Moody's hand slashed through the air, his spell glancing off a silver shield with a sharp crack. "Well done! Now show me what you've got!" he roared, brandishing his wand like a sword, his movements bold and unrestrained. His spells packed a ferocious punch, and Hodge felt the air around him grow searingly hot.
He had to move fast, relying on the reflexes he'd honed dodging Peeves' pranks to weave through the onslaught. But soon, he was purely on the defensive, magical barriers bursting around him like fireworks. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up; he half-suspected Moody was genuinely trying to kill him.
"Don't just dodge! Fight like a man!" Moody bellowed.
Hodge's temper flared. In the next instant, Occlumency cooled his mind like a splash of ice water, and he realized Moody's taunts were part of his strategy. With a series of quick wand flicks, Hodge fought back.
"That's more like it—but it's still not enough!"
The spells came harder now, a relentless storm. Hodge felt like a small boat tossed in raging waves, unable to cast half the spells he wanted. Moody's style wasn't flashy—similar to Tonks' in some ways, but faster, sharper, and far more powerful. Hodge barely held his ground, gradually adapting to Moody's rhythm. Out of ten exchanges, he managed to counterattack two or three times.
He started probing, testing small tricks, but quickly realized they were useless. That magical eye of Moody's was a game-changer, piercing through every feint and concealment. Hodge suspected it could even sense magical energy, letting Moody anticipate his moves.
"Bombarda!"
A surge of magic gathered at the tip of Hodge's wand, aimed squarely at Moody's chest. He'd used the spell plenty of times before, but this was the first time he'd targeted a person so precisely. Moody reacted with lightning speed, conjuring the same silver shield from earlier. With a resounding boom, the shield glimmered faintly before fading into transparency.
"Now that's more like it! Don't worry about hurting me—you're not there yet," Moody said with a grim smile, his expression turning serious. His blue magical eye whirred frantically, catching the burst of raw power Hodge had unleashed—a flare of brilliance in the eye's enchanted vision. Without hesitation, Moody shifted backward, a rare move for him. Ever since losing his leg, speed and agility hadn't been his forte.
But "pride" wasn't in Moody's vocabulary. For the first time, the battle-hardened Auror sensed real danger. In his magical eye's sight, a blue-white burst of magic exploded, and from it emerged a shimmering figure of the same hue. The figure moved with startling speed, darting to Moody's blind side in a blink. His magical eye swiveled in its socket to track it.
"A Patronus?" he growled.
Hodge said nothing. He and the spectral figure raised their arms in unison—one real wand, one illusory—both casting spells in a flash of light. Moody miscalculated, assuming the projection was limited to close-range physical attacks. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late to counter with a spell. He rolled to the ground, firing two golden jets of magic from under his arm as he rose, though his aim was off in the scramble. Hodge seized the moment, dodging the counterattack and pointing his wand at the ground. The grass around Moody's wooden leg surged wildly, tangling around it in an instant.
The projection, meanwhile, shrugged off Moody's spells like a ghost, untouched as they passed right through.
Hodge seemed to have the upper hand. Not everyone could spot the flaw in his projection on their first encounter. Combined with his own skills, Hodge and his projection outmatched most Aurors—Tonks, for instance, wouldn't stand a chance. Pressing his advantage, Hodge fired a Stunning Spell, its red light slicing through the air. But it halted silently before Moody—an Iron Armor Charm.
Wandless and silent casting?
Hodge's mind reeled. In the same moment the Stunner was blocked, the grass around Moody stopped its frenzied growth. With a roll, Moody was back on his feet. "Some kind of special Patronus, eh? One that casts spells with its master? Impressive. Your own creation?" he said, his tone one of grudging admiration.
"Yep," Hodge replied.
"Hey, he's not my master," the projection piped up indignantly.
Moody's mouth twitched into a smirk as he lowered his wand.
"Done already?" Hodge asked, while the projection beside him looked eager for more.
"Done," Moody said gruffly. "I'm about to retire. Can't afford to lose face." He glanced at his wooden leg, where a small, blackened hole now marred the surface.
Hodge wasn't so sure. He'd been on the back foot for most of the duel, and while the projection gave him a brief edge, a veteran like Moody would likely find a counter soon enough. After all, this wasn't his first time facing multiple opponents.
"Fancy joining the Ministry after graduation?" Moody asked as they started walking toward the tent.
Hodge blinked. "Yeah, I'm interested."
Moody let out a hearty laugh. Hodge figured Moody had misread him. He did want to join the Ministry, but being just an Auror wasn't his endgame. Still… he mulled it over. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was the largest in the Ministry. Starting as an Auror could be a solid stepping stone.
The two quickly fell into animated conversation.
Moody recounted tales of the most dangerous criminals he'd brought down, with Hodge asking sharp, incisive questions that fueled Moody's enthusiasm. He shared decades of hard-earned experience, and in that single hour, Hodge learned more than he had in an entire term under Lockhart—textbooks included, half-true as they were.
With Moody, a frontline Auror for decades, Hodge finally started piecing things together.
About Lockhart's books.
Why were they so popular? How did they fool so many people? Hodge had once chalked it up to Lockhart stealing others' achievements—digging for details, then wiping memories with an Obliviate. But he'd bet anything Moody had never read Lockhart's books. If he had, he'd have spotted the holes instantly. The problem was in the details.
No matter how thorough Lockhart's research, he couldn't capture everything perfectly if he hadn't lived it. To a seasoned pro like Moody, the books were riddled with inconsistencies. Worse, Lockhart's ego and flair for the dramatic led him to embellish details, making his exploits seem more theatrical than they actually were.
When Kingsley Shacklebolt strode over, he found them deep in discussion: Hodge mimicking Moody's old habits with uncanny accuracy—wand placement, preemptive strikes, coordinated footwork. Hodge even lowered his voice and adjusted his casting rhythm to make his spells hit harder, more oppressively.
Kingsley glanced at Tonks, who shrugged.
"Kingsley," she said, half-joking, "if I run into Blackthorn while patrolling the castle at night, reckon he'd be quicker to call for help than you lot…"
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