Chapter 782: The Loophole in Name Magic

Dumbledore's voice remained calm, as if he were merely mentioning the loss of a Knut while shopping. But for Kyle, this news sent shockwaves through his mind.

"The wand that was taken… Could it be the Elder Wand?"

"Oh, I didn't expect you to recognize it," Dumbledore said, looking at Kyle with mild surprise. "Impressive. I always assumed no one knew."

"Is it that hard? Any wizard who has read The Tales of Beedle the Bard should be able to recognize it. The illustrations make it pretty clear."

"But Elder Wands all look the same—that's just the nature of the wood," Dumbledore replied, seeming entirely unconcerned about the loss of his wand. Instead, he appeared more interested in discussing its design with Kyle.

"That's true," Kyle admitted casually. "But I've never seen anyone else use an Elder Wand. Even in Ollivander's shop, I've never come across one. I even doubt he works with that kind of wood at all."

"And most importantly, that wand belonged to the greatest wizard of our time."

"That's quite the compliment," Dumbledore chuckled, looking almost embarrassed.

"Well, it's the truth. I've always used the Elder Wand," Dumbledore admitted with a nod. "But now Tom has taken it. Someone told him the Elder Wand would make him even stronger, so he set up this trap."

"And he actually managed to take it?" Kyle still found it hard to believe.

Something felt off.

It was now certain that Bellatrix, Barty Crouch Jr., and the other Death Eaters were still here—they hadn't left with Voldemort.

Even if Voldemort had set a trap, could he really have defeated Dumbledore in a one-on-one duel and taken his wand?

Kyle found that hard to believe.

"You underestimate Tom."

Dumbledore seemed to read Kyle's thoughts and softly explained, "Back at Hogwarts, he was an exceptional student—he had completed all his coursework by his fifth year. After graduation, he traveled the world, creating his own unique dark magic and conducting numerous dangerous magical experiments."

"Those experiences took a toll on his appearance, making him more monstrous over time. But in return, his power grew rapidly. I have long since stopped assuming that I could defeat him easily."

Kyle shrugged, offering no argument.

He had never underestimated Voldemort. The moment he learned that Voldemort had taken the Elder Wand, he even considered paying Nicolas Flamel a visit, moving some of his belongings to Flamel's old house in Paris, and prepaying several years' rent—just in case.

That way, if he ever needed to flee, he wouldn't have to panic.

At the same time, he had never underestimated Dumbledore either. Rita Skeeter once referred to him as the White Dark Lord in her articles. That wasn't just some meaningless title he had paid for—Dark Lord was still in the name, after all, even if the color was different.

"So what exactly happened that day?" Kyle pressed.

Besides shifting the conversation, he genuinely wanted to know.

"The details don't matter," Dumbledore said, glancing at Kyle. "But I saved someone's life with a wand. I'd say that was a fair trade."

"Saved someone?"

"Ollivander," Dumbledore answered. "Remember when the Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley? One of their objectives was to capture the wandmaker. But he was lucky—he happened to be out gathering materials at the time, so he avoided capture."

"But I thought he had already returned?" Kyle asked. "And I don't recall any first-years last year who couldn't buy a wand."

"That's because he was taken recently," Dumbledore explained, his tone tinged with regret. "Despite our repeated warnings, he was discovered by the Death Eaters while searching for wand materials. He ended up in Tom's hands."

"And You-Know-Who used him to threaten you?" Kyle asked.

"That would be in line with Tom's character, wouldn't it?"

"No wonder he didn't bring any other Death Eaters with him," Kyle muttered, piecing it together. "The so-called Dark Lord, reduced to using a hostage to threaten Dumbledore—he couldn't afford to let his subordinates see that."

"It may not have been the most dignified method, but it was certainly effective," Dumbledore said with a small smile.

"By the way, you can say his name here. The Fidelius Charm also protects against name-based magic."

"I'm just trying to build a habit," Kyle replied, shaking his head. "I don't want to slip up somewhere else and end up putting others in danger."

He still remembered that Kanna's father had been killed simply for speaking Voldemort's name. The Death Eaters who arrived didn't just kill him—they massacred everyone in the tavern.

Only a few quick-thinking individuals had managed to flee in time to spread the news.

To this day, it was unclear whether it had been Kanna's father who had spoken Voldemort's name or someone else. But that didn't matter anymore.

After learning about it, Kyle had always been wary of the consequences. Over time, he had trained himself to say "You-Know-Who" instead of "Voldemort."

