When Kyle completed his patrol of the eighth floor and returned to the corridor, the wall where the Room of Requirement had been was bare, as if it had never existed.
By then, the other patrols had finished their rounds as well. Unsurprisingly, no one had found anything of note.
Some individuals were more disgruntled than others—Montague and Filch, in particular.
"I know they were up to something tonight," Filch grumbled as he stomped onto the eighth floor. "Peeves was causing a ruckus down on the first floor. I heard him yelling."
"And did you catch anyone?" Kyle asked calmly.
"No," Filch admitted, his face twisting in frustration. "By the time I got there, they were gone. But I found plenty of footprints—at least a dozen!"
"But we can't catch anyone based on footprints, Mr. Filch," Kyle said, his tone light but pointed. "Unless, of course, you're willing to confiscate everyone's shoes and compare them one by one."
Filch's expression soured even further. He let out an irritated snort, then turned sharply on his heel and stomped downstairs without another word.
Kyle shook his head. "What bad manners," he muttered under his breath.
Montague, on the other hand, had taken a far quieter approach. Though clearly frustrated by the fruitless search, he kept his displeasure to himself, standing silently at the back of the group and doing his best to blend into the background.
"Well, don't let this discourage you," Kyle said, addressing the group. "It's only the first day. It's perfectly normal not to have any results yet. As long as those rule-breakers keep pushing their luck, we'll catch them eventually."
He offered a few more encouraging words before clapping his hands. "Alright, time to call it a night. Everyone, head back and get some rest—you don't want to be late for class tomorrow."
The Slytherins, still subdued, trudged downstairs without a word. Kyle made his way back to the Hufflepuff common room, the lateness of the hour evident in the quiet halls.
When he finally pushed open the door to the barrel entrance, only Cedric and Kanna were left in the common room, idly passing time with a game of Exploding Snap.
"You're finally back," Cedric said with a smile, glancing at the clock on the wall. "You've been working hard—still out this late."
"Well, you all left early," Kyle replied with a grin, sinking into the armchair between them.
"So," Kanna asked, putting down her cards and leaning forward with interest, "how did it go?"
"Well enough," Kyle said lightly. "If you're curious, I could always ask Umbridge to let you be my assistant."
"No thanks," Kanna said quickly, shaking her head. "I'm not sure I'd be able to keep my cover intact. This job suits you better."
"It wouldn't be too difficult," Kyle teased. "An assistant's job is mostly just following me around. That shouldn't cause any problems."
Kanna hesitated, tempted by the idea. With everyone else so busy, she felt a growing urge to contribute in some way.
"And," Kyle added with a sly smile, "it's a rare chance to practice outwitting your enemies—just like the Order of the Phoenix does."
"You should apply to be Head of the Auror Office," Cedric quipped. "Though don't forget you're managing a bunch of Slytherins."
"If Montague became an Auror, the Ministry would be doomed," Kyle replied with a shrug. "And honestly, so would I."
His self-deprecating humor drew a burst of laughter from Kanna.
The three of them lingered in the cozy common room, chatting amiably until the early hours of the morning before finally retreating to their dormitories.
The next day at dinner, Cedric made a point of not sitting next to Kyle, breaking their usual routine. Instead, he chose a spot farther away, glancing at Kyle occasionally with exaggerated, menacing glares.
Kyle couldn't help but feel the effort was unnecessary. Everyone's focus—Umbridge's included—was firmly on Gryffindor, with no one suspecting that he might also be a DA member. Still, Cedric seemed to relish his role, even if his acting skills left much to be desired. Kyle had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
In stark contrast, the Slytherins were growing noticeably friendlier toward Kyle.
After Charms class, a small group of Slytherin students clustered around him, engaging him in conversation and even extending invitations to their homes for the upcoming Christmas holidays.
"Our family hosts a grand ball every Christmas break, and you simply must come," said a sixth-year Slytherin enthusiastically. "It's much livelier than that dull school Yule Ball last year. Loads of important people attend—sometimes even Minister Fudge drops by."
"Really? That sounds wonderful. If I'm free, I'd love to come," Kyle replied smoothly, though he subtly quickened his pace to escape the growing entourage.
