"The perfect Invigoration Draught. At least, I can't find anything wrong with it."
When Professor Marchbanks made this declaration in the dungeons of Hogwarts, it signaled the end of the seventh-year students' N.E.W.T. exams.
As the crisp chime of the bell rang out, Kyle left the classroom with the others, descending the stairs to the foyer.
The exams were over, and the students' reactions varied. Some were overjoyed, eagerly anticipating graduation. But for many, there was a deep reluctance to leave Hogwarts behind.
For years, they had looked forward to the holidays. Now, for the first time, they wished time would slow down, just a little longer.
The castle, once so familiar it had become mundane, suddenly felt new again. Every corridor, every painting, even the worn handrails along the staircases seemed oddly fascinating. It was as if they were seeing Hogwarts through fresh eyes, as they had seven years ago—filled with wonder and curiosity.
This feeling was something younger students couldn't quite understand.
A few ghosts hovered nearby, watching the students laugh and cry, their expressions betraying an amused familiarity.
It was the same every year. They had long since grown used to it.
"Here we go again, all the weeping and wailing. I really don't understand what they see in this crumbling old castle," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head. He turned to the Fat Friar and asked, "By the way, when is he due? He should be here soon."
"Judging by the timing… just about now," replied the Fat Friar. "Oh… here he comes."
No sooner had he spoken than a water-filled balloon came hurtling down the staircase, landing squarely in the midst of a group of seventh-years.
The balloon struck a boy on the head and burst, drenching him in water laced with vinegar.
A sharp, sour scent began to fill the foyer.
But that was only the beginning. Peeves suddenly cackled with glee, swooping down the staircase and hurling more balloons at the departing seventh-years.
As much as he delighted in tormenting the first-years, he had a special fondness for making an impression on those about to graduate.
Every year, he seized the opportunity to cause chaos. The year before, it had been fireworks. The year before that, Dungbombs—courtesy of the Weasley twins. Peeves had used up their entire supply, much to Filch's dismay.
This year, he had chosen vinegar balloons, with just a hint of water.
"Stop, Peeves!" someone shouted, drawing their wand in retaliation.
If they had been first-years, they might have been helpless against Peeves' pranks. But now, after seven years of magical education, they weren't about to let him get away with it.
Thinking back on all the trouble Peeves had caused them over the years, several Gryffindors confidently raised their wands, determined to get their revenge before they left Hogwarts for good.
What they didn't realize, however, was that Peeves had chosen high-quality balloons—specially developed prank balloons from the Weasley twins. They were enchanted to burst the moment they made contact with a spell.
The result?
A sudden downpour of vinegar across the entire entrance hall.
Caught off guard, the students were drenched from head to toe.
"Ho ho ho! Stupid little brats! Stupid little brats! Look, look! They've fallen into a vat of vinegar!" Peeves howled with laughter, doubling over midair.
As the commotion grew, more students gathered to watch. The humiliation was too much—faces burning, the seventh-years turned and fled, covering themselves as best they could.
In the midst of it all, only a few students remained untouched. Kyle was one of them.
The moment the first balloon had been thrown, he had cast a waterproofing charm over himself and Kanna beside him. So when the explosion of vinegar rained down, neither of them was affected.
Having emptied his supply of balloons, Peeves hovered above, preparing for his next move.
"Ah, Kyle…"
Peeves landed in front of him, tilting his head. "So, you're graduating too, right?"
"That's right," Kyle nodded. "Anything you want to tell me, Mr. Peeves?
"How about a year's detention? Just one year?" Peeves grinned mischievously. "After those Weasley pranksters graduate, you'll be the only fun one left. The rest of the kids are so dull—they're not even funny."
"As long as you can convince Dumbledore, I'm fine with it."
"Oh… Your refusal is really cold-hearted." Peeves made a face at Kyle.
He obviously knew that Dumbledore would never agree to such a request. If someone like Kyle, with his grades, had to repeat a year, Hogwarts would truly become a joke.
"So what do we do?" Peeves sat down cross-legged in midair, looking somewhat dejected. "I haven't even finished using the Dungbombs you gave me last time. Honestly, why did you catch all the intruders so quickly?"
He was referring to the Death Eater attack on the castle a month ago.
The moment Peeves had heard about it, he immediately realized this was the opportunity Kyle had mentioned before. He had excitedly dug out the special Dungbombs and rushed to the scene with them in his arms.
Unfortunately, the professors were too quick. Before Peeves could enjoy the spectacle, the Death Eaters—mere cannon fodder—were already subdued.
What made him even more thrilled was that the professors had clearly seen what he was up to but hadn't scolded him.
Special Dungbombs, and he hadn't been reprimanded.
Peeves had felt like he was dreaming.
Not that he cared about getting scolded, of course—but the feeling was different. It was something new, something he had never experienced before. It was exhilarating, even addicting. And now, the one who had given him the idea in the first place was about to graduate.
"Don't worry, there might be another chance," Kyle said with a small smile. "Make sure to collect the rest of the stock—don't waste it. Otherwise, you won't have any when you really need it."
