Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard
Chapter 823: The Stubborn Madam Pointer

The sun was rising, and the warm morning light shone over Hogwarts Castle, rousing the students who were still sleeping in.

In the Headmaster’s office on the eighth floor, Kyle, who hadn’t slept all night, set down his quill and tidied the thick stack of parchment in front of him.

It documented his experiences over the past two weeks—starting with being forced to impersonate Dumbledore at the beginning of the term, deciding to go to France, traveling to Beauxbatons, meeting with Professor Viktor, and talking with him...

Per Professor McGonagall’s request, Kyle had spent the entire night painstakingly recalling everything, trying to pin down the exact time of each event—down to the hour, even the minute.

Of course, there were bound to be some inaccuracies. After all, it wasn’t like he checked the time before doing every single thing. But Kyle figured it didn’t matter much, as long as the key events lined up properly.

As he wrote, the portraits of past headmasters behind him watched the entire time—pulling an all-nighter alongside him. Not that they needed sleep, of course. They were in much better shape than Kyle.

“Wait, let me see page seventeen of the parchment again.”

Just as Kyle put down his quill, a voice suddenly spoke up behind him.

It came from a witch dressed in medieval garb. She looked unfamiliar—Kyle was certain he’d never seen her before.

That was hardly surprising. There were over thirty portraits in the Headmaster’s office, but not all the former headmasters lingered here like Armando Dippet and Phineas Black...

Roughly half of them typically stayed in portraits elsewhere, only showing up when something major happened at Hogwarts.

The current headmaster, Dumbledore, being trapped in a time loop certainly counted as major.

So, when word got out, they had all gathered.

For the first time, Kyle felt the Headmaster’s office was a bit crowded… Though not physically—after all, the portraits couldn’t actually step out—it was just a feeling.

“What are you staring off into space for? Hurry up,” the medieval witch said again, her tone sharp and commanding. It reminded Kyle of Professor McGonagall when she was angry—though this witch was even more rigid and severe.

From the looks on the other portraits' faces, she wasn’t exactly known for being easygoing.

Kyle didn’t respond. He just complied, flipping back to the requested page.

Page seventeen happened to cover what he and Professor Viktor discussed in the Alchemy classroom the afternoon he arrived at Beauxbatons.

“Alchemy difficulty classifications… prerequisites for studying alchemy… recommended textbooks…”

She had only skimmed one page, but her expression had already darkened.

“Tell me—why were you asking about this?” she demanded.

“It’s nothing. I was just curious,” Kyle replied.

“Curious?” The witch narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced.

“Yes. Alchemy is very popular among the students at Beauxbatons, so I asked a few extra questions.” Kyle smiled. “What else would I have to gain?”

“It better be just that,” the witch said coldly. “Remember, you’re only pretending to be the Headmaster, not the real one. Don’t overstep.”

“Of course not,” Kyle said with a smile.

She gave him a sharp look.

“I’ve heard that the current headmaster… Albus Dumbledore, thinks very highly of you. Maybe one day, you really will become the Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

“You flatter me,” Kyle said modestly. “Professor Dumbledore treats everyone that way.”

“But I must warn you,” the witch continued, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Even if you do become Headmaster, you are not to alter Hogwarts’ curriculum without just cause. These courses were established by the greatest witch—Rowena Ravenclaw. No one has the right to change them.”

“Ah, you’re absolutely right,” Kyle nodded quickly. “Hogwarts’ curriculum is untouchable. No doubt about it.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Her expression finally eased a little, and she looked around. “What are you all standing around for? Why aren’t you looking for a solution?”

Several of the headmasters immediately vanished from their frames. The rest remained silent, offering no objections—not even the usually outspoken Phineas, who, for once, kept his mouth shut the entire time.

“Forget it. I’ll go find Minerva. If you ask me, she’s more suited to be Headmistress than Dumbledore.” With that parting remark, the witch disappeared from her portrait.

Afterward, Kyle clearly saw the others all breathe a sigh of relief.

“You gave me a fright,” said Armando Dippet, patting his chest as he turned to Kyle. “For a moment, I thought you were about to get into a row with the stubborn Madam Pointer.”

“Wait—what’s her name?”

“Madam Pointer,” Armando repeated. “She’s someone who sticks strictly to the rules—like the hands of a clock, always following a fixed path without deviation. And she won’t tolerate it in herself or anyone else.”

