Chapter 213: Weasley’s Words of Wisdom

Back at the castle, Kyle tossed the bundle of rowan branches into the common room before disappearing into his enchanted suitcase to get back to work. In his rush, he managed to finish all his homework within just two days, leaving the rowan branches entirely in Cedric and the others' hands. They'd done this process the previous year, so he trusted they knew what to do.

Once everyone had their tasks, Kyle seemed to vanish. He didn't show up at mealtimes, and no one could find him anywhere in the castle. The only time anyone caught sight of him was briefly in the common room before curfew, and then he'd disappear again early each morning.

This pattern continued all the way until the start of the school term.

At breakfast on the first day back, Cedric, noticing the dark circles under Kyle's eyes, asked curiously, "Where've you been these past few days? No one could find you anywhere in the castle."

"The eighth floor…" Kyle mumbled through a yawn. "There's a special room down the corridor there, just across from the Troll tapestry. It turns into any room you need, and you don't have to worry about anyone finding you."

"I've been using it these past few days."

"A room like that actually exists in the castle?" Kanna exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Well, this is Hogwarts…" Cedric replied thoughtfully. "I've heard of a mysterious room on the eighth floor that changes unpredictably. Some people said it turned into a fancy bedroom, while others saw it as a storage room filled with junk. It seems everyone who goes in sees something different. I even remember Fred and George talking about a broom cupboard on the eighth floor they used to hide from Filch, but when they tried to go back, it had disappeared. That broom cupboard must be the room you're talking about, right?"

"Yeah, it's called the Room of Requirement," Kyle explained, reaching for a pancake. "When Fred and George wanted to hide, the room became a broom cupboard. But if you need a place to practice magic, it'll turn into a large empty classroom."

"That's incredible…" Cedric's eyes lit up. "Could I go and take a look? Do you think it could turn into a Quidditch training ground so I could practice catching the Golden Snitch?"

"I want to go too!" Kanna chimed in. "I've always wanted a place to practice potions where I won't be disturbed."

"Sure," Kyle said. "All you have to do is walk along the corridor, mentally focusing on what you need, and pass back and forth three times. When you do, the door will appear."

After a moment's thought, he added, "But… if someone's already inside, you won't be able to use it unless you enter the same room."

Cedric's eyes gleamed with excitement, and without another word, he abandoned his breakfast and dashed off toward the eighth floor.

"Aren't you going?" Kyle asked, noticing Kanna sipping her pumpkin juice.

"Didn't you say only one person could use it at a time?" Kanna shook her head. "Let him go first. I can use the empty classrooms to practice—there's no rush."

"Oh, by the way…" Kanna suddenly remembered something. "The other day, a new Gryffindor student came looking for you quite a few times."

"Gryffindor?" Kyle frowned. The trio came to mind immediately; they were the only Gryffindor first-years he knew.

"Yes, a girl named Hermione Granger," Kanna replied slowly. "She seemed pretty upset… You didn't tell her the Sorting Hat used the Killing Curse to determine her house, did you?"

"Of course not. I went straight to Professor Sprout's office as soon as I got here. I didn't even see any first-years," Kyle replied. Then, glancing sideways at Kanna, he muttered, "Not everyone's as gullible as you are—believing everything people say—" Before he could finish, a baked potato came flying at him.

Kyle caught it effortlessly, peeled off the skin, and took a bite.

"So, did Hermione mention what she wanted to talk to me about?"

"No," Kanna replied, scowling. "But Fred and George said she's been very outspoken against your Exam-Passing Amulet, so that's probably why she came looking for you."

"Oh…" Kyle nodded, understanding immediately. It was likely another one of Hagrid's slips, and with Hermione's personality, her disapproval made sense. Not that it mattered much to him—after all, he wasn't responsible for Gryffindor. Fred and George would have to deal with her concerns.

After breakfast, Kyle and Kanna made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. This term, Professor Quirrell looked even worse than before; his face was ashen and hollowed, almost cadaverous. Rumors about him being cursed by a Zombie were growing more believable by the day, and students had stopped making fun of his stutter. Now, they often gave him sympathetic smiles in the halls—even Fred and George.

One day, during a gathering in the Room of Requirement, Fred declared, "Imagine the courage he must have—to keep teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts under a Zombie Curse! Quirrell's the real Gryffindor."

"His bravery's thicker than that ridiculous scarf," George agreed solemnly.

"And dealing with the smell of garlic every day…" Cho shuddered. "If it were me, I'd have lost my mind ages ago."

Cedric smirked at the twins. "Funny, considering you two were throwing snowballs at him at the beginning of the year."

"We feel genuinely guilty about that," George replied, sounding unusually serious. "If Professor Quirrell's still around at the end of the school year, we'll apologize for it."

"Why wait until the end of the school year?" Cho asked, puzzled. "Why not now?"

"What if he's hiding something?" Fred shook his head. "Don't forget, he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—no one can guarantee he'll make it to the end of the term."

"Just like Professor Oren last year…" George's face turned somber as he glanced at Kyle. "He was a good teacher—funny in class, friendly outside of it. I never would've guessed it was all an act."

"We defended him so fiercely, we even argued with Ravenclaw over him," Fred added, sighing. "Turns out it was all just a ruse. He broke our trust…"

As Fred and George became more emotional, they looked as though they might actually hug each other and start crying.

Kyle chuckled, shaking his head. He had a feeling their admiration for Professor Oren had less to do with his personality and more with his tendency not to assign homework. Unlike Oren, who'd been lenient, Quirrell—despite looking weaker with every passing day—was meticulous with his assignments and graded with unwavering strictness. Even using larger handwriting didn't earn students any leniency.