As a magical transport exclusively for witches and wizards, the Knight Bus was unmatched in both price and speed—but the ride itself left much to be desired.
Kyle had to cling tightly to the armrest beside his seat just to keep from being flung out by the violent jolts and lurches.
The double-decker bus moved like an overexcited husky unleashed on city streets—completely unpredictable. One moment it might squeeze through an alley barely wide enough for a single person, the next it could thunder down an unpaved stone path. Sometimes, it even jumped over rooftops.
It was all about efficiency. If a shortcut existed—or didn't—it didn't matter. The Knight Bus would barrel through anyway.
Finally, before Kyle could lose his breakfast, the bus screeched to a halt.
"Godric's Hollow!" the conductor's cheerful voice rang out up front. It was easy to tell she genuinely enjoyed her job.
Kyle stepped off in a hurry. If he could help it, he'd rather not go through that again.
As the doors closed behind him, he heard her voice once more.
"Next stop, Diagon Alley—we've got more passengers!"
The bus flickered in the air a few times before vanishing entirely.
Kyle stood still for a moment, letting his stomach settle.
Right about then, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion began to wear off. Black hair sprouted once more on his previously thinning scalp, and Kyle returned to his normal appearance.
The timing was perfect. A minute later and he would've needed another dose—and in that kind of jostling ride, he wasn't sure he could've kept it down.
A few minutes later, he turned and walked into Godric's Hollow.
Unlike the version he remembered, the village still seemed to be populated entirely by wizards. The houses were all bizarre and colorful, each with a unique design—none looked even remotely like a typical Muggle home.
Kyle passed a structure shaped like an upside-down umbrella—wide at the top, narrow at the bottom—then followed a massive waterwheel-shaped house deeper into the valley.
His first task was to find Dumbledore's home. He'd looked into it before arriving—according to what he'd learned, it was in the southern part of the valley, not far from Bathilda Bagshot's house. The two had once been neighbors.
Kyle had visited Bathilda's home before, but that was a hundred years in the future. The surroundings had changed so much that it took him several loops around the valley and a good deal of time before he finally found the modest two-story house.
Bathilda's home hadn't changed much in layout, but now it looked far newer. The blue-painted walls were clean, free of the vines that once choked them, and the red-tiled roof stood out brightly.
Though the garden wasn't large, it was meticulously maintained and filled with blooming rue, its soft scent wafting through the air. In the center stood a small birdbath, drawing flocks of chirping birds to rest nearby, creating a lively atmosphere.
It was clear the homeowner loved the place and kept everything in perfect order.
In fact, Kyle had seen the house at the very beginning—but he'd instinctively assumed he had the wrong place. It looked nothing like the Bagshot home from his memory: dark, oppressive, and the perfect set piece for a horror film once the sun went down.
Only after exhausting all other options and circling the valley several times did he return here.
When he arrived, a witch in her twenties was shooing garden gnomes away while yelling up at a second-story window.
"I knew it—they were bound to expel you eventually. Just look at what you've done! Who runs dangerous magical experiments at school? …Hey, Gellert, I'm talking to you! Even out of basic manners, you should at least look at me. I am your great-aunt, you know."
"I heard you. You don't have to keep reminding me."
A resigned voice drifted down from above. Moments later, a golden-haired head popped out of the window.
"You don't look that much older than me. Honestly, I prefer just 'aunt.' Sounds younger, don't you think?"
The boy looked about fifteen or sixteen—slightly younger than Dumbledore at that age. He still had a touch of boyishness, but his features were strikingly handsome.
Judging by the way she addressed him, this had to be Gellert Grindelwald.
His hair was long and golden, draping over his shoulders and glinting in the sunlight. Perched on the windowsill like that, he looked almost like a majestic bird made of light.
"Don't think I'm going to fall for your sweet talk again, Gellert. I'm telling you—it's useless. It doesn't work on me."
Despite her words, the young Bathilda Bagshot didn't seem to notice her voice had softened considerably.
"Stop changing the subject. Why would you do something so dangerous—experimenting with Dark magic at school? All you had to do was wait a few more days for the holidays!"
"And now look—you've been expelled, and you won't even get your diploma."
"A diploma? Ha. I don't need that sort of thing to prove myself."
Gellert Grindelwald spoke with complete indifference. "Besides, the best ideas come in a flash. I'm not the kind of person who waits around for the perfect time."
"If you don't care about the diploma, then why did you come here to hide?" Bathilda demanded.
