https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-749-The-Trio-s-New-Target-In-Search-of-a-Horcrux/12539330/
Chapter 748: Six Hundred Years of Character, Is That It?
Chapter 748: Six Hundred Years of Character, Is That It?
Just as Ryan had said, Gryffindor's luck was indeed extraordinary. Not only did two of Slytherin's main players fail to participate, but the match was also decided in just twenty minutes.
260:0
The vast point gap stunned everyone. No one had expected the robust Slytherin team to not score a single goal.
Ron was like an impenetrable wall, skillfully saving several tricky shots. He even managed to deflect a few with the tips of his gloves, only to have them bounce back off the goalposts. It was nothing short of magical.
And when the Slytherin crowd started singing that infamous "Weasley song" in unison, Ron casually conducted them from his lofty position, his sarcasm skills reaching new heights.
By the time Connor rushed over, the spectators were already beginning to leave.
"That was quick," she said, puzzled. Typically, a match would last at least half an hour.
"Slytherin's spirit crumbled since they couldn't score," Kyle shrugged. "They wanted the match to end as soon as possible. Harry caught the Golden Snitch without much interference."
"Yeah, their Beaters looked like they were sleepwalking," Mick added. "But Kyle, if it had been our match today, do you think you could have scored?"
Kyle pondered for a moment before shaking his head. "It's hard to say. There are two possibilities. In one scenario, he has excellent hand-eye coordination today. In that case, I might score a few goals but not enough to gain a significant advantage."
"And the other possibility?" Mick asked, intrigued.
Kyle paused before continuing, "In that case, forget about me. Even if Moran were here, she probably wouldn't be able to get past Gryffindor's defense."
Moran was the Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and one of the most popular Quidditch players. During the last Quidditch World Cup, she led the Irish National Team to victory over Bulgaria.
The reason Kyle said this was because Ron's abnormal performance was just too peculiar, reminding him of the Felix Felicis Slughorn had given him as a birthday gift yesterday... that tiny bottle of liquid luck.
The similarities were uncanny.
Suddenly making up with Lavender... The Slytherin student who got into a scuffle with him for no apparent reason... The two opponents who suddenly withdrew from the match... And now, his savior-like performance on the pitch.
Today, Ron was like a player with cheats enabled, complete with a spotlight shining down on him.
If all of this was mere coincidence, it was a little too convenient.
But then again, would someone resort to using Felix Felicis for a simple Quidditch match? This wasn't even the final match; it was just an ordinary inter-house competition.
Would anyone deem such a match worthy of using a precious potion like Felix Felicis? Kyle thought it was absurd, not just a waste of a valuable resource but a sign of sheer lunacy.
"Kyle, do you think he might have taken..." Connor trailed off, her eyes widening as she, too, thought of Felix Felicis.
"But that's illegal, right? Felix Felicis is prohibited in organized competitions, even at school," she added.
"I don't think so..." Kyle hesitated, unsure. "Ron isn't stupid. Why would he trade a bottle of Felix Felicis for a single Quidditch match victory?"
Despite his words, Kyle couldn't shake the nagging feeling of doubt. Ron's performance did bear an uncanny resemblance to the effects of Felix Felicis.
"What are you guys talking about?" Ryan caught up with them and asked.
"Nothing," Kyle shook his head. Without concrete evidence, it was best not to spread such speculations.
After all, there was a chance that Ron's performance was simply due to an incredible stroke of luck.
...
As they returned to the castle, they found themselves in a sea of gold and red.
Gryffindors were jubilantly celebrating their victory, ecstatic about shutting out Slytherin. This triumph seemed to bring them even more joy than Christmas.
"Weasley is our king!"
"He's invincible!"
"Not a single Quaffle past him!"
The song had evolved into a new version, and this time, it perfectly fit its title— "Weasley is our king."
Ron had become the hero of Gryffindor, surrounded by adoring fans.
"If he performs like that again next time, we'll be in trouble," Mick said worriedly. "Gryffindor's score has surpassed ours."
"It's fine," Kyle said nonchalantly. "We're only slightly behind in points. We can make up for it."
The Quidditch match was but a brief interlude, and soon, Kyle's thoughts turned elsewhere as he made his way toward the library.
