Nifflers have an innate love for anything that glitters. From the moment they’re born, they seem to spend every waking hour either searching for treasure or preparing to do so. They’re rarely ever still.
The young Niffler in front of Kyle was barely a month old, just slightly larger than a Galleon, and had likely snuck into his trunk when Newt wasn’t looking. Kyle had already noticed, during his time in Dorset, that Newt spent hours each day tracking down runaway Nifflers. If anyone else had been in Newt's shoes, Kyle thought they would have given up long ago.
But having only one Niffler around shouldn’t be a problem. To ease Newt’s worry, Kyle quickly wrote a note explaining the stowaway, handed it to Ratton, and watched as the owl flew out of the window with the letter.
"This communication system is so inconvenient," Kyle muttered, scratching his chin thoughtfully. While the wizarding world had its charms, communication methods felt downright primitive. A single letter, even with an owl, took at least half a day for round-trip delivery—nothing like the instant convenience of a phone call.
He knew Newt wouldn’t have minded using Muggle devices, but the Scamanders lived too remotely, nearly in the mountains and surrounded by Muggle-Repelling Charms. Installing a phone or answering machine there was unlikely.
After seeing Ratton off, Kyle placed the Niffler back in his trunk, then took a quick shower and changed into fresh clothes. It was worth noting that the clothes Chris had sent him in Dorset were from last year. Kyle had grown so much this year that he could barely fit into them, so Tina had made a few adjustments to make them wearable, at least for now.
Not long afterward, the Weasley twins arrived. As soon as Kyle opened the door, Fred and George barreled in like bandits.
“We saw your owl flying off and figured you’d finally returned,” Fred announced, draping an arm around Kyle’s shoulders with a mock-serious expression.
“I can’t believe you vanished for half a month without a word!” George added, blocking Kyle on the other side.
“Even worse, we didn’t get a single letter from you the whole time… Do you have any idea how worried we were?” Fred added, turning up the dramatics.
Kyle, however, wasn’t buying it. “Worried about me? I’d expect that line to work only on Ron.”
“Really now… because if I remember correctly, neither of you has written to me in over half a month, either.” Kyle raised an eyebrow, looking between them. “Are you sure this is about worrying over me?”
The twins exchanged a panicked glance, their serious facades crumbling almost instantly.
“You didn’t write to Kyle?” Fred whispered to George.
“No, I thought you did.”
In truth, the twins had known about Kyle’s trip to Dorset from the day he’d left—Chris had told them himself—so they weren’t worried in the least. They’d only concocted this line to give Kyle a hard time, hoping to mess with him a bit. Unfortunately, their carefully crafted plan, put together the night before, had fallen apart almost immediately.
Their excuse, about sending letters with Errol, was weak at best. They’d been so absorbed in Skiving Snackbox research that they hadn’t even thought about writing to Kyle.
“Ahem… Of course we were worried about you,” Fred stammered, sounding anything but convincing. “But you know, Errol’s getting pretty old, and we just couldn’t bear to make him fly that far with a letter.”
“Fly that far?” Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you knew exactly where I was.”
The twins’ faces grew even more awkward.
“...Just a guess. You know, an educated guess,” Fred said, trying to salvage the moment. “But now that we see you’re fine, we’re quite relieved.”
“Is that so…” Kyle drawled with a skeptical look. “You’re quite the fortune-tellers, then. Maybe you two should sign up for Divination this semester—you’d be the stars of the class.”
With his narrowed eyes and slow drawl, he looked just one greasy lock of hair away from a certain potions professor.
“Er… we’ll think about it,” George said sheepishly, eager to change the subject. “By the way, we’ve got good news! Over the past couple of weeks, we not only wrapped up the Fat-Tongued Toffee but also developed a second product for the Skiving Snackbox.”
He pulled a small, orange fruit jelly from his pocket. It was translucent, looking almost like a shiny pea.
Fred winked at Kyle. “Care to guess what it does?”
Kyle took the jelly and inspected it. Unlike the Fat-Tongued Toffee, this piece had no detectable potion smell, suggesting that the twins had perfected its creation. Taking a wild guess, he said, “Does it make people’s noses bleed?”
Fred and George’s faces lit up simultaneously.
“Nosebleeds!” Fred exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. “Kyle, that’s brilliant!”
“Why didn’t we think of that?” George slapped himself on the forehead in a dramatic show of frustration. “A nosebleed—what a perfect excuse to skip out of class. Kyle, you’re a genius!”
Kyle grinned. “Thanks. It’s nice to know my brilliance is appreciated.”
“Too bad school’s starting soon,” Fred sighed, looking deflated. “We won’t get a chance to test it out this year.”
“Maybe over Christmas break,” George suggested wistfully. “Or next summer…”
Watching them lament as if they’d just lost a hundred Galleons, Kyle chuckled, holding up the gummy. “Alright, so what does this one actually do?”
“It’s a Puking Pastille,” George explained, shrugging. “Makes you throw up. Handy, right?”
“But this one’s still a prototype,” Fred added. “We’re working on a quick antidote. Vomiting non-stop doesn’t quite do the trick.”
“Do you need any help?” Kyle asked.
“Not this time,” Fred replied, shaking his head. “The main ingredient in the Puking Pastille is diluted sneezewort juice. Combine it with rue and daisy root, and you have a perfect counter, and we’re close to nailing it.”
Kyle nodded in understanding. Sneezewort and rue were a classic pairing—ideal for antidote-making.