Hogwarts: I'm Truly a Model Wizard

The unexpected arrival of the guests instantly captured everyone's attention. The cheers and chatter faded as students turned their heads, recognizing only Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, among the newcomers. The others were unfamiliar to most.

Even Dumbledore, seated at the Head Table, looked momentarily surprised but quickly rose to greet them.

"Oh, Dugald, Cornelius, Pegasia…" he addressed them warmly, naming each in turn. "It's wonderful to see you all here at Hogwarts. I thought you weren't scheduled to arrive until tomorrow."

"It was indeed supposed to be tomorrow…" replied Dugald MacPhail, the elderly wizard at the front, with a smile. "But Nicolas thought this moment was too rare to keep between just a few of us, and I happen to agree. After all, no young wizard has ever received the Order of Merlin at the age of twelve—that's a record-breaking achievement."

"It's certainly something to celebrate," Dumbledore replied, smiling broadly.

"So we hurried along and managed to get here before term ended," MacPhail continued with a laugh. "This way, the boy can receive the award with his peers here at Hogwarts… which must mean the world to him."

At his words, the hall fell into absolute silence. Everyone's eyes were wide with disbelief and curiosity. A twelve-year-old wizard receiving the Order of Merlin? It seemed almost impossible.

At the Gryffindor table, Fred glanced stiffly at George.

"Twelve years old… that means he's got to be a second-year, right?"

"…Or maybe even a first-year," George muttered, his expression just as puzzled. "Could be Harry. Everyone knows he defeated Voldemort, an Order of Merlin—it's not too far-fetched."

"But… Harry's birthday is in July. He's still eleven."

George fell silent, and a name popped into both their minds at the same time. They exchanged an incredulous look before glancing over at the Hufflepuff table.

Meanwhile, McPhail, who had clearly traveled far, seemed eager to proceed. "Shall we get started then, Dumbledore? The youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin… I think we've kept everyone waiting long enough."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed, "but are you still planning to preside over the ceremony?"

McPhail shook his head. "No, no, we have someone even more fitting."

At this, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister, cleared his throat and took a small step forward, as though ready to volunteer. But McPhail barely glanced his way.

"Since we're at Hogwarts, it has to be you, Albus," he said. "As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, it's only right. You can't keep pushing this onto me—I retired long ago, remember?"

"You're much better at this than I am, Dugald," Dumbledore replied with a grin, then turned his attention to the students.

"What a wonderful day," he began. "Allow me to introduce you to our esteemed guests."

"First, Dugald MacPhail, who guided the Ministry of Magic with a steady hand through a time of turmoil in the muggle world, bringing a period of calm."

McPhail gave a small wave, and the students clapped enthusiastically in response.

"I know him!" Hermione whispered excitedly. "Remember when we were researching Nicolas Flamel? Dugald MacPhail became Minister for Magic in 1858. He was one of the most trusted ministers."

"1858?!" Ron blurted out, eyes wide. "Then he must be over a hundred years old now!"

"133," Harry murmured.

Hermione frowned at them. "Think, you two… He has to be at least 133. He wouldn't have been Minister for Magic the moment he was born, would he?"

"He can really live…" Ron muttered. "Wonder if he's been using the Elixir of Life."

Meanwhile, Dumbledore continued his introductions.

"And our Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge…" Fudge tipped his hat and offered a friendly smile. Applause rippled through the hall, especially from the Slytherin side, where the students clapped more enthusiastically.

"Next, we have Pegasia Sykes, the Head of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and a master of Potions… And Newt Scamander, the renowned Magizoologist and author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them…"

As Dumbledore introduced each person, Kyle's gaze kept drifting toward the last two figures standing quietly at the back: his parents, Chris and Diana. His mother wore a large black hood that concealed her features, and somehow her presence felt muted, almost as though she'd cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm on herself. Standing next to Chris, she was barely noticeable.

As Kyle was pondering this, he felt a tickling sensation on his palm. Glancing down, he saw small letters forming on his skin: Don't look, it's a mission! Kyle's mouth twitched. Apparently, his mother was here on official business from the Department of Mysteries and had to keep a low profile.

Kyle gave a small nod, acknowledging her silent message, then turned his attention back to the ceremony. Just knowing his parents were present was enough. This was an important moment, and it wouldn't have felt complete without them.

"Kyle, why are you smiling so much?" Cedric asked suspiciously. Then a thought seemed to strike him. "Wait… This Order of Merlin… it's for you, isn't it?"

Kyle only shrugged, saying nothing, but Cedric's expression shifted from curiosity to stunned realization. He looked slightly dazed, as though he couldn't fully process what he'd just guessed.

Dumbledore moved on to the final introduction. "And lastly, Damocles Belby, the brilliant inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion." Another round of applause followed as Belby, alongside the other guests, nodded to the students.

Except for Fudge, all the honorees had been recipients of either the Order of Merlin, First Class or Second Class. Kyle's parents, however, took seats near the entrance, maintaining their quiet distance. Dumbledore, sensing their intent to stay unobtrusive, did not introduce them.

"You may be wondering," Dumbledore began, his voice clear and resonant over the crowd, "why such distinguished guests have come to Hogwarts…"

He turned toward the honoree. "The reason is simple. They are here to present a student with the Order of Merlin."

A collective gasp rippled through the hall, and students started whispering excitedly. Most guesses settled on Harry Potter.

"Harry, is it you?" Ron asked, his voice filled with excitement.

"No way," Harry shook his head, frowning. "I've never heard anything about this, and I'm still eleven."

"Well, who else could it be?" Ron pressed. "Don't forget, you defeated You-Know-Who and saved the wizarding world! Maybe they just got your age wrong."

But Harry was skeptical. If this was about Voldemort, why wait until now to give him an award? Why let him live with the Dursleys all those years? He wasn't convinced.

The hall was in a frenzy of guesses and chatter, but Dumbledore soon silenced them with the answer.

"Kyle Chopper!" he announced.

A stunned hush fell over the room as if someone had pressed pause. All eyes turned toward the Hufflepuff table, where Kyle was standing.

"Come here, my boy," Dumbledore said kindly.

Kyle rose and walked up to Dumbledore, feeling all eyes in the hall on him.

Dumbledore's expression was solemn. "At St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries, you successfully subdued a rogue werewolf, saving the lives of fifty-seven patients across an entire floor. In recognition of your courageous and selfless actions, I, Albus Dumbledore, on behalf of the International Wizarding Community, the Order of Merlin, the Wizengamot, and the Wizarding World, hereby award you the Order of Merlin, Second Class!"