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"Prefects," Dumbledore's commanding voice echoed through the Great Hall, "take your House students to their dormitories immediately!"
The hall erupted into chaos, filled with the grating screech of chairs scraping against the floor.
At the Ravenclaw table, the boy who had welcomed Hodge earlier stood up. His name was Herbert, and he was now organizing students to head upstairs alongside a girl with short, chestnut hair.
Hodge stood among the first-years, with other years filing in behind. The Gryffindor students were climbing the same staircase, their group mingling yet distinctly separate. Percy Weasley kept urging those at the back to keep up.
"Stay behind me, all of you. No need to worry about going hungry—food will be sent up. Hurry now! Don't fall behind."
Hodge's peripheral vision stayed locked on Harry and Ron. He couldn't help but watch them.
It wasn't about catching up with Harry. No, Hodge was certain his sudden appearance had shaken Harry to the core, maybe even made him question reality. With Hodge's presence as a butterfly effect, who knew if Harry and Ron had completely forgotten about Hermione?
Hodge had no intention of taking on a troll single-handedly in their place, but he absolutely didn't want anyone to die because of it. Thankfully, it hadn't come to that. When the group reached the second floor, the moment Percy's figure vanished up the spiral staircase, Harry and Ron slowed their pace, crouching and edging closer—not to talk to Hodge, but to blend in with the Ravenclaws and slip past Percy's watchful eyes.
Hodge watched them disappear, a pang of emotion stirring in his chest. The procession slowed unknowingly. "What's going on?" the Ravenclaw prefect called, striding over. "Why've you stopped?"
"Someone broke away from the group!" a girl named Marietta Edgecombe said, jabbing a finger at Cho Chang beside her. "You saw it too, didn't you? You were staring at Blackthorn the whole time."
Cho's face flushed crimson, her expression murderous enough to strangle Marietta.
"I—I saw…" she stammered.
"Were they from our House?" the prefect frowned.
"Two Gryffindors," Hodge spoke up. Herbert's brows knitted tighter. He stepped to the edge of the stairs, craning his neck to look up, but the Gryffindor group had already vanished from sight.
"What a mess," he muttered irritably. "Fine, I'll go check."
"Can you take on a troll?" Hodge asked suddenly, sensing Herbert wasn't taking it seriously. The prefect nearly bit his tongue.
"You—what did you say? They went to the dungeons?"
Right, Hodge realized—everyone assumed the professors had the troll contained in the dungeons.
"I overheard them," Hodge lied on the spot. "I only caught a bit. They seemed to be looking for someone, maybe a friend. Don't waste time—you'd better report this to a teacher! Have them search between the second and third floors."
He vaguely recalled the troll being around there.
As Herbert hurried off in a panic, Hodge slipped away from the group, the female prefect's voice barking orders behind him.
He hadn't planned to meddle in Harry's trio's adventure, but an itch gnawed at him, so he gave himself an excuse: he'd just watch from a distance. Trolls were slow, after all. And if his presence caused things to spiral, he could at least shout for help…
Lost in thought, someone else caught up to him—Evelina Selma.
"Why're you here?" Hodge whispered.
"You're trying to save someone? Are you mad?" Selma shot back. Hodge didn't answer. He did have that urge, but not to the point of self-sacrifice. Besides, he didn't want to drag Selma into this. She read his thoughts and said firmly, "I promised Professor McGonagall I'd keep an eye on you. We're in this together."
They crept through the empty, silent corridor. Hodge listened intently while whispering his plan. "Right now, you're the only one I trust. Listen, protecting yourself comes first. If things get bad, you run—don't argue. We avoid facing the troll head-on. We observe, and if needed, hide and throw curses from a distance to slow it or lure it to a narrow staircase. I read that trolls are dim-witted."
"How do you know—"
"Books in the common room," Hodge said curtly. "If it's the worst-case scenario, I might not be much help, but I can at least set off some magical fireworks." They soon reached a fork by a griffin statue—one path led upstairs, the other to a quieter corridor.
Which way? But the decision was made for them. A piercing, terrified scream rang out.
"You were right!" Selma said, now fully convinced the troll had escaped the professors' control. Her nerves kicked in. "I know where that came from—the girls' bathroom."
They caught a foul stench, then a low, guttural grumble. Through an open door, a massive figure clutching a club loomed into view. It wasn't so much a club as a jagged tree root snapped from somewhere.
Selma gasped.
