"What! That blob of stuff just now... you made that using the Patronus Charm?"
On the way back to their rooms from the training hall, the little beaver asked Kyle what on earth that thing he had been tinkering with was.
Kyle chose to tell the truth, but his honesty was met with a massive eye-roll.
"How can you take a magic as beautiful as the Patronus Charm and twist it into something so evil-looking?"
Hermione remembered how her mind had been filled with images of Kyle when she performed the charm, and her face flushed a light shade of crimson.
Hearing Hermione use the word "evil" to describe his work, Kyle shot her a disgruntled look.
"There is no distinction between good and evil in magic itself. The only thing that determines the nature of a spell is the person wielding it."
Before the little beaver could argue, Kyle continued, "Sectumsempra is a Dark Art, but I can use it to peel potatoes. The Blasting Curse isn't classified as Dark Magic, but if I crank up the mana output, one hit can blast a Muggle straight into the morgue."
Kyle shrugged. "So, like I said, magic isn't good or evil. It all depends on the user."
Hermione clearly didn't agree with his assessment. She cited several examples of Dark Wizards whose minds had been corrupted by the Dark Arts to counter his point.
Kyle shrugged helplessly. "Look at me. I study the Dark Arts every day—do I look like my mind is being corrupted?"
There were always rumors in the outside world that the Dark Arts eroded one's sanity. In reality, however, it was simply because Dark Magic was much easier to learn and master than Light Magic.
Because the power offered by the Dark Arts was so easily within reach, the idiots who became obsessed with it gained power that far outstripped their mental fortitude. Once their egos inflated, they turned to villainy. To everyone else, it looked as though the Dark Arts had corrupted their minds.
That was the true origin of the theory.
After debunking Hermione's point, Kyle asked her a follow-up: "Do I look like a wicked Dark Wizard to you?"
After Kyle's long-winded explanation, the words Hermione had been about to say got stuck in her throat.
However, she immediately recalled the time Kyle had taken her on a "brave" excursion through Knockturn Alley, providing a "one-stop service" of murder and cremation to get rid of the Dark Wizards who had been torturing her father.
She nodded firmly. "Yes, you are exactly like a Dark Wizard!"
Seeing Kyle's face gradually turn red with indignation, Hermione tilted her chin up slightly, a smug smile playing at the corners of her lips. It was truly rare to see Kyle look so exasperated yet helpless.
She had thought the Golden Flash of Hogwarts would remain poised and composed no matter what predicament he faced.
Seeing the little beaver's gloating expression, a sudden streak of mischief surged through Kyle's heart.
He took a step forward, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pinned her against the nearby wall. A Flying Thunder God Kunai, gleaming with a cold light, materialized in his right hand.
The kunai was pressed against her throat; just half a centimeter more and it would have broken the skin.
Kyle wore a cold, cruel smile. "Since you say I'm a Dark Wizard, you'd better be careful—I might just kill you."
The little beaver instantly felt an incredibly intense Killing Intent lock onto her.
Her breath hitched involuntarily. The icy chill of the wall behind her made cold sweat slowly seep from her palms.
After his "seven-in, seven-out" slaughter in Knockturn Alley, Kyle had mastered the art of using Killing Intent to intimidate others with the help of the Fear Spell. Of course, this method only worked on inexperienced young witches like Hermione.
Forget "ceiling-level" powerhouses like Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore; it wouldn't even have much of an effect on Konan.
Seeing the little beaver's pupils dilate as she stared blankly at the kunai pressed against her throat, Kyle took a step back.
He waved a hand in front of her face. "Scared stupid?"
Uh... she actually seems scared stupid.
Kyle slowly retracted the Killing Intent locked onto her. Only then did Hermione begin to come back to her senses.
She paused for a moment, the color returning to her deathly pale face, and then she suddenly let out a scream of pure terror.
"AAH—"
The scream was cut short as Kyle clamped his hand over her mouth.
It wouldn't be good if Dumbledore caught him bullying the little beaver.
With her mouth covered and fueled by sudden rage, Hermione viciously bit down on Kyle's hand.
It was an awkward moment. She couldn't bite through.
The moment she opened her mouth, Kyle had activated Demon Skin.
"Are you a dog or something?"
Kyle wiped his hand on the hem of Hermione's clothes with a look of utter disgust. When she had bitten him, she'd left quite a bit of saliva on his hand.
Realizing what was happening, the little beaver began to pummel Kyle with her fists—fists packed with Monstrous Strength.
Even with Demon Skin active, Kyle winced and grimaced from the impact.
Since he was the one who had frightened her with Killing Intent first, Kyle knew he was in the wrong, but that didn't mean he was going to stand there and take a beating.
He turned tail and bolted.
An infuriated Hermione chased closely behind him, looking as though she wouldn't rest until she had beaten Kyle to death. The two of them ran a long distance through the castle, one chasing and one fleeing.
It wasn't until they reached the door to his room that Kyle finally stopped.
Hermione adjusted her ragged breathing and shot Kyle a complicated look. She complained, "Were you really trying to kill me just now?"
Kyle looked up at the ceiling. "Do I look like the kind of person who kills people over a disagreement?"
The little beaver really wanted to say yes, but she was afraid Kyle would pin her against the wall with a kunai again. So, she chose not to answer, huffing as she reached for the doorknob.
Whether it was intentional or not, Alfred had arranged her room directly across from Kyle's. Diagonally across from her was Konan's room.
Hermione pushed the door open and started to walk in when Kyle gave a light cough. "Ahem... Hermione."
She turned back irritably, her tone thick with impatience. "What now?"
"That's my room," Kyle pointed to the door across the way. "Your room is over there."
Hermione froze mid-step. Her face rapidly turned from white to a deep scarlet.
She awkwardly pulled the door shut and bolted back into her own room like a streak of lightning.
Standing at his own doorway, Kyle waved toward the little beaver's room. "Goodnight, Hermione."
There was no response.
While the little beaver was curled up under her covers, nursing her anger, a scene was unfolding on a beach along the eastern coast of Britain.
A black dog, so thin it was little more than skin and bones, was clinging to a wooden plank, struggling through the sea about a hundred meters from the shore.
Fortunately, the tide was coming in. With the push of the waves, the black dog soon neared the land.
The moment its four paws hit the ground, the exhausted dog hopped off the plank and struggled to move a few more steps forward. It didn't collapse onto the ground until it reached a spot where the seawater could no longer touch it.
Lying on its side, the black dog's sunken, hollow eyes stared blankly at the silhouettes of several tents further down the beach.
Nearby, a few barbecue grills were scattered about, still emitting wisps of smoke.
After resting for a moment and regaining a bit of strength, the dog struggled to its feet and wobbled toward the distant grills.
It hoped to find a few leftover bones from the beach party to soothe the constant, gnawing hunger in its empty stomach.
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