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After flying lessons, the rest of the day was free. With some time before his appointment with Professor Flitwick, Hodge returned to the Ravenclaw common room. He spent twenty minutes finishing his Herbology homework, then headed to the library.
After asking the librarian, Madam Pince, for help, Hodge located the newspaper section among the countless shelves. He carefully read articles in The Daily Prophet about recent magical accidents, scanning every detail, but found nothing useful.
Still, he noted down the newspaper's address, planning to subscribe.
He flipped through The Evening Prophet, The Sunday Prophet, and Witch Weekly, but they offered nothing new. However, an article in The Quibbler caught his eye, criticizing the Ministry of Magic. The editor seemed convinced that Minister Fudge was conspiring with an unknown dark wizard to overthrow the wizarding world, and this accident was his first step.
"My friend went missing. On the day of the accident, he was set to confront the Minister about his latest policy. Mrs. Wickham told me, in tears, that her husband was always punctual and impeccably upright—he would never vanish without a word. An anonymous source revealed Mr. Wickham was rushed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, but after a Ministry investigation team arrived, his name was struck from the patient list, and the healers claimed they'd never seen him… I've criticized Fudge's greed toward Gringotts before, but this time, he's gone too far…"
The article even included a list of dark wizards from the past twenty years.
No need to read further. Hodge opened A Guide to Dueling Charms, copied down two spells, and moved to another shelf for reference books. The book's author seemed to assume its spells weren't for first-year Hogwarts students, omitting many basics that required extra research.
After dinner, he arrived on time at the eighth-floor office of the Ravenclaw Head, Professor Flitwick. The office was quintessentially Ravenclaw, with bold blue and bronze accents and a massive freestanding bookshelf against the wall.
To Hodge's surprise, Professor Flitwick didn't dive into the lesson right away. Instead, he warmly invited Hodge to sit. As Hodge sank into a slightly cramped sofa chair, he realized all the furniture was smaller than usual.
The diminutive professor offered a box of chocolates. Hodge ate two before they began. Flitwick had a scholarly air, always speaking as if inviting discussion. Beyond textbook material, he was eager to demonstrate advanced techniques.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
A chocolate floated upward.
"You can make it flip." The chocolate revealed its patterned underside. "Or spin." It twirled rapidly in place. "Or throw it." The chocolate shot across the room, reminding Hodge of the golf ball he'd tossed that afternoon. "And bring it back." The chocolate returned.
"Most wizards, with enough practice, can master one or two tricks on their own. But spells aren't rigid. You can layer techniques onto them, and those techniques are all in books."
Hodge spent a delightful two hours, learning three spells. Before he left, Flitwick pulled several books from his personal shelf for Hodge to borrow.
The joy lasted until he said goodbye—Flitwick hadn't mentioned any homework.
Professor McGonagall's lessons were a different story. Strict, sharp, and serious, she was much the same in private lessons as in class. Hodge could barely interrupt unless she asked a question. But during practical exercises, McGonagall was astonished. Hodge learned too quickly. He'd already mastered turning a match into a needle and a feather into a brooch, then experimented with creative transformations: a feather into a dart, a model flying broom, a bookmark…
Even Hodge was surprised, but he owed it to his magical্র
His magical talent shone through.
"Transfiguration demands strong theoretical knowledge and imagination, plus significant control over magic and willpower," McGonagall explained. "You must know exactly what you're doing—no ambiguity, no vagueness."
These requirements were barely a hurdle for Hodge. His comprehension wasn't far above average, but he could easily visualize objects before and after transformation, making the skill come naturally.
At this rate, one more lesson would catch him up. McGonagall rarely showed sentiment, but as Hodge left, she said half-jokingly, "I thought you'd be sorted into Gryffindor."
"I don't know if this is any consolation," Hodge replied, "but the Sorting Hat suggested Ravenclaw or Slytherin. I chose Ravenclaw."
For a fleeting moment, McGonagall's lips twitched upward, but the smile vanished quickly.
"Mr. Blackthorn," she said, "I must remind you that all four Hogwarts houses have equally storied histories, each producing outstanding witches and wizards."
"I know," Hodge said. "I've read some of the school's history for History of Magic."
That book had been borrowed from the library by Terry, who planned to use it to stay awake in the ghost professor's class but ended up sleeping through it.
The extra lessons went smoothly, despite the ghost professor repeatedly getting Hodge's name wrong. Hodge even pieced together from the professor's ramblings that, thirty years ago, someone named Torney smuggled rum into History of Magic.
No major mishaps occurred.
During this time, Hodge watched a Quidditch match—Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Harry's broom went haywire mid-game, but he still pulled off an impressive debut.
From the stands, Hodge saw it all: Snape muttering, seemingly cursing Harry, until Hermione slipped under the stands and used a fire spell to distract him. But Hodge knew the truth—Quirrell was the one cursing Harry, and Snape was protecting him.
When Harry dove off his broom, coughing up the Golden Snitch, the crowd erupted in cheers. That's when Hodge realized something: he'd thought Potions would be the toughest extra lesson, given Snape's mockery at their first meeting.
But he was wrong. The real danger was Quirrell.
On Tuesday evening of the new week, Hodge knocked on the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.
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