Chapter 980: Chapter 980: Sykes, Professor
The Boggart had gone on strike again.
After being blown into a cloud of mist for who knows how many times, the fed-up Boggart retreated into its bottle, refusing to come out. It chose silence as a form of protest against the cold-hearted Kyle.
And this time, not even Fred and George could do anything.
In the past, whenever the Boggart got upset, they could rely on their excellent acting skills to pretend to be frightened, giving it a rare—though fabricated—sense of accomplishment.
Even if it wasn’t real, it was enough. Once it felt better, the not-so-bright Boggart would resume cooperating with Kyle.
But not this time.
Maybe it had just been blown up too many times—so many that even a brainless Boggart could sense something was wrong. No matter how much Fred and George screamed, it refused to show itself.
"It’s gotten clever!" George croaked, rubbing his throat and gulping down a glass of water.
He’d been shrieking at the top of his lungs for half an hour—his throat felt like it was on fire.
"It’s not cleverness—it’s instinct," Fred said, holding a cup too. "Kyle’s been blowing it up since Hogwarts let out for summer, and now the new term’s almost here."
"Honestly, for a Boggart, it’s already pretty slow to only now start fighting back."
"True. Even I feel a little bad for it sometimes." George waved his wand and refilled his glass.
"A dozen Killing Curses a day—it’s lucky Boggarts can’t feel pain. Otherwise, it’d definitely be out for your blood."
Kyle sat nearby, silently staring at a rock in his hand. He didn’t speak for a long time. Then he finally looked up."
"You can’t put it like that. If most wizards came across a Boggart, they’d just destroy it.
"But since it’s helped me so much, I’ve decided to find it a proper place to live."
As he spoke, Kyle picked up the bottle from the floor and gave it a shake. When nothing moved inside, he casually set it down on the nearby table.
"You’re keeping the Boggart?" Fred frowned, looking just as disgusted as the first time Percy brought home that scruffy grey rat from the garden.
In the wizarding world, Boggarts were grouped with Doxies, Beetles, and Ghouls—the kind of magical pests every wizard dreaded.
Especially Boggarts. They had a nasty habit of hiding unnoticed in wizard homes.
Just imagine: you open a closet door, and boom—there’s your worst fear staring you in the face.
Could be a spider the size of a tire. Could be a snake coiled through the entire closet.
Which explains why Boggarts were so hated.
Once the terrified wizard recovered from the initial shock, they’d usually lash out in anger and kill the thing to vent their frustration... And the Riddikulus spell wasn’t exactly advanced magic—any wizard could learn it. Quick and convenient.
"What’s so bad about Boggarts? The Burrow has a Ghoul, doesn’t it?" Kyle glanced at them. "They’re both pests. You shouldn’t be biased."
"At least Ghouls have a bit of intelligence. You can sort of communicate with them."
"They even help guard the house. Last time a Gnome tried sneaking in through the window, the Ghoul chased it off."
"It eats Doxies too."
Fred and George chimed in one after the other, clearly trying to convince Kyle that even if pests were being considered, Ghouls were still more suitable housemates than Boggarts.
Kyle didn’t care one bit.
He didn’t plan on letting the Boggart live in his house anyway. His trunk was huge—there was plenty of room to stash a Boggart in some random corner.
"Fine. If you want to keep it, keep it," Fred said with a wave. "I’m more interested in your Horcrux Charm. How’s that coming along?"
"I’m making progress," said Kyle. "But I need to keep testing it. If everything goes well, I’ll be able to head to St. Mungo’s in a few more months."
"A few months?" Fred’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t help but mutter, "That long?"
He hadn’t been to their Diagon Alley shop in ages, and business had taken a hit.
Now that school was about to start, all the Hogwarts students—including first-years—would be heading to Diagon Alley. They were hoping to make a fortune during the back-to-school rush.
"What did you expect? You think I’m working on Skiving Snackboxes?" Kyle let out a chuckle. "And honestly, I could go to St. Mungo’s now. But I won’t."