"Ho ho, I believe you," Peeves said gleefully. Then, to the astonishment of everyone watching, he straightened up and gave Kyle an elegant bow—far more graceful than anyone had ever seen from him before.
Kyle bowed in return.
"Look, is that… Peeves?" Ron's voice cracked as he stared down from the staircase, unable to believe his eyes.
Never before had he seen Peeves like this—so polite?
But no one answered him. Hermione and Harry were just as dumbfounded. As students who had suffered countless pranks at Peeves' hands, they knew better than anyone how infuriating he could be.
In their first year, it had been Peeves' shouting that had nearly led them straight to the Philosopher's Stone, where they had stumbled upon the Three-Headed Dog, Fluffy.
If they hadn't run fast enough, they might have ended up as Fluffy's midnight snack.
And it wasn't just that—he always managed to show up whenever Harry snuck around at night, and Hermione had lost count of the times he had flung inkpots at her while she was studying.
"What did Kyle do?" Ron asked again, still staring.
"I don't know," Harry muttered, shaking his head. "But I can imagine it wasn't something simple."
He thought back over everything that had happened at Hogwarts recently, trying to find a connection.
"Could it have been even earlier?" he murmured, but he couldn't come up with any link between Kyle and Peeves.
"Never mind, let's not dwell on it for now," Hermione said abruptly. She wrinkled her nose at the sharp vinegar stench wafting up from below, then pulled up her sleeve to cover her mouth and dragged both boys away.
"Harry, what did you say you were going to do during the holidays?" she asked as they walked.
"I want to find the remaining Horcruxes," Harry said quietly. "From Slughorn's memories, we know that Voldemort split his soul into seven parts—six Horcruxes, plus himself."
"We've found three so far—the Diadem and the Golden Cup that Kyle discovered, and the diary from second year. That means we're halfway there."
"I want to use the holidays to track down the last three."
"Oh, that's a good idea," Hermione said approvingly. "So what's your plan? How are we going to find them?"
"You do realize there are no clues about the Horcruxes in the Hogwarts library," Harry said mysteriously.
"Of course I do," Hermione shot back, rolling her eyes. "But just because they're not in this library doesn't mean they aren't in another one."
"Other libraries…" Ron frowned. "Flourish and Blotts? No way. I'm not spending my entire holiday in Diagon Alley."
"No, not there." Harry shook his head. "Remember? Sirius had a private library at his house."
"You mean the one in the basement?" Hermione immediately caught on.
"Yes," Harry said. "I only realized recently—Kyle spent a long time down there. I think that's where he found the clue about the Horcrux."
"Are you sure?" Hermione looked skeptical.
"I'm not sure, but it's worth a shot," Harry said. "Right now, it's the only lead we have. If Kyle really saw something there, the three of us can definitely find it too."
"Alright," Hermione agreed without much hesitation. Maybe she was just eager to get her hands on those books.
And with that, their holiday plans were set.
…
I don't know whether it was because of the Death Eaters or because Dumbledore had left the school again, but this year's holidays began earlier than usual.
As always, everyone had assumed they would leave Hogwarts seven days after the exams ended, but on the third day, the Hogwarts Express unexpectedly pulled into Hogsmeade Station.
"Everyone, line up," Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick stood at the entrance of the castle, directing students to board the carriages in an orderly fashion toward the station.
"Your report cards will be delivered by owl in mid-July."
A faint cheer rippled through the crowd, as if many were relieved to receive their report cards this way rather than having to carry them home themselves.
But more students remained silent. If they had the choice, they would have preferred to stay at Hogwarts until the holidays were truly over.
Unfortunately, neither Dumbledore nor the other professors seemed to have any intention of keeping students at the school any longer than necessary.
At that moment, no one noticed that one of the carriages at the back of the line had quietly veered away from the group, coming to a stop in an open space in front of the Quidditch Pitch.
Kyle and Kanna stepped out of the carriage, scanning their surroundings.
Someone was already waiting there, their golden hair shimmering in the sunlight.
"Seriously, Kyle, you should have contacted me earlier."
Fleur Delacour strode up to him, her expression clearly displeased.
"If you had told me a week ago that Kanna was going to France, I would have had enough time to arrange everything properly. But instead, you only told me yesterday afternoon."
"Morning, morning..." Kyle's eyes shifted evasively. "It takes time for an owl to deliver a letter…"
"Does that make a difference?" Fleur's dissatisfaction deepened.
"The main thing is that I didn't know the school would be going on holiday early," Kyle shrugged, quickly changing the subject. "But why are you here at Hogwarts?"
"Oh, I came with Madam Maxime. She's here to see your headmaster, Dumbledore."
As she spoke, another figure approached.
"Kyle, I've contacted Gringotts in France," Bill called as he jogged toward them. "Luckily, a goblin I used to work with there has agreed to exchange the gold you provided for potion ingredients at a discount."
