The same day they discussed restoring Malfoy's memory, Kyle wrote a letter to Director Sykes.
The reply came quickly. Director Sykes' meaning was clear: as long as it wasn't the kind of violently-applied Memory Charm used by Mrs. Longbottom, St. Mungo's could restore the memories—but it would take time.
"Mrs. Longbottom?" Kyle held the letter and looked over at Dumbledore.
"That was more than ten years ago," Dumbledore explained. "When Alice and Frank were tortured by Death Eaters with the Cruciatus Curse, Neville was there too. To help him forget what happened, Mrs. Longbottom used a Memory Charm on him."
"She wasn't very skilled at it… What I mean is, her first attempt didn't fully erase Neville's memory, so she cast the charm three times in a row."
Kyle's eye twitched slightly.
He honestly didn't know if Mrs. Longbottom had been brave or just reckless. He wouldn't dare use a Memory Charm three times on the same person.
"No one can say she made the wrong decision," Dumbledore continued, "but some believe that certain things should be left to professionals—especially something as complex as a Memory Charm."
"Back then, Mrs. Longbottom's Charms scores weren't even passing… Of course, she was still capable in general—just not particularly adept at some spells."
Dumbledore added that last part in her defense.
"Director Sykes is one of those people, isn't she?" Kyle asked.
"She is," Dumbledore nodded. "Mrs. Longbottom's poor handling of the Memory Charm seems to have damaged Neville's memory, which is why he's had trouble remembering things ever since he was a child."
It was clear Director Sykes still held a grudge. More than a decade had passed, and she was still using Mrs. Longbottom as a cautionary tale.
"So what do you plan to do?" Dumbledore asked.
"I'll send him to St. Mungo's at night and bring him back in the morning," Kyle replied. "He's living alone now—no one would even notice he's missing from school."
"That's not going to work anymore," said Dumbledore. "Just yesterday, he moved back into his old dormitory with Crabbe and Goyle."
"What?" Kyle looked confused. "Isn't Professor Snape worried they'll knock him out in the middle of the night?"
"That was Severus's decision," Dumbledore explained. "Or rather… it was something Tom instructed him to do."
"To keep an eye on Malfoy?"
"Most likely. That's why I said—it'll be hard to get Mr. Malfoy to St. Mungo's without drawing attention."
"That's easy." Kyle didn't even hesitate. "Just use the Impe—Confundus Charm on Crabbe and Goyle. They'll fall for it easily."
Dumbledore's blue eyes gleamed behind his glasses.
For a split second, Kyle had almost said the Imperius Curse...
Lately, he seemed more and more like a dark wizard in the making. As Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, Dumbledore felt it was his responsibility to nip this in the bud.
"I must remind you, Kyle," Dumbledore said seriously, "the school rules at Hogwarts aren't just for students. They apply to professors too."
"It's only the Confundus Charm, that should be fine…"
Kyle started to explain the difference between the Confundus Charm and the Imperius Curse, but seeing the increasingly stern expression on Dumbledore's face, he gave up.
"Fine."
"Then let Potions use Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Malfoy. That should work. As long as Professor Snape doesn't say anything, those two idiots—Crabbe and Goyle—won't notice a thing."
Dumbledore's expression finally eased.
"So, do you have someone in mind?"
"How about Harry?" Kyle suggested. "He knows Malfoy inside and out. He'd be perfect."
Dumbledore paused, then shook his head. "He's not suitable. Harry still needs to be in school. Pick someone else."
"Then Cedric," Kyle said, recommending another name.
This time, Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.
Cedric was a good choice—clever and meticulous. Even if Crabbe and Goyle noticed something off, he could probably bluff his way through it.
"All right then. Write a letter to Mr. Diggory."
"No problem, but..." Kyle held out his hand. "This is extra work. I want overtime."
"Cedric's part of the Order of the Phoenix too."
"The Order of the Phoenix still needs to pay overtime," Kyle replied, giving Dumbledore a look. "Besides, didn't you disband it?"
Dumbledore had no comeback.
...
Kyle moved quickly and wrote the letter on the spot.
He wasn't asking for overtime on a whim—since the operation had to be kept secret, they couldn't go through official channels or request help from the Ministry of Magic.
Cedric would need to take time off to help, and even if he didn't care about the loss, they still had to compensate him.
By that afternoon, Cedric had arrived at Hogwarts.
The Ministry of Magic had been extremely busy lately, and getting time off—especially an extended leave—wasn't easy. But Kyle had connections there, and conveniently, one of them happened to be Cedric's direct superior.
Everything went smoothly. His leave was approved almost instantly.
That evening, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle left the common room together, heading to the Great Hall for dinner.
The group looked exactly the same as before—but their moods were completely different.
Malfoy's face was stiff and expressionless, while his former sidekicks now followed him like prison guards, matching his steps.
Crabbe, in particular, had his fists clenched so tightly it looked like he might slug Malfoy at any moment.
But just as they reached the upper landing of the staircase, a group of Hufflepuffs happened to come up from below—and the two groups met at the top.