He was still curious about what Malfoy had been reading.
Since everyone had just returned from the pitch, the library wasn't very crowded yet. With a quick glance, Kyle spotted Malfoy near the aisle, seated at a table.
Pretending to browse for books, Kyle nonchalantly strolled over and, as he passed by Malfoy, stole a quick glance at his table.
However, Kyle was disappointed to see only a single book, "Advanced Guide to Transfiguration," a common reference book for students after their O.W.L. exams. Along with a stack of parchment, it was clear that Malfoy had been working on homework.
After that, Kyle didn't go anywhere else. He spent the entire afternoon in the Room of Requirement, brewing potions with Connor, and after dinner, he returned to the common room to play a few rounds of Wizard's Chess with Mick.
Until nine o'clock in the evening.
Just as their game was getting intense, the Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff ghost, suddenly popped up from underneath the chessboard.
Startled, Mick subconsciously jostled the chess piece in his hand, and his all-important queen was promptly kicked to pieces by Kyle's knight.
"Hey, can you play properly or not!" The king turned angrily to Mick and complained, "Who walks into someone else's horse like that? Sending in a giant would be better than you!"
"How is this my fault?" Mick retorted, equally annoyed. "I was startled, alright! I didn't mean to move my piece there!"
"Sorry, kids." The Fat Friar bowed slightly. Then, turning to Kyle, he said, "The Headmaster is looking for you."
"Now?" Kyle glanced at the darkening sky outside the window.
"That's what he said. They're waiting for you."
"Alright."
With no other choice, Kyle stood up. As he reached the door, he suddenly remembered something and turned back, saying, "Connor, why don't you take my place for this game?"
"Okay," Connor nodded.
But just as she got up, Mick's expression changed, and he said, "Ryan, didn't we have Charms homework due tomorrow? We'd better get started on it right away."
Without waiting for Ryan's response, he rushed back to their dormitory.
It wasn't because he was afraid of losing; it was mainly because Connor played chess too slowly.
Having endured it once before, Mick knew that even with the loss of an important piece due to his mistake, it would still take at least half an hour or more to finish the game.
Rather than endure another half-hour of torture, Mick chose to work on his homework.
Fortunately, Connor didn't know what he was thinking, and seeing that Mick had left, she sat down to continue reading her book.
...
On the other hand, Kyle left the common room and made his way to the eighth floor.
In the Headmaster's office, in addition to Dumbledore, Harry was also present.
On the table in front of them was the familiar Pensieve, containing silvery memories that drifted like swimming fish.
It seemed they had just been viewing another memory.
"Professor, what did you want to see me for?" Kyle habitually stroked the feathers on Fox's neck at the doorway.
But strangely, no one spoke for a long time.
Kyle unconsciously looked up and noticed that Dumbledore was staring at him with a very peculiar expression—a mixture of shock, disbelief, and nine hundred and ninety parts suspicion.
"What is it?" Kyle asked again.
"I heard from Harry that you gave Slughorn a bottle of mead?" Dumbledore's voice trembled slightly, as if he were forcibly suppressing something.
"Ah, yes, that's right." Kyle nodded. "Professor, do you like mead too?"
"If I may..." Dumbledore paused, then pretended to be casual as he said, "I rarely drink strong liquor now that I'm older. Mead would be perfect."
"Alright." Kyle once again took out the golden cup and gently swirled it.
Soon, the Headmaster's office was filled with the sweet fragrance of aged mead.
However, no one in the room, including the portraits, looked at the cup of mead. Instead, all eyes were fixed on the golden cup.
"Armando, is that the one...?" a witch couldn't help but ask.
"To be honest, I've never seen the real thing either," Armando Dippet said, "but from the looks of it, it should be the right one."
"Kyle..." At this moment, Dumbledore suddenly asked, "Where did this cup come from?"
"This? It's the Hufflepuff Cup," Kyle replied calmly. "What about it?"
"You're asking what's wrong?" Phineas' voice rang out from above, and at some point, the former headmasters had crowded into the portrait closest to the table.
He shouted, "That's the Hufflepuff Cup!"