"I'm not hiding," Grindelwald said casually. "But Aunt, I don't think this is the right time for that conversation." He raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the road. "It looks like you have a visitor."
"Visitor?" Bathilda turned and spotted Kyle as well.
Out of courtesy, she rinsed the mud from her hands in the birdbath before walking over.
"Who are you, and why are you standing in front of my house?"
"Ah—sorry," Kyle said, a little embarrassed. He'd been so caught up listening that he'd stopped without realizing it—and hadn't expected to be noticed so quickly.
"Actually, I'm here traveling," he quickly offered, already settling on a story. "I was just wondering if there's anywhere nearby that offers lodging."
"Traveling?" Bathilda frowned. "What's there to see around here?"
"Well, quite a bit actually. This is the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor. As a Hogwarts student, I've always wanted to see it for myself."
"You know this is where Gryffindor was born?"
For some reason, Bathilda's eyes lit up, and she immediately grew more animated.
"Is that strange?" Kyle took an instinctive half-step back. "Isn't it common knowledge? I mean, this place is called Godric's Hollow, and Gryffindor's name was Godric."
"No, no, not many people know that," Bathilda said, wagging a finger. "Most people today believe this is where Gryffindor met Ravenclaw. Very few are aware that it's actually his birthplace."
"You must have read a lot of magical history to know that! I'm guessing you've read Crossing the Muddy Valley and A Compendium of Tenth-Century Wizards, haven't you?"
"Uh… yeah…" Kyle gave a couple of awkward chuckles.
Truthfully, he'd never even heard of those books. The only one he'd read was A History of Magic.
That book mentioned the origins of the name Godric's Hollow—it was covered in the first lesson of first-year history, so Kyle had always assumed it was basic common knowledge.
Then it hit him: A History of Magic was written by Bathilda Bagshot herself, and at this point in time, she hadn't even written it yet.
"Right, yes—I've read them," Kyle said, forcing himself to go along.
"So you're a student who enjoys magical history too?" Bathilda's expression brightened further.
"I love magical history," she said with enthusiasm. "I think there's something fascinating about digging up the stories buried in time. That's why I chose to live here."
"I must admit, Aunt, I don't share your interests," came Grindelwald's voice again from upstairs. "Magic is the truly wondrous thing. History belongs in the past—let it stay there."
"Shut it, Gellert, or I'll send you back where you came from!" Bathilda snapped, fierce as a dragon.
And under that dragon's threat, the "golden bird" promptly closed its beak.
"Sorry about that, dear," Bathilda turned back to Kyle with a warm smile. "Don't mind him. That's Gellert Grindelwald—my grandnephew. He was a student at Durmstrang."
"I'm sure you've heard of it. That school's full of muscle-brained oafs who believe in brute force. None of them appreciate the elegance of history."
"I'm not one of them—I got expelled!" Grindelwald called out, correcting her.
"And you think that's something to brag about?" Bathilda roared.
"At least I'm not stupid," Grindelwald said with a grin, leaping smoothly from the windowsill and landing lightly on the ground.
"You really a history student?" he asked, looking Kyle up and down.
To be honest, Kyle was already starting to sweat.
In his original plan, he hadn't intended to speak to anyone in Godric's Hollow. All he needed to do was wait quietly for Dumbledore.
Diagon Alley had been different—far enough away, with little connection to his actual objective. As long as he didn't do anything too outrageous… say, unleashing a basilisk and wiping out the entire street… then the passage of time would eventually smooth over whatever he'd done.
That was his greatest advantage—because a hundred years ago, there had been no other Kyle. In a way, he belonged to this era.
But Godric's Hollow was different. The people here were all extraordinary. And the most troublesome among them?
Grindelwald and Dumbledore.
Kyle wasn't sure his lies would hold up under their scrutiny.
And worse, they were about to become the central figures of the wizarding world for decades to come—getting involved with them was far too dangerous.
But at this point, there was no way to just walk away, so Kyle could only force himself to say, "Yes, I really do like magical history."
"Then do you know where Durmstrang is?" Grindelwald asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Gellert," Bathilda frowned, "you…"
"It's fine, Aunt," Grindelwald said with a shrug. "He doesn't look much older than me—probably a student too. And if he's a student, I'm sure he's curious about other wizarding schools."
"Ah, yes, though I'm not exactly sure where it is," Kyle replied after a moment's thought. "But I do know it's in Northern Europe, a really cold place. I heard their school uniform even includes a fur cloak."