“She’s also a fanatical devotee of Madam Rowena Ravenclaw,” added Phineas from the side. “If Ravenclaw ever claimed that Hogwarts was round, Madam Pointer would believe it without hesitation—and hold it as absolute truth.”

“That’s not surprising,” another headmaster chimed in. “Noirilde lived during what was probably the most difficult period in Hogwarts’ history. It was precisely because of her temperament that the school survived. If it had been someone else, Hogwarts might not even exist today.”

“The most difficult period?” Kyle asked, intrigued. “Could you tell me more about it?”

“Let’s see… it was around seven centuries ago.”

After a moment’s pause, the headmaster continued, “Back then, dark magic was widespread, a product of the times. Wizards were obsessed with creating magical items with twisted powers—it had even become something of a trend. The infamous Hand of Glory and the crystal skull were both products of that era. I imagine you’ve heard of them?”

Kyle nodded.

The Hand of Glory was a desiccated hand that, when a candle was placed in it and lit in darkness, cast light visible only to the person holding it.

The crystal skull was an early form of the crystal ball, used for divination. It was far more powerful than its modern counterpart—and its method of creation far more cruel. The Ministry of Magic had long since banned its use.

“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” the headmaster went on. “Countless other dark magic artifacts were invented or refined during that time. Under those conditions, Hogwarts was in an extremely precarious position, squeezed by pressure from both dark wizards and the Muggle world.”

Another headmaster added, “The dark wizards saw Hogwarts as a threat, a bastion of opposition. They tried everything they could to storm the school and spread their horrific doctrines to the students.”

“Muggles, on the other hand, lumped Hogwarts in with the dark wizards and treated them as one and the same. They hated magic with a passion—if they discovered a child had shown signs of magical awakening, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.”

Kyle fell silent. If that was true, it must have been nearly impossible to recruit students back then.

After all, pure-blood wizards made up only a small part of the magical population. The majority were half-bloods or Muggle-borns.

Without students coming to learn, Hogwarts would have been on the verge of shutting down.

“Fortunately, Rowena Ravenclaw seemed to have foreseen such a day,” the headmaster continued. “She left behind a book in the Headmaster’s office detailing how to respond if Hogwarts was ever in danger.”

“So Madam Pointer followed that book’s instructions to lead Hogwarts through the crisis?” Kyle asked.

“Yes. She followed it to the letter—no room for error.”

“She may have led Hogwarts safely through that dark time, but in doing so, she also developed the rigid personality she has now… treating anything connected to Rowena Ravenclaw as immutable law.”

“I can understand that,” Kyle said. “Anyone in her position would’ve ended up the same.”

“What surprised me,” said Armando, “is that you didn’t argue with her. I thought you’d stand your ground.”

“Why would I argue?” Kyle smiled. “She’s not wrong. I’m not really the Headmaster—none of this is my responsibility.”

“Getting into an argument, even if I win, would just be a waste of time. On the other hand, if I go along with her, things stay peaceful.”

“So... you really intend to start an Alchemy course at Hogwarts?” Phineas raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not quite it,” Kyle corrected. “I’m not the Headmaster—I don’t have that authority. It’s just a suggestion.”

He shook his head. “Alchemy is becoming more and more important in other countries, and alchemical items are increasingly common. Hogwarts can’t afford to fall too far behind.”

“But ultimately, it’s up to the Headmaster to decide. I’m just making a proposal and handling the preliminary groundwork. If it gets approved, at least we’ll know what steps to take.”

“What, are you all against adding a new Alchemy class?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” said Phineas. “Not my concern.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” said Armando. “The curriculum at Hogwarts has been unchanged for a thousand years—some adjustments wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’d say they’re long overdue,” said Dilys Derwent, another long-time resident of the office. “Have you even looked at where we rank on the international magical schools list?”

“Out of eleven schools, we’re in tenth place. Even Durmstrang—without a Headmaster—is ranked higher. Aren’t any of you embarrassed?”

“Not my fault,” Phineas said quickly, shifting the blame. “Back when I was Headmaster, Hogwarts was still near the top. It’s all Armando’s fault.”

“Rubbish!” Armando Dippet roared. “It was during your tenure that the rankings started to nosedive—and now you want to deflect responsibility?”

“I’ve had enough of this!” He turned on his heel and somehow produced a massive spiked club out of nowhere.

“Stay right there! Let’s have a proper discussion about the school’s rankings.”

“Stop—no, wait, stay back, I’m warning you—don’t come any closer!” Phineas took off running, his movements swift and practiced. The other headmasters—many of whom had never witnessed such a scene before—stood frozen in disbelief.

