Hermione had always prided herself on making well-thought-out decisions, so she rarely experienced regret.
For instance, back in her third year, she had been so overwhelmed with schoolwork that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown—yet she had never once regretted taking all those subjects.
But today was different. Today, she regretted it so much that just thinking about it made her want to bang her head against the table.
"You really saw Hogwarts from a thousand years ago?" she asked, eyes wide. "And you even attended a class?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, directing his words more toward Ron. "I only sat through about ten minutes of it, though. I couldn't understand a word he was saying."
Then he continued, "You know, the Fat Lady wasn't there back then. Instead, there was a painting of a knight."
"Could it have been Sir Cadogan?" Ron asked.
"No, it was someone else," Harry said. "He was really tall, but I've never seen that painting anywhere in the castle before."
Watching the two of them casually chat about a painting only made Hermione more frustrated.
A thousand-year-old wizard, personally teaching a class—such a rare, invaluable opportunity! And Harry had wasted it… just to look at a painting?
She simply couldn't understand it. The regret gnawed at her. Why hadn't she said yes when Harry asked her to take his place last night?
If she had, she wouldn't just have heard the lesson—she would have seen what the original Hogwarts library looked like.
Such an incredible opportunity, and she had let it slip through her fingers!
By now, Harry had moved on from discussing the painting and was describing what the Founders looked like. Across the table, Hermione sat silently, her eyes slightly red, but he hadn't noticed.
The Founders?
Hermione had never wished for a Time-Turner so badly—just so she could go back to last night and slap some sense into herself for turning Harry down.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron finally noticed her unusual silence.
"I'm fine," Hermione said, taking a deep breath before downing another large glass of chilled pumpkin juice.
Maybe it was the cold drink snapping her out of it, but suddenly, a thought struck her.
"Harry," she asked quickly, "did you say Kyle took you to the Room of Requirement?"
"Yeah," Harry replied. "He had something like a key, and you can only open the door by pressing it against the wall. Why? Is something wrong?"
"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. She fell silent, her gaze fixed on the plate in front of her as she became lost in thought.
Meanwhile, on the eighth floor—
Kyle had run into an awkward predicament. He couldn't get out.
The Room of Requirement's door seemed to be blocked from the outside, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't open it—not even with the bronze knocker.
He called out Ravenclaw's name a few more times, but there was no response.
Kyle had no idea why he had suddenly been locked in, but one thing was certain: he was starting to get hungry.
Anything you want, anything you need.
Unfortunately, food was one of the few things the Room of Requirement couldn't provide—Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration made sure of that. Not even Rowena Ravenclaw herself could override that limitation.
That said, Kyle wasn't too concerned. He could last quite a while.
After all, he had plenty of pre-prepared warthog legs stored in his suitcase, along with entire herds of warthogs and common livestock. There were even fish in the lake—something he had arranged with Hagrid ages ago when he got bored.
At the time, he had done it just to save himself some hassle. But since the number of magical creatures in his suitcase had multiplied, feeding them had become a major concern. With this setup, Norbert and the others could hunt for themselves, and Kyle wouldn't have to deal with it constantly.
So, for now, food wasn't an issue. It might not taste great without seasoning, but it would be enough to keep them fed.
As for water?
The Golden Cup and the Aguamenti Charm would take care of that.
"No, I still have to find a way," Kyle frowned. He couldn't stay here forever.
Ravenclaw wouldn't have made such a mistake—something must have gone wrong.
Kyle couldn't help but think of Dumbledore and Harry. It was too much of a coincidence that the Room of Requirement had problems as soon as the two of them arrived.
If I had known, I wouldn't have let them come, Kyle muttered. But just as he turned around, looking for another solution, his eyes caught something unusual in the Great Hall—an extra, very conspicuous gold plate.
Among the surrounding silver cutlery, the gold plate stood out awkwardly. It looked oddly familiar. Judging by its shape and color, it closely resembled the plates that Hogwarts students used in the present day.
Kyle subconsciously walked over.
On the plate sat two ham sandwiches, a fried sausage, and a baked potato... If he added a cup of pumpkin juice, it would be a standard Hogwarts dinner.
Tentatively, he reached out and placed his hand on the sandwich.
His fingers felt the familiar texture of the bread.
Kyle froze for a moment, unable to believe his eyes.
Could this really be real?
But how could there be real food in Ravenclaw's memories?
He picked up the sandwich and took a bite.
There was no doubt—the dinner plate was real, not a memory.
The taste was unmistakable, something he had eaten for seven years. The work of the house-elves.
Kyle grew even more perplexed. How had the house-elves managed to deliver food here when he had the key?
And more importantly, how had they known to bring him dinner?
After all, ten minutes ago, he hadn't even known he would be stuck here. How had the house-elves anticipated it?
Kyle ate the sandwich, mulling over the mystery, but found no answer.
