CHAPTER 819: CHAPTER 819: LOCHNEAL’S GIFT

"Raise your wand. What, are you planning to give your enemies a foot massage with it that low?"

"And you—stop gripping it like that. You’re casting a spell, not digging up potatoes with a stick."

"Relax. Casting magic isn’t painful, and you don’t need to strain your face like that. If you’re really struggling, just pretend you’re conducting an orchestra. You’re a French wizard—you’ve heard of concerts, haven’t you?"

...

Kyle had to admit, what he’d seen on his first day at Beauxbatons had left quite an impression.

The teaching conditions, the alchemy classrooms, even the food—all of it far outclassed what Hogwarts had to offer.

But after witnessing the actual spellwork of Beauxbatons’ students today, he was equally stunned... just in the opposite direction.

Judging by their age, most of them were probably third- or fourth-years, but their spellcasting? Disastrous didn’t even begin to cover it.

Some of them jabbed their wands into the ground after casting a spell. At Hogwarts, even second-years would never make such a basic mistake—yet here, it was practically a pattern.

Others gripped their wands like they were trying to crush them, as if they held some kind of grudge.

Clearly, this was a matter of teaching quality.

Professor Flitwick had always been strict about wand posture and gestures—reminding students at least three times per class, and stepping in immediately if someone got it wrong.

But the Beauxbatons professors clearly didn’t have the same habit. As a result, students here held their wands in all kinds of bizarre ways—every manner of grip imaginable.

Of course, for a truly powerful wizard, wand grip didn’t matter so much... but only if you had the power to match.

And with students like these, Kyle was honestly afraid they’d hex themselves.

He’d originally thought this would be a light task... but clearly, this kind of "rent" didn’t come cheap.

Kyle spent two full days in the training hall, and probably spoke more during that time than he had in the past two months combined. He was so busy, he hadn’t even had a moment to think about the Time-Turner.

As for the students—well, they’d probably been briefed by Madam Maxime ahead of time. There was no repeat of the hostility from the first day.

In fact, not only did no one oppose him, the number of students asking for his help only grew. What had started as a sparsely attended space had, by the third day, become completely packed.

Kyle was surrounded on all sides, barely able to grab a sip of water.

Kanna had poked her head in briefly, but then left without a word—offering zero help whatsoever.

It wasn’t until lunch that Kyle finally had a chance to breathe. But even the once-delicious food now tasted like sawdust.

No, I need to come up with an excuse this afternoon...

"Aha! I knew it was you."

Just as Kyle was thinking, someone suddenly sat down beside him.

"Mr. Lochneal!" Kyle stared at the man in surprise.

"Is that expression really necessary?" Lochneal said. "Or don’t you know I work here at Beauxbatons?"

"I know," Kyle nodded.

Lochneal was a magical creature specialist he’d met years ago while working with Newt at the Romanian dragon reserve.

They’d even done a bit of business—Lochneal had paid handsomely for a bundle of incomplete dragon scales and other magical materials. He’d said back then they were for Beauxbatons’ alchemy classes, so of course Kyle had known he worked here.

Not to mention, he’d also served as a faculty escort during the Triwizard Tournament.

"Even though I knew, I’m still a little surprised... well, pleasantly surprised."

"Still, that’s no excuse," Lochneal said, a bit disgruntled. "If you knew I was here, why didn’t you come find me?"

"I haven’t had the time." Kyle shrugged. "I’m practically chained to the training hall. I only get a break for meals and sleep."

He glanced at the clock. "And speaking of which, I’m due back in a minute."

"Oh, I know." Lochneal, who had looked stern just moments ago, suddenly broke into a grin.

"The whole school’s talking about the ’new professor’ in the training hall helping students with their Charms practice."

"I went by this morning to see what the fuss was about... but there were too many people, and you’ve changed quite a bit over the years. I thought you looked familiar, but couldn’t be sure it was you."

"But now I’m sure," he went on. "Olympe’s been hoping to find someone more suitable to teach Charms. She’s been in a great mood these last couple of days..."

Then, as if realizing he’d said too much, Lochneal abruptly shut his mouth. He glanced down at his watch and added stiffly, "Ah, right, I’ve got something to take care of. I won’t bother you any longer."

With that, he stood and made to leave.

"Don’t be in such a hurry, Mr. Lochneal." Kyle swiftly grabbed his arm.

Even though Lochneal had stopped himself just in time, Kyle had already picked up on several details he hadn’t known before.

First of all, the sudden surge of students in the training hall likely wasn’t just due to word of mouth. Maxime had probably orchestrated it behind the scenes. Gossip might spread fast, but not that fast.

