When the dial finally came free in Kyle's hand, he moved from his kneeling position - because his legs were aching something fierce - and sat cross-legged again, right there on the filthy kitchen floor. And what a sight he must have looked too; dirty, bloodied up, bubble on his face, and dust pretty much all over him, staring at an oven dial he held in his hand.

Only... no, it wasn't an oven dial, was it?

It was...

"Gotcha."

The brooch. The Ilvermorny brooch. This had to be it. Kyle closed his fist around it and held it tight. Gotcha.