Hodge Blackthorn returned home, reassured his parents, and collapsed onto his bed. As he lay there, it suddenly hit him that he'd forgotten to ask Dumbledore if he was the one who sent the fancy handwritten note. The night was calm and quiet, and before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep.
He had a peculiar dream. In it, he seemed older, grown-up. And then… was he fighting against Harry and the others? It was bizarre. He stood atop St. Paul's Cathedral, surrounded by a dozen broomsticks hovering in the air. A more mature-looking Harry was saying something to him, but the words were lost. Hodge raised his wand, and the others began chanting spells in unison. From his own perspective, he felt himself dissolve like a wisp of mist—probably Disapparating…
Hodge scratched his nose, rolled over, and sank deeper into sleep.
The next few days passed without incident. The day before term started, Hodge took the train back to Hogwarts. On board, he ran into Terry Boot and Michael Corner. The three of them devoured the snacks Mrs. Blackthorn had packed, then spent the rest of the journey lounging in their seats, chatting idly and groaning from full stomachs.
As soon as he arrived at Hogwarts, Hodge headed to the Ravenclaw common room and scanned the noticeboard for messages.
One note caught his eye: someone mentioned that on Christmas Eve, a student had been sneaking around the Restricted Section of the library. That wasn't unusual—what was remarkable was that the student hadn't been caught by Filch. Even more impressive, they'd escaped unscathed despite being cornered by Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris. That was no small feat.
Below the note, someone had scrawled: Brilliantly done!
Hodge was now quite familiar with the Ravenclaw noticeboard. His eyes darted across it, quickly sifting through the messages for anything useful. He even tried answering a few requests for help.
One post asked about transfiguring turtles—a recurring problem in Transfiguration class, it seemed. Hodge grabbed a piece of parchment and sketched a concise diagram of a turtle's skeleton.
"The shell is mostly made up of ribs, as shown in the diagram—it looks like this. Their shoulder blades are tucked inside, unlike any other animal. Hope this helps."
Back in the dormitory, Anthony Goldstein was at his desk, flipping through a book with a tired expression.
"You didn't spend the entire holiday studying, did you?" Hodge asked, surprised.
"Nah," Anthony said, stifling a yawn. "I'm reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Just something to pass the time, and it's actually pretty good."
The book was on their first-year reading list but wasn't tied to any specific subject. It was more like an authoritative encyclopedia on magical creatures, often referenced across different classes.
For example, Potions required knowledge of animal ingredients, like unicorn hair or dragon's blood. Defense Against the Dark Arts used it to teach about dangerous creatures.
Hodge's curiosity piqued. "I heard you're related to Newt Scamander?"
Newt Scamander, the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, had a life so adventurous it could be turned into a movie.
"Oh," Anthony said, puffing out his chest slightly. "Distant relatives, mostly through his wife's side. My family visits them sometimes." His eyes lit up. "Let me tell you, the Scamanders have the best basement in the world."
"Now you've got me curious," Hodge said.
"I'm serious! Their basement's been charmed to house all sorts of magical creatures. Even though Mr. Scamander's retired, he's still working on protecting endangered species. They've got rare creatures living there year-round. Imagine having a basement like that…"
Hodge's mind wandered, captivated by the thought. He hadn't seen many magical creatures in real life yet.
He considered mentioning the three-headed dog hidden on the fourth floor of the castle but quickly dismissed the idea. That was far too dangerous, and he wasn't about to go poking around.
"Oh, by the way," Anthony said, "someone sent you a Christmas gift. I put it on your bed for you."
"Thanks, Anthony." Hodge pulled back the curtains of his four-poster bed and found several packages waiting. He eagerly began unwrapping them. One was from his uncle, Elaine Blackthorn. Inside was a miniature Egyptian pyramid maze. As Hodge stared at it, the pyramid turned transparent, revealing a tiny figure inside waving frantically for help.
The goal, it seemed, was to guide the little figure out of the maze.
Hodge opened the accompanying letter, which explained that Uncle Elaine had bought it during his work as a tour guide. He set the pyramid model on his desk, planning to tinker with it later. He then unwrapped a few greeting cards and some sweets before spotting an unsigned package. Inside was a book and another familiar handwritten note in elegant script.
The note read: Happy Christmas. This book may be of use to you. Don't waste your talent. P.S. You can seek help with woolen socks.
Hodge blinked, intrigued. He rummaged under his bed and pulled out the note he'd received at Halloween, placing it side by side with the new one. He'd suspected it before, but now he was certain: these were from Dumbledore.
But what did the last line mean? Seek help with woolen socks? Was Dumbledore picking up house-elf habits? After a moment, Hodge realized it might be an invitation to seek Dumbledore's guidance, with "woolen socks" possibly being the password to the Headmaster's office.
His eyes flickered as he reread the phrases "know your talent" and "don't waste your talent." He sensed Dumbledore's expectations of him—specifically regarding his unique abilities.
But Occlumency wasn't exclusive to him. Dumbledore himself was surely a master, and Snape likely was too. Was it because Hodge was a natural at it that he stood out?
He turned his attention to the book, titled The Secrets of Memory. Flipping through the table of contents, he paused, staring at the bed curtains in thought. If Know Your Mind was like an encyclopedia akin to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, then The Secrets of Memory was more focused. It delved into the techniques, advantages, drawbacks, and taboos of memory-related magic.
Mastering its contents would mean Hodge had truly entered the field of memory magic.
The new term began, and during the first Herbology lesson, Hodge was examining some tentacled hoya plants when he noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione sidling over, using other Gryffindor students as cover. When Harry caught Hodge's eye, he flashed an awkward smile.
"Something up?" Hodge asked quietly.
"How was your Christmas?" Harry whispered back. Hodge noticed Ron and Hermione pretending to jot down Professor Sprout's lecture on horned hoyas, though their ears were clearly tuned to the conversation.
Hodge doodled absently on his parchment. "Not bad."
"Dumbledore left the feast halfway through," Ron cut in. "Filch came in to report something about a portrait screaming in the corridor." He pulled a face, mimicking either Filch or the portrait itself, and let out a mock-terrified squeak. "A Hogwarts student was taken by the Ministry! That Blackthorn kid! On Christmas! And the mastermind was a pink toad!"
Ron paused, curious. "Didn't know the Ministry employed non-human creatures."
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