The troll stood twelve feet tall, its bald, grotesquely disproportionate head nearly scraping the ceiling. Its hulking, sturdy body gleamed like cold granite in the moonlight.
The situation had reached its peak.
The troll let out a deafening roar, thrashing wildly, its club swinging through the air. If not for the person dangling from its neck, the scene might've been comical.
It was Harry.
"My God!" Selma froze, swallowing hard. This had to be the worst-case scenario Hodge mentioned.
Hodge quickly scanned the room, piecing together what happened from their positions. Hermione was trapped inside, Harry and Ron had come to rescue her, and then—Ron was cornered against a wall, Harry had leapt onto the troll's shoulders in a desperate move…
Harry was being flung about, clinging to the troll's neck to avoid being stomped flat. Ron stood frozen, wand raised, unsure what to do. Hermione slumped on the floor, her face locked in terror.
Hodge didn't know how they'd managed in the original story. He grabbed Selma as she lunged forward.
"Don't go in! Curse it from here."
"Right," Selma raised her wand shakily. "Stupefy!" A red light struck the troll's rock-like skin and ricocheted.
"Impedimenta!"
The troll's body stiffened briefly but shook it off.
"Expelliarmus!"
This finally worked. The club flew from the troll's grip, spinning through the air and smashing a marble sink.
Ron dodged the flying debris, then seemed to have an idea, instinctively raising his wand. At the same time, Selma shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"
A thick rope materialized, binding the troll's massive legs.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The broken club embedded in the sink shot upward, then crashed down, striking the troll's forehead. It let out a wail, stumbling forward, but its bound legs gave way, and the beast crashed to the ground.
With a thud, the floor trembled. The troll lay still.
Selma exhaled as if emptying her lungs, collapsing to the floor, exhausted. "Un—unbelievable. I never thought we'd take down a troll… Oh, don't pull me up, let me sit."
"Is it—dead?" Hermione asked hoarsely.
"I don't think so," Harry said, shakily standing. "Probably just knocked out." He yanked his wand from the troll's nostril, wiping it on its trousers with a grimace—his earlier attack had been primal.
Hodge relaxed but warned, "You'd better get out now. Hey, Harry, good to see you again."
He fought to contain his excitement as images flashed through his mind: the troll swinging its club, the blasting curse he'd read about that morning, the first chapters of Magical Theory, basic wand movements… They formed a vague shape, but he couldn't piece them together. Then a new memory clicked: the Sorting Hat saying, You're a natural at Occlumency…
A spark of inspiration hit. He needed a vessel for these memories, a caster far stronger and more mature than he was now. His mother's hand-drawn comic, flipped through obsessively these past days, came to mind. If I were the invincible Andros…
No… I am Andros. Those adventures proved it…
Hodge froze, his magic stirring within him.
In the bathroom, Harry muttered, "Hey, Hodge. Good to see you too, I guess…"
He'd heard bits about Hodge from Percy, so he didn't think Hodge was some dream figure. Heeding the warning, despite his exhaustion, Harry helped Hermione up, and with Ron, they headed for the door.
He was desperate to end this and question Hodge properly.
"Oi, Harry mentioned you," Ron said to Hodge, mustering a grin. "You can tell me about his cousin. Good thing it wasn't Percy who found us. If he knew I was in the girls' loo—" He froze, his face paling.
The troll's massive hand twitched. The air seemed to still.
"Run!" Harry shouted. The trio bolted for the door. Behind them, the troll shook its head, groggy, then tore the ropes from its legs. With one hand, it pushed itself up, grinding stones beneath its palm.
The bathroom echoed with its guttural growls.
"Confringo!"
Harry felt a red flash zip past his shoulder, followed by a suffocating wave of heat. He spun around—the troll was blasted back, a scorched patch on its chest. This time, it was out cold.
Harry stared at Hodge in disbelief. No question, he'd cast the spell. Hodge looked just as stunned. In his mind, a towering, golden figure faded like mist…
Hodge was certain it was Andros. But how? A cheat code? Something else?
Footsteps thundered down the corridor.
Professor McGonagall burst in, followed by Snape and Quirrell.
Quirrell glanced at the sprawled troll, slumping against the wall, gasping silently, his cheeks twitching. Snape stepped past him, inspecting the troll, his eyes lingering on the wounds on its forehead and chest.
McGonagall looked furious, her lips pale.
She first eyed Hodge, who seemed lost in thought, as if he'd stumbled here by accident. Then she took in Harry and Ron's disheveled states. Thankfully, they were unharmed, but her anger boiled over.
