Hogwarts: I'm Truly a Model Wizard

"Aurora Sinistra wants to replace the planetary model with a brand new one—comes with magic storage and automatic calibration, price tag around two thousand Galleons..."

"Filius Flitwick wants to restart the Duelling Club for students in third year and above..."

"Severus Snape needs a full set of magical protective gear, combat puppets, and two hundred pounds of potion ingredients..."

The next day, when Kyle strolled into the Headmaster's Office and saw the towering stack of parchment—easily ten inches high—he was stunned.

He'd thought that as long as he made it through the Start-of-Term Feast, the job would be a breeze.

But what was with this mountain of paperwork?

He was just a fake, a stand-in Dumbledore made possible by Polyjuice Potion. No one had told him he'd have to actually be the Headmaster.

And those outrageous requests...

He'd bet anything Snape wasn't injured in the mouth, or he wouldn't have the nerve to ask for two hundred pounds of potion ingredients all at once.

That was potion ingredients—not two hundred pounds of potatoes.

Forget rare ones like unicorn horn, aconite, dragon egg shell, or Ashwinder egg—even basic stuff like lionfish bone meal and valerian wasn't cheap.

Two hundred pounds in one go—how did he even dare?

Oh, and there was someone even bolder than Snape.

Slughorn.

He not only asked for a hundred pounds of potion ingredients, but also applied for fifty sets of Self-Stirring Cauldrons...

And they say old Slughorn always thinks of his students. One Self-Stirring Cauldron goes for thirty-five Galleons—a single line from him, and boom, that's 1,750 Galleons.

That's an amount Mr. Weasley would need over two years to save—without eating or drinking.

Kyle flipped further down the pile.

Good grief—it got even more absurd.

"Sprout wants to build three new greenhouses..."

"Filch proposed thirty-five new school rules..."

"The Hospital Wing is requesting the latest potion preservation equipment..."

Kyle set the parchment back on top of the stack and looked up at Professor McGonagall.

"These aren't for me, are they?"

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.

"That's not happening." Kyle suddenly realized something and blurted out, "It's one thing to use Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Professor Dumbledore—but I'm just pretending to be him, not actually doing the Headmaster's job! Let's wait until he gets back, okay?"

"No, you're mistaken," Professor McGonagall said calmly. "Take out the letter and read it again. It's very clear."

Letter?

Kyle froze for a second.

On the train, he'd only bothered to grab the hair and the Polyjuice Potion—everything else he'd tossed aside without a second thought. Now that she brought it up, he couldn't even remember where he'd put the letter.

Kyle started digging through his pockets.

Galleon, master key, dried meat, owl nuts... a bunch of random things, but no letter.

In the end, it was Fawkes who flew over and dropped a folded piece of parchment onto the table—from his beak, no less. It was the very letter Dumbledore had written.

Kyle quickly snatched it up and scanned it.

"Near the bottom, fifth line from the end..." McGonagall prompted.

Kyle's eyes followed her cue.

Everything you need is in the other bag. Please use the Polyjuice Potion and temporarily take over the Headmaster's duties for me.

That was the line.

Back on the train, Kyle had seen it, sure—but he hadn't paid attention. The moment he saw the Polyjuice Potion, he'd basically tuned out the rest.

Which made sense—anyone seeing Polyjuice would assume it was just to show up in disguise for a bit.

Seriously, what kind of sane person would hand over a job as important as Headmaster to someone who had only just graduated last year?

Kyle couldn't imagine anyone who would.

Just pretend for a bit, fake it through—why take it seriously?

"No way. He must've scribbled that line without thinking," Kyle said as he tossed the letter back onto the table. "Professor McGonagall, I only graduated last year. Letting me handle school matters is way too reckless. You agree with me, right?"

"Actually, I don't have any objections—otherwise I wouldn't have brought you these," McGonagall said, unexpectedly nodding. "And Dumbledore wouldn't make that kind of mistake."

Kyle felt a chill.

Why would she agree?

Could it be that this wasn't really McGonagall either—someone else pretending with Polyjuice Potion?

Otherwise, how else could you explain such a completely uncharacteristic decision?

"I'm too young," Kyle tried.

"Doesn't matter," McGonagall replied coolly.

"The Board of Governors won't approve."

"With Dumbledore's letter, they will."

"But I don't have any experience."

"That's fine. You can learn. No one's born a Headmaster. I believe in your ability to learn. You already proved that back in school."

Now's really not the time for faith, Kyle grumbled silently.

"Well then, I'll just go ahead and approve everything." Out of excuses, Kyle decided to bluff. He slapped his hand on the stack of requests.

He hadn't read all of them, but just skimming through, he figured it'd cost at least fifty or sixty thousand Galleons to grant them all.

No way McGonagall would let him run wild.

"That's fine—if you can get the Governors to cover the costs," she said mildly, raising her eyelids just slightly. "Oh, and in that case, I'll be submitting a request too."

