Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard
Chapter 828: Battle in the Forest

Although Nurmengard looked massive from the outside—like one of those vampire castles built into cliffs from Muggle storybooks—once inside, it became clear that there really wasn't much space.

Even the lowest entrance was about the size of a typical classroom, and a single staircase took up a third of it. The higher up you went, the smaller it became. Grindelwald's only apparent companion seemed to be a thin, bare blanket.

It was obvious there had once been a sheet too, but it had already been torn to pieces.

Kyle hesitated for a long time. Maybe it was because Grindelwald's current state was so pitiful. Eventually, he took out a few sheets of parchment and placed them on the ground. After a moment’s thought, he brought out a bottle of ink as well.

“You’ll probably need this too.”

In a place like this, even sheets had to double as writing paper—there definitely wouldn't be any ink. When Grindelwald mentioned writing a letter, he had most likely meant using his own blood on a bedsheet.

As for how he planned to send that letter, Kyle had no idea—and he didn’t want to know.

“Ah, thank you,” Grindelwald said with a toothy grin.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Kyle replied, pausing. “But if you try anything beyond writing…”

“You’ll kill me?” Grindelwald chuckled, as if he’d just heard a joke. “I've heard that line many times... Different people, different times, but always the same words.”

“But you're the bravest of them all. The others couldn’t even stand in front of me for a full minute, even though I didn’t have my wand.”

“No, you misunderstood. I’m not going to try to kill you,” Kyle said, shaking his head.

Grindelwald looked surprised, shifting slightly. “So... you’re going to let me go?”

“Something like that,” Kyle replied. “You’re a problem I don’t want to deal with right now. But if you use what I’ve given you to escape, I can’t just sit back and act like nothing happened.”

“So? What do you plan to do?” Grindelwald asked with interest, clearly expecting an amusing answer.

“I’ll deal with Professor Dumbledore,” Kyle said calmly. “If you leave this place, I’ll send him to another ‘Nurmengard’—one where the two of you can never meet again, not even through letters.”

“Ha... hahaha...” Grindelwald burst out laughing, laughing so hard he collapsed back onto the blanket. “That idea of yours... is far harder than killing me.”

“No, maybe it’s hard for others—but I’m different.” Kyle stretched out his hand, conjuring a golden thread with magic.

“Oh… Contract magic?” Grindelwald raised an eyebrow. “What are you getting at?”

“The other end of the contract is Professor Dumbledore.”

For some reason, the man before him suddenly looked angry, clutching the blanket tightly.

Kyle didn’t pay it any mind and went on calmly, “This contract magic once saved his life. If I shamelessly ask him to return that life... knowing his personality, do you think Professor Dumbledore would refuse?”

“You want to kill him?”

The air around them suddenly turned icy cold, like countless tiny blades all pointing at Kyle at once.

And it wasn’t just a feeling... Even though the man in front of him was so thin he looked like a skeleton—even without a wand—

The Wampus Cat and Nundu, who had been quietly following behind, let out sharp cries and burst through the door.

“Oh, the Nundu. Such a dangerous creature,” Grindelwald said blandly. “You remind me of someone else I once knew. Like you, he always had all kinds of magical beasts around him.”

“But do you really think they can protect you?”

“I think they can,” Kyle replied, still outwardly calm as he stroked the Wampus Cat and Nundu on the neck, signaling them to relax.

“Of course, I’m not going to kill Professor Dumbledore. He is, after all, my headmaster. He’s taught me a great deal—I could never bring myself to harm him.”

Kyle continued, “I’ll just take him to a different place. Much bigger than this one—sunlight, forests, wide open spaces, all sorts of magical creatures.”

“The only catch is, that place has no contact with the outside world. And I guarantee, even if someone turns the entire magical world upside down, they’ll never find him.”

“Then no one will be able to stop me,” Grindelwald said, with absolute confidence. “No one except Albus.”

“As long as it makes you suffer, I don’t care,” Kyle said with a shrug. “Worst case, we’ll all go hide away there. Then you and Voldemort can tear each other apart.”

“Dogs tearing each other apart… That’s a bit much,” Grindelwald said, his interest suddenly fading. He lay back down on the blanket. “Fine. You win. That’s a terrifying threat. But I really just wanted to write a letter. I wasn’t planning anything else.”

“I hope so,” Kyle said.

