"How's the Philosopher's Stone doing?" Harry asked.
"It's safe," Hodge Blackthorn replied.
"And Quirrell—"
"Still alive, somehow." Hodge shrugged. "After Voldemort abandoned him, he was rushed to St. Mungo's. Dumbledore stopped by once and said Quirrell's body is pretty much falling apart, but his soul's in even worse shape… Here, have something to eat."
He gestured to a nearby table, where a mountain of sweets was piled high.
Harry suddenly realized he was ravenous. He tore open a chocolate bar and started devouring it. As they ate, they talked—Harry recounted his ordeal in full, and Hodge shared what had happened on his end.
"No wonder Voldemort hates you so much," Harry said with a strange look on his face. That hatred had earned him a few solid blows.
Hodge, meanwhile, seemed a bit disappointed that he hadn't seen the Mirror of Erised. He knew he'd never pass Dumbledore's test—only someone who wanted to find the Philosopher's Stone but not use it could get it to fall into their pocket—but he was curious about what he might see in the mirror.
Probably himself as Minister for Magic, he figured.
A while later, Dumbledore appeared. Hodge made an excuse to step out for a walk. When he returned, Harry's eyes were red-rimmed. The moment Harry saw him, he immediately started asking about the dragon boggart. Hodge could tell Harry didn't want him prying into what he and Dumbledore had discussed—likely something about family, given how Harry's mother had sacrificed her life to protect him.
"The news spread like wildfire, but for the safety of wild boggarts, Dumbledore warned me not to let too many people know about that thing's existence," Hodge said. "Terry told me everyone out there's saying my Transfiguration talent is unmatched."
Harry couldn't help but grin at Hodge's exasperated expression.
That afternoon, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid each came by to visit, but none stayed long before Madam Pomfrey shooed them out. She was like a bristling hen, fiercely protective, chasing them off. Hagrid, shrinking back and sniffling, left behind a photo album and a bag of rock-hard rock cakes before slipping away quietly. Evelina Selma trailed behind Madam Pomfrey, looking like a little chick learning from the master.
Thanks to Evelina passing along news from the outside, Hodge and Harry didn't go completely stir-crazy.
The next evening, they went downstairs for the end-of-year feast. Madam Pomfrey stopped them, insisting on checking them over one last time before reluctantly letting them go. She gave Evelina a litany of instructions on what to do if either of them suddenly collapsed.
As the three entered the Great Hall, Dumbledore was in the middle of his speech, reaching a critical point.
"The fourth item—Harry Potter. He demonstrated fearless courage and extraordinary bravery. For this, I award Gryffindor House sixty points."
Amid the uproar, Hodge and Harry took their seats at their respective house tables.
Hodge leaned over and asked, "Where are we at? Did Gryffindor beat Slytherin?"
"Slytherin's been out of the running for ages," Terry said, clapping excitedly. "It's Ravenclaw and Gryffindor neck-and-neck now. Dumbledore just gave Evelina thirty points for her healing magic."
Hodge noticed the Ravenclaw table was buzzing with more enthusiasm than usual.
Based on the house points in the hourglasses, Slytherin had been in first, with Ravenclaw a close second. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff lagged far behind. But now, things were shifting.
Dumbledore raised a hand, and the Great Hall fell silent.
"And finally—Hodge Blackthorn. He remained steadfast against temptation and bravely protected his friends in the face of great danger. For this, I award Ravenclaw House sixty points."
The students froze for a moment, then started counting on their fingers. The scores were now tied. They blinked at Dumbledore as he waved his wand, transforming the hall's banners into a vibrant sea of scarlet, gold, blue, and bronze. A majestic lion and a soaring eagle materialized in the air.
The hall erupted into chatter, the buzz growing louder as the students' faces lit up with excitement.
"This is the best outcome, isn't it?" Ron said, clapping enthusiastically.
"One more thing," Dumbledore said suddenly, tapping his forehead. "I nearly forgot to award points to one more individual."
The clapping stopped mid-air. Everyone stared at him, wondering if there was another twist. Dumbledore smiled and continued, "We mustn't overlook Peeves' contribution. In my memory, he's smashed countless vases, but this time was undoubtedly his finest hour. Therefore, I award Mr. Peeves ten points."
Fred and George led the applause, whistling with glee.
"Your pranks were brilliant!" they shouted.
The cheers and applause that followed were deafening. The Slytherins looked less than thrilled, and Hodge noticed a small group of ghosts who also seemed displeased. They huddled together, whispering about Peeves' newfound honor. Hodge figured this story would be retold for at least a century—but whatever the case, tonight was a rare and remarkable evening.
In the days that followed, Hodge was warmly welcomed by the Ravenclaw students, their enthusiasm lasting until exam results were posted. Unsurprisingly, he earned the highest marks.
This only added to his growing legend. People kept coming up to him, clapping him on the shoulder and eagerly inviting him to join their clubs.
Hodge took to walking along the edges of rooms and strolling early in the morning to avoid the attention.
One morning, just before the holidays, Hodge was wandering along the edge of the Forbidden Forest when he ran into Harry, alone.
"Too popular? Escaping for some peace and quiet?" Harry asked with a grin, knowing Hodge was getting similar treatment at Ravenclaw.
"Want to walk together?" Hodge offered.
"Sure," Harry replied cheerfully.
They wandered farther than intended, and under Hodge's lead, they veered onto a shaded path deep into the forest. Harry knew students weren't allowed in the Forbidden Forest, but he didn't object.
The morning mist hung thick in the woods, the ground damp underfoot, the air crisp and fresh. Birds chirped brightly overhead.
There were other creatures in the forest, too.
Harry sensed watchful eyes and a faint rustling in the shadows. He glanced at Hodge, who raised a hand. A dark mist swirled around him, rising into the air and letting out a deep, menacing roar. The unseen gazes vanished instantly.
They climbed a small hill.
Hodge gazed into the distance, where a bright red glow bloomed on the eastern horizon, the sunlight warm but not blinding. Harry followed his gaze, looking past the towering castle. The scene felt oddly familiar, though the last time he'd seen it, it was under a golden sunset.
Sure enough, Hodge asked softly, "Harry, have you ever thought about what you want to do with your life?"
Harry was at a loss for words.
He no longer let the Dursleys' mistreatment bother him, but he couldn't easily say "I don't know" either—not after his talk with Dumbledore.
He felt sorrow for his parents' sacrifice, guilt and warmth for the protective magic their love had left on him, and awe at Nicolas Flamel and his wife's willingness to face death—a stark contrast to Voldemort's desperation. The mere thought of Voldemort stirred a mix of hatred and confusion in Harry. Why had Voldemort hunted him all those years ago? The fear of his return loomed large, and yet, Harry found he could spare a sliver of pity for Quirrell…
Sometimes, it all felt like too much, like he might burst. He forced himself not to dwell on it.
"What about you, Hodge?" Harry asked.
————
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