He wasn't afraid of Voldemort himself. But courage wasn't about recklessly saying his name—there were better ways to prove one's bravery. And Kyle had no intention of putting others at risk just because of a careless slip of the tongue.

Dumbledore listened to Kyle's explanation in silence, his expression growing serious. Then, with a solemn nod, he acknowledged his reasoning.

"You've thought everything through. I was careless."

"Not really," Kyle said, rubbing his chin. "If I could actually beat him, I'd be willing to pay people to rent out a spacious place just so I could spend an entire day cursing him out. And in every sentence, the name 'Voldemort' would have to appear at least three times."

Dumbledore's serious expression lasted only a few seconds before it completely crumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"Information bombardment," Kyle explained. "Since he likes hearing his own name, we might as well shout it at him repeatedly. We get a group of people, take turns calling out his name 24/7, and throw in some choice insults—preferably the kind that target his lineage. If I remember correctly, Riddle is a Muggle surname, right? Calling him a half-blood Mudblood would be quite fitting."

"Thanks to his name magic, he'll hear every single word loud and clear. If he can't stand it and comes after me, I'll just kill him. If he doesn't, then he'll have to endure it. Either way, it's entertaining."

"Unless, of course, he chooses to remove the spell—which would be a win for us. Apart from spending a few Galleons, there's really no downside."

"Of course, this is all just an idea. I still can't beat him yet."

For a moment, Dumbledore's gaze shifted. When he looked at Kyle again, it was as if he were staring at a dragon knitting a wool sweater—completely absurd.

Exploiting a loophole in name magic just to make people continuously curse Voldemort… Was this something a normal person would come up with?

But, to be fair, after thinking it through, Dumbledore had to admit—it did sound quite satisfying.

Should he… try it?

He hesitated. After all, he wasn't short on Galleons, and hiring a few hundred people wouldn't be an issue. If it meant forcing Voldemort to remove the enchantment, it would be worth it.

However, when he glanced down at his still-unresponsive arm, Dumbledore quickly dismissed the idea.

Not now. The timing wasn't right.

With a sigh, he leaned back. Whenever he spoke with Kyle, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was truly getting old.

Kyle's way of thinking was completely different from his own—effective, yet utterly unconventional. It wasn't about intelligence; it was about perspective.

It was like the Hogwarts Express. By all accounts, it was outdated, long since surpassed by modern technology. Yet, for a variety of reasons, it still ran.

That was why, after talking to Kyle, Dumbledore often sought out Harry for another conversation. And without fail, Harry would remind him that it wasn't him who was out of touch with the times—it was Kyle. Kyle was the odd one out, the minority.

At that moment, voices outside grew noticeably louder.

"Oh, I suppose it's time for dinner," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet and signaling the end of the conversation.

"Is it that late already? I really am a bit hungry. I hope there's some apple custard tart for dessert—I absolutely love that."

Kyle still had plenty of questions—why Voldemort had chosen Austria of all places, what exactly he had been up to there, and the details of the battle.

But Dumbledore clearly had no intention of discussing it further. Even earlier, when they had approached the topic, he had suddenly become vague, as if deliberately avoiding something.

The problem was, if Dumbledore didn't want to talk, there wasn't much Kyle could do. It wasn't like he could just dose him with Veritaserum…

Hmm?

Kyle raised an eyebrow. Come to think of it, he did have some Veritaserum—courtesy of Snape.

The only problem was, he couldn't quite remember where he had put it. After all, it was a gift from Snape, and regardless of what it was, Kyle had no intention of using anything that man gave him. He had probably tossed it aside without a second thought.

It was likely somewhere in his trunk. When he had time, he could dig around for it.

With that in mind, Kyle followed Dumbledore out of the room.

...

Outside, Mrs. Weasley had indeed finished preparing dinner, but what truly surprised Kyle was seeing Lupin—back from St. Mungo's.

The heavy bandages that had previously wrapped around his entire body were now reduced to just a few strips on his wrists. His complexion looked much better, and he was moving around freely without assistance.

While Kyle was pleased, he wasn't particularly shocked.

As long as the injuries weren't caused by dark magic, St. Mungo's could handle them without much trouble. Besides, Lupin was a werewolf—his natural healing ability was far superior to that of an average wizard.

Tonks, however, still looked uneasy, sticking close by his side as if afraid he might collapse at any moment.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Kyle said as he walked over to greet Lupin.

"Thanks to Dumbledore—he brought phoenix tears," Lupin replied with a smile. "And I also have to thank you, Kyle."

