Percy's return brought warmth and liveliness back to The Burrow. Mrs. Weasley, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, was in noticeably better spirits than before.
That very day, she prepared a lavish dinner and warmly invited Kyle to join them.
Chris was still away on the Hebrides Islands.
Which wasn't surprising—anything involving dragons was never simple. And with even Newt involved, it was clearly not something that could be handled in just a day or two.
Chances were, Chris would be stationed there for a while. Kyle had considered offering to help—if only to pass the time—but without an invitation, showing up unannounced would almost certainly be considered trespassing.
Dragon sanctuaries, after all, were full of eggs and hatchlings. To prevent theft, unfamiliar wizards were generally barred from entering.
That was certainly the case at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.
Especially now, with the Hebridean Black Dragons acting up, tension on the Hebrides Islands would be high. Showing up out of nowhere might lead to unnecessary conflict, and no one wanted injuries—on either side.
So after some deliberation, Kyle decided to drop the idea.
Besides, Chris had a point—between him and Newt, they had things covered. Kyle wouldn't be of much help anyway. Better to stay home, rest up, and prepare for what was coming.
...
At 7 p.m. sharp, Kyle arrived at The Burrow. Mr. Weasley was there too, having managed to leave work on time for once.
Fred and George were there as well. Although they'd spent the afternoon loudly declaring they wanted nothing to do with celebrating Percy's return, here they were.
The two of them were wearing their old dragon-hide jackets—the ones from their shop's opening—and had clearly cleaned themselves up. George's hair gleamed like it had been licked by a Three-Headed Dog.
Fred smelled faintly of something floral—probably Madam Primpernelle's Skin Soothing Cream. It was the kind of product usually favored by witches. Kanna, Cho, and Ginny were all devoted fans.
Kyle shot them an amused glance but didn't say anything.
"Don't get the wrong idea," Fred said, catching Kyle's look. "This was honestly the most outdated thing we could find."
"No need to explain—I get it," Kyle said, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's fine. Percy's your brother, after all. Totally natural. No need to feel embarrassed."
And with that, Kyle turned and headed into the house.
"What does he think he gets?" Fred raised an eyebrow.
"I think he misunderstood," George muttered. "We shouldn't have been messing around with that explosive face cream earlier. I rushed over here afraid we'd be late and didn't even change."
"Yeah..." Fred tugged at his jacket and whispered, "Do you think if we go explain to him now that the dragon-hide jacket is to protect us from explosive puff pods, he'll believe it?"
"Doubtful." George sighed, scratching his head. "Ugh, this gunk is still in my hair—I didn't even wash it all out..."
"Let's deal with it later. We should head in before Mum starts lecturing us about being late," Fred said.
"No other choice."
The two of them hurried into The Burrow.
Ron and Ginny weren't there, but with Bill and Charlie home, the house still felt full—but not in a bad way. The kind of full that felt warm and lively.
Kyle sat next to Charlie, watching as Mrs. Weasley beamed while serving stew onto everyone's plates. Fred and George were already loudly heckling Percy again.
By 8 p.m., Kyle left The Burrow and returned home.
...
Over the next few days, Chris still hadn't returned.
The Daily Prophet had picked up on the situation in the Hebrides Islands, reporting that some Muggles had spotted dragons in the area—more than one, in fact. Fortunately, the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had arrived in time to modify their memories. Otherwise, the incident might've gone viral in the Muggle world.
Actually, it had already spread, but few people believed it. And with the eyewitnesses now unable to recall anything, the story was dismissed as a hoax meant to attract attention, and public interest quickly faded.
Now, members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were stationed in the area, ready to respond to any further emergencies.
Luckily, the dragons seemed to have calmed down and hadn't ventured out again.
Chris ended up staying on the islands even longer than Kyle had expected—nearly another two weeks. When he finally returned, he looked completely worn out.
He told Kyle that the Hebridean Black Dragons' outburst had been triggered because some wizard—likely Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters—had blown up the highest cliff on the southern edge of the Hebrides Islands.
"It was just a cliff," Kyle said, puzzled. "Why would that matter so much?"
Cliffs were everywhere on the islands. It wasn't like it had been a nesting ground or held dragon eggs. Was it really worth them getting so enraged?
