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Perhaps it was the first time he'd connected with someone other than Filch, or maybe those crispy, freshly fried fish sticks were just too delicious. Whatever the reason, ever since that trip to the kitchens, Mrs. Norris wasn't as aloof as she'd been at their first meeting. Sometimes, she'd even leap down from a high perch to nuzzle against Hodge Blackthorn's trouser leg.
Some students were surprised by this, but Filch was downright shocked.
When he saw Mrs. Norris affectionately tilt her head up, letting Hodge scratch her chin, his sagging, creased jowls seemed to quiver, too stunned to even snap at anyone right away.
Hodge looked at him smugly.
Maybe it was a glimmer of her master in Hodge's eyes, but the cat suddenly sprang back, letting out a low, whimpering yowl at him. Amid Filch's furious shouting, a few students burst into gleeful laughter.
A new week began, and Hodge didn't bother picking fights with the caretaker. Instead, he threw himself into the magic lessons that had always looked so thrilling on the screen.
In Herbology, Professor Sprout showed the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students a tiny wandwood sapling. She chuckled, saying it could be planted in the soil in three months to join its companions, but it would need to grow for at least forty years before its branches could be harvested to craft wands.
Forty years. Many students gazed at the dark, iron-like lump of a plant with newfound awe.
She carefully stowed the sapling away, then vanished for a bit. When she returned, she was trailed by several pots of bouncing, hopping plants that, to Hodge's untrained eye, all looked pretty much the same. Professor Sprout gathered the students around, explaining key details, then had them sketch the plants from observation. She wandered among them, occasionally pointing out mistakes.
"You must be precise—they look very similar… I want you to turn in comparison drawings of aconite, cowbane, and wolfsbane seedlings next time. Dean Thomas captured the traits perfectly; take a look at his work…" When she reached Hodge, he caught a whiff of earth and greenery. She leaned down, inspecting his sketch. "Filius mentioned your situation. I'm in the greenhouse every Saturday morning. You can come by anytime until you've caught up on missed lessons."
"Thank you, Professor Sprout," Hodge said.
She drifted off, her hair trailing behind her. The moment she was gone, a girl with thick brown hair sidled over—Hermione. Pretending to measure something with her quill, she whispered her thanks for the troll incident.
"You're welcome," Hodge murmured back.
Hermione asked about Evelina Selma, and when she learned Evelina had left Hogwarts, she sounded crestfallen.
"I've been wanting to thank her in person. I checked Ravenclaw's Friday timetable, but Charms classes don't overlap—you know, Gryffindor's with Hufflepuff… She took such a huge risk, and I didn't do anything. It's awful."
Hodge quietly reassured her, promising to include their conversation in his next letter to Evelina.
"I'll tell her there's a Gryffindor girl who can't stop thinking about her."
Hermione smiled. When Professor Sprout circled back, Hermione magically reappeared in the Gryffindor group. Sprout began assigning homework: "Three drawings with labeled traits and a seven-inch essay. Next week, we'll study plants in the rue family. All right, you're dismissed."
Hodge packed up with the others, glancing at One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. The task ahead felt daunting—though they'd studied six or seven plants today, compared to the entire greenhouse, they'd barely scratched the surface.
At lunch in the Great Hall, the prefect Herbert found him, instructing him to report to Professor Flitwick's office at seven that evening. Hodge knew his catch-up lessons were about to begin. But first, he had a flying lesson to get through.
"I was nervous at first, too, but it's no big deal," Terry said over lunch, sharing tips. "Everyone in our class managed it—even the Hufflepuffs. Though I heard a Gryffindor first-year broke their wrist…"
Terry's way of explaining things was, well, less than stellar. Still, Hodge wasn't too worried. He listened quietly, occasionally asking for details, gradually forming a mental picture. But when Madam Hooch pointed her wand at him, his nerves finally kicked in.
"It's a necessary precaution," she said cautiously. "If you fall, I can at least cast a spell to catch you."
Hodge's mouth went dry. They were on a flat lawn near the lake. Madam Hooch had just assigned tasks to the other students, letting them practice standard maneuvers, then pulled Hodge aside to explain flying techniques. Everything was fine at first, but as she repeatedly stressed safety and prepared him to try, a dozen brooms suddenly appeared overhead. In the distance, students lazily gliding around the field began steering their brooms closer, pretending to be casual. Everyone loved a spectacle.
Thankfully, it went smoothly.
Ten minutes later, Hodge was steadily hovering three feet off the ground. Half the onlookers lost interest and drifted away. When Madam Hooch finally lowered her wand, Hodge's confidence soared. He could even join the group, following her commands to adjust his movements.
"Turn!" she blew her silver whistle, and the group veered in unison. Another whistle: "Accelerate!"
The group sped up.
Hodge kept his broom's speed and height manageable, trailing steadily. After half a minute, Michael Corner's voice came from behind. "Caught up to you."
Hodge rolled his eyes, nudging his broom a few feet higher and flying farther out. Madam Hooch didn't object, silently allowing him to break from the group, though she kept one eye on him. "Keep going! Climb—descend—roll—sharp turn!"
Then she pulled out a bag of golf balls and called Hodge back from near the Black Lake's edge, organizing them into groups for a catch-and-throw game. Hodge teamed up with his dormmates; he threw, and the other three caught.
Soon, Hodge was casting Wingardium Leviosa a dozen times, retrieving golf balls from the ground.
"Your spells are brilliant," Goldstein said, impressed.
"This isn't Charms class," Hodge replied. But by the end of the lesson, he could accelerate and decelerate smoothly. With Madam Hooch's permission, he soared to fifty feet, gazing down at the shimmering lake in the distance.
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