Ex-Wife

Kyle plunged his head into the suitcase, checking to see whether there were any other heavy weapons inside.

A massive weapons case piled in the corner caught Kyle's attention.

Generally speaking, a weapon's power was proportional to its size. With such a huge case holding it, its firepower could not possibly be small.

After dragging it out and setting it on the floor, Kyle pried open the case, revealing the weapon inside.

The moment he saw the strange-looking launcher, Kyle's brow twitched.

If he was not mistaken, this weapon should be the infamous M388 Nuclear Projectile Launcher, later dubbed by military enthusiasts as the stupidest firearm ever made.

Its minimum range was four hundred meters, and its maximum range was two kilometers.

Its lethal radius, however, reached a full five kilometers.

It was truly the most badass "suicide" weapon in the history of human warfare.

Seeing Kyle suddenly fall silent, Cedric bumped his shoulder. "Is there something wrong with this weapon?"

There was. And it was a huge problem.

Kyle waved his hand, deciding not to give away this hot potato. If a mushroom cloud ever rose over Hogwarts Castle or The Burrow one day, things would get seriously out of hand.

He pulled out another launcher from the case, one familiar to Middle Eastern players—the RPG-7!

Kyle held the RPG with a solemn expression, as if it were some priceless treasure.

"This is a top-quality Cuban cigar—Cohiba, Montecristo..."

Kyle held a rocket round in his hand.

"It comes equipped with a high-explosive fragmentation warhead. One shot can blast through a Shield Charm. If you use an armour-piercing round, it might even break through Super Protego."

"If it were a little smarter, it could write books by itself. It would definitely be more obscure than Professor Binns's History of Magic, and it could even read them aloud to you."

Kyle wore an intoxicated expression.

"This is my Eiffel Tower, my Rachmaninoff's Third Symphony, my most beloved weapon—elegantly designed, impossibly beautiful."

He kissed the rocket round tenderly.

"I call it 'Ex-Wife.'"

Fred brought the hand he had been holding behind his back up to his chin, propping it there as he thought.

George glanced at his twin brother, though no one knew what he was thinking.

"This is the best thing I can offer."

Kyle placed the rocket launcher and rocket rounds in front of the two. "So, do you want them or not?"

The Weasley Twins maintained their poker faces.

"Could you at least react? You two are as unreadable as the Sphinx."

Fred slammed both hands down on the table. "We'll take them!"

"Which model?"

"All of them."

Having settled the arms deal, the four of them immediately ran off to drink and have a late-night meal.

An hour later, only Kyle emerged from the suitcase.

The other three had drunk themselves silly and were lying dead drunk on the sofas in the living room.

Kyle could not be bothered to carry them out of the suitcase one by one and toss them back into their respective common rooms, so he let them sleep there for the night.

Hopefully, they would be able to crawl out of bed before their first class in the morning.

Early the next morning, in the Hufflepuff common room.

Kyle slowly sat up in bed, his unfocused eyes utterly unable to find their bearings.

Sure enough, he should have drunk some sobering potion before going to bed last night. With a headache, Kyle rubbed his head.

After sitting on the edge of the bed and getting himself together, Kyle quietly left the dormitory.

Through the small round windows in the common room walls, Kyle could roughly tell that it was not yet six in the morning.

The spacious room was completely empty, without a single person inside.

After washing up, Kyle left the Hufflepuff common room and headed out onto the grass outside the castle.

Breathing in the crisp, fresh air, he began his morning workout.

More than an hour had passed by the time he returned to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Kyle was stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall.

"You snuck off to drink again last night?" Penelope Clearwater leaned close to Kyle, her delicate little nose sniffing at his wizard robes. "You don't smell like alcohol."

Too close, Senior!

Inside the Great Hall, Percy Weasley, who had been watching the entrance all along, unconsciously bent a fork.

Unaccustomed to chatting with a beautiful senior at such close range, Kyle took a step back. "How did you know?"

Penelope gestured with her lips toward the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. "Look at those three drunks."

Kyle did not look toward the Great Hall. Instead, he looked toward the grand staircase ahead, where an old man with a white beard was slowly making his way down.

Damn it!

Kyle sprinted toward the Gryffindor table. Those three reeked of alcohol and still dared to come to the Great Hall for breakfast. Were they afraid Dumbledore would not notice, or did they just not want to live long enough?

"Get up!" Kyle summoned three water balls and splashed them onto the faces of the three people who had just awakened from their hangovers.

He pulled three bottles of sobering potion from his pocket and placed them before them. "Drink these! Professor Dumbledore is coming!"

At the mention of Professor Dumbledore, George, Fred, and Cedric sobered up by more than half in an instant.

The three hurriedly dealt with the abnormalities on their bodies, barely managing to hide every trace before Dumbledore stepped into the Great Hall.

After entering the Great Hall, Dumbledore found the four members of the Father-Worriers Alliance staring at him from beside the Gryffindor table with strange expressions.

He looked suspiciously at his own attire. There did not seem to be anything unusual about it.

The first class on Monday morning was Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration.

Because of the friendly relationship between Lion House and Hufflepuff, most classes for the two Houses were held together.

If Lion House and Snake House were really arranged together like they had been in the films from his previous life, all sorts of open and covert conflicts would probably break out in class. There would be no point in holding lessons at all.

In the Transfiguration classroom, a tabby cat sat quietly on the lectern.

Transfiguration was a course that taught students how to alter an object's shape and appearance.

It was exceptionally complex and rigorous, regarded as one of the most difficult branches of magic.

Therefore, learning Transfiguration required more effort than other subjects, as well as a certain degree of talent.

Unlike Dark Arts Defence, where any oddball could become a teacher, every professor capable of teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts was a wizard with exceptionally high attainments in the field.

Before Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts's Transfiguration professor had been Albus Dumbledore, the greatest White Wizard in the Magical World today.

That alone showed just how proficient Professor McGonagall was at Transfiguration.

As one of only seven Animagi officially registered with the Ministry of Magic in the twentieth century, Professor McGonagall's favorite thing to do was use the advanced Transfiguration magic of transforming herself into an animal to guide young wizards encountering Transfiguration for the first time.

Of course, this approach sometimes led to unexpected accidents.

Like in this class.

When Kyle and Hannah arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, there were not many young wizards inside yet. It looked as though most of the first-years were still on their way.

It was not their fault. Given the labyrinthine layout of Hogwarts Castle, it was hardly surprising for first-year students to get lost.

This was where the advantage of having an experienced guide showed itself—Hannah, who had left with Kyle, did not need to waste time searching for the right route.

When Hannah saw the beautiful tabby cat on the lectern, she rashly extended her wicked little hand, intending to give the cat a good pet.

Kyle's right eyelid immediately twitched. Just as Hannah was about to grab Professor McGonagall by the scruff of fate, he slapped away her grubby hand reaching for the tabby cat.