Later that day, Hodge was interrogated in turns by the Blackthorns, but the couple were reasonable people who could patiently listen to his explanations—at least, that's what they saw it as.
Hodge expounded on his understanding of the wizarding world from every angle: politics, economy, culture, military power, crises...
The Blackthorns watched as Hodge grew steadier and more composed with every word. By this point, he was no longer trying to convince them; he was clarifying his own thoughts in the process.
"Dad, Mom, I'll have a chance to show you my magic someday," Hodge said, enveloped in a faint joy, as if he'd been washed clean inside and out.
That night, he slept soundly.
The next morning, when Hodge saw that day's Daily Prophet, he nearly spat out his porridge. Azkaban mass breakout? Uh, it did happen in the original timeline, but wasn't it too early? It should've been at least two years later...
Hodge fell into thought.
Voldemort had definitely returned. He couldn't possibly face his former Death Eaters with Quirrell's face. What Hodge truly cared about was whether Quirrell was still alive. At first glance, it seemed unimportant—Quirrell was merely replacing Pettigrew's role—but the truth concealed a potential Death Eater spy buried deep in the Ministry: Barty Crouch Jr.
Father and son shared the same name, both "Barty Crouch," and even the Marauder's Map couldn't tell them apart. Yet their personalities, identities, and life experiences were polar opposites. As the former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before Amelia Bones, old Crouch had personally approved the arrest and trial of countless dark wizards and Death Eaters. Just as he was on the cusp of becoming Minister for Magic, a shocking scandal broke—his son, Barty Crouch Jr., was accused of being a Death Eater and committing heinous crimes. Old Crouch personally sentenced him to life in Azkaban.
But the story didn't end there. Devastated by the ordeal, Crouch's wife begged her husband on her deathbed to get their son out of prison. The method: during a visit, mother and son swapped identities using Polyjuice Potion—one life for another. Though Barty Jr. escaped the cell, his own father placed him under the Imperius Curse, confining him to the house under the care of the house-elf. Years passed in a flash.
Originally, only the Crouches and the house-elf knew the secret. But later, it was accidentally discovered by one of old Crouch's loose-lipped subordinates. Crouch had no choice but to cast a powerful Memory Charm on her, causing severe side effects. While she was out recuperating, Voldemort captured her and learned the truth.
Hodge figured that since Voldemort's resurrection had happened so quickly, he probably didn't yet know about Barty Crouch Jr.
If he used this as a breakthrough to set a trap... would Voldemort take the bait? A spark ignited in Hodge's mind, flashing through key figures: Quirrell, Voldemort, Dumbledore, Madam Bones, and finally lingering on a blurry, faceless woman. What was that female subordinate's name again?
Hodge couldn't recall, but finding her wouldn't be hard—old Crouch's subordinate, big-mouthed and prone to offending people—those two labels were enough.
He hoped she was still dutifully working under Mr. Crouch.
Counting from the day Harry visited, more than half a month had passed.
Over this month, Hodge had racked his brains gathering intelligence and finally had some results. First, about Voldemort: from Sirius, he learned that Voldemort hadn't shown his true face, even wearing a hood during the Azkaban breakout—perhaps to avoid attention.
This wouldn't fool Dumbledore, but it might deceive Fudge.
Judging by the Ministry's response, Voldemort's ploy had clearly failed. No wonder—however much he schemed, he couldn't have guessed that Fudge had changed. The rift between Fudge and Dumbledore wasn't over whether Voldemort was dead or alive, but over the path to victory. That required explaining Fudge's response: he was even more aggressive than Hodge had imagined. He immediately replaced Azkaban's existing guards with his own people and relaunched investigations, questioning those previously accused of being Death Eaters.
Sirius gleefully told Hodge that several pure-blood families had been raided multiple times recently.
In Hodge's view, Fudge was swinging from one extreme to the other.
Of course, Hodge was happy to see it.
What surprised Hodge was that the investigation wasn't led by Fudge or Amelia Bones, but by old Crouch, who, alongside Ludo Bagman, had been appointed as the lead and deputy. This naturally made old Crouch a thorn in Voldemort's side. As for that female subordinate—Hodge had already found her name: Bertha Jorkins—she was still alive and well but had been transferred to Ludo Bagman's department, meaning she'd already been hit with the Memory Charm.
According to Sirius, Jorkins was a few years ahead of him at school. She loved gossip and wasn't bright; the combination made things disastrous.
Knowing this gave Hodge a bit more confidence.
All that remained was to meet Dumbledore. Dumbledore had been incredibly busy lately—even Sirius couldn't see him, though he wouldn't admit it. "Dumbledore's whereabouts are top secret. Unless you join the Order of the Phoenix, I won't say a word," Sirius said seriously. The next second, his expression shifted. "And you're not old enough. The Order won't send a bunch of students who haven't graduated on missions."
"Go play," he added in a tone used to shoo children.
It wasn't just Hodge; even Harry, who'd been staying at Grimmauld Place for two weeks, was indignant. He wanted to help, not be treated like a kid. Besides—Sirius sometimes vanished without warning, supposedly on Order business. If Harry didn't want to be stuck with the ancient, nearly toothless house-elf Kreacher, his only option was the Burrow. Ron had gone home and only visited occasionally, saying the shadows and damp of the Black house had seeped into his bones and he needed more sunshine.
Hodge, however, dropped by often.
That day, Harry headed upstairs as usual—he knew where to find Hodge.
With some effort, he pushed open the heavy wooden door. Sure enough, Harry saw Hodge sitting in a swivel chair that screamed Muggle, reading a magic book.
The book floated in front of Hodge, turning pages with his gaze.
Harry had a lot to say but only managed:
"You're really taking it easy."
"What else?" Hodge snapped his fingers. "Kreacher? Brew a pot of tea."
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