Then he turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Grindelwald called out to him again. “You must have seen Vinda and the others on your way in.”

“If you mean those people who followed you sixty years ago, then yes, I saw them,” Kyle said. “Right at the forest entrance—twelve of them. All ancient.”

“It wasn’t ‘following’—we cooperated... but never mind, you probably don’t care about that,” Grindelwald said. “Since you gave me parchment, let me give you a word of advice: when you go back out, they’ll catch you and try to force the way in out of you.”

“I know.” Kyle nodded. “They’ve been tailing me since I arrived.”

“You can sense them?” Grindelwald looked genuinely surprised. “No offense, but even sixty years ago, Vinda was a top-tier witch, battle-hardened through and through. I doubt she’d let herself be exposed in front of you.”

“But we’re not the only ones in this forest,” Kyle replied, giving a vague but pointed answer.

“Alright, doesn’t matter.” Grindelwald grinned, revealing his filthy teeth. “Good thing you spotted them. Consider it your first test. If you want to save Albus, you’ll have to prove you’re up to the task…”

“Oh, and thanks to Nicolas Flamel and Albus’s handiwork, Apparition is blocked for twenty miles in every direction. Don’t even think about flying out on your dragon—they’ll kill it.”

“But no need to worry. Just bring her here when the time comes, and I’ll make sure you survive. Consider it payment for the ink.”

“Or—I could just kill them myself?” Kyle raised an eyebrow. “I know it sounds like bragging, but I’m not weak. I did win the Triwizard Tournament, after all.”

“Kill Vinda? Interesting thought.” Grindelwald snorted. “Wands don’t dull with age—they only get sharper. If you think you can do it, go ahead and try.”

After that, Grindelwald said no more. He carefully dipped his finger into the ink and stared at the parchment, seemingly lost in thought about what to write.

Kyle left the room, heading back down the stairs to the entrance, then pushed open the door and stepped outside.

He paused briefly. A Billywig wobbled through the air toward him, landed on his shoulder, and let out a faint, high-pitched chirp.

“Only nine of them?” Kyle frowned. “Whatever. Close enough.”

He still couldn’t understand why Nicolas couldn’t just give him a Portkey to somewhere near Nurmengard—it would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

“Seriously.”

Kyle sighed in frustration, turned to glance one last time at the tower behind him, then pulled out his Firebolt and leapt off the cliff.

If a dragon wouldn’t work, surely a broom would. Kyle didn’t believe they had anything faster than a Firebolt...

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a blinding green light shot up from the forest below like a meteor, illuminating half the trees.

Only Voldemort had ever used a Killing Curse this powerful.

Kyle cursed inwardly and was forced to stop his broom.

The curse had come from just ahead of him—a clear warning. If he didn’t stop, who knew where the next one would land?

He had no choice but to change course and descend to the ground.

He dismounted, and before he could even regain his balance, a group of people closed in on him... the same group he’d seen at the forest entrance. All twelve were there.

“We meet again, Mr... Beauxbatons graduate,” the witch said, stepping forward.

She had changed into an outdated blue robe and styled her hair into a round bun.

“Oh wait, I should call you a Hogwarts graduate. Beauxbatons would never turn out someone like you.”

“How do you know that?” Kyle asked.

“Because I graduated from Beauxbatons,” the witch replied, straightening her robe. “And you don’t carry even a trace of familiarity.”

“Right. I should’ve said Durmstrang,” Kyle muttered with a sigh.

“In fact, we’ve got Durmstrang graduates here too,” said another wizard, very old and hunched, barely able to stand—but holding his wand with a steady hand. “Kid, you dare lie to us?”

“Oh come on, didn’t you lie to me too?” Kyle said with a laugh. “You call yourselves Magizoologists—how many legs does a Wampus Cat have?”

“Obviously four,” the man said without hesitation.

“Idiot, it has six.”

“Are you kidding me? Only spiders have six legs.”

“Spiders have eight.”

As he watched them bicker, Kyle’s mouth twitched involuntarily. He hadn’t expected this bunch to be so ridiculous.

“Shut up,” the witch snapped, cutting off the farce. “All right, we're even now. Let's get to the point—tell me how to enter that tower. In return, we'll pay you a large sum of gold. How about it?”

“What tower...? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kyle blinked innocently.

“I don’t want to waste time.” The witch raised her hand. “Maybe the Cruciatus Curse will help you think a little faster.”