It couldn't possibly be Rowena Ravenclaw… Even if she could still influence the Room of Requirement, what would be the point of locking him in here?
To force him to study nonstop?
That wasn't necessary. He only spent half an hour a day on meals—what difference would it make?
Kyle was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice when he finished eating. The only thing left on the plate was a few scattered crumbs.
The next second, even the crumbs vanished. The golden plate gleamed once again, as spotless as when he first saw it.
Is this the reason? Kyle wondered, picking up the plate and examining it.
He had deliberately tried to prevent the house-elves from delivering food here, yet now they could. The only thing that had changed was the plate.
Hogwarts' plates were enchanted to allow house-elves to transport food from the kitchens to the corresponding Great Hall tables.
Now, this plate was in another Hogwarts—a Hogwarts that shouldn't have access to house-elves.
Kyle had no recollection of bringing it here himself.
So who had done it?
He had held onto the key to the Room of Requirement the entire time. Could it have been… Ravenclaw?
Kyle tapped his fingers against the table, deep in thought.
Had she done it to save him the trouble of walking to dinner? Or was there another reason?
At that moment, a realization struck him, and he abruptly looked up at the people in the Great Hall.
They were still eating and chatting as usual.
But their bodies—
They were paler than before, as if they were fading.
Kyle had first noticed this a few days ago, in the Charms classroom. Professor Lagord's bald head had seemed less reflective than before.
At the time, he had been so focused on the strange changes in magic that he had pushed the thought aside.
But now… Could it be that the Room of Requirement was returning to normal?
That was the only explanation.
If that were the case, he needed to act fast.
With that in mind, Kyle didn't linger in the Great Hall. Instead, he returned to the common room, preparing for a good night's rest.
Before turning in, he pulled out the Two-Way Mirror, intending to update Kanna. This gift he had prepared was proving unexpectedly useful.
"You're trapped in the Room of Requirement and can't get out?" Kanna's voice was filled with surprise. "I'll go ask Professor McGonagall for you."
"No need," Kyle quickly stopped her. "Professor McGonagall didn't even know this place existed before. She wouldn't be able to help much. And I don't need help for the time being."
"What do you mean?" Kanna asked. "How will you eat in there?"
"Someone brought this," Kyle said, holding up the golden plate and waving it in front of the mirror. "Someone must have modified it. Food from the kitchen can now be delivered directly to it."
Seeing Kanna's skepticism, Kyle added, "You'll have sandwiches for dinner—fried ham, baked potatoes, and pickled cucumbers in the sandwiches."
Kanna blinked. She believed him now.
"I still don't know what to do," she admitted, frowning slightly. "If Professor McGonagall can't help, no one else can get you out of there."
"What about Dumbledore?" Kyle asked.
"He left the school an hour ago," Kanna blurted out.
Kyle narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that? You sound awfully sure."
"Of course," Kanna said. "He received a letter during dinner and left in a hurry. Almost everyone saw it… except you, obviously."
"You don't need to remind me," Kyle said testily.
He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but now that food was no longer a concern, he felt like there was a subtle hint of schadenfreude in Kanna's expression.
Not that she would ever admit it.
…
The two of them talked for an hour before Kyle finally set down the Two-Way Mirror.
After that, he remained in the Room of Requirement.
During this time, the colors of the people around him grew increasingly pale, fading little by little. Kyle no longer adhered to a balanced schedule of work and rest. Instead, he seized every possible moment to move between different classrooms, absorbing as much as he could before it was too late.
He attended classes for nearly sixteen hours a day, spending half of the remaining time in the library.
When exhaustion became unbearable, he relied on a Pepperup Potion or the Recovery Potion Kanna had given him to keep going.
The golden plate remained ever-present, providing him with three meals a day without fail.
It wasn't bound to the Great Hall either—Kyle could carry it anywhere, which saved him a significant amount of time.
Until one day.
Kyle had just finished taking notes when he looked up again—and the entire classroom had vanished.
Stunned, he stepped outside, but the library was empty. So was the Great Hall.
The castle had gone eerily silent.
Then, before he could react, the disappearance began.
Bit by bit, the castle started vanishing, as though someone was methodically erasing it with an invisible hand.
The second-floor classroom, where a lesson had taken place mere minutes ago, had been wiped clean—now a blank, white void.
Then the library disappeared.
Then the stairs.
Then the Great Hall.
In the blink of an eye, everything around him was gone.
Kyle found himself standing in an impossibly empty space.
Just as he hesitated about whether to hide inside the trunk, a sudden pulling sensation overtook him, and the scene before his eyes changed once again.
The world shifted.
When the sensation faded, he was no longer in the void but in a familiar corridor.
Blank stone walls stretched before him, and behind him hung the tapestry of trolls dancing ballet.
He had made it out.
Kyle instinctively reached into his pocket, searching for the key Ravenclaw had given him—but his hand met only emptiness.