And Maxime knew full well how exhausted he’d been the last two days—yet she was happy?

Kyle narrowed his eyes slightly, then smiled. "Like you said, it’s not every day I visit Beauxbatons. I should catch up with old friends. Coincidentally, I brought a fine bottle of wine with me."

"Aren’t you supposed to be heading to the training hall?" Lochneal tried to pull his arm free, but Kyle was clearly prepared. His grip was tight and unmoving.

"It’s only half a day. It’s fine," Kyle said calmly. "Besides, I’ve got a perfectly legitimate reason. As someone newly getting into Magizoology, of course I need to consult an expert in the field."

"How’s that for an excuse? Madam Maxime won’t say no."

"But I have a class this afternoon," Lochneal said, flustered. "Maybe we can do it another day—"

"Today’s Saturday."

"But I don’t like drinking."

"Perfect. We’ll talk Magical Creatures with a clear mind." Kyle gave him no chance to protest further. He stood up and practically dragged Lochneal out of the Great Hall.

"Mr. Scamander recently released a revised edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. There are a few sections I don’t quite understand, and I wanted to get your perspective."

Lochneal was internally screaming.

Madam Maxime had finally found a competent helper—someone who could actually do something about the students’ weakness in Charms. If she found out Kyle slipped away on his watch, she’d never let him live it down.

Worst-case scenario? He’d end up crumpled into a ball and stuffed inside a Quidditch trunk—firsthand experience in the next match.

And Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? If Kyle didn’t understand it, he could’ve gone straight to Newt. Why drag him into this? He just looked after Matagots—how could he possibly compare to a legend like Newt Scamander?

"I—"

Lochneal opened his mouth again, but Kyle had already let go and bolted toward the exit.

"Professor Lochneal, I’ll be waiting outside!"

Kyle’s voice still echoed in the hall, but he was already over ten meters away.

Lochneal looked like he’d just swallowed a pound of bitter gourd root. He had never expected Kyle to act so decisively.

From the moment he shouted that sentence, it no longer mattered whether Kyle had actually gone anywhere with him.

Everyone would assume they were together.

Lochneal glanced up at the once-bright ceiling, which now seemed to loom heavy with storm clouds—just like Maxime’s likely expression tomorrow.

But there was nothing he could do. He had no choice but to follow.

At the very least, he needed to know exactly where Kyle had gone.

Lochneal ran out of the Great Hall and searched around the vast campus, finally spotting Kyle standing beside a magical fountain.

"This is one of Nicolas Flamel’s creations," Lochneal said as he walked up. "He donated it to the school in memory of the moment he and Perenelle met here."

He added, "The fountain also has magical properties—frequent contact can improve the skin and even heal minor injuries. You should let your lovely girlfriend try it."

Kanna, who had followed behind, reflexively reached into the fountain upon hearing that.

"It’s really that magical?" Kyle tried it as well.

The spring water wrapped around his hand like a soft cloud, or like a cool morning breeze laced with dew.

"What do you think—would Madam Maxime mind if I took a little with me?"

"She wouldn’t mind," Lochneal replied. "But once it leaves Beauxbatons, it becomes ordinary water and loses all magical properties."

"Of course, if you really like it, you could just stay. Madam Maxime certainly wouldn’t object."

His intention was clear—do whatever it took to keep Kyle around and patch up the mistake he’d made earlier.

"I’ll pass..." Kyle said with a smile. "The rent here’s too steep."

Lochneal turned his attention to Kanna, planning to try another angle.

He was confident that no witch could resist a beauty fountain that enhanced the skin. Even Fleur used to come here frequently when she was still a student.

But before he could say a word, Kanna had already withdrawn her hand from the fountain.

"Ah... the effect’s about the same as a beauty potion," she said, flicking the water with her fingers. "This kind of soft, gentle texture... Maybe I could try swapping the mint leaves for cloudvine pods."

"Kyle, could you keep an eye out for me? That plant usually grows near Cornish Pixie nests—should be pretty rare in France."

"No problem," Kyle said. "Once we’re back, I’ll ask Fred and George to source some. They’ve got their own herbal connections."

Lochneal looked utterly defeated.

"Don’t be too shocked," Kyle said with a slight smile. "Kanna’s just like that. Whenever she runs into something new and interesting, her first thought is how to apply it to potion-making. She’s quite skilled at it, actually."

Lochneal didn’t reply for a while. After a long pause and some muttering at the corners of his mouth, he finally said, "Fine, weren’t you here to talk about magical creatures? Come on."

"Wouldn’t miss it," Kyle said.

"I’ll stay here," Kanna said. "I want to study the spring a bit more."

