When Kyle arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, the corridor was eerily empty. He knocked on the door.
"Come in," Umbridge's familiar, high-pitched voice called from within.
Kyle pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room hadn't changed much since his last visit—frilly decor, overly ornate trinkets, and an overwhelming number of cat plates adorning the walls. In fact, there seemed to be even more of them this time.
"I'm disappointed..."
The door clicked shut behind him, and Umbridge, who had greeted him with her usual saccharine smile, let it fade into a peculiar expression—somewhere between disappointment and smugness.
"I waited in this office all day yesterday," she said, her tone laced with accusation. "I was expecting you to tell me something... interesting. But you never came."
"This leads me to believe that you're not as loyal to the Ministry as you claimed, and that perhaps you're still aligned with Dumbledore."
"I don't understand what you mean, Professor," Kyle replied, feigning surprise. "Should I know what you're talking about?"
"Oh?" Umbridge let out a light laugh. "Perhaps I should give you a hint."
"As far as I know, dozens of students gathered at The Hog's Head in Hogsmeade yesterday. Can you tell me what they were doing there?"
"Is that so?" Kyle said, widening his eyes in mock surprise. "I hadn't heard anything about that."
"Liar!" Umbridge's voice dropped its sugary sweetness and turned icy cold. "As far as I know, many of those students are your friends. How could you not know? Or maybe you were there yourself."
"That's impossible," Kyle said calmly, shaking his head. "I've never been to The Hog's Head, and I don't know anything about any gatherings there."
"I see," Umbridge said, her smile returning in its most artificial form. "You're not going to tell me the truth. Perhaps a week of detention for lying to a professor will help you reconsider."
"I am telling the truth," Kyle said, his expression unchanging. "When I arrived in Hogsmeade yesterday, I went straight to Gladrags Wizardwear. Miss Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin can confirm that—I saw her there."
"And after that?" Umbridge pressed, narrowing her eyes. "The gathering didn't start early. You could have gone to The Hog's Head afterward."
"I stayed at The Three Broomsticks," Kyle replied evenly. "I didn't go anywhere else."
"Can anyone confirm that?"
"Anyone who was at The Three Broomsticks," Kyle said. "I was sitting right across from the entrance, so plenty of people must have seen me."
"And if that's not enough, Madam Rosmerta can confirm I didn't leave before noon. Or, you could simply ask the people who were at The Hog's Head whether I was there."
Umbridge froze for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by Kyle's confident response.
"You're not lying?" she asked suspiciously.
"Of course not," Kyle replied, his tone unwavering. "Feel free to verify it."
There was a pause before Umbridge's expression twisted into an even more forced smile—one so fake it was almost unsettling.
"No need. I believe you," she said, her tone tinged with mockery. "However, it seems your so-called friends don't."
Kyle resisted the urge to glare at her. Instead, he maintained a calm demeanor and said, "Ah, yes. I never imagined they'd keep so much from me. It's... disappointing."
"Indeed," Umbridge said, her grin widening. "Which is why I need your help with this investigation. Dumbledore chose The Hog's Head for a reason, and those students chose to gather there. Surely there's a connection."
"Isn't it possible that it's just a coincidence?" Kyle asked, though he already knew how she would respond.
"Absolutely not," Umbridge snapped. "I don't believe in coincidences. Those students are clearly part of Dumbledore's secret army."
Kyle said nothing, suppressing his disbelief. It was rare for him to tell the truth and not be believed. Dumbledore had chosen The Hog's Head because he trusted its owner, and Cedric and the others had picked it because it was quiet and unlikely to attract attention. It really was a coincidence.
As for the idea of Dumbledore forming a secret army among students—Kyle couldn't help but think that Umbridge and Rita Skeeter would get along splendidly with their wild imaginations.
But with Umbridge looking so thoroughly convinced, Kyle decided it wasn't worth arguing. Instead, he nodded and said, "Leave it to me, Professor. I'll make sure to find out what's going on."
"I'm counting on you," Umbridge said, her smile returning to its sickly sweet form. "Don't let me down."
"I'll get to the bottom of this," Kyle replied. "For the Ministry."
Umbridge's expression grew serious.
"So, you're going to report us?" Fred asked as he leaned casually against a locker in the Hufflepuff Changing Rooms after the afternoon's Quidditch training match.
In theory, Gryffindor players shouldn't have been there, but with only the four of them present, it didn't seem to matter.
"In theory, I really should," Kyle replied, polishing the broom in his hands. "Turning you over to Umbridge could earn Hufflepuff some house points."
"How many points would we be worth?" Fred asked with a wry grin.
"I don't know, but probably not less than fifty."
"That's all?" George said, looking affronted. "We're Dumbledore's secret army, and we're only worth fifty points? I thought it'd be at least a hundred."
"No wonder you didn't show up at The Hog's Head that day," Fred added, eyeing Kyle. "Did you know this was going to happen?"
"Not really," Kyle replied, shaking his head. "It didn't click until I got to Hogsmeade."
George burst into laughter. "She made you investigate our 'secret army'? That's hilarious. She'll never know the truth."
"But I still don't get it," Cedric interjected, leaning forward with a frown. "Why did Umbridge come after you? And why does it sound like you have to help her? And what did you mean yesterday when you said you had to oppose Professor Dumbledore?"
"It's part of the plan," Kyle explained, pausing his broom polishing. "It's complicated, but just think of it this way: for now, Umbridge needs to believe we're on opposite sides."
George tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So... does that mean we can rough you up here? You know, like we do when we face Slytherin?"
Fred snickered. "Exactly. Three of us, one of you—you don't stand a chance."