"Neville’s a friend. I’m not going to try an experimental spell—especially a Dark one—on his parents when it only exists in theory."
"If it works, great. But what if it doesn’t? They’re all Aurors. They gave everything for the wizarding world. I’m not gambling with that."
"But you’re trying to save them," George said, voice low. It was clear even he was beginning to waver.
"That’s part of the problem," Kyle said with a shrug. "This is St. Mungo’s we’re talking about. What I’m doing is flat-out prohibited."
"Careful preparation. Repeated study. Absolute certainty—that’s what Director Sykes... no, wait, she’s Professor Sykes now, wanted."
"Wait... what did you just say?" Fred grabbed Kyle. "Who’s this Sykes you’re talking about?"
"Who else? The Director of St. Mungo’s."
"But you said ’professor’..."
"Oh, right. She retired just last month," Kyle explained. "She’d wanted to for ages, but things kept getting in the way. She didn’t want to hold onto the position any longer, so once she’d wrapped up most of her duties, she stepped down."
"And what does that have to do with her being a professor?"
"Hold on, I’m getting there," Kyle said, glancing at Fred. "When Professor Sykes retired, she sent an application to Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. She applied for the Potions professor position at Hogwarts."
"McGonagall accepted. Half an hour after receiving the letter, she sent back an offer and a reply."
"So, starting this term, she’ll be a professor at Hogwarts."
Fred and George stared at him, speechless for a good while.
Sykes—the Chief Potions Master of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, one of the few people ever to appear alive on a Chocolate Frog card—was going to Hogwarts to teach Potions...
It sounded completely unreal.
Hogwarts already had Dumbledore, and that alone was enough to make other wizarding schools green with envy—now, just as Dumbledore stepped down, in came Sykes.
Who’s next? Newt Scamander? Nicolas Flamel?
...Wait, weren’t both of them also on good terms with Kyle?
Forget the other schools—even Fred and George were feeling a bit of that envy themselves.
After all, no matter how powerful or famous Dumbledore was, you couldn’t spend reputation like Galleons.
But Sykes? Her potions alone could be.
Even if it was just something she brewed as a classroom demonstration, once it hit the market, people would pay several times—no, even ten times—the price just to get their hands on it.
"So you’re only upset because you missed the chance to make a quick profit?" Kyle looked at them, thoroughly unimpressed. "Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes can’t be doing that badly—why are you sweating over a few Galleons?"
"It’s not about Galleons—it’s about reputation," George said seriously, wagging his finger.
"You don’t get it," Fred added, equally solemn. "Let me put it this way: in the last decade or so, it’s been nearly impossible to find anything by Director Sykes on the open market. If we could sell on her behalf, even our own potions would become instant bestsellers."
"Huh?" Kyle blinked.
Honestly, he hadn’t realized Sykes’ potions were that sought after.
Probably because they were close—whenever Sykes developed a new potion that used basilisk ingredients, she’d usually send him a few bottles.
And ages ago, she’d gifted him an entire trunk filled with a wide variety of potions, so to Kyle, it didn’t seem like a big deal.
Snape was a renowned Potions Master too, but there’d never been this kind of fuss.
Kyle clicked his tongue and looked up—only to be met with two identical, overly eager faces.
"Hehe..."
"Kyle..."
They were rubbing their hands together, flattery practically dripping off them.
"Don’t even think about it." Kyle cut them off before they could speak. "There’s no way I’m helping you steal potions from Professor Sykes. If you’ve got ideas, take them to Hogwarts yourselves."
"Don’t turn us down so fast," Fred said with a wide grin. "We can pay you."
"I don’t need money."
"We can help you—with anything you want."
"We’ll even offer up our little brother," Fred said suddenly, an idea striking him. "He doesn’t know there’s a Boggart here. Just come up with an excuse to lure him over, and I guarantee the Boggart’ll be satisfied."
Kyle twitched at the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t expected Fred to stoop that low—Ron had already graduated, and they still weren’t willing to leave him alone.