"Wait," Kanna suddenly frowned and turned to Kyle. "You're getting potion ingredients from Gringotts? Didn't I tell you not to? Professor Snape already prepared a lot—enough for me to use. Buying more right now is a waste of money."
Gringotts did indeed stock potion ingredients—Gringotts stocked everything that could turn a profit—but their prices were steep, and haggling was out of the question.
With Voldemort and the Death Eaters growing more rampant, potion prices in the wizarding world had soared, and ingredient costs had followed suit.
"It's fine. The impact in France isn't as bad," Kyle reassured her.
"Are you sure?" Kanna eyed him suspiciously. "Given the goblins' nature, do you really think they'd let go of such a good opportunity?"
"Of course not," Bill said dryly. "Those greedy goblins would be more than happy to strip every last Galleon from the wizarding world."
As he reached them, Fleur naturally slipped her arm through his, the gesture affectionate and familiar.
"Oh?" Kyle raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing. "No wonder you chose to stay in England."
"Yes, it's exactly as you think," Fleur admitted openly, not the least bit embarrassed.
"Maybe I should find someone else…" Kyle mused.
This time, he needed someone to escort Kanna to France. The journey was long, and he wasn't entirely comfortable leaving her to travel alone in unfamiliar territory.
As a native French speaker, Fleur had been his first choice. Not to mention, she and Kanna had gotten along well during the Triwizard Tournament.
But now… watching the way Fleur and Bill looked at each other, Kyle hesitated. He really didn't want to separate them.
"It's fine," Fleur said with a wave of her hand. "I have to go back to France anyway to help Madam Maxime contact some of her friends, and I can't do much here."
"Yes, that's right," Bill nodded repeatedly, as if afraid Kyle would change his mind. "Let Fleur take Kanna. Paris is a big city, and someone who knows the area well should lead the way."
"Wait a minute, you two," Kanna interrupted, turning to Kyle. "You haven't explained why you bought the potion ingredients from Gringotts. I know you have Galleons, but you shouldn't waste them like this. You'd better return them quickly."
"I can't return them," Kyle said with a shrug. "The purchase is already complete. Do you really think the goblins would give back the Galleons they've taken?"
"You—" Kanna was so exasperated by Kyle's wastefulness that her face flushed.
"Don't worry, it really didn't cost much," Kyle said with a smile.
But Kanna clearly didn't believe him. The other party was a greedy goblin, not a philanthropist—how could it not have cost much?
"I can vouch for that," Bill chimed in, but as he spoke, he couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"In fact, the goblin made a request before agreeing to sell me the potion ingredients at the normal price."
"What was the request?" Kanna frowned.
There was no need to ask—goblins were always greedy, and their conditions were bound to be outrageous. The hidden cost wouldn't just be excessive; it might even outweigh the Galleons Kyle had supposedly saved.
From Bill's tone, it seemed like they had actually agreed to the deal. Were these people stupid?
"Ahem..." Bill cleared his throat, suppressing another chuckle. "He asked to pick something from Kyle's vault."
"What?"
Kanna blinked, as if she hadn't heard properly.
"The goblin agreed to sell us the potion ingredients at the normal price, but in exchange, for every 500 Galleons discounted, he gets to pick one item from Kyle's vault."
Kanna was silent for a long moment.
Only Fleur reacted, her expression furious. "Greedy, shameless—"
"It's okay, don't be upset," Kyle laughed. "In fact, there's nothing in my vault."
"What?" Fleur was momentarily stunned. In her mind, a young wizard like Kyle—who had made a name for himself so early—would surely have a well-stocked vault.
The prize money from the Triwizard Tournament alone had been a thousand Galleons. And on top of that, Kyle was an alchemist. Not many people knew, but not too few either—his name was attached to quite a few magical inventions during his school years.
Everyone knew that alchemists were among the wealthiest in the wizarding world.
"Actually, I keep all my things somewhere else." Kyle pursed his lips, trying to hold back his laughter. "I don't think I've used my Gringotts vault since second year. If I remember correctly, there should only be three or five Galleons and a handful of Sickles in there."
"Please don't use the word only," Bill teased. "Our family vault only has a pile of Sickles."
"That was before," Kyle grinned.
"So, the goblin miscalculated?" Fleur raised an eyebrow.
"Apparently, he did," Kyle said. "I don't know where he got the idea that I had anything valuable in my vault, but not everyone likes to store their treasures at Gringotts."
"How much did you trade?" Kanna asked.
"5,000 Galleons, with an additional 5,000 Galleons discounted. This is the best deal I've ever made. Even before the Death Eaters' resurgence, it would've been hard to find 15 Galleons' worth of Dragon's Blood and Mandrake Root."
Kyle laughed even more cheerfully. "Oh, and Bill, remind that goblin that he can't take more than ten items."
"What if there aren't enough?" Bill asked. "From what you just said, it sounds like there really isn't much in your vault."
"Then there's nothing we can do," Kyle shrugged. "He'll just have to take a few stones from the wall or the counter. I'm not giving him any Knuts—not even one."