As Hodge stepped out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, he found Harry, Ron, and Hermione waiting for him at the door, their faces sporting teasing grins.
"Best of luck with the French book signing, Professor Lockhart," Ron said, mimicking his tone.
"Oh, come off it," Hodge said, pulling them away from the doorway. "You lot have no idea how much he's helped me. I'm willing to bear the guilt…" He trailed off thoughtfully. "The cost might be bigger than I expected."
"Besides drool, what else?" Ron asked.
"Your brain," Hodge said solemnly.
Ron looked utterly baffled.
Hodge changed the subject. "So, what's up? You lot looking for me?"
At that, Ron and Hermione both turned to Harry. He hesitated, glancing at the bustling corridor, so Hodge led them down a different path toward last year's makeshift Whimsy Club classroom.
Once the crowd thinned, Harry pulled a photograph from his pocket. It was a wedding photo featuring a young couple in the center, the bride and groom arm in arm, beaming with joy. They were unmistakably Harry's parents. Next to the groom stood a strikingly handsome man with a cheeky grin, dressed as the best man.
Hodge understood immediately.
"Do you know anything about Sirius Black?" Harry asked.
They entered the activity room and shut the door. Just as Hodge opened his mouth to respond, a small, iron-gray figure lunged at him. He dodged swiftly, and the thing crashed into Harry with a loud thud. It was a Cornish pixie. They'd temporarily housed the pixies here, but they were supposed to be locked in their cages.
In an instant, another pixie zoomed toward them. Though wingless, these creatures could fly using their innate magic, and they were fast—something the group had learned the hard way a few days ago.
"Protego!" Hodge shouted. At the same time, a faint click sounded, and a cloud of black mist rose from him, coiling on the ceiling like a dark storm cloud. From it emerged the terrifying head of a fire dragon.
"ROAR!"
The pixies trembled in fear, collapsing to the floor, paralyzed.
Ron and Hermione stared in awe at the massive creature above them. They'd heard about Hodge's uncanny ability to control a boggart, shaping it at will—even into a fire dragon—but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely.
Harry, however, wasn't fazed. He'd witnessed a similar scene before when Hodge used this boggart trick to scare off a creature lurking in the Forbidden Forest's shadows. But perhaps because they were indoors, with the ceiling, furniture, and pixies as reference points, the dragon's head in the dark cloud felt even more imposing.
It took them a moment to wrangle the pixies back into their cage.
Hodge recast the containment spell and used magic to calm the pixies' nerves. Once everything was settled, Hermione locked the cage and examined its magical wards with a puzzled frown. "The interior's intact. Someone must've opened it from the outside—"
"It was Peeves," Hodge said with certainty. "I put a protective charm on the classroom door. If someone broke in, I'd know. The charm's still intact, and only ghosts or Peeves could pull this off in the castle."
"Is he trying to make you honor your deal?" Harry guessed.
He knew about Hodge's pact with Peeves—a school-year agreement where Hodge had to indulge Peeves' requests, including a monthly brawl. The truly remarkable part was the clause that let Hodge summon Peeves at will. Thanks to that, Hodge had once lured Peeves to the room hiding the Philosopher's Stone, giving him the chance to smash a vase on Voldemort's head. Harry was thoroughly impressed by that one.
"Maybe," Hodge replied. "Harry, you still haven't explained the photo."
"Oh, right," Harry said, then fell silent. The thoughts swirling in his mind the past few days came rushing back. No one could truly understand him. Ron and Hermione had happy families; they couldn't imagine life without parents. The only glimpses they got were the snippets Harry shared about living with the Dursleys.
If sarcasm were the theme of a book, Harry wouldn't need to think twice—he'd just transcribe the Dursleys' daily quips. He'd probably have to edit it down significantly.
Harry decided there was no need to dump his emotions on Hodge. As Ginny had said, there was no point obsessing over Sirius Black's actions. In a year or two, the issue might resolve itself. Harry took her words to mean that Sirius Black wouldn't live much longer, and once he was gone, all grudges would fade.
"Here's the thing," Harry said, improvising an excuse. "I'm planning to practice dueling magic. I was wondering… er, could I maybe borrow the pixies for a bit?" His words gained confidence, as if this had been his plan all along. "Just for practice, no harm to them. If we find a good place to release them back into the wild later, that's fine too. Just for now…"
Ron and Hermione's jaws dropped.
Hodge found it a bit odd. He knew Harry and Ron were usually pretty laid-back. Had their trip to Azkaban sparked some profound change? Still, he was happy to see it.
In truth, Hodge had taken on a task from Lockhart to study the secret behind the pixies' ability to fly without wings.
"Alright, I don't mind," Hodge said. "But what about your Quidditch training?"
Harry gritted his teeth at the question.
"I'll make time. The first match is still a ways off."
Ron let out a soft whistle that sounded suspiciously like "Wood." Harry's expression immediately turned guilty. Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was notorious for his grueling training and no-nonsense attitude.
Hermione chimed in, "I think Ginny's got a point. Learning more about dueling can't hurt—"
"Ginny? Ron's sister?" Hodge interrupted.
"Yeah, her," Hermione said. "She's really worried about Harry. If you two came back from Azkaban completely unfazed, you'd be heartless. Harry, didn't that woman say she'd kill you herself?"
"Who?" Harry asked.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Ron answered. "A total nutcase. Weirdly, the Dementors didn't seem to affect her at all. The moment she saw Harry, she recognized him and started ranting about fulfilling the Dark Lord's wishes. Moody gave her a good whack… She doesn't even know the Dark Lord's not actually dead and can possess people. Honestly, I wish Voldemort would show up on the back of her head. Two problems solved at once."
"Not likely," Harry said. "Voldemort told me himself—creatures he possesses don't survive long."
The group fell into a somber silence, all thinking of Quirrell, still lying in St. Mungo's Hospital. Hodge knew more about Quirrell's condition than the others. His physical injuries were easy to treat, but the damage to his soul left the healers helpless.
Suddenly, Hodge's eyes widened. He realized something: Quirrell might never wake up, but he was still alive—
That wasn't normal!
————
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