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Chapter 80: Sweet Talker
Chapter 80: Sweet Talker
Facing the threat of two second-year students, the meek Kyle could only verbally agree to a series of unequal treaties to avoid being bullied at school.
"Remember your words, Kyle," Fred warned. "You need to provide technical support for our Weasley Joke Products."
"And a venue," George added. "During the holidays, you have to provide us with a safe place to store them and make sure Mom doesn't find out."
"Of course, I'd be happy to," Kyle smiled. "I'll help you with those products, and you don't have to worry about the venue either... What about my room? Mrs. Weasley definitely won't find them there."
"Good."
Fred and George nodded in satisfaction and let Kyle off the hook.
"If you dare deceive us..." Fred warned menacingly before they left, "the consequences will be severe!"
As he spoke, the two also simultaneously stuck out their thumbs and made a slashing gesture across their necks.
After they left, Kyle strolled casually back to the Hufflepuff table as if nothing had happened.
"How were your holidays?"
"Not bad," Kyle glanced at Cedric and replied, "No early mornings or homework. Every day was spent reading, gardening, and petting little animals. This is the life I've always dreamed of."
Cedric looked somewhat envious. "I wish I hadn't gone back either," he sighed. "My dad was supposed to take me to France for the holidays, but he's been too busy. He's been working overtime almost every day and spends less than five hours at home each day. He just didn't have the time."
Kyle was surprised by Cedric's words.
That shouldn't be right. Weren't the smuggled magical creatures already sent back by Chris and Newt? Why was Mr. Diggory still so busy?
And he hadn't heard of any particularly unusual events lately; everything seemed calm.
Even Mr. Weasley and Lucius's argument at the Ministry of Magic had made it to the front page of the Prophet.
On any normal day, such a trivial matter would be tucked away in a corner of the newspaper.
It seemed that the wizarding world had been uneventful lately, giving off a sense of peaceful times.
Under such circumstances, unless there was an urgent incident, like a magical beast hurting someone, Mr. Diggory should have had at least five days off.
But if such an incident had occurred, surely the Prophet would have reported on it?
Cedric seemed to notice Kyle's confusion, and after checking that no one was paying attention, he lowered his voice and said, "It's because of the Bowtruckle... My father has been searching for its trail."
"The Bowtruckle..." Kyle frowned and lowered his voice as well. "Hasn't that thing left already?"
"No, the Ministry is lying," Cedric said. "My dad had a bit too much to drink on Christmas, and it seemed like he mistook me for one of his colleagues, so I took the opportunity to ask him a lot of questions.
He said that the Ministry hasn't found any trace of that Bowtruckle."
Kyle shook his head. "But that's not what Newt said."
If it were anyone else, he might not have believed them, but Newt would never lie, especially when it came to magical creatures.
Unless Fudge were his son.
"I asked about that too." Cedric said, "My dad said that Mr. Scamander's exact words were, 'We haven't found the Couwow, it's probably hiding.'
But the photo the Ministry gave to the Prophet only included the first half of the sentence, they omitted the latter half."
"Huh?" Kyle raised an eyebrow, "To avoid causing panic?"
"Yes, to avoid causing panic." Cedric shrugged, "They even found a reason to send Mr. Criss and Mr. Scamander away, even though they've always opposed such actions."
Kyle stroked his chin, and the previous doubts were now cleared up.
No wonder he always felt that Chris' business trip was a bit odd. So, that was the problem.
But how could it be necessary to send Chris and Newt just to transport some magical creatures?
The Venomous Leopard and the Australian Protean Eye were one thing, those two gentlemen were too dangerous for ordinary people to handle.
But what about the other magical creatures?
Why send these two highly accomplished wizards on a simple task that could be accomplished by releasing them in a remote and secluded forest, or by sending a couple of Hit Wizards?
Just think about it, a deputy chief wizard of the British Ministry of Magic and a renowned magical creature master in the wizarding world, traveling thousands of kilometers together just to send an ordinary Bowtruckle back to its original home?
That's just ridiculous.
Under normal circumstances, not only an ordinary Bowtruckle but even one raised by Grindelwald wouldn't receive such treatment.
Kyle thought for a moment and asked, "So, has your dad found that Couwow yet?"
"No." Cedric shook his head, "My dad and the others have been searching for over a month, but they haven't found any clues.
But Fudge has been pressing them, and he even lost his temper the other day, that ahole."
Cedric was quite well-mannered. When he reached the key word, he only mouthed the word without making a sound, fully demonstrating the qualities of an excellent young wizard.
However, his lip movements were very clear, and Kyle could tell that he was using a very sweet language to praise the other party's family tree.
After coating his mouth with honey, Cedric's mood improved for some unknown reason. He glanced at the staff table and said, "Never mind that for now, have you noticed that Professor Snape seems to be in a foul mood today?"
"Really?"
Kyle picked up a chicken leg and said without looking up, "It's probably just your imagination. He's grumpy every day."
"Now that you mention it, that's true..." Cedric glanced at the staff table again, "But I still feel like there's something different about him today."
Professor Snape, sitting at the staff table, looked as if he had taken the wrong potion, his face as dark as a pot. Those sharp eyes of his kept sweeping back and forth across the four house tables.
As if sensing that someone was looking at him, Snape suddenly turned his gaze towards the Hufflepuff table, causing Cedric to quickly lower his head.
Next to him, Kyle continued to eat his chicken leg nonchalantly, occasionally chatting with Mickel, who was sitting on his other side.
(End of Chapter)
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