"I've always felt the animals used in Transfiguration class are too small—too easy. I want to get some larger ones. I hadn't managed to before because of the cost, but now... I don't think my little request will make much difference."

Kyle raked his hands through his hair in frustration as McGonagall looked on, completely unfazed.

Tens of thousands of Galleons? The Board agreeing to that would be a miracle. Even Dumbledore's name wouldn't make them cough up that kind of money—let alone his.

"Alright, alright," Kyle sighed. "How did Professor Dumbledore usually handle this?"

"In what regard?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Dealing with all this," Kyle muttered.

"So, you're planning to do things his way?" McGonagall glanced at him.

"What else can I do?" Kyle slumped back in his chair, mumbling, "I could've been sleeping at home, but you dragged me here and tricked me with a cleverly worded letter. What choice did I have?"

He sighed quietly. "If I'm pretending to be Dumbledore, then I should act like him too. That's the only way not to slip up."

"It's good that you're thinking that way," McGonagall nodded.

"So, how did Professor Dumbledore usually deal with this kind of thing?" Kyle flipped through the parchments on the desk again. "Is it always this much? I always thought being Hogwarts' Headmaster was a pretty laid-back job."

"Of course not. This is all backlog from before the holidays," McGonagall said after a moment's thought. "He had already left the school by then. It's been what—three months now?"

"Three months' worth?" Kyle sat up straight.

Judging by the amount of parchment on the table, that worked out to one sheet every two or three days—not completely unmanageable.

He opened one of Dumbledore's desk drawers and pulled out a gold-and-red quill... Of course Dumbledore would use something extravagant—Phoenix feather, no less.

But now, it had a new owner.

"So what do I do now—approve or reject?" Kyle pulled out a bottle of ink and set it on the table.

"Are you sure you want to handle things the way Dumbledore did?" McGonagall asked again, as if making sure.

"Of course," Kyle said.

"Very well," McGonagall nodded.

Then, to Kyle's complete disbelief, she picked up the entire thick stack of parchment from the desk and tossed it all—every last sheet—into the fireplace. With a flick of her wand, flames immediately roared to life.

The firelight flickered across one side of Kyle's face.

"This... this is how Dumbledore handled things?" he asked, stunned. "That straightforward?"

"No. That's how I handle things," McGonagall replied. "As Chief Warlock of the International Confederation of Wizards, Dumbledore always had more important matters to deal with. So, from quite early on, I began handling part of the school's business on his behalf."

"But he's not Chief Warlock anymore," Kyle pointed out. "He was even expelled from the International Confederation."

"That only happened recently," McGonagall said. "And even after that, he's been busy chasing down leads related to the Dark Lord. He's still barely had any free time."

"You should know—he hasn't spent much time at the school for the past two or three years."

"Now that you mention it, yeah..." Kyle said after thinking for a moment.

Especially last year—Dumbledore had shown up so rarely, it had mostly been Deputy Headmistress McGonagall managing things.

"You were right about one thing," McGonagall said, waving her hand to extinguish the fire now that the parchment had turned to ash.

"If we're only talking about the role of Hogwarts Headmaster, it is a rather leisurely job."

There was a clear hint of resignation in her tone as she said it.

Doing twice the work for a single salary—only someone like McGonagall, who had a strong relationship with Dumbledore, would put up with it.

"I honestly thought I'd finally get a bit of a break this year," she said, looking at Kyle, a flicker of expectation in her eyes.

This year's Quidditch season was bound to be more exciting than ever. If Kyle could shoulder the responsibilities that technically belonged to the Headmaster, she'd be able to free up some time and focus on the team and the matches.

Maybe even do a bit of training with the team herself.

McGonagall had several Quidditch strategies tucked away in her mind—ideas she'd come up with while watching games—but she'd never had the time to properly develop them.

This year seemed like the perfect opportunity. A rare moment of peace before the coming storm.

As for Kyle's capabilities, McGonagall wasn't the least bit concerned. His handling of Ministry-related matters had already shown that he wasn't clueless—and that he was quite competent.

Take last holiday's Dementor bounty initiative, for instance—he'd handled it perfectly.

There had been so many Dementors, yet they'd been dealt with in just a month—something that would've been unimaginable in the past.

And all the Ministry had to offer was a single Auror position.

No—calling it a "payment" would be too much.

Lupin was a highly capable wizard, more than qualified to serve as an Auror. From that perspective, the Ministry didn't lose anything at all—in fact, they gained a valuable asset.

As for Sirius, he was the one footing the bill, but the Black family wasn't exactly short on money. What he cared about was making sure his friend could live freely in the light.

It was mostly about friendship—and, McGonagall suspected, perhaps also a bit about making amends.

Because of a decision Sirius made more than a decade ago, their little group had fallen apart overnight.