"No need." Kyle declined on Ron’s behalf without hesitation. "I don’t really need the Boggart anymore."
He held out the stone in his hand for them to see.
Nothing remarkable—just an ordinary rock, the kind you’d find anywhere.
But now, on this plain little stone, there was a faint, inexplicable shimmer—like the thinnest layer of gauze. A breath of wind might blow it away, yet somehow, it clung to the stone. No matter how it fluttered, it always returned to its place.
"What is that..."
"Could it be..."
"This is a fragment of the Boggart’s soul—or you could say, part of its body," Kyle nodded.
"Technically, I’ve succeeded. But the Boggart’s a special case, so I’m not entirely sure whether this stone qualifies as a Horcrux."
"That’s why Boggart isn’t that important to me anymore."
"And if I really needed one, I could find another. They’re not rare—Hogwarts has plenty of abandoned classrooms."
Fred and George exchanged a glance.
No wonder Kyle had said he could go help the Longbottoms immediately.
Making Horcruxes for others...
No need to master the theory themselves, no risk of failure—if Kyle was willing, he could grant immortality to just about anyone.
If word of that ever got out, Kyle’s fame would outshine Dumbledore’s overnight. He’d become the most sought-after figure in the wizarding world.
But Kyle didn’t seem to care. He tossed the stone up like it was nothing and caught it again, completely unfazed.
In reality, Fred and George were overthinking it.
Whether you made your own Horcrux or had someone do it for you, the first step was always the same: split your soul.
Kyle had chosen the simplest method—a variation of the original—using the Killing Curse.
As an aside, ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, Kyle’s grasp and use of the Killing Curse had improved dramatically.
Before, his Killing Curse had been weaker than a Knockback Jinx. Laughably so. But now, it could even make Norbert feel fear.
He’d tried it once inside the suitcase, and after that, Norbert stayed far away from him for a long time. It was an instinctive terror, one that was hard to overcome.
It had to be said—if your magic was too pure, you just couldn’t learn the Killing Curse. No amount of effort would help.
So Kyle didn’t mind if someone came to him for help. As long as they could survive one of his Killing Curses, he’d help them make a Horcrux.
No limit on quantity—he could make as many as they wanted. He could even provide meaningful, commemorative objects to serve as vessels.
No charge.
Fred and George didn’t know what Kyle was thinking, but they shifted the topic back all the same.
"In that case, we can help you with something else."
"Just tell us what you need us to do."
"Anything—just say the word!"
"Then... help me perfect the Horcrux spell," Kyle said, already well aware of what they were after.
"Haven’t you already mastered it?" Fred blurted out.
"I said perfect it." Kyle shook the stone. "Have you ever seen soul fragments floating on the outside?"
"You could just say no, you know," Fred rolled his eyes.
These past few days, he and George had practically lived inside books on Dark magic. They barely stopped to eat or drink.
Let’s put it this way—they hadn’t studied this hard even before their N.E.W.T. exams at Hogwarts.
And yet, despite all they’d learned about Horcrux theory, the only thing they’d managed was cheering up a sulking Boggart.
If it hadn’t been for the lure of the legendary Horcrux, they’d have given up ages ago.
"Wasn’t my refusal clear enough?" Kyle said with a cold smile. "I told you from the beginning—I’m not helping you steal Professor Sykes’ potions."
"Why not?!"
Fred’s neck stiffened, and George looked thoroughly offended.
"We’re friends—best frien—"
"Because of the Love Potions you sell," Kyle said flatly.
George’s words caught in his throat. He shut his mouth quietly.
"And the Hair Loss Potion. Hiccough Solution. Dungbomb-flavored Energy Tonic. Glow-in-the-Dark Hair Dye for nighttime styling. The ’invisibility’ potion that only hides your clothes..."
With every item Kyle listed, Fred and George looked more and more ashamed. By the end, they didn’t even dare meet his eyes. They just stared guiltily at the floor.
"If Professor Sykes found out I used her potions to promote those things... care to guess whether she’d toss me into a cauldron?"
...