"Under investigation," Hodge said. When he heard Dumbledore mention Hagrid, he knew the previous conversation must have touched on the Chamber of Secrets. "I've noticed some details: there's water in the corridor, and the spiders are acting strange."
"Spiders?" Professor McGonagall asked, puzzled.
"You're…" Fudge squinted at Hodge, uncertain. "Blackthorn?"
"That's me, Mr. Fudge," Hodge replied.
At that moment, Dumbledore suddenly moved, stepping past the others to stand beside Hodge. "Where?" he asked softly. Hodge pointed to a window near the wall with writing on it. Dumbledore leaned in, examining the glass closely. Along the barely noticeable edge of the window, a line of tiny spiders was scuttling out through the cracks. Dumbledore watched them with rapt attention.
Fudge, standing awkwardly to the side, tried to make conversation with Hodge.
"Dolores has already been punished," he said, his eyes flickering.
Hodge raised an eyebrow, surprised. "As long as it's within the law, I have no objections."
"Oh—naturally," Fudge said, fidgeting with his bowler hat, his tone a bit forced. "I've reassigned her to paperwork and removed her from the Wizengamot, but…" He adopted a slicker tone. "These are trying times, and we need capable hands."
Hodge arched his brow further, catching the hint.
"So, you're planning to reinstate her?" he asked, deliberately emphasizing the "you."
"Ahem," Fudge said, his gaze darting to Dumbledore's back before quickly shifting away. "Well, she's a senior Ministry official, highly capable, diligent, responsible…" He blinked suddenly. "I've heard the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here is rather… irresponsible?"
Hodge stared straight at him. Fudge started twirling his hat again.
"I understand…" Fudge said, adopting a confiding tone. "That position is cursed. Hardly anyone wants to take it. If the Ministry—ah, Dumbledore, are you done? Any progress?"
Dumbledore straightened up.
"Thank you for your concern, Cornelius. I've come to understand a few things," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "The greatest discovery is that the school can remain open." Fudge's expression suggested he thought Dumbledore had suddenly lost his mind.
As the four left, Hodge lingered for a moment before turning and heading to the eighth floor.
A short while later, he emerged from the Room of Requirement, his stomach slightly distended as if he'd overeaten. He checked the Marauder's Map once more, then strode confidently into the library. Just moments ago, Hodge had hidden Ravenclaw's Diadem in a secret room belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw, tucked deep within the Restricted Section.
Madam Pince was there, as always, seemingly never leaving her post. She didn't seem surprised by Hodge's arrival.
"No classes this afternoon?" she asked.
"I do!" Hodge said, seizing the moment. He'd been planning this anyway, but now he was resolute. "Madam Pince, could you do me a favor?"
She glared at him, as if ready to pull a feather duster from behind her back.
"Oh? And what's that?"
"I've got a class this afternoon. Could you remind me in an hour? I'm worried I'll lose track of time," Hodge said. Madam Pince stared at him, clearly taken aback—no student had ever asked her this before. "Don't you want to know what you're getting for Christmas?" Hodge added, trying to sound friendly.
Madam Pince let out a soft huff through her nose and turned away.
Hodge knew that meant yes. He pulled the diadem from under his robes and placed it on an ancient desk. The desk and diadem complemented each other perfectly, both exuding an air of weathered history. The diadem's surface was tarnished, showing that even an artifact crafted by one of the four founders couldn't escape time's erosion. But in the flickering firelight, a faint shimmer gleamed beneath the rust.
Etched on the diadem was a line of small text. Hodge squinted to read it: "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."
His heart pounded. Ginny's earlier words had made him realize something: not all Horcruxes were the same, at least not to Voldemort. The diary was his first Horcrux, created when he was young, still a student, not yet fully grasping death. He hadn't made the diary to standard Horcrux specifications; he saw it as a key to open the Chamber of Secrets. He even wanted someone to find it, unleash the monster within. For that reason, the diary held something no other Horcrux did—memories of his younger self and a command to open the Chamber.
The other Horcruxes were different. They lacked the diary's aggressive intent, instead carrying Voldemort's true desire for immortality. Though Hodge reasoned this out, he still felt uneasy. He reassured himself with his natural talent for Occlumency—if he couldn't resist a Horcrux's dark influence, even briefly, no one else stood a chance.
He drew his wand and gripped the diadem.
It felt ice-cold. Gradually, Hodge's restless mind calmed, as if the diadem's inherent power—to enhance the wearer's wisdom—was taking effect. But he hadn't put it on yet. After a moment's thought, he set the diadem down and waved his wand.
A silvery figure emerged from the wand's tip, a projection resembling a slightly older version of Hodge. It was a creation he'd developed based on the Patronus Charm.
"You know the plan," Hodge said.
The projection nodded.
Hodge handed over an antique pocket watch from his pocket, which contained a Boggart. After a moment's hesitation, he also gave the projection his wand. "Just in case," he said. Then, grabbing the diadem, he took a deep breath and placed it on his head.
A moment passed. The small room remained eerily quiet. Hodge couldn't help but blink.
"What's wrong?" the projection asked, tense.
"I hear someone talking to me," Hodge said vaguely.
"The Horcrux?" The projection tightened its grip on the wand, though it didn't need it to cast magic.
"No, not quite," Hodge mused. "They're all… me, but just—just—" He closed his eyes, sinking into thought, as if communicating with the voices in his mind. When he opened his eyes again, they were alight with excitement.
"I think I've figured it out! Give me the wand!"
"So soon?" the projection asked skeptically. "Seriously, you're not tricking me, are you? You're not possessed by the Horcrux, right?"
Hodge couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Would I trick myself?"
"Oh, that's hard to say," the projection replied, but it handed back the wand. "Don't point it at me. I'm quick to react—faster than the Floo Network."
"Thanks for the concern," Hodge said dryly. He turned the wand, its tip tracing small circles in the air. The motion felt oddly familiar, and the projection shifted uncomfortably.
Finally, Hodge waved his wand, and under the projection's stunned gaze, a new silver figure appeared. This one looked younger—no, identical to Hodge himself. But he wasn't done. His wand traced more circles, and the projection stood frozen in shock. Minutes later, a ring of translucent, silvery "ghost Hodges" surrounded them, like a spectral version of a Hogwarts ghost convention.
"What are these weird things?" the projection asked, only to be met with glares from the other figures. "Oh, sorry, my bad," it backtracked quickly.
"I told you," Hodge said, looking around with satisfaction. "They're the voices in my head."
The projection stood dumbfounded for a moment before blurting out:
"So—you've got a split personality?"
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