"Hey, if it isn't the little Death Eater and his two troll henchmen!"
Someone jeered loudly, shoving Crabbe hard with his shoulder on purpose.
"Bloody hell, who are you calling a henchman?!" Crabbe snapped, grabbing the other boy by the collar.
"What, wanna fight?" Justin pulled out his wand without hesitation, eyes full of challenge.
"Bring it on. Let's see who's afraid of who!"
The surrounding Hufflepuffs surged forward, quickly forming a circle around Crabbe and Goyle.
But in the chaos, Malfoy had—whether intentionally or not—been pushed out of the crowd.
The press of bodies blocked Crabbe's line of sight, and he started to panic.
Not because he was scared of a fight—he and Goyle didn't think much of Hufflepuffs—but because he was afraid of losing sight of Malfoy.
This was the Dark Lord's first task for them. If they screwed it up, they were finished.
The two exchanged a glance and started shoving their way out.
But the Hufflepuffs were clearly out to provoke them and refused to move aside.
To make things worse, a group of Gryffindors showed up. Seeing someone picking a fight with Slytherins, they joined the fray without hesitation, surrounding Crabbe and Goyle even more tightly.
Outside the growing crowd, Malfoy gave a cold snort and turned to leave.
He had no intention of helping.
But just then—
"Stupefy!"
Malfoy didn't even see who cast it. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed on the spot.
He vaguely felt someone grab his collar and stuff him into something—and then, nothing.
At the same moment, another "Malfoy" smoothly took his place.
"Kyle, are you sure this is going to work?" Cedric, who had just taken the Polyjuice Potion, asked nervously. "I don't know Malfoy at all."
"Relax, you don't have to."
Kyle clapped him on the shoulder and said quickly, "Just keep your mouth shut and look like you've got a stick up your arse. If those two little trolls try anything, hit them. At this point, nobody would be surprised if Malfoy lashed out."
"..." Cedric opened his mouth, but before he could speak—
Snape suddenly appeared and, without a word, dispersed the crowd surrounding Crabbe and Goyle.
The two of them scrambled out, looking flustered. Their first reaction was to search for Malfoy—and when they saw "him" still standing where they'd left him, they let out a collective breath of relief.
"Good thing you know what's good for you," Crabbe growled, stomping over. "You filthy traitor—why didn't the Dark Lord just kill you?"
"Don't say that, Crabbe," Goyle muttered. "Draco, he…"
"You sticking up for him?!" Crabbe turned sharply, voice cold. "If he runs, you're finished too."
"I... I wasn't." Goyle lowered his head, falling silent.
Crabbe had changed a lot lately, and it unnerved him. Naturally, he didn't dare argue—especially since Crabbe wasn't wrong.
They were under orders to keep an eye on Malfoy. That was the mission.
"You'd better not try anything funny," Crabbe said with a vicious glare at Malfoy. "Or I'll show you what my fists taste like."
Cedric remembered Kyle's advice and stayed silent, his expression stone-cold as he gave a dismissive snort.
He still felt uneasy, but to his relief, Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem suspicious at all.
The moment the three of them entered the Great Hall, a young girl ran over.
"Draco! There you are."
Cedric froze again. He didn't recognize her at all—not even the faintest clue.
With no other choice, he put on a stern expression and let out another cold snort.
"Get lost."
The girl actually walked away.
At the staff table, Kyle nearly burst out laughing as he watched the exchange.
To be fair, Cedric was doing a pretty convincing job.
Once he was sure everything was going smoothly, Kyle wolfed down a few bites of dinner, then slipped out of Hogwarts and took Malfoy to St. Mungo's.
On the way back, he picked up a few bottles of Draught of Living Death for Cedric.
After all, the real challenge would come at night. If Crabbe and Goyle happened to wake up and saw someone else lying in Malfoy's bed, things would get messy.
It wasn't likely they'd wake early—but not impossible.
Better to play it safe.
As for how to get them to drink the sleeping potion… that was Cedric's problem. Kyle had faith he could handle it.
...
In the days that followed, Cedric's performance only improved. Even when he occasionally slipped up due to unforeseen circumstances, Kyle—who was keeping a constant eye on him—was always there to smooth things over.
Snape had been a big help too.
His visits to the Slytherin common room had become noticeably more frequent, especially at night.
Everything seemed to be going well.
At least, that's what Kyle and the others thought. For Cedric, the past few days had been nothing short of exhausting.
At first, he could barely sleep. Even though he knew Crabbe and Goyle were unlikely to wake up, he still took a sip of Polyjuice Potion every few hours, just to be safe.
As a result, Kyle's stock ran out, and he had to pull a few more hairs from Malfoy.
And so, things continued until the end of the holiday—when Kyle officially became a professor.
As part of the agreement for taking over Malfoy's situation, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had discussed and approved Kyle's previous request to adjust the class schedule.
All Ancient Runes classes, across all year levels, were now held on the same day—specifically, the first day of term.
