Even after some time had passed, Hodge would still clearly remember the way Voldemort looked when he fell. The infamous Dark Lord—the one whose very name must not be spoken—had simply died without a sound, no more noble in death than any of the people he himself had murdered.
When Mad-Eye Moody announced the result in a tone of utter disbelief, loud cheers erupted from the other side of the barrier. Moments later, the group began laboriously blasting through the magical wall—once Voldemort's only possible escape route, now the gate of his cage. The pockmarks and scorch marks covering it proved that, even while dueling Dumbledore, Voldemort had found time to fire off a few desperate curses.
Unfortunately for him, he had still been a good dozen feet short of freedom. There was, in the end, little to regret. Members of the Order of the Phoenix followed the narrow path Voldemort himself had carved, widened it just enough (possibly under Moody's barked directions), and eagerly squeezed through.
When they finally drew near the body, they stopped at a respectful distance and simply stared.
Accepting that Voldemort was truly dead took a moment.
"Could he be hiding in some backwater again, just waiting for someone to resurrect him?" Sirius joked.
"Oh, shut up!" Moody roared.
Judging by everyone else's reactions, the joke had fallen flat. Dumbledore, who was checking Harry over, smiled and said, "In my considered opinion, he is very much dead this time."
That settled the matter.
Hodge knew that even when Voldemort had been little more than a wraith, Dumbledore had always been able to sense his presence—just never destroy him. Now, right under Dumbledore's nose, there was no chance Voldemort could fake his own death.
Still, Hodge remained cautious.
The next step, naturally, was informing the Ministry. As soon as news of Voldemort's demise spread, Amelia Bones sent word with another piece of excellent news: the Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor had been rounded up in one fell swoop. The Aurors had discovered several prisoners in the underground cells—old Barty Crouch, a goblin named Ragnok (拉环 likely refers to Griphook's superior or a similar figure), two little-known retired Ministry officials, and the manor's own master, Lucius Malfoy himself.
"He's not pulling a fast one, is he—that sly old dog Lucius Malfoy?" Moody bellowed the moment Madam Bones arrived with her entourage.
"Regrettably, he's been rather badly tortured," Amelia Bones replied in a brisk, businesslike tone.
"There's definitely something fishy! I don't believe in coincidences!" Moody roared, already storming off; he had to oversee the interrogation in person. After Madam Bones had carefully examined Voldemort's corpse, she stepped over to speak quietly with Dumbledore.
Soon afterward Cornelius Fudge arrived from the Ministry, where he had been holding the fort all night. He was beside himself, nearly dropping his lime-green bowler hat when he saw the body.
"I can't believe it, Dumbledore—the prophecy clearly said—"
"What prophecy is that, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked lightly. "I rather thought that if a prophecy concerning Voldemort had surfaced, I would be the first to hear of it."
"Er… well… I may have misunderstood."
Fudge shot Dumbledore an embarrassed, startled glance. Dumbledore was still alive. If the prophecy no longer mattered, then what did that make all the little maneuvers he'd been pulling behind the scenes? Fudge instinctively looked away—and immediately winced at the cluster of Ministry officials surrounding Amelia Bones. By every measure, he had achieved precisely nothing during this brief war.
The arrival of Fudge and the toothless old fossils of the Wizengamot seemed to act as a signal. Word finally leaked to the outside world, and before long the island turned into a bizarre pilgrimage site. Wizards apparated in from every direction, faces flickering between exhilaration and lingering fear.
If Voldemort still had any awareness, he might have chosen a more dramatic exit—turning to ash, perhaps—anything rather than being forced to star in an impromptu "viewing of the corpse" ceremony. Hodge spotted plenty of familiar faces among the visitors: professors, parents of students, recent graduates, even pen pals… and, inexplicably, classmates. He genuinely had no idea how Luna Lovegood had got there. She stood in front of the magical wall, studying its patterns with dreamy intensity. Beside her was her father, a bizarre-looking wizard with hair so blond it looked white in the torchlight.
Mr. Lovegood muttered something to Luna, then pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He actually crouched down, apparently intending to roll up Voldemort's sleeve and check for the Dark Mark.
Hodge also noticed Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan.
A little further off, Ron and Hermione finally let go of Harry after bombarding him with questions. Sirius should really have found their clinging strange, but he was grinning ear-to-ear, his brain happily swarmed by celebratory pixies, so he completely missed the fact that "Harry had technically died once." He greeted Harry with a wave and announced he was off to fetch "celebratory supplies."
Only now did Ron and Hermione have the presence of mind to look around. They both jumped at the sight of the long queue stretching all the way from the lake island. When Hermione spotted the magical wall in front of Luna, her research instincts kicked in immediately. She drew her wand and marched straight toward Luna—anyone who didn't know better might have thought she was picking a duel.
Nearby, Hodge had just finished talking with Snape—or rather, he had spotted the Potions Master standing motionless in the shadows like a particularly gloomy plant, abandoned the fun of listening to Harry wrack his brains for explanations, and instead pestered Snape about what had happened at Malfoy Manor.
"The snake is dead," Hodge nodded, expressing regret. "What about Draco Malfoy?"
Snape replied irritably, "I wasn't aware Mr. Blackthorn cared so deeply about his classmates."
"Because we're related!"
Snape's expression suggested Hodge had personally force-fed him a fly. Still, when he learned that Snape had finally secured the Defense Against the Dark Arts post he'd always coveted, Hodge offered sincere congratulations, which improved Snape's mood considerably. When the two parted, Harry suddenly materialized, looking stunned.
"Snape's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Then—who's teaching Potions?"
Hodge just looked at him.
Harry caught on. "Slughorn?" He smacked his lips. "Well, I always knew this day would come. Everyone knows how much Snape wanted that job, but now that Voldemort's completely finished…" He and Hodge exchanged a glance.
"Seriously," Harry said, gazing at the lively scene on the island—the Weasleys' red hair stood out like beacons—"did you see this coming in the future?"
Hodge sighed.
"I can promise you one thing: absolutely not. The future has changed."
"Completely changed?" Harry asked thoughtfully.
"At the very least, it's different from the parts Ginny and I saw," Hodge said, thinking it over. "There are plenty of ways to glimpse fragments of the future—prophecies, divination, necromancy, Time-Turners…" His expression turned odd as he tested the waters. "You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you? I mean… about Ginny…"
"N-no!" Harry stammered at once. "I can't see pictures of the future or anything!"
Hodge gave a soft chuckle that made Harry deeply uncomfortable. Harry glanced around desperately for a change of subject. "Sirius is back—come on, let's go over."
Hodge spotted Sirius struggling through the narrow passage, both arms loaded with clinking bags. Blissfully unaware of their earlier conversation, he beamed at Harry and Hodge.
"Look what I got—Muggle beer!"
"I've had it a few times. Tastes pretty great!"