"Calm down, Phineas... calm down," Dumbledore waved his hand, signaling for him to be quiet.
"May I take a look at this?" he asked.
"No problem." Kyle generously pushed the cup towards him.
Dumbledore poured the mead inside into a nearby teapot and picked up the cup to examine it closely, his crooked nose almost touching the cup.
"Professor, is this really the Hufflepuff Cup?" Harry asked in a low voice.
"I think so!" Dumbledore's voice carried a hint of bewilderment.
"But..." Harry didn't understand, "In the memory we just saw, didn't Voldemort already trick Hepzibah Smith into giving him this cup?"
The memory they had just viewed was about the cup, or rather, about Voldemort's early employment history.
Dumbledore's lips twitched uncontrollably at the mention of Nick.
He remembered that after learning about the Diadem, he had specifically paid a visit to Nick's manor to inquire if there was anything else he was hiding from him.
At that time, Nick had solemnly assured him with a six-hundred-year-old promise that there was absolutely nothing else.
And now, not long after, he had produced a golden cup.
Six hundred years of character, and this is what he does? In that moment, Nick's image in Dumbledore's mind came crashing down.
Deceitful... they're all deceitful! It took Dumbledore a good while to calm himself, and he decided to set this topic aside for the moment.
"So, how did you end up finding this Horcrux?"
Harry, too, was looking at Kyle, his curiosity piqued.
"It was a coincidence," Kyle explained. "Remember the notebook Lucius Malfoy had? I wondered if other Death Eaters might also have Horcruxes, so I paid a visit to the Lestrange family's ancestral home during my free time."
"And that's where you found the golden cup?" Harry interjected, his tone filled with disbelief.
"Yeah... something like that," Kyle nodded.
At this point, not only Harry but even Dumbledore felt speechless.
When had finding Horcruxes become such a simple matter? They hadn't found a single clue about the Horcruxes up until now, and yet Kyle had casually stumbled upon one by visiting a Death Eater's ancestral home? Dumbledore took several deep breaths. Although he found it hard to believe, he chose to accept it.
After all, this wasn't the first time. One could say that Kyle had been involved in the discovery of all the Horcruxes so far.
Having experienced this multiple times, he was slowly getting used to it.
Dumbledore set the golden cup down and then asked solemnly, "Kyle, I need you to tell me truthfully if there are any other Horcruxes that we don't know about. This is important."
Previously, he hadn't thought it possible for someone to find so many Horcruxes in just a few years, even after learning about the Ravenclaw Diadem.
But now, reality was telling him otherwise. Kyle was capable of such feats.
"No, I promise!" Kyle asserted.
He truly had no more Horcruxes. As for the remaining ones—the diary, the diadem, and the locket—Dumbledore was already aware of them.
He had also taken one of Voldemort's snakes, but it wasn't considered a Horcrux and was currently with Newt.
Dumbledore looked into Kyle's eyes for a long moment before slowly nodding and sitting back down.
"I believe you," he said. "But Kyle, this is such important information that you really shouldn't keep it from me. If I hadn't called you here today, would you have ever told me about this?"
"If I had intended to keep it from you, Harry wouldn't have seen this golden cup," Kyle shrugged.
"And the cup has been with Nick until this Christmas when I got it back from him."
He wasn't going to take the blame for this. When he had taken out the cup at the hospital wing, he hadn't thought about hiding it from Dumbledore. If he had simply wanted Slughorn to test the drinks for him, he could have used a different cup.
"I'm sorry, Kyle," Dumbledore sighed. "But as I said, this is important, and we have to take it seriously."
"I understand."
"Could I... keep this here for a few days?" Dumbledore asked, gesturing to the cup.
"Can't you just take a look at it now?" Kyle hesitated.
It wasn't a Horcrux anymore, and Dumbledore had no reason to keep it... what if he still held a grudge about the tea incident?
"Don't worry, I'll give it back to you within a week at most," Dumbledore assured him.
"Well... alright then," Kyle reluctantly nodded after a moment's pause.
However, as he left the office, he casually took Fox from his perch and carried him away.
Dumbledore's lips began to twitch again, but he said nothing.
(End of Chapter)
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