"All right," Kyle replied. "I’ll come find you later."

"Okay."

The two of them headed south of the fountain, where a small wooden cabin stood—simple and unadorned, completely at odds with the rest of the grand estate.

"You live in a wooden house too?" Kyle blurted out.

It really seemed like everyone involved in magical creature work had a thing for timber homes.

Newt was the same—his house in the Dorset woods was one he’d built himself. Kettleburn and Hagrid too had wooden cabins near the Forbidden Forest.

"Is that strange?" Lochneal said. "We need to be close to nature to help wild magical creatures feel at ease. Wooden houses are the best option."

"Come in—but watch your step. Don’t tread on the pods on the ground. They’re food for the Matagots."

Kyle had already noticed: the place was practically a full-scale Matagot sanctuary.

They were everywhere—on the roof, in the trees, scattered around the yard. There were at least a dozen that he could see.

And that was just the visible ones.

At the moment, they were all staring at Kyle, letting out low, rolling growls... a clear warning to keep his distance.

"Normally, hardly anyone comes near here. These little ones are shy and very alert," Lochneal said. "But with you, it should be fine."

Just then, a larger Matagot suddenly leapt down from a tree, swatting the loudest one with a firm paw before landing gracefully in front of Kyle.

"Long time no see, Shackle..." Kyle scratched under its chin, and the Matagot instantly collapsed in bliss, belly-up, its soft white fur on display.

No wonder Lochneal had said that—turns out he had a familiar cat here.

This was the same Matagot Kyle had met back at the dragon reserve, and they’d gotten along quite well.

And if Lochneal had brought it there, it must’ve been a standout among its kind—enough to keep the others in line.

"Even though I’ve seen it before, it’s still remarkable. Shackle rarely warms up to other wizards," Lochneal said. "You’re one of the few—along with Mr. Scamander."

"I’m honored," Kyle said, rubbing Shackle’s chin again. He pulled a pack of Murtlap jerky from his pocket, unwrapped it, and offered it up.

A cat was a cat—whether it was a Kneazle, a Wampus, or even something feathered like an owl. Murtlap jerky was always a hit, and Matagots were no exception.

"Don’t spoil him too much," Lochneal groaned. "My salary’s not enough to feed them that every day."

"Is Beauxbatons really that stingy with its professors?" Kyle chuckled. "You should come to Hogwarts—we pay pretty well."

"I’ve got thirty-seven Matagots here. No salary can handle that."

"Then bring them along. Hogwarts will cover the food bill."

Bringing back over thirty Matagots? That would be a deal too good to pass up.

But Lochneal wasn’t taking the bait. He didn’t respond at all and just pushed open the door, walking inside.

Kyle followed with Shackle nestled in his arms.

The cabin’s interior was just as spartan as the outside, with most of the furniture clearly handmade.

Lochneal poured him a cup of tea.

They sat down across from each other and genuinely got into a discussion about magical creatures. Lochneal, it turned out, was just as intrigued by Newt’s latest theories as Kyle was.

"By the way,"

An hour in, Kyle suddenly remembered something.

"A few years ago, you mentioned you were looking into a new species of magical creature. Any progress?"

"I’m surprised you remembered," Lochneal said with a smile. "It’s nearly ready. But these things can’t be rushed—I still need to observe a few more details. That said, it won’t be long now. Once the third generation is born, I should be able to publish."

"Don’t forget to send me a copy."

"Of course. I promised you, didn’t I?"

...

The two continued talking for quite a while, and as the sky gradually darkened, Kyle got ready to leave.

It was nearly nine o’clock—the time they had agreed on. He needed to head over to the alchemy classroom.

As Lochneal walked him out of the wooden house, Kyle reluctantly set Shackle down.

He really was fond of Matagots, especially those striking blue eyes—they were stunning.

"You can try taking him with you," Lochneal said softly, his eyelids twitching slightly.

"What?"

"I mean, if Shackle is willing, you can take him," Lochneal repeated. "That’s actually why I wanted to speak with you in the first place."

"Why?" Kyle asked, caught off guard by the sudden offer.

"I’ve looked into what’s happening on your side. Just hearing about that Dark wizard is enough to make your skin crawl," Lochneal said quietly. "Over seventy wizards died in one place just over a month ago... I can’t even imagine it."

"And Matagots... are magical creatures with incredibly strong perception. When danger approaches, they can often sense it before a wizard does."

"If Shackle is with you, maybe he can help you avoid some of that danger."

"Thank you..." Kyle said after a brief pause.

"Just think of it as help between fellow professionals," Lochneal said, glancing at Kyle again. "Just make sure you bring Shackle back."

"I promise."