The key was gone.
Just as he was trying to piece together what had happened, a piercing noise shattered the stillness around him.
It wasn't the chatter of students in the hallways.
It was screaming.
It was the sound of spells exploding.
No way! Kyle's mind reeled.
He had no idea how much time had passed since he had been trapped in the Room of Requirement.
A week? Two weeks? Maybe longer.
Had the Death Eaters broken in through the Vanishing Cabinet while he was gone?
But Dumbledore knew about the Vanishing Cabinets.
Why would he allow the Death Eaters into the school when he had the portraits of the headmasters keeping watch?
A flood of unanswered questions rushed through his mind.
But now was not the time to dwell on them.
Kyle didn't hesitate. He turned and ran toward the source of the commotion.
As he sprinted through the corridors, he noted with relief that he hadn't encountered any students so far.
Everyone must have been inside their common rooms.
That was good.
Then—
"You think you can run?"
A beast-like, hoarse growl sliced through the air.
Kyle pushed himself to run faster, rounding a corner into another corridor.
Then he saw it.
A figure covered in long, matted brown hair had leaped into the air, extending claw-like fingernails, ready to pounce on a person lying helpless on the ground.
Kyle didn't stop to think.
His wand was already in his hand, moving before his mind could even process it.
With a swift motion, an invisible rope shot forward, pulling the fallen person toward him just in time to avoid the attack.
The creature's claws scraped violently against the floor, producing an ear-splitting sound.
"Thanks!" said the person, turning his head—only to freeze for a second.
"Kyle? Why are you here?"
"Cedric?" Kyle blinked, momentarily thrown off. He had only thought the person looked familiar, but he hadn't expected it to be Cedric.
"Why are you here?"
"I came with Mr. Weasley," Cedric answered quickly. "He told me the Death Eaters might attack Hogwarts tonight."
You guys…
Before Kyle could finish his thought, a low, guttural howl interrupted him.
"Well, well, look who's here. A little lamb…"
The man, who looked more beast than human, wasn't angry that his prey had been saved. If anything, there was a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Be careful!" Cedric said hurriedly. "That's Fenrir Greyback. He's a Werewolf. Incredibly strong, and spells have very little effect on him."
Greyback stepped closer, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Not running away? Or do you know you can't run away?"
His pupils were small and sharp, and when he spoke, he revealed fangs—like a wolf's.
That's right. He was a Werewolf.
"I thought I wouldn't come across any tasty little lambs tonight," he mused. "But you've delivered yourself to me. What a pity it isn't a full moon."
Kyle raised a hand, pointing at himself in mild confusion.
"Wait. You said 'little lambs'… Are you talking about me?"
"That's right," Greyback said, licking his lips. His eyes locked onto Kyle's school uniform. "Only young wizards who haven't graduated yet are considered fresh young lambs. I miss it—the feeling of my teeth sinking into their flesh."
He inched closer, step by step, his gaze never wavering.
Kyle's expression grew increasingly strange.
"This guy's got a screw loose," he muttered, glancing at Cedric.
"Greyback likes to bite underage wizards," Cedric said nervously. "Turns them into Werewolves. Be careful, Kyle. Don't underestimate him. The Ministry has been after him for years, but he always manages to escape."
"Those losers could never catch me!" Greyback snarled before suddenly lunging at them.
But in the next second, he was sent flying backward—hitting the stone wall with a force that rattled the corridor.
Kyle lightly twirled his wand, watching Greyback struggle.
"Tsk, tsk, the big bad wolf got his teeth stuck by the little lamb," he mused with a smirk.
A single, forgotten Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean floated into the air, its transformation seamless as it morphed into a five-foot-long spear.
Kyle flicked his wand again, and the spear shot toward Greyback. The Werewolf dodged as best he could, but it still pierced his shoulder.
Greyback let out an enraged growl. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything he had felt before. Worse, it wasn't just pain—his entire body felt like his bones were cracking.
It was only then that he realized something.
This student was not someone to be trifled with.
Or perhaps, he was the true lamb.
A beast's instincts are rarely wrong. And Greyback, who had escaped death countless times, had always trusted his.
Now, his instincts screamed at him to run.
But Kyle didn't give him the chance.
Even before the spear struck, Kyle had already begun casting his next spell.
A tremendous force slammed into the end of the spear, driving it deeper. Greyback barely had time to react before the spear shortened, embedding itself further—pinning him against the stone wall.
No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't move.
"I do have a little experience dealing with Werewolves," Kyle said with a knowing smile.
He opened his suitcase.
A dark figure sprang out with such speed that Cedric didn't even catch what it was.
Before Kyle could make another move, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the corridor.
Professor McGonagall appeared, her wand raised, her lips pressed into a thin line as she strode toward them.
Kyle merely lifted a hand in a casual wave.
Behind Cedric, there was a faint rustling.
And then—silence.