“Wait, I’ll talk!” Kyle quickly raised both hands. “But before that, how about telling me your name? You already know I’m a Hogwarts student—it’s only fair I know who I’m dealing with.”

“Amara,” said the witch.

“I want your real name.”

She paused for a moment. “Vinda Rosier.”

Of course it was her—the infamous Black Rose of France, Grindelwald’s most loyal follower, and one of the few notable alumni of Beauxbatons.

“Now can I have my answer?” she asked.

“Sure. A deal’s a deal,” Kyle said with a nod. “First, you need a photograph. A photo of Nurmengard. It has the address embedded. Once you look at it, you’ll be able to open the door.”

“The photo—give it to me.”

“I don’t have it.” Kyle shrugged. “They’d never entrust something that important to me. It’s with Nicolas Flamel. You can try asking him.”

Silence fell for a moment, and then—

“Crucio!”

Without hesitation, Vinda Rosier raised her wand and cast the Cruciatus Curse straight at him.

Fortunately, Kyle had been expecting that. He quickly ducked behind a thick tree.

“Or,” he called out from behind it, keeping himself tightly hidden, “you could always try squeezing in through the crack at the top of the tower. Not much room, but if you can turn yourself into a flea—or a wisp of smoke—you might just make it.”

His answer was met with more spells.

And this time, it wasn’t just Vinda Rosier—everyone had lost their patience.

The tree shielding him exploded under the barrage of spells. Kyle had no choice but to flee and find another place to hide.

“No need for all that trouble,” Rosier’s voice came from behind. “There’s a simpler way. Just take us there... Catch him!”

The ring of attackers began to close in, but as she spoke, Kyle spotted his chance.

He needed to break out—and fast. He picked out a limping wizard as his target. It wasn’t the most honorable choice, but he didn’t have time to be polite.

Kyle raised his wand, and the trees around them surged to life. Saplings as thick as a wrist ballooned to the size of barrels, and mature trees swelled like millstones, instantly blocking everyone’s view.

The limping wizard, Kyle’s chosen escape route, was the first to be caught—twisting, writhing branches coiled around him like snakes, their spear-like tips driving toward his body.

These weren’t clueless werewolves—these were Grindelwald’s followers from sixty years ago. After the initial shock, they quickly began to counter.

Flames burst from the tip of one wand—

“Careful,” Kyle called out. “Use Fiendfyre here, and it could spread to Nurmengard.”

That warning landed instantly. The wizard broke off his spell without thinking.

Kyle seized the opening, darting past him, snatching his wand mid-run. With a wave of his hand, the thick branches twisted into a massive maw filled with jagged teeth—and snapped down on the man’s leg.

Crack—

“Argh!” A piercing scream echoed through the forest.

“Tran... damn it!”

Beneath Rosier’s feet, the ground heaved upward, forming a massive stone coil that lashed out, binding the still-moving trees and pinning them in place.

Thanks to her, the rest of the group quickly broke free from the vines and regrouped around Kyle’s last position.

“Tran!”

One wizard rushed to the man Kyle had disarmed, checking his injury.

“His leg’s broken—bit clean through,” he said, eyes rimmed with red. “That was brutal. Is he really Dumbledore’s student?”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” another wizard said. “We’re enemies. Frankly, we’re lucky it was just that. It looks nasty, but it’s fixable—with Skele-Gro and the right potions, he’ll be fine. In that situation, he could’ve killed Tran easily.”

“He did it on purpose,” Vinda Rosier said, approaching.

“Don’t forget, there are Lethifolds and Chimaeras all over this forest. Tran’s wand is gone, and his leg’s broken. If no one stays behind, those beasts will tear him apart.”

“But that also means two fewer people chasing him.”

“Smart boy... but this is our only chance to save him.” Vinda Rosier chuckled suddenly, and as she slowly turned her wand toward the downed Tran, her tone shifted.

“No—Amara—Vinda!” two of her comrades cried out, panicked. “Please, he’s one of the last of us still alive. It’s been sixty years... can’t we just say he’s already dead and let it go?”

“That won’t do...” Vinda Rosier murmured with her eyes closed, twirling the wand thoughtfully between her fingers.

“You stay behind and look after Tran,” she said, reopening her eyes and glancing at the man who had spoken. “The rest of you, come with me. Let’s go retrieve our guest—can’t let him wander through this dangerous forest all alone.”