Since joining the Quidditch team, Kyle’s schedule had become a constant juggle. Days were packed with classes, library sessions, nighttime ventures into the Restricted Section to copy notes, and squeezing in assignments—which seemed to have doubled in length this year. Professors had apparently conspired to change their paper requirements from inches to feet just last week.
To top it off, Quidditch training consumed three evenings each week, with Harris keeping everyone on the pitch for at least three hours per session, often until curfew. But the intense regimen had its benefits; after just a few practices, Kyle and his teammates were noticeably more in sync. Today, he and Harris had successfully executed the two-way attack—a classic maneuver adapted from the Wimbourne Wasps’ Eagle’s Head formation. They’d fly together toward the center goalpost, passing the Quaffle back and forth before splitting at the scoring zone to throw off the Keeper.
In their latest match, Kyle and Harris managed to score a total of 60 goals, leaving Hufflepuff’s Keeper, Farrell, thoroughly overwhelmed. The poor boy had to be carried back to the dorm by his teammates, his eyes glazed over.
“Cheer up, Farrell,” Harris encouraged, hauling Farrell’s right leg, his face flushed with enthusiasm. “You’re one of the best Keepers in school. If you’re struggling, no one else has a chance either! We’re going to have our name on the Quidditch Cup again this year, I’m telling you!”
“Why do I already want the tournament to start, and it’s not even November yet?” he laughed as they trooped back into the castle, with Kyle bringing up the rear on his broomstick.
Just as they passed the Great Hall, they crossed paths with Fred and George, who were descending the stairs with pockets suspiciously full.
When Harris and the rest had gone, Cedric raised an eyebrow, grinning as he asked, “Almost curfew—is this a little nighttime stroll, or…?”
“Nope, just back from Hogsmeade and heading to the kitchens for a midnight snack,” George said, patting his stuffed pockets with a sly grin. “Zonko’s latest—grabbed them just before closing.”
“All for our dear little brother,” Fred added with a wink, tossing a leather pouch to Kyle. “Here’s what you asked for.”
“Thanks,” Kyle said, taking the bag.
Fred’s eyes lit up with curiosity as he looked at Kyle. “Any fresh money-making schemes in the works? If so, don’t hold back!”
“What?” Kyle blinked, caught off guard. He’d barely had a minute to think about anything beyond Quidditch and homework lately, let alone concoct new business ideas.
“Don’t play coy—what are you hiding from us?” George grumbled. “If you didn’t have some new idea, then why’d you order so much parchment?”
“Yeah, don’t tell us it’s for making maps. The map-selling craze ended almost a month ago,” Fred said, slinging an arm around Kyle’s shoulders with an expression that clearly said, You can’t fool me. “If you didn’t have a new scheme, there’s no way you’d buy a thousand sheets of parchment.”
“A thousand sheets? That’s practically the entire stock,” George said. “We almost couldn’t get it all.”
“Almost not enough?” Kyle repeated, glancing into his Mokeskin pouch, where he could see a thick stack of parchment, though it was hard to tell how many sheets there were.
“Yup, 1,063 sheets,” Fred said with a smirk. “The extras were a bonus.”
“We even got the scribes to close shop twenty minutes early to make it happen. So, come on, tell us what this plan is.”
Fred stroked his chin thoughtfully, speculating. “If it’s parchment, it’s probably not a map… Or are you planning to start charging for homework answers?”
“Neither!” Kyle replied, shaking his head. “Honestly, it’s just for me.”
“Come off it,” George said, rolling his eyes. “A thousand sheets of parchment just for homework? Cedric, could you even use that much in a whole semester?”
Cedric shook his head. To be honest, a thousand sheets would probably last him through all seven years at Hogwarts.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true,” Kyle insisted. “I’ve just been copying a lot lately and need the extra parchment, that’s all.”
Seeing the sincerity in Kyle’s expression, Fred and George’s persistence began to wane.
“Are you absolutely sure?” George asked, still skeptical.
“Absolutely,” Kyle shrugged. “And if I’m lying, Cedric here will start losing his hair from this year on.”
“Hey! What’s that got to do with me?” Cedric protested, scowling at Kyle.
“Oh, don’t be petty,” Kyle said with a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”
“That’s not the point!” Cedric muttered, looking uncomfortable. His father had always struggled with hair loss, and he certainly didn’t want to share that fate.
At that, Fred and George finally let go of their suspicions. They exchanged glances, a bit deflated.
With a sense of disappointment hanging over them, they turned and headed back toward Gryffindor Tower. All along the way, they’d been hyped, imagining all sorts of grand plans Kyle might be cooking up, only to discover there was none. The letdown stung.
“Oi, you’re going the wrong way,” Cedric called after them. “The kitchens are downstairs.”
“Thanks,” Fred said glumly, “but suddenly, we’re not that hungry anymore.”
“And we don’t feel like eating,” George added with a sigh.
After the twins left, Cedric ran a hand through his hair, frowning. “What’s gotten into them?”
Kyle shrugged. “Who knows… maybe it’s puberty.”
“Nothing,” Kyle replied quickly. “Anyway, curfew’s coming up—let’s head back.”
Late that night, once his roommates were fast asleep, Kyle quietly got out of bed, slipped out of the dormitory, and made his way to the library for his usual late-night visit. Navigating straight to the third bookcase in the Restricted Section, he opened his leather bag, pulled out a quill and a fresh stack of parchment, and laid them on the nearest table.
“Lumos,” he whispered, lighting the tip of his wand. Then, after selecting a book with careful precision, he took a seat and began flipping through the pages.