved a great deal. I couldn’t have done this when I was your age.”

“Uh…” Kyle clicked his tongue and gave an awkward laugh.

That was clearly just flattery. All he’d done was set up a few rune-linked nodes—it looked impressive, but at Beauxbatons, this would barely count as sixth-year alchemy coursework.

And according to Nicolas Flamel, Dumbledore hadn’t even begun studying alchemy until after Ariana’s accident. Of course he wouldn’t have done something like this at Kyle’s age.

But Professor McGonagall and the others didn’t know that. Their faces all showed surprise and, more importantly, reassurance.

“Not bad, I guess…” Kyle muttered, rubbing his face and nodding in agreement with Dumbledore’s words.

They continued walking.

Noticing the unfamiliar figures entering, the most curious Longhorn dragon swooped down and perched on a nearby tree, tilting its head to study them. The twin golden horns on its head gleamed in the sunlight.

The professors all jumped at the sudden movement.

Even as juveniles, dragons were nothing to take lightly—it was natural for them to feel tense.

Fortunately, the Longhorn merely observed them. At a wave from Kyle, it took off again without incident.

Professor McGonagall finally lowered her wand. “They actually listen to you?”

“Well, I was the first thing it saw when it hatched. Naturally, we’ve got a close bond,” Kyle explained. Then he cleared his throat and called out loudly:

“Over here!”

The Longhorn and Ironbelly dragons didn’t hesitate. With a sharp turn midair, they landed and settled down exactly where Kyle directed, staring at him with wide, attentive eyes.

The Fireball dragon was a bit slower, wobbling slightly in flight, but it too landed nearby soon after.

This made Professor McGonagall even more surprised—but at the same time, her earlier worries eased significantly.

Her main concern had been whether the dragons could be properly controlled. From the looks of it, she'd been overly anxious.

Just as she was about to speak, however, she caught a strange, faint odor.

There was something fishy about it, and it clashed with the usual sulfuric smell of dragons.

“Do you smell something odd?” Professor McGonagall asked, puzzled.

The sound of several people sniffing the air followed immediately.

“I’d guess it’s that,” Dumbledore said, pointing to a large barrel in the distance. He leaned in to take a closer look.

“Oh, fresh dragon dung. No wonder the trees here are thriving.”

Kyle couldn’t help but rub his forehead again.

Was this level of praise really okay? The garden had only been completed yesterday. No matter how potent dragon dung was, there was no way it could take effect that quickly.

The sniffing stopped abruptly. The professors’ expressions turned noticeably uncomfortable.

All except Professor Sprout, who lit up with excitement. She ran over to the barrel and started inspecting it enthusiastically.

She even stuck her hand in and gave it a few good stirs.

“It’s definitely fresh dragon dung—and very healthy, too. The quality’s far better than what I usually get. Those crooks in Diagon Alley must be mixing mud into theirs, and still charging outrageous prices.”

“Oh, Kyle...” Professor Sprout turned her head.

“No need to say it, Professor,” Kyle cut in before she could speak. “It’s yours. I’ll have it delivered later... How about Greenhouse Three? Dragon dung works great for mandrakes.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Professor Sprout beamed with delight.

Wasn’t that exactly why she’d come?

This one barrel alone would last her quite some time.

Maybe she could even mix it with Mooncalf dung to develop a new fertilizer blend.

With that thought in mind, Professor Sprout could hardly wait. She gave her wand a flick, levitated the barrel, and started for the exit.

“No need for you to deliver it—I’ll take it back myself.”

And with that, she was already through the garden gate, striding off.

Now down another professor, McGonagall and Flitwick exchanged a glance.

It seemed the inspection was just about over.

Still, a few necessary tests remained.

Professor Flitwick raised his wand, and a flock of chirping birds flew toward the dragons.

The dragons looked mildly irritated by the noise, but at a signal from Kyle, they did nothing—except for one of the Fireball Dragons, who let out a small burst of flame from its nostrils in protest.

That was all.

Beyond the Avis Charm, Professor Flitwick followed up with several other minor spells meant to provoke a reaction.

They were all common spells with low power, designed purely for disruption. The dragons remained calm throughout, showing no signs of agitation or aggression.

As for the Horntail, it was still fast asleep, completely unfazed by the ruckus around it.

Flitwick cast Avis three times in a row, until the sheer number of birds could’ve put on a full symphony next to its ears—but it didn’t even twitch.

What a sleeper, Flitwick thought to himself.

He’d never seen a dragon with such tolerance. He even tried lifting a Stunning charm, just to check—no effect. That at least confirmed the Horntail really was sleeping, not magically knocked out by Kyle.

Still, it slept too well. If not for the steady rise and fall of its chest and the warmth it gave off, he might’ve thought it was just a lifelike model.

But neither he nor Professor McGonagall saw any cause for concern. Better lazy than aggressive, after all.

In the end, it was the infamously bad-tempered Horntail that turned out to be the most reassuring of the lot.

“Kyle.”

At that moment, Professor Sprout reappeared, pointing toward the door. “Someone’s asking for you outside.”

“For me?” Kyle asked, puzzled. “Is Professor Snape back?”

“No...” Professor Sprout wore a strange expression. “It’s Sykes. From St. Mungo’s.”

What?

St. Mungo’s?

Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore immediately started toward the garden gate.

Sykes—long overdue for retirement, yet still in charge of St. Mungo’s—was also the most renowned Potions Master in the wizarding world. She’d saved countless witches and wizards over the years.

Even the Minister for Magic would stand at the door to greet her. What was she doing here at Hogwarts?

As he passed Kyle, Dumbledore cast him a deliberate, if subtle, glance.

Kyle didn’t offer any explanation. He just shrugged and followed behind.