"Thank me? For what?"

"I heard about what you and Mr. Scamander did."

Tonks had already mentioned it to him back at St. Mungo's, and some of the werewolves he had befriended in the werewolf communities had also sent him letters. They wrote that the pack in the Black Forest had been unusually quiet for a while.

It seemed they had moved. The Death Eaters had gone looking for them but found nothing.

Even the werewolves in Knockturn Alley hadn't shown up in a long time.

Thinking about it, Lupin couldn't help but sigh. "I never expected that something I couldn't resolve in over half a year, you two managed to settle in just a few days."

"Ah, it's nothing." Kyle waved a hand dismissively. "The real problem is that you're too soft-hearted. Just take out the loudest troublemakers, and the rest will fall in line."

Lupin was momentarily speechless, shaking his head without replying.

If werewolves were that easy to deal with, Dumbledore wouldn't have needed him to win them over in the first place. In the end, it was a matter of ability.

Lupin understood this well, but as long as the outcome was good, he didn't mind.

"Alright, let's eat first," Mrs. Weasley said as she walked over.

She looked completely different from yesterday—her spirits were clearly lifted.

"Percy woke up," Charlie whispered beside Kyle. "They spoke for a bit, and Mum was over the moon."

"What did they talk about?"

"No idea. The Healer only allowed one visitor, so we were all waiting outside."

...

The group entered the dining room, where the table was covered with an array of delicious dishes.

"A feast," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. "It's not often that two birthdays fall on the same day—we have to celebrate properly."

"There's something else worth celebrating," Tonks suddenly spoke up.

She linked her arm with Lupin's. "We've decided to get married."

For a brief moment, there was silence—then the room erupted into lively discussion.

"Oh, so it's official?"

"When's the wedding?"

"That's fantastic!"

...

"Congratulations, Moony." Sirius was, without a doubt, the happiest one here. Lupin was his best friend, and Tonks… well, considering pureblood family ties, she was his cousin?

Probably. The relationships within pureblood families were a mess, and Sirius couldn't be bothered to sort them out. But the gist of it was clear.

His best friend was going to marry his cousin... Wait a minute.

Something about that felt off.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Lupin, his expression shifting slightly.

He walked over and gave Lupin a firm punch on the shoulder. "When did this happen? And why didn't you tell me?"

It wasn't clear whether he did it on purpose or if he was just too excited, but that punch was not light. Lupin hissed in pain, inhaling sharply.

"What are you doing? Be careful—Remus just recovered!" Tonks glared at Sirius, clearly unimpressed.

"Bah, you don't get it," Sirius scoffed, then threw an arm around Lupin's shoulders.

"Come on, why'd you keep it from me?"

"I wasn't trying to keep it a secret," Lupin said, a little embarrassed. "We only made the decision recently. I hesitated for a long time. You know… I'm a werewolf, and if I were to be with Tonks—"

"Alright, I don't want to hear it." Sirius abruptly shoved Lupin away.

"I don't care what you were thinking before. Now that you've made up your mind, there's no backing out—got it?

"Otherwise, I won't let you off the hook, even if you are my best friend."

Sirius punctuated his words with another punch to Lupin's arm, though this one was noticeably lighter.

"I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks," Lupin said.

At that moment, the energy in the room reached its peak, with everyone celebrating.

Fred and George had somehow gotten their hands on party poppers, filling the air with shimmering confetti and tiny, fluttering fairies.

"Christmas leftovers," Fred said as he handed Kyle one. "Not like it's a real wedding—might as well use them."

"That's not what surprises me," Kyle said. "What does surprise me is that you actually had anything left from Christmas."

"What's that supposed to mean?" George asked, feigning offense. "Never mind, I'm in a good mood today, so I'll let it slide."

With that, he popped open another confetti cannon, releasing a burst of miniature fire dragons and a golden Christmas tree.

"You two, don't go overboard," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. She didn't seem to mind much, though. Then she turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, why don't you stay for dinner tonight?

"I remember there's a nice bottle of aged Firewhisky in the cellar. Sirius—"

"I'm on it," Sirius said, dashing downstairs.

"What a tempting offer," Dumbledore said, smiling. "It would be even better if there were some egg custard and fruit tart."

"Sorry, I didn't prepare any," Mrs. Weasley said. "But I do have marmalade."

Marmalade?

Just hearing the combination of words made Kyle's teeth ache, but Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked delighted.

"Ah, I like that too."