Professor McGonagall looked utterly astonished.
"Mr. Blackthorn," she said with a huff after hearing the explanation, "I've only just learned you were involved in this. Honestly, you didn't do anything wrong. According to Potter, you even warned them to be cautious."
"There's still some fault on my part," Hodge quickly interjected. Noticing the sharp glint in McGonagall's eyes behind her square spectacles, he added, "Er, what I mean is… under normal circumstances, I should've reported it to a teacher, right? I helped keep it a secret… that's not right. To instill a proper respect for the law, perhaps it's necessary for me to join Harry and Ron in…"
Harry and Ron's mouths fell open without them realizing it.
McGonagall and Hermione wore identical expressions of exasperation. "Honestly," McGonagall said sharply, "in all my years of teaching, this is the first time I've heard a student volunteer for punishment—and for the purpose of taking a jaunt to Azkaban, of all places! It's hardly a pleasant destination!"
Hodge opened his mouth to respond, but McGonagall cut him off. "That's enough, Mr. Blackthorn. You'd best return to the Ravenclaw table. Professor Flitwick is handing out schedules." With that, she turned and walked away.
Well, alright then, Hodge thought, smacking his lips. He hadn't held much hope for the idea anyway.
When he came back to his senses, four incredulous pairs of eyes were fixed on him.
"Hodge, you don't actually want to go to Azkaban, do you?" Harry asked.
"No need to go that far, mate," Ron said, looking oddly touched.
"Dumbledore would never agree to it. Or… do you know something we don't?" Hermione asked, inwardly reluctant to admit that the person who outscored her might actually be a fool. There had to be a logical reason, didn't there?
"Have you ever played Go?" Hodge asked.
"What?"
Hodge began explaining the game of Go. He drew his wand and tapped the long table, conjuring the faint outline of a square board. With another flick toward the center, black and white stones appeared on the intersecting lines, entangled in a complex pattern that left the others staring in bewildered awe.
Then, a stream of terms poured from Hodge's mouth: "Attack them to protect yourself, sacrifice stones to gain the initiative," "When they're strong, preserve yourself; when they're weak, encroach and divide," or "Strike left, observe right; attack behind, look ahead," and "Abandon the small to seize the large; in danger, you must maneuver."
Hodge went on for a while before stopping. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at him, their eyes glazed over.
"Oh, don't change the subject," Hermione said, scribbling down the phrases to look up later while pointedly calling him out.
Yep, Hodge was definitely dodging the question.
"Alright, you caught me," he said with a shrug. "I do want to visit Azkaban. There are plenty of reasons. For one, I want to see what Dementors are like up close—it could be useful for studying magic. And don't you think the Ministry's attitude is a bit odd? There'll likely be staff escorting the trip, so I figured I could poke around and find out more."
A time of many troubles.
The phrase popped into Harry's mind. He was starting to believe Hodge. He knew Hodge harbored a quiet dissatisfaction with the Ministry.
At the end of the last school year, a conversation on the Forbidden Forest's slopes about "releasing domesticated animals back into the wild" had left a deep impression. Over the summer, Harry couldn't resist sneaking peeks at Uncle Vernon's newspapers—specifically, before July 31st. After that date, the Dursleys had locked him in his bedroom, the door bolted, the windows barred, completely cutting him off from the outside world.
The reason? He'd ruined a major business deal for Uncle Vernon.
On his birthday, the Dursleys had been entertaining guests with great fanfare. Harry, sulking upstairs about his ignored birthday and pretending he didn't exist, listened to Dudley's fake "good boy" act in the living room below. Then, a house-elf named Dobby appeared out of nowhere, spouted a bunch of strange warnings, and used magic to completely disrupt the dinner party downstairs.
Uncle Vernon was livid. Worse still, a warning letter from the Ministry's Improper Use of Magic Office arrived soon after, revealing to the Dursleys that Harry was forbidden from using magic during the holidays. With his last bargaining chip gone, Harry went three days without a proper meal. He suspected that if they weren't outright trying to starve him, Aunt Petunia had mistakenly sent up Dudley's diet food.
Thankfully, on the third day, when Harry was dizzy with hunger, Ron showed up. Fred and George, driving their flying Ford Anglia, hovered outside the second-floor window like divine saviors, whisking Harry away from his misery… but that was another story.
Back when he still had some freedom, Harry had read an article about a foreign concept called an "internet café." It was a place where computers provided public internet access, allowing people to send emails, chat across regions, and, rumor had it, even play games in the future. Reading this, Harry couldn't help but think that if this caught on in England, Dudley would surely badger his way into getting one. It might actually be a good thing—Dudley had a huge collection of game cartridges he'd toss around carelessly after playing.
"Hearing Hodge talk like that, going to Azkaban doesn't sound entirely unthinkable… weirdly enough," Ron muttered.
Harry glanced at Hodge's retreating figure.
"I can't shake the feeling he's got some other plan."
"—Something that requires going to Azkaban?" Ron said. "What's there besides a bunch of criminals?"
Hermione suddenly gasped.
"Criminals!" she said sharply, then lowered her voice. "Azkaban does hold lawbreakers, but not all of them broke the same laws, right?"
Harry's heart skipped a beat. "You mean…?"
"Death Eaters," Hermione whispered quickly, then glanced around nervously, her eyes meeting Ginny's.
"You're saying Hodge wants to see the Death Eaters in Azkaban in person?" Ron frowned. "From what I know, those guys were all sentenced to life. It's been over a decade—maybe they're already…" He trailed off, noticing Ginny. "Ginny, get lost. Go back to your own table."
"Hmph!" Ginny rolled her eyes and sauntered off haughtily.
Meanwhile, at the Ravenclaw table, a crowd of students was gathered at one end, with some occasionally stepping away holding a piece of paper, as if a small vending machine were hidden inside the circle. Hodge approached and saw tiny Professor Flitwick standing in the center, handing out schedules while calling out, "Don't push—everyone gets one—children, don't mess up my hair!"
Hodge waited until the crowd thinned before stepping closer. Flitwick was speaking to the last student.
"Carmichael, you may need to drop a few courses."
"Why, Professor Flitwick?" Eddie Carmichael asked, puzzled. "I think I can handle them. It won't affect my grades…"
"I know," Flitwick said, a bit stiffly. "You're a good student, and I trust you'd follow the rules. But… there's been a complication. To take all your electives at once, you'd need a certain alchemical device. It belongs to the Ministry, and while the approval process is strict, it's never been an issue in previous years. This year, however, things are different…"
————
Supporting me on Patreon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.
pat-reon .com/Dragonhair
(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Patreon normally.)