One betrayed them all, two were killed by Voldemort, Sirius himself was thrown into Azkaban... and in the end, only Lupin was left, living for more than ten years in confusion and pain, not knowing the truth.

Sirius needed to do something—something that might bring him a shred of peace.

And Lupin, at last, had found a proper, respectable job.

The other wizards who helped catch the Dementors were well compensated, too.

All in all, everyone involved had come away satisfied.

The professors had chatted about it before as well, and everyone agreed—it was the wisest decision the Ministry of Magic had made in years.

What very few people knew, however, was that the one who initiated it all was Kyle. Every detail had been planned by him—and back then, he hadn't even graduated yet.

That alone was proof of his abilities.

If the Ministry of Magic had the nerve to appoint a not-yet-graduated student as a high-ranking assistant with real authority, then why couldn't Hogwarts do the same?

Of course, all of that depended on whether Kyle himself was willing.

"Well... I really do want to help you," Kyle said, turning his head slightly. "But you know I'm not Dumbledore. I'm just here as a stand-in. If I make a decision that seems off and makes people start questioning whether Dumbledore's really who he says he is... that wouldn't end well."

"What are you trying to say?" McGonagall's heart sank a little.

"I mean... maybe you could just keep things going the way they were before? Stick to the original process?" Kyle said cautiously.

He could practically feel the encouragement in McGonagall's eyes earlier—it was like she was staring straight into his soul. Of course he knew what she was hoping for.

But the truth was, he really didn't want the job.

The only reason he'd accepted a position at the Ministry was because Fudge was the one in charge. That guy was a walking disaster. If anything went wrong, Kyle could just dump all the blame on him.

But Hogwarts wasn't like that. It was a school. Every decision could directly affect the students, and Kyle wasn't ready to shoulder that burden... at least not yet.

"Then why weren't you worried about drawing suspicion during the Start-of-Term Feast yesterday?" McGonagall sat across from him, locking eyes.

"Honestly? I regretted it as soon as I woke up this morning."

Kyle shook his head. "I was probably just nervous. I didn't think it through—just blurted it out without thinking."

"Something like that might be fine once, but if it happens again, it's bound to raise eyebrows."

"You really don't want to take the chance to get familiar with the Headmaster's duties first?"

McGonagall stared at him for a long moment, reluctant. "This is a rare opportunity."

"I think the most important thing right now is to make sure everyone believes Professor Dumbledore is still around. School matters can wait," Kyle said.

"...Alright, I understand," McGonagall said, standing up. "We'll handle things the same way we did last year."

"Thank you, Professor." Kyle hurried around the desk and politely walked her to the door of the Headmaster's office.

As the heavy oak door closed behind her, a cold chuckle echoed through the room.

"Heh..."

"Headmaster Black, what's that supposed to mean?" Kyle didn't even need to look. His eyes went straight to the portrait of Phineas Black.

"Foolish," Phineas said, sitting on a stone with his legs crossed, looking relaxed. "What does Dumbledore think Hogwarts is, that he'd come up with something as ridiculous as having someone impersonate him with Polyjuice Potion?"

"And if that weren't enough, his taste—tsk, tsk..."

Was he insulting him now?

"Ha!" Kyle raised an eyebrow.

He was still being too nice. Back at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, he really should've just taken Phineas's portrait down and made it into a perch for Fawkes.

"Don't say that. I think Albus made the right call," said Headmaster Armando Dippet, opening his eyes. "Right now, the priority is keeping everyone calm."

"Yes."

"Quite right."

"It's a good plan."

The other headmasters' portraits all nodded in agreement.

"A bunch of fools," Phineas snorted when no one sided with him. "Have you even considered what'll happen if this gets exposed? Dumbledore's a fool, and you lot are even worse."

"As long as we don't say anything, it won't be exposed." A big-nosed wizard quietly shifted from his own portrait into the one beside Phineas's. "But you do raise a good point. I think we need to deal with one unstable factor first."

"What do you mean?" Phineas shot to his feet.

"Simple. We need to remind someone to keep his mouth shut."

"Bloody hell, get back to your own portrait!"

"Relax. I'll go back once I'm done." The big-nosed wizard raised his hand with a sharp wave—

As if he'd just given a signal.

In an instant, regardless of what the other headmasters had been doing, they all launched themselves at Phineas like it had been choreographed.

He didn't even have time to react before they'd surrounded him.

What followed was a chaotic mess of punches and kicks.

A slender witch, who hadn't managed to squeeze into the crowd, simply stepped into a nearby knight's portrait, grabbed his sword, and ran.

The sword instantly became a coveted item, sparking a new wave of fighting among the headmasters.

Kyle watched the scene unfold and stroked his chin.

He didn't know much about magical portraits, but they were probably connected to alchemy. If that was the case, maybe he could do a little research—see if he could make some toys to keep the headmasters entertained.

Something like maces... or maybe miniature mountain-splitters. Those could be fun.