As they made their way out of the classroom corridor toward the Great Hall, their path was suddenly blocked by two familiar faces.
"Weasley..." A Slytherin student beside Kyle stepped forward immediately, eyeing the twins with disdain. "What do you want?"
Fred, unfazed, shot him a dismissive look before focusing on Kyle. "This doesn't concern you," he said to the Slytherin, then turned his gaze on Kyle, adopting a mock-threatening tone. "Do you dare come with us?"
"Of course, why wouldn't I?" Kyle replied, a smile playing at his lips.
He gestured for the Slytherins to go ahead without him, taking Kanna along as he followed Fred and George to a quieter, empty corridor away from prying eyes.
The moment they were out of sight, Fred's demeanor changed entirely. His face lit up with excitement, though he kept his voice low.
"How did you do it?" he asked eagerly. "Our suspension's been lifted—me, George, Harry—we can all play Quidditch again!"
"That's fantastic news," Kyle said with a grin. "Congratulations."
"But seriously, how did you manage it?" Fred pressed. "How'd you get that old toad Umbridge to change her mind?"
He was genuinely baffled. In all the time Umbridge had been at Hogwarts, he hadn't heard of anyone successfully swaying her decisions. Even Professor McGonagall's attempts had failed, and Trelawney was only still employed because of ongoing investigations.
"I just wrote a letter to the Malfoy family," Kyle said nonchalantly.
Fred looked skeptical, but before he could probe further, George waved at them urgently from the other end of the corridor.
A second later, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed nearby. Someone was approaching.
Fred immediately shifted back into his mock-aggressive stance, pointing at Kyle and shouting, "Just you wait and see! We'll deal with you later!"
With that, he and George turned and quickly disappeared down the corridor, leaving before Umbridge—or anyone else—could arrive.
For the rest of the week, things continued in much the same manner.
Cedric handled the arrangement with ease, but Fred and George quickly grew tired of sneaking around to talk to Kyle or visit the Room of Requirement after curfew. At first, they found the covert meetings amusing, even thrilling, but as the days wore on, the novelty wore thin.
"Let's just wait," Fred grumbled after another late-night DA meeting. "Maybe the Slytherins will go home for the Christmas holidays."
As usual, the group split up after the meeting, with Kyle leading the way to ensure the coast was clear. Everything went smoothly until midnight, when an unexpected figure appeared in the corridor.
Professor McGonagall strode toward Kyle, her face stern but composed. Stopping in front of him, she said, "Dumbledore wants to see you. Follow me."
Before Kyle could respond, she turned on her heel, leaving him no choice but to follow. The group of Slytherins standing nearby froze, their expressions shifting from confusion to unease.
"What's the headmaster doing getting involved?" a fifth-year student muttered nervously. "Should we tell Professor Umbridge?"
"No. Don't move," Montague ordered sharply, his gaze fixed on the direction Kyle had been taken. A sly, almost gleeful smile crept onto his face. "So what if it's the headmaster? We should trust Kyle—he'll sort this out."
"But..." The nervous student hesitated, clearly unconvinced.
Montague stepped forward, his tall, imposing figure casting a shadow over the smaller student. "Did you not hear what I just said?" he asked coldly, his voice dripping with menace.
The other student quickly shook his head. "N-no, I did."
"Good." Montague nodded in satisfaction. "And it's late. We shouldn't disturb Professor Umbridge's rest. For now, head back to the common room—we'll talk about this tomorrow."
His suggestion was met with murmurs of agreement. One by one, the Slytherins dispersed, some even chatting and laughing as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
Malfoy, lingering at the back of the group, cast a furtive glance toward the headmaster's office. A flicker of conflict crossed his face, his usual composure wavering for a brief moment.
"Draco, hurry up!" Pansy urged impatiently, tugging at his sleeve.
Crabbe grunted his own encouragement, muttering, "Come on, we're gonna get caught out here."
After a moment's hesitation, Malfoy exhaled deeply, shoved his hands into his pockets, and reluctantly followed the others down the stairs.