From what Kyle remembered, the Hebridean Black Dragons hadn't left the islands in over two centuries. All their previous conflicts had been internal. But now they were ready to leave in search of whoever was responsible...
"It's not about the cliff itself," Chris sighed. "What if that was where they chose their leaders? Every Hebridean Black chieftain on the islands has died on that cliff—and been born there too. You could call it sacred ground. And then someone just blew it up."
Right. That, Kyle could understand.
No wonder the dragons were furious.
"Did you find out who did it?" Kyle asked.
"If only," Chris said, shaking his head. "But the spell they used was strong enough to blast apart a cliff. There aren't many wizards capable of that. We're guessing it was You-Know-Who. Only he—or a group of Death Eaters acting together—could unleash that kind of destruction."
"You-Know-Who?" Kyle frowned. "Hasn't he been lying low this whole time? Why would he suddenly show up on the Hebrides and blow up a cliff? What's he gain from provoking dragons?"
"That's what we'd like to know too," Chris said, pouring himself a glass of Firewhisky. "Maybe he just wanted to stir up chaos. If Newt hadn't managed to calm down the strongest Hebridean Black using a Hungarian Horntail, the towns nearby would be in complete chaos by now."
"And even if the Ministry responded quickly, there's no way they'd be able to modify every Muggle's memory in such a short time."
Hungarian Horntails...
Calmed them down?
Kyle couldn't wrap his head around that. As the most aggressive species of dragon, Hungarian Horntails had never been known for their calm demeanor. Especially when encountering other dragons—if they didn't immediately lash out with their tails, that alone would count as uncharacteristically gentle.
If Kyle had to guess, it was more likely a physical method of calming: beat the strongest Hebridean Black into submission, and the others would quiet down on their own.
"They really don't know when to stop," Kyle muttered. "You're sure it was Death Eaters?"
"It's only speculation," Chris replied. "But we found strong traces of Dark magic in the area—and residue from Fiendfyre. It's almost certainly them."
Kyle grumbled a few words under his breath. He had to admit, if Voldemort's plan had succeeded, it would've caused massive trouble for the Ministry.
No wonder they'd been so quiet lately. He never would've expected this... but then again, without this incident, he wouldn't have been able to guess their real objective either.
Inciting dragons into a frenzy—trust them to come up with something that insane.
After finishing his Firewhisky, Chris polished off a full plate of sandwiches and two grilled sausages before dragging his exhausted body back to his room.
...
Time passed. October arrived, and the weather grew steadily colder. Finally, Kyle received an owl from Nicolas.
But to his disappointment, it wasn't the repaired Time-Turner.
It was a mirror.
A two-way mirror.
As soon as Kyle picked it up, Nicolas's face appeared in it.
"How have you been lately?" Nicolas asked with a smile.
"Alright, just getting a little impatient," Kyle said, setting the mirror down on the table. "When I saw the owl, I thought the Time-Turner was finally fixed."
"Patience," Nicolas said. "That thing isn't easy to repair. By the way, have you been drinking what I gave you?"
"Of course. I haven't missed a day." Kyle held up the bottle of 'raspberry juice.' "I've been meaning to ask—what is this stuff actually for?"
"It protects you from temporal interference," Nicolas explained. "Albus told me that the last time you used the Time-Turner, you experienced some confusion, didn't you?"
"I did." Kyle nodded.
It must have been back in his third year, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. He'd unknowingly been pulled several months back in time.
From that point on, he'd started doing a lot of inexplicable things—without realizing a Time-Turner had been involved.
Like insisting on keeping the Basilisk a secret. Under normal circumstances, he would've told Dumbledore right away, but back then, he simply didn't want to say anything.
Later, Rowena Ravenclaw had explained that she'd set up certain enchantments that affected him when his perception of time was unstable.
It was a bit complicated. In short, Ravenclaw had laid down a magical construct at Hogwarts, but it only affected those who had experienced temporal disturbances.
And to trigger it, the disturbance had to span more than two months—meaning ordinary Time-Turners, which only rewound a day or two, wouldn't be affected.
In other words, it was a spell specifically targeted at him.
"But that was so many years ago. What does it have to do with now?" Kyle asked.
"When two versions of yourself exist in the same time and space, your mind becomes unstable. That's one of the main reasons many wizards are wary of Time-Turners," Nicolas explained. "This potion is meant to solve that problem. Drink it daily for a month, and you'll no longer be affected."