"What in Merlin's name were you playing at?"
"You're lucky you weren't killed. Why weren't you in your dormitories? Herbert told me Gryffindors broke off, and I didn't want to believe it. Not two, but three of you."
"Miss Granger, explain yourself!"
Hermione, pulling free from Harry's support, sobbed, "P-Professor McGonagall, they were looking for me. I—I came to find the troll, because I thought I could handle it alone—you know, I'd read about them, I knew so much."
Hodge glanced at Know-It-All Granger. Seeing her lie wasn't easy, but he knew this ordeal had forged their friendship. He'd figured out why the troll woke—his butterfly effect. Selma's spell had caused the club to smash the Sink, snapping it in half, weakening Ron's Levitation Charm compared to the original story.
As he observed, he felt a probing gaze—Snape.
"Mr. Blackthorn, what's your story? Herbert mentioned something, but it wasn't clear," McGonagall said, having sent Hermione off.
"Er, I saw those two—" Hodge pointed at Harry and Ron, still lingering, "—break off, so I told the prefect. After Herbert left, I got worried and convinced Selma to check. I didn't do much."
Selma gave him an odd look.
"Didn't do much," Snape echoed. "I think not, Minerva. Look at the troll's chest. You won't find a heavier wound."
McGonagall glanced and her eye twitched.
"You won't believe it, but the troll was already down," Hodge said. "Trolls are tough. When I saw its hand move, I panicked and used a spell I learned today. Didn't expect it to work first try."
Harry and Ron nodded, as if it made sense.
Snape asked softly, "So, you overreacted? Reasonable. Anyone would, facing a troll."
Tch. Hodge stayed silent.
"It's true, Professor," Selma added. "Hodge was trying to save them."
"Very well," McGonagall decided. "Casting such a powerful spell as a new student is impressive, and you reported to a teacher—" She glared at Harry and Ron. "Twenty points to Ravenclaw, ten each for you and Selma, Mr. Blackthorn. I'll inform Filius; he'll be delighted. You may go."
When Hodge and Selma reached the main staircase, the troll's stench finally gone, she perked up, almost giddy. "Defeating a troll! Ha! I bet no healer at St. Mungo's has done that."
"Don't try it again," Hodge warned.
"Never," she said, sobering. "But I'm telling everyone I know… By the way, what was up with your magic?"
Hodge shared selectively, omitting the Sorting Hat's Occlumency comment. He wasn't sure he understood it himself.
"Picturing yourself as someone else?" Selma frowned.
"Maybe it's tied to casting emotions? Or a talent?" Hodge mused, stepping back. "I read in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century that some wizards have unique gifts, like talking to animals."
"Could be. You should ask Professor Flitwick," Selma suggested.
They reached the Ravenclaw common room door.
"How many times does a person die?"
Hodge answered casually, "Three. Body, society, memory."
The door opened. The common room buzzed with activity, students clustering tables laden with food. Selma was instantly whisked away by friends to recount their adventure. The moment she left, Herbert appeared.
"What happened? I heard you and Selma fought a troll. You okay?"
"Unscathed," Hodge said, giving a brief rundown. Herbert's eyes gleamed, pressing for details. After a while, he dug out a parchment and handed it to Hodge.
"Your timetable."
He then showed Hodge to the dormitory.
It was empty.
Hodge surveyed his bed—a four-poster with deep blue, star-patterned curtains. A desk and chair sat nearby, his trunk beside them.
Circling the bed, Hodge looked up. The ceiling above had a high, recessed panel housing a rolled-up, translucent curtain. When lowered, it'd look like a domed tent from outside.
"Not bad, eh? Ravenclaw's small, so it's four to a room. Luggage is by the bed. Any issues, find me. Davis is calling!" Herbert dashed off to play some stone-tossing game.
Hodge lay on his bed, mulling over the day, his peculiar magical talent, and slowly, his thoughts drifted. He fell asleep.
Some time later, it was nearly pitch-black. An itch on his face woke him. Scratching, he heard an owl's hoot. Opening his eyes, he expected Nyx but saw a long-eared owl, something long in its beak.
A rat? Hodge jolted.
"Lumos." His wand cast a soft glow. Only then did he see it was a note.
He took the parchment, written in looping, ornate script. By wandlight, he read:
Library, northeast corner, shelf 133a, Understanding Your Mind.Know your gift.
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