"Do you know what happens to animals released back into the wild, Harry?"
Harry shook his head.
"Some cower and shrink away, unable to adapt and weeded out by nature. Others become more aggressive," Hodge said. "They strike first, sometimes even daring to take on beasts far stronger than themselves."
That was a new way of looking at it. Harry listened intently.
"Why's that?" he asked.
"Because they're trying to find their place in the natural order… The food chain's brutal, Harry. Some clever animals manage to spill less blood—they observe others, learning from their experiences." Hodge's voice softened. "Humans are the same."
Harry felt a chill creep up his spine.
"The difference is, humans are smarter. They've developed language, writing, social hierarchies… all sorts of ways to collaborate. You won't find any creature with a more intricate division of labor, even if humans can be crazier than most." Hodge sighed, then shifted gears. "Ever heard of the internet?"
"Er, like video game consoles or email or something?" Harry rummaged through memories of life with the Dursleys.
"Closer to the latter," Hodge said without missing a beat. "That thing lets people from opposite ends of the world talk in real time, maybe with a bit of lag… I don't know how far it's come, but that's not the point. The internet itself is the big deal—email's just a small piece of it. If you want an analogy, the internet's like a wizard's magic, and email's just a minor spell."
"Think about it: wizards have hit a wall in studying magic."
"But out there, beyond the magical world—those forward-thinkers, they're just starting to tap into their own kind of 'magic.' In a few years, they'll be sending pictures and videos over the internet, or even building those features into mobile phones—not the clunky house phones, mind you."
"When people carry phones that can snap photos or record videos on a whim, then upload them to the internet for the whole world to see… are you scared? Worried the Statute of Secrecy might crumble?"
Harry nodded instinctively.
"I'm not like you, Harry. I'm excited about it." Hodge gazed into the distance as the sun broke over the horizon. "I can't wait to see how people react in this grand new era. The raw emotions, the clash of wills… reason versus madness, nobility versus baseness… soaring triumphs cut short, or impossible odds turning to miracles…"
Hodge spread his hands. "The question is, in this distant but inevitable upheaval, what role will you play? And what about others? Ron? Hermione? The Dursleys? Dumbledore? The Ministry?"
"I've thought hard about it and found my own answer. No, I won't tell you yet. Like I've said before, Harry, I hope you'll think it over too. When you've got your own perspective, I'd love to hear it."
"Or you could ask Dumbledore sometime. He reads Muggle newspapers."
Hodge didn't want to rush things. After all, Harry's biggest threat was still Voldemort. His years at Hogwarts were about growing, building the confidence to face him. Hodge could wait, focus on his own goals: studying magic, publishing papers, building connections, influencing young witches and wizards…
But then Hodge awakened ancient magic.
It happened after he'd slept for two days and nights. When he woke, a strange feeling surged within him. His mind kept flashing back to the ancient spellbook Dumbledore had once shown him. Unlike his first encounter, it didn't seem so daunting now.
Almost on impulse, he reached out and traced a glowing symbol in the air.
The process was so effortless it stunned him. He stared at the shimmering rune, speechless, but what came next was even stranger. A fragment of memory—definitely not his own—flooded his mind. It was a scene of someone practicing magic in a cave. Hodge could feel their tension, their desperation. They were trying to save someone, but time was running out, and they had to risk their life to do something.
Hodge believed this fragmented memory belonged to Sebastian Sallow.
It was a vague guess, but beyond that, he saw the full process of the spell being cast. After studying it, he realized it was a complete ancient spell.
Hodge couldn't make sense of it, but one thing was clear: no one could know about this.
Why had Mr. Wickham been arrested? A memory that wasn't his own…
The Hogwarts school year ended in a whirlwind. On the last night of term, the castle was a chaotic mess. Students packed their trunks, emptying wardrobes and gathering scattered textbooks, quills, and parchment. Many discovered missing items or unexpected extras only at the last minute.
The next day, Hodge joined the queue, following Hagrid to the boats that crossed the lake—a small regret finally fulfilled.
They walked a path to the platform, where the scarlet train awaited. Hodge, Terry, Anthony, Michael, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville crammed into one compartment, chatting as Ron and Anthony played wizard chess.
Harry seemed preoccupied, staring silently at the shifting greens flashing past the window.
"No need to worry about troubles too far off," Hodge said, nudging him.
"Yeah, Harry," Ron said, moving a chess piece. "We just foiled You-Know-Who's plot. Isn't that worth celebrating? Checkmate!"
Anthony's eyes widened, staring at the board in deep thought.
Harry flushed. Ron's comment was innocent enough, but after their talk on the mountaintop, Hodge's words felt layered. "Don't worry about troubles too far off"—was that about figuring out how to face Voldemort? Pfft, that was still too distant. Harry admitted Hodge had influenced him, but he'd already decided to face things head-on.
"Anyone up for a game of Exploding Snap?" he said, rallying. "While we've still got time?"
Happy moments always passed quickly. As the train slowed and pulled into the platform, students eagerly flung open the doors, spilling out to reunite with waiting families. Hodge watched the scene with satisfaction, his mind playing a private reel: imagining the adventures they might have over the summer.
People passed by now and then.
"See you, Harry."
"Have a great holiday, Hodge."
"Don't forget to write!"
Hodge said goodbye to his friends and took a few steps, spotting the Weasleys—unmistakable with their fiery red hair, blazing like torches in the crowd. The short, plump, kind-faced woman had to be Mrs. Weasley. Next to her was a petite girl with thick hair—clearly Ginny. Hodge recalled her massive crush on Harry, the kind that made her faint from shyness just talking to him.
Hodge grinned and headed for the exit. The Blackthorns were surely waiting outside.
The crowd thinned, but something felt off. What was it? "Hurry up," the old ticket inspector barked. Hodge quickened his pace, passing through the gateway to the Muggle world.
He glanced back sharply at the Weasleys, still lingering and chatting.
Ginny. Ginny Weasley, the lively, Harry-obsessed youngest of the family, was staring at him. Her gaze was calm, deep, and probing.
Hodge stepped through the wall of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, sunlight washing over him, a chill running down his spine.
Dumbledore had once said, "…my friend's daughter was caught up in it too. She lived next door."
Percy had mentioned, "Mum and Dad are really grateful, but they were looking after Ginny at the time…"
Then Umbridge: "…have you ever had memory lapses? Like there's another person inside you? Something beyond your normal childhood memories, something extra…"
Jamie claimed she'd seen her husband's ghost…
Fudge's talk of a "grand plan"…
Balsa Wickham, arrested for "rambling nonsense"…
And the sudden memory in his mind… The image froze on Ginny Weasley's oddly mature, questioning expression, her brown eyes seeming to ask: By all accounts, shouldn't this person not be here?
Hodge passed through the wall of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, bathed in sunlight, a chill running down his spine.
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