"If you want to rescue Albus, you need to make sure your mind is completely clear. So even if I finished repairing the Time-Turner, I wouldn't give it to you until the full month has passed."
"I see." Kyle nodded. "Thanks."
"No need to thank me. It's just part of the preparation," Nicolas said.
"So you contacted me just to tell me that?"
"Didn't you ask me first?"
"Huh? Oh... sorry, I forgot."
"It's fine. Understandable." Nicolas smiled. "Actually, I also forgot to mention something earlier."
"What is it?"
"There's somewhere you'll need to go," said Nicolas. "Once you travel back in time, your first priority will be to find Albus, right?"
"Yeah. Why? Is there a problem?"
"Do you know where he is?" Nicolas asked.
Kyle froze.
Come to think of it—he really didn't.
All he knew was that the Dumbledore family used to live in Godric's Hollow, next door to Bathilda Bagshot.
But that was where the young Dumbledore had lived. The one he needed to find was the Dumbledore who had gone back in time.
"Looks like you've realized it too," Nicolas said as he carefully pulled a thick book toward him. "So before anything else, you'll need to speak with someone who might know where Albus would hide."
"Who? Professor McGonagall might know, right?"
"She doesn't. In fact, no one does—except one person."
"Who?"
"Grindelwald. You've probably heard the name."
Kyle was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I've heard of him. Sixty years ago, he was Professor Dumbledore's greatest rival."
"And his closest friend," Nicolas said softly. "As much as I hate to admit it, the two of them shared a deep bond in their youth. They understood each other in ways no one else could. That connection never truly disappeared—it was just buried, deep in their hearts.
"If anyone can guess where Albus might have gone after returning to the past, it's Grindelwald."
"You want me to go see him?" Kyle's voice rose involuntarily.
He really didn't want to meet Grindelwald. As the dark wizard who nearly brought all of Europe to its knees, the man was dangerous in ways that went beyond magic. Kyle had even heard that no one was allowed near him in captivity.
The fear was that even the guards could fall under his influence and turn traitor. Some said his powers of persuasion were more terrifying than his spells.
If given a choice, Kyle would rather face Voldemort—well, the post-Horcrux version of Voldemort.
Back when he was still Tom Riddle, he was just as dangerous as Grindelwald, capable of inspiring fanatic loyalty in those around him.
But their paths had diverged. Tom had chosen power and immortality, willingly discarding everything else.
"Do I have to go?" Kyle asked, clearly reluctant.
"Not necessarily," said Nicolas. "If you want to search slowly, you can skip it. But I can't guarantee how long it'll take."
"Then what if I make a scene and get Professor Dumbledore to notice me?" Kyle asked. "He definitely knows who I am, right?"
"That's one way," Nicolas agreed. "But can you guarantee that the Dumbledore who sees Ariana again will be in any state to notice anything else?"
Kyle said nothing.
Honestly, he couldn't guarantee that.
Dumbledore had blamed himself for Ariana's death for a century. Seeing her again might completely overwhelm him.
"Alright, I'll go." Kyle sighed.
"Don't worry so much," Nicolas said with a chuckle. "You're going to rescue Dumbledore. He won't hurt you—in fact, he'll probably do everything he can to help. I promise."
"I hope so." Kyle shook his head and stood. "Then I'll go now."
"And where exactly are you going?"
"Nurmengard. That's where Grindelwald's being held, isn't it?"
"And do you know where Nurmengard actually is?"
"It's in Austria, I think. I read that in a book somewhere."
"But I bet that book didn't give you a precise location. Or do you think Nurmengard is just a tower randomly built by the roadside where anyone can stop in for a visit?"
Kyle stopped mid-step, then sat back down. "You know how to get there, don't you?"
"Funny thing," Nicolas said, blinking. "I actually helped build Nurmengard."
He flipped open the thick book on the table. "Let me find it… Ah, here it is."
He propped the book up and turned it toward the mirror.
Kyle leaned in immediately.
He saw an old, faded photograph of a circular stone tower—thick and chimney-like.
Beneath the photo was a line of text. Kyle stared at it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to remember the words.
A few seconds later, Nicolas shut the book.
"Wait, I haven't memorized it yet."
"That's enough," Nicolas said. "Off you go. By the time you return, the Time-Turner should be ready."