Are they all this lively now?

However, Dilys Derwent was already used to such things. She looked steadily at Kyle and said, “Your idea is a good one, but putting it into practice won’t be easy.”

“You mean Headmistress Noirilde would oppose it?”

“That’s not the issue,” Dilys said, shaking her head. “We former headmasters only have the right to advise, not decide. As long as the current Headmaster agrees, her opposition means nothing. At most, she’ll stop showing up—but that won’t make any real difference. The difficulty I’m talking about lies elsewhere.”

“For instance—funding,” she continued. “Back when I was Headmistress, I also wanted to add a new Healing course. After all, Hogwarts only offers Herbology and Potions, and just learning those subjects isn’t enough to become a qualified Healer.”

“If we had a Healing class, students who wanted to pursue that path could go straight into St. Mungo’s after graduation. It would save them a lot of time.”

“That sounds great,” Kyle said. “I remember Madam Pomfrey once mentioned something similar.”

“But the school didn’t have enough startup funds,” Dilys sighed. “The cost of launching a new course is far higher than most people think. The school governors have long grown comfortable with the status quo. They’re not exactly eager to part with a pile of Galleons for something they see as offering no personal benefit.”

“Besides, learning Alchemy is even more expensive than training as a Healer—and far more difficult.”

“I’m aware of that,” Kyle nodded.

In Alchemy, materials like dragon scales and dragon blood were commonplace—used about as frequently as ginger root or powdered fish bones in Potions. Even Beauxbatons, with all its resources, had to source second-rate remnants from dragon reserves—scraps no one else wanted.

But there were ways to manage that. They could simply lower the standard a bit—if they couldn’t afford real dragon parts, they could use materials from creatures with dragon lineage. Or they could focus on magical items instead of full alchemical constructs... many of the goods sold back when they were students would fall into that category anyway.

Still, all of that was just planning. Whether any of it could actually be implemented would depend on Dumbledore’s return.

If the mission to rescue Dumbledore failed, then even the most well-thought-out plans would be meaningless.

Kyle gathered the scattered parchments into order and asked the portraits to summon Professor McGonagall, who was just about to head to class.

Moments later, the door to the Headmaster’s office opened, and Professor McGonagall stepped in briskly.

“Here’s what you asked for,” Kyle said, handing over the parchments.

Though class was starting in just over ten minutes, McGonagall still took the time to go through the stack carefully, reading each line and trying to memorize the key details.

Kyle stayed silent and watched from the side.

“What do you plan to do next?” she asked suddenly, a few minutes later.

“Wait here at school, I guess,” Kyle replied after thinking it over. “Wait for Nicolas to repair the Time-Turner.”

“I think you could be doing something else instead.”

McGonagall looked up at him, her eyes thoughtful. “Everything at school is running smoothly, and there’s no need for Dumbledore to be constantly present. You could leave and do something for yourself... like that nap-until-noon you mentioned on the Hogwarts Express.”

“Huh?”

Kyle was taken aback. “But didn’t you say before that I should stay at school, just in case I needed to appear as Professor Dumbledore during an emergency?”

“That was the plan then. It’s no longer necessary.”

McGonagall spoke calmly. “It’s normal for Dumbledore to be absent from Hogwarts from time to time. And if you stay here, it only increases the chance of someone discovering the truth.”

“Go back, or take a trip somewhere—relax a bit. I recommend Germany. The academic scene there is vibrant, very different from Britain, and quite distinctive. Quidditch is hugely popular too—you’ll find great matches to watch practically everywhere.”

“Really?”

Kyle muttered, “But it kind of feels like you just want me out of the school—you’re trying to push me away on purpose.”

“Well, since you noticed... I won’t deny it,” McGonagall said frankly, nodding. “According to this, Nicolas Flamel will send the repaired Time-Turner to Hogwarts, which keeps you from trying anything on your own.”

“What if he’s not sending it to the school—but directly to me?” Kyle said.

“Then I’ll wait for him myself.”

McGonagall’s tone remained composed. “Yes. Don’t worry. I know Mr. Nicolas Flamel—I visited his estate in Devon when I was younger. That was decades ago, but I still know how to find him.”

“And what about your Transfiguration classes here at school?”

“I’ll arrange for someone suitable to cover them ahead of time. It’s not difficult.”

“But I need to remind you one more time, Kyle.” Her expression turned serious. “Rescuing Dumbledore is the responsibility of us professors—not yours. There’s no reason for you to risk yourself over this.”