It wasn't a complicated change. Ancient Runes classes were few and far between, just one lesson per week, so shifting the schedule took little effort.
Dressed in slightly more formal robes, Kyle stepped into the classroom.
He didn't recognize any of the students. Well—except one.
Hermione.
And she was the only familiar face he'd see all day.
Hermione looked equally surprised. Even though she'd known this was coming, seeing Kyle walk into the classroom in person still caught her off guard.
She acknowledged that Kyle was talented, but could he really handle being a professor?
Teaching and studying were two very different things.
However, her doubts quickly faded.
Kyle's teaching style was nothing like Professor Babblay's—in fact, it was the complete opposite. Yet she found it easy to follow, and more than that, she felt he explained things with greater clarity.
By seventh year, they no longer focused on what each rune meant individually, but rather on their more complex magical applications.
That meant shifting from translation, Hermione's strong suit, to actual spellwork—something far more intricate.
She'd struggled a bit during the first half of the school year, but in this class, everything felt surprisingly straightforward.
"Runes are the embodiment of magic," Kyle said calmly from the front of the room. "When you use them, imagine you're casting magic itself."
"Take the simplest charm—Lumos—as an example."
He gave his wand a flick, and a simple rune appeared on the ceiling.
"The rune for 'coalesce' corresponds to the hand motion,"
"Then, if we add a spell, representing the magical essence..." Another wave of the wand, another rune.
"Light."
The two runes combined, and a bright light flared into existence.
"See? That's rune-based magic," Kyle explained. "It's different from incantations, but also very similar. If you stop thinking of it as a whole new subject and start connecting it with spellwork, you'll find it's not so hard after all."
"What about more advanced spells?" Hermione raised her hand, though her voice had already reached the front before she finished speaking.
"I mean, more complicated ones."
"Then you add more runes," Kyle replied, drawing his wand again. "Let's try the Levitation Charm."
"Who still remembers the wand movement for that?"
"Swish and flick," the entire class replied in near-perfect unison.
It was first-year material, and they were now in seventh. Of course they remembered.
"Exactly. Swish first…" A rune appeared on the podium.
"Still the 'coalesce' rune—like the downward wand movement. You'll use this in almost every spell. It's so common you don't even need to think about it. Just draw it."
"After all, you always move your wand when casting magic."
A ripple of laughter ran through the class—something that had never happened before in Ancient Runes.
"Then comes a tap... the 'convert' rune, representing a change in magical flow."
"And finally, the incantation... 'levitate.'"
Three runes aligned in sequence, and a book lifted smoothly into the air.
Hermione's eyes lit up. Out of habit, she pulled out her notebook to jot things down—but after only two lines, she stopped.
There simply wasn't much to write.
By the time the class ended, she had filled only two pages—less than half of what she usually wrote in a single lesson.
It felt like the meaning behind the runes had suddenly become obvious.
As the other students filed out, Hermione remained seated at the back.
She watched as Kyle stretched at the podium, then hurried over and immediately began peppering him with questions about things that had puzzled her earlier.
Kyle answered them all in just a few sentences.
"I didn't expect you to know so much about runes," Hermione said in surprise. "No wonder the Headmaster asked you to replace Professor Babblay."
Kyle gave her a crooked smile, shamelessly accepting the compliment.
He really had Tom Riddle to thank for this. Back when he'd been using that notebook, he'd asked endless questions. Riddle had answered all of them patiently—sometimes even adding his own thoughts to help young wizards understand more easily.
Tom had clearly gone to great lengths to earn Kyle's trust.
All Kyle needed to do now was strip away the personal commentary from those answers and repeat them in class. It required no effort at all.
Even Hermione's question just now was something he'd already asked before, so answering it was simple.
Come to think of it, Voldemort had sort of achieved his dream—teaching at Hogwarts.
Except it was Kyle getting the paycheck.
Really, Tom should've just applied to teach Ancient Runes.
Knowing Professor Babblay's temperament, if Tom had applied, she probably would've resigned on the spot.
He could've gone to the Headmaster's Office in the morning and started work by the afternoon—so convenient. Why was he so fixated on Defence Against the Dark Arts?
Too stubborn for his own good.
Kyle snapped out of his thoughts to find Hermione still standing there, staring at him.
"You're still here?" he blurted out.
Hermione stiffened.
In all her years at Hogwarts, this was the first time a professor had actually tried to kick her out.
"Kyle... um, Professor," she said awkwardly, clearly not used to the title. "I still have questions about rune placement. Could you maybe—"
"Nope." Kyle shook his head, cutting her off.
"It's almost time for dinner. Even if you're not hungry, I am. If you've got more questions, ask them next class. That's it."
"But that's ages from now," Hermione frowned.
"Perfect. That gives you time to review today's material."
And with that, Kyle stood up and walked out, not giving her a chance to say anything else.
He had no choice—if he let Hermione go on, she'd keep asking until nightfall. Kyle had no interest in becoming a living textbook.
He had other things to do.