"You're right, it is cold," Grindelwald said, raising an eyebrow. "But is that all you know?"
"I'm actually more interested in goblins than wizarding schools," Kyle said smoothly. "At school, I've been studying the history of the goblin rebellions."
Bathilda's eyes lit up even more.
"Goblins, rebellions… I'm fascinated by that too. Can you share what you've found?" Grindelwald asked.
"I found some records related to Hogsmeade," Kyle said. "There's a place there that used to be their command post. It's abandoned now. I tried to explore it and look for remnants, but I got kicked out."
Grindelwald turned to Bathilda, as if to confirm the story, but saw that she had become visibly excited.
"If you're interested in goblin rebellion history," she said eagerly, "I recommend visiting the Bakul Ruins. That's where the goblin leader Bakul first decided to start the uprising. There are lots of valuable traces left there—and their old weapons forge, too."
"Sounds like I've got my next destination," Kyle said with a smile.
Grindelwald chuckled suddenly and gave Bathilda a teasing look. "I always thought you were the only one who liked that sort of dull subject. I didn't expect to meet someone else who shares the interest."
"Watch your manners."
"Oh, apologies," Grindelwald said sincerely. "Even if I don't understand it, I respect your interests—and I truly hope you achieve what you're after."
He gave a slight bow, then turned and walked back into the house, leaving Kyle alone.
The truth was, Grindelwald had initially come down because he was worried Bathilda might be getting scammed. The moment he saw Kyle, he'd had a gut feeling the man wasn't completely trustworthy—and hard to read.
But judging from Bathilda's reactions, it seemed his concerns had been unfounded. This visitor clearly had real knowledge of magical history.
Must be one of those British wizard quirks, he thought.
And to him, someone obsessed with history wasn't worth wasting time on.
Once Grindelwald left, Kyle finally let out a breath. Fortunately, Grindelwald seemed entirely focused on his magical studies right now. To him, Kyle probably wasn't much more significant than the gnomes in the garden.
Bathilda, on the other hand, was extremely enthusiastic. It was rare for her to meet someone who shared her passion for magical history, and she happily chatted away, taking Kyle from the goblin rebellions all the way through to the Giant Wars.
Thanks to what he remembered from A History of Magic, Kyle was able to follow along and offer the occasional comment. For the parts the book hadn't covered, he simply claimed he hadn't gotten to them yet.
After all, he'd positioned himself as a sixth-year Hogwarts student. It was perfectly normal not to know everything.
In fact, knowing too much would've been more suspicious.
Before he realized it, it was already noon. Bathilda warmly invited him to stay for lunch, but Kyle firmly declined.
No way, he thought. Just chatting for a few minutes was exhausting enough. There's no way I'm having lunch with Grindelwald.
Seeing how insistent he was, Bathilda looked a little disappointed but didn't push.
"Well, all right. But I must say, Gellert might be an expelled student, but deep down, he's a warm-hearted and cheerful boy. He's not what you might think."
She assumed Kyle was just hesitant to associate with someone who had been expelled and tried to defend Grindelwald a little.
She was clearly fond of him and didn't want others to judge him unfairly.
"No, you misunderstood," Kyle said quickly, shaking his head. "One of my relatives was expelled too. But that didn't stop him from becoming an outstanding Magizoologist."
"Also from Hogwarts?" Bathilda asked curiously. "Would I know him?"
"I don't think so," Kyle replied, shaking his head vaguely. "He's not in Britain right now, but maybe you'll meet him someday.
"Like Mr. Grindelwald said earlier, some people don't need a diploma to prove themselves."
"I'm glad to hear you think that way," Bathilda said, clearly pleased. "So, where are you headed now? Do you need any help?"
"I'm planning to find a place to stay before nightfall," Kyle said. "I may stay here for a few more days to see if I can find any traces of Gryffindor."
Originally, he'd planned to say he was leaving immediately—it would've made distancing himself from Grindelwald easier.
But then he realized he probably wouldn't stay in one spot for long. If someone noticed he'd vanished, it could raise even more questions.
"A place to stay… You could try the Valley Inn," Bathilda suggested after thinking for a moment. She pointed in a direction. "It's down at the lowest point of the valley. They offer rooms at fair prices, and the environment's decent.
"When you get there, just mention my name. If that old goat Johnson doesn't give you a proper discount, I'll toss his prized oak barrel into the lake."