The eighth floor of the castle.
Kyle had visited the Headmaster's office many times before. With practiced ease, he located the Gargoyle statue with the water spout and confidently spoke the password.
The statue sprang aside, revealing the passageway behind it.
Inside the office, Dumbledore was engrossed in searching the bookshelf. At the sound of the door opening, he turned his head, his expression brightening.
“I do hope my invitation didn’t disturb you,” he said warmly. “But please, wait a moment—I believe I’m about to find it... Ah, here it is.”
He pulled a slim booklet from the shelf, his eyes twinkling. “I think it’s time we honored our previous agreement,” he said with a smile. “Remember? Back in the cave, I promised to teach you a spell.”
“Of course, I haven’t forgotten.” Kyle’s excitement was palpable, though it was quickly followed by a tinge of doubt. “But, Professor, do you have time now? I mean... the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“Creating the Philosopher’s Stone is destined to be a long process, Kyle,” Dumbledore explained patiently. “After the preparations are complete, there’s little more we can do but wait. All we can do now is remain patient."
“This period, however, is an excellent opportunity for me to fulfill my promise. I had intended to teach you at the beginning of the school year, but I kept postponing it. I imagine you must have grown quite impatient.”
Kyle didn’t reply but gave a small nod, which Dumbledore took as agreement. Truthfully, Kyle had been impatient, though he’d hesitated to bring it up. Dumbledore had always seemed preoccupied, especially after Nicolas Flamel’s visit.
“Forgive my curiosity, but why do you wish to learn the Firestorm Charm? Oh—well, that is its name,” Dumbledore said, studying Kyle closely. “To explore the mysteries of magic? Or to pursue powerful magic?”
“Both,” Kyle answered after a thoughtful pause. “But mostly because I’m curious and... I enjoy it.”
“Oh?” Dumbledore’s expression shifted subtly.
“To be honest, I don’t particularly lack powerful Charms,” Kyle continued, settling into the chair across from Dumbledore. “Take the Fiendfyre Curse, for instance.”
The room filled with startled murmurs as the portraits of former Headmasters reacted. The clattering of frames echoed as they abandoned their feigned slumber, clustering in the largest portrait to whisper among themselves.
But Dumbledore remained unruffled, as though Kyle had said nothing out of the ordinary.
“Although this may sound arrogant...” Kyle went on, unfazed by the commotion, “I believe I’ve already mastered and used this Charm. In terms of sheer power and destructive force, there aren’t many Charms that compare to Fiendfyre.”
“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed calmly. Fiendfyre wasn’t listed among the Unforgivable Curses solely because it had a counter-spell, Finite Incantatem, not because it lacked potency.
“I thought you might say it was for self-protection,” Dumbledore remarked.
“That’s part of it,” Kyle admitted. “But it’s certainly not for everyday use. What I’ve learned from the professors suffices for most situations.”
Kyle’s thoughts drifted. “For example, in my first year, Oren advised me always to carry a Broomstick—an incredibly practical means of self-defense."
“In my second year, Quirrell demonstrated the Fiendfyre Curse in front of me, and that’s how I learned it."
“In third year, Lockhart, though not the most reliable, gave me his notes on Memory Charms. That’s actually a very powerful tool—it can completely remove someone’s resistance."
“The best part is, it’s fully compliant with Wizarding law. As long as you don’t misuse it, like stealing memories the way Lockhart did, there’s no legal issue."
“In fourth year, Lupin... well...” Kyle trailed off, searching his memory. The only thing Lupin had formally taught him was the Patronus Charm, which he’d already mastered before the term began.
“Well, he taught me how to identify a Werewolf,” Kyle said vaguely, shifting slightly in his seat.
“And Professor Moody in fifth year...”
Kyle faltered again. The Shield Charm came to mind, but he’d learned that long before Moody’s lessons.
At that moment, Kyle realized something was amiss. Why was it that all the significant lessons he mentioned came from those unorthodox professors, while the contributions of the orthodox professors seemed negligible?
This didn’t sit right...
Dumbledore appeared to notice Kyle’s skeptical expression. He shook his head with a small, knowing smile, an inexplicable sense of relief crossing his features. While the Defence Against the Dark Arts professors he had hired each came with their unique quirks and shortcomings, at least someone—Kyle—had gained something genuinely useful from them. Perhaps, Dumbledore mused, his decisions hadn’t been entirely flawed after all.
“Every wizard is curious and seeks to explore magic further,” Dumbledore said, his tone gentle. “Including myself. It’s only natural.”
“That’s good,” Kyle replied.
“Actually, my earlier question was merely out of curiosity,” Dumbledore admitted. “No matter your reasons, I will teach you, because I promised... Ah, and this is for you.”
He handed Kyle the booklet he had retrieved. “I wrote this a long time ago. It outlines the fundamental theories you must master to learn the Firestorm Charm.”
Kyle accepted the booklet, his eyes scanning the faded cover:
The Evolution of Ancient Runes: Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms
“Ancient Runes?” Kyle asked, intrigued.
“To be precise, Runic Magic,” Dumbledore clarified. “It involves inscribing Runes with a wand, using them in place of spells. It is the original form of magic—immensely powerful but also extraordinarily complex and difficult to control. A single mistake can cause magic to turn against the caster."
“It was precisely this danger that led the founders—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin—to establish Hogwarts. They believed it essential to teach young wizards to use magic safely."
“Even so, the wizarding population continued to dwindle. It wasn’t until centuries later, thanks to the efforts of some exceptionally forward-thinking wizards, that Runes and symbols were replaced with spells and gestures. This shift made magic more accessible and led to a significant increase in the number of Hogwarts students.”
“Runic Magic...” Kyle murmured, a thread of unease weaving through his thoughts. He’d long suspected that even with the Time-Turner allowing contact with people from a thousand years ago, such actions bordered on suicidal.
“So, Professor,” Kyle asked curiously, “how many students were at Hogwarts a thousand years ago?”
Dumbledore paused thoughtfully. “According to the records in the Book of Admission, the number ranged from as few as twenty to no more than fifty.”
Kyle blinked. “One grade?”
“No,” Dumbledore replied seriously. “That was the total number of students.”
Kyle’s mind churned at this revelation. Fifty students in the entire school—meaning ten per house? There wouldn’t have been much need for dividing into grades.
“However,” Dumbledore said, his tone softening, “you need not worry about such dangers here.
“The first step is to commit the content of this booklet to memory.” He tapped the booklet lightly. “Mastering this foundational theory is essential before we can progress to the next stage of learning.”
Kyle flipped through the booklet, noting that it was only five pages long.
“How about one week?” Dumbledore proposed. “I can arrange for most of your professors to waive your homework for that time. If you require more, don’t hesitate to say so.”
Kyle shrugged lightly. “No problem, Professor. One week is plenty.”
“Excellent,” Dumbledore said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. “In that case, we’ll hold our lessons every Saturday at 9 a.m. The password to the office will remain the same.”
“Yes, Professor,” Kyle replied, his voice tinged with anticipation.
The prospect of delving into Ancient Runes for the first time excited him. He would have preferred daily lessons, but since Dumbledore had already set the schedule, there was little more he could do.