In that shabby little house on the sea, Harry had experienced the most magical night of his life. The next morning, he lay in bed as long as he could, reluctant to open his eyes, almost afraid that it had all been a dream.
In that dream, a massive owl had delivered his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Then a giant named Hagrid arrived, told him he was a wizard, and even used magic to punish Dudley, his bully of a cousin. He worried that if he woke up, he’d find himself back in the tiny cupboard under the stairs at home. If he could, he’d stay in this dream forever.
But then Hagrid’s voice broke through.
“Up and at ‘em, Harry. Now’s not the time for sleeping in.”
Harry rubbed his eyes, watching as Hagrid opened the window and released an owl that had just delivered a newspaper, which Hagrid bought for five Knuts.
“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously.
“The Daily Prophet, our wizarding newspaper,” Hagrid explained as he stretched. “Wizards read it to stay informed.” He added, “We’d better get going, Harry. We’ve got a full day ahead. Off to London to get your school supplies—and pick out two birthday presents.”
“Birthday presents?” Harry asked, surprised.
“One for you and one for Kyle.” Hagrid grinned. “Strange coincidence—his birthday’s today too.”
A birthday present? Harry’s heart leapt with excitement. But then he remembered the name Hagrid had mentioned and asked, “Who’s Kyle?”
“He’s another young wizard at Hogwarts—one year ahead of you,” Hagrid replied, already pulling on his boots. “A good kid. Kind-hearted, friendly to everyone, and the professors and students all like him.”
Hagrid continued as they left the hut, making their way to the outer reef. “He’s sharp too. The only student in 300 years to get a Special Award for Services to the School in his first year. If all goes well, he’ll likely be the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin.”
Harry blinked, taking in all these impressive-sounding titles. Though he didn’t recognize any of them, he could tell from Hagrid’s tone that they meant Kyle had accomplished some incredible things.
“If you ever need help or run into trouble at Hogwarts, you can go to him,” Hagrid added. “He’ll look out for you.”
As they walked, Harry muttered the name to himself, “Kyle…” imagining what this other young wizard might be like. Not knowing any wizards, he naturally envisioned something from TV and mashed it together with Hagrid’s appearance. In his mind’s eye, Kyle was a serious-looking boy wearing a tall, pointed hat and a deep black (or maybe blue or red) cloak, clutching a thick wooden staff with a jeweled tip. And maybe he even had a dead ferret looped around his waist as some strange magical token…
Kyle, seated at breakfast in St. Catchpole Village, sneezed suddenly.
“Dear, are you getting a cold?” Chris asked, looking concerned.
“No, I just felt an itch in my nose,” Kyle replied, rubbing his nose. He figured it must’ve been from all the owls he’d come into contact with recently.
He had no idea who’d spread the word about his birthday, but as soon as daylight broke, a steady stream of owls began flying into his room, each carrying beautifully wrapped gifts. The deliveries nearly filled half his room with brightly colored boxes and ribbons.
Just as Kyle was mulling this over, another owl swooped in through the open window, placing a large box on the table beside him.
“It seems you’re quite popular at school,” Diana said with a smile. “Receiving so many gifts!”
“Mum, have you forgotten which house I’m in?” Kyle asked, reaching for a piece of bread. “Hufflepuffs are known for their connections. Naturally, I have plenty of friends.”
Diana chuckled, saying nothing more.
Kyle glanced at the newest package, which he recognized as coming from Lee Jordan. Judging by its shape, it was likely another cake. This seemed to be the most popular gift he’d received—there were already over a dozen cakes stacked in his room upstairs. Barring any unexpected surprises, these cakes would be his main source of food for the next few days, and he knew the Weasley kids would likely be sharing in them, especially Ginny, who would be thrilled.
With a wry smile, Kyle shook his head and took another bite of sausage.
After breakfast, Chris called Kyle aside. “We’ve given some thought to what you asked us yesterday,” he began.
Kyle’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “You’re going to teach me?”
“Of course,” Chris replied, nodding. “We have no reason to object. But… could you tell us why you’re so determined to learn Occlumency? It’s no easy skill, after all. Even many adult wizards struggle with it, so for a young wizard like you, this is quite ambitious.”
Kyle hesitated briefly before answering, “Because of Oren. Back in the Forbidden Forest, I had the feeling he could read my thoughts. It felt… invasive, and I don’t want to experience that again.”
Though Oren was a convenient excuse, Kyle’s reasons went far beyond him. Occlumency was the only known magic that could guard against external mental infiltration—an essential skill if he wanted to delve into the mystery of Horcruxes. He knew he would inevitably need to interact with enchanted objects like the diary and the diadem, both of which could pose serious risks without Occlumency to shield his mind. With Voldemort’s proficiency in soul magic, Kyle knew he would be dangerously exposed if he handled those Horcruxes unprotected.
Kyle had attempted to teach himself Occlumency last year, but, as Chris had pointed out, it was notoriously challenging. Trying to learn without guidance had been painstakingly slow; after half a year, he’d barely managed to reach the beginner’s level. At this stage, he knew his skills were nowhere near strong enough to contend with the mental intrusion of a Horcrux.
“Oren?” Chris repeated, grimacing at the name. For over a month, he had pondered the connection but could recall nothing apart from that rescue mission ten years ago that might link him to Oren.
After a sigh, Chris said, “If you’re truly certain, we can make arrangements for your training.”
“I’m certain,” Kyle affirmed eagerly. “When do we start? After work?”
Chris shook his head, a mysterious smile forming. “No, you won’t be learning from us. For Occlumency, we’ve actually found the ideal teacher, and he’s agreed to instruct you.”