In the following days, Fred and George continued to come over occasionally, focused on perfecting the first product in their Skiving Snackbox line—the Fat-Tongued Toffee. Kyle, however, found the process unbearably tedious and opted not to join them, choosing instead to stay in his room and read.
Fred and George were speechless; they couldn’t help but see a budding Percy in Kyle. But they couldn’t say much—Kyle was, after all, their landlord and a valuable partner. It was also the only place where they could experiment freely and openly with their inventions.
Of course, this didn’t mean they stayed entirely silent about his absence.
After one of their invitations was declined, George drawled dramatically, “Fred, I think it’s time we put in an order for some fireworks to celebrate Kyle’s early promotion to prefect.”
“We’d be celebrating for four years, then,” Fred replied in the same mocking tone. “After all, Hogwarts doesn’t make students prefects until fifth year, and he’s only in second year.”
“True, it could even be six years.” George raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Let’s not forget about the position of Head Boy.”
“Yes… goodness, six years’ worth of celebratory fireworks. That’s a fortune,” Fred agreed, their exaggerated tone and demeanor perfectly mimicking a certain Potions professor’s. If someone had overheard, they might’ve thought there were two Snapes standing outside Kyle’s door.
Kyle simply responded by flipping them off without a word, then turned back to his desk.
There, a stack of parchment filled with careful writing awaited him. The text was a transcription he’d copied from a book in the Restricted Section titled Magical Products: Alterations and Combinations, a work on alchemy. Though Kyle hadn’t been particularly interested at the time, he’d decided to transcribe the information anyway and had left it untouched for ages.
Now, however, he felt differently.
Helping the Weasley twins with their Snackboxes had been a mild diversion after finishing his homework, but his real interest lay in learning about Horcruxes. He sifted through the parchment, focusing on the sections concerning the embedding of magic within ordinary objects. This was the closest thing he’d found that might connect to Horcruxes.
Although it was a bit of a stretch and Kyle wasn’t entirely certain Horcruxes had anything to do with alchemy, it didn’t hurt to gather knowledge. After all, both alchemy and Horcrux creation involved complex fusions, and there was always the chance of some crossover.
The soul and magic might be quite different, but he knew it wasn’t entirely impossible that there might be a connection.
Kyle hadn’t noticed anything unusual at first, but as he studied the book more closely, he realized just how dense and intricate the content was. Determined to fully understand these concepts, he ordered several foundational books on alchemy from Diagon Alley, learning the subject from scratch.
Alchemy proved to be an expensive hobby. Even the most basic books cost at least ten Galleons each—more costly than even Lockhart’s famous series. Kyle ended up spending a small fortune to build his collection. For almost a month, he immersed himself in reading, gradually piecing together the basics of this ancient craft.
One night, a month later, Kyle sat at his desk as usual. But this time, instead of reading, he took out a wand and tried to levitate a piece of toffee in front of him, making it float gently upward.
Ottery St Catchpole, being a largely magical village, effectively rendered The Trace useless, making it difficult for the Ministry of Magic to detect any underage magic.
Still, Kyle was careful; he only used his wand at night, when Ministry offices were closed and most villagers were active, creating ample magical interference. And rather than using his own wand, he used one he’d taken from the witch who had once pursued him.
When he first found it, he’d slipped it straight into his robe and decided not to hand it over to Professor McGonagall or anyone from the Ministry. Although the Hit Wizards had briefly asked him about the missing wand, they hadn’t pursued it much further. In the vast expanse of the Forbidden Forest, they likely assumed it had been lost or spirited away by some magical creature.
Now, the wand served as Kyle’s personal trophy. It didn’t feel quite right in his hand—like eating spaghetti with a spoon—but he couldn’t complain about something he’d obtained for free.
Under his control, the toffee gradually began to peel away, layer by layer, until it transformed into a thin “candy paper.” The wrappers were extremely thin, and on closer inspection, each layer bore a unique pattern.
Next, Kyle took a small vial of light blue Swelling Solution and, with another wave of his wand, guided two drops of the potion into the air. The drops divided and stretched, forming countless thin, nearly invisible lines that perfectly aligned with the patterns on the candy paper. As he completed this process, the wrapper reformed, pulling together into a seemingly ordinary piece of toffee.
This accomplishment marked Kyle’s progress over the past month—mastering how to change matter’s form and then fuse it together. It reminded him of the enchanting process in games, but with a significant difference: instead of embedding magical gems into items, his alchemy method involved grinding down the gems and recasting them directly into the object. This complexity was exponentially higher, which likely explained why such content was restricted to the banned section.
Kyle held the toffee up to the light. It looked identical to any ordinary piece of candy, indistinguishable even if it were broken open.
“Should I find someone to test it out?” Kyle muttered to himself.
This was his first attempt at something , and he wasn’t entirely certain of the outcome. The only way to confirm its success would be to try it on someone. He mentally reviewed potential test subjects.
Fred and George were ideal candidates, and he was sure they’d be enthusiastic about trying it. But he quickly ruled them out. He wasn’t doing this to refine their product, and if they discovered he could fuse toffee and Swelling Solution perfectly, they’d never let him focus on anything else for the rest of the summer.
Ron seemed like a promising option: obedient, trusting, and usually willing to go along with things. He was also convenient when it came to taking the blame. There was also Potter, Hogwarts’ new star student and “savior,” who rarely left his comfort zone. He had no idea how devious people in the wizarding world could be, and this could be an excellent opportunity to give him a valuable lesson. Kyle had good intentions, after all.
Both were decent candidates, but who should he choose?
Kyle weighed his options, feeling a bit torn.