Chapter 30: Warmth

~ Support & Read 20 Advanced Chapters Available now on my Patreon!

————

"Uncle once rode a Thunderbird…"

"I saw a wind turbine at the science museum. You just blow on it, and the light bulb glows on its own!"

"Grandfather had the gift of prophecy. He could predict tomorrow's weather…"

"Last time we went to Switzerland with the family, we forgot to check the forecast. The paper clearly said it'd be stormy for a whole week…"

"Great-grandfather rode a broomstick around Britain…"

"Do you know how long it took the first person to travel around the world? A full eighty days!"

Ernie stopped short, glaring at the two who were gleefully chiming in with their banter. Among the others, Terry's eyes sparkled with excitement, Michael Corner was pounding his seat with his fist, grinning ear to ear, and Hannah was slumped over the table, her shoulders shaking as she laughed so hard she could barely breathe.

Ernie's ears turned bright red.

The compartment door suddenly slid open.

It was the trolley lady, a cheerful woman with dimples. Before she could start her sales pitch, Hodge leapt from his seat and bought a bit of everything, not missing a single snack.

The others picked out their own treats.

Hodge grabbed a Chocolate Frog.

He tore open the packaging and pulled out the card inside. It showed an elderly woman dressed in a purple court gown with a rose-red lining, her white hair pinned up with a pearl-encrusted tiara. The name beneath read: Nemoine Radford.

He flipped the card over and read the text:

Nemoine Radford (1562–1649) was the first to invent the Memory Charm. Nemoine thus became the first Memory Obliviator for the Wizards' Council.

Hodge paused at "Wizards' Council," thinking it was some odd magical organization, only to realize it was the predecessor to the Ministry of Magic. So, Nemoine had never seen the Ministry, nor known about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy signed in 1692, yet her spell had paved the way for the wizarding world to slip into the shadows.

When Hodge flipped the card back to the front, Nemoine raised her wand, and the entire card turned white. After a moment, her portrait reappeared.

Hodge opened another pack. This time, the card featured Herman Wintringham, noted as the lute player for the famous wizarding band The Weird Sisters—though, judging by his birth year, he was likely still alive.

Hodge passed a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to the sulking Ernie and asked, "So, your family really has the gift of prophecy?" In his mind, that subject wasn't far off from a scam.

"Of course," Ernie said, perking up.

He insisted his grandfather could predict the weather entirely on his own, without any alchemical tools. But Justin chimed in, saying his grandfather probably just had rheumatism, and the two started bickering noisily.

Time slipped by unnoticed. The train rolled through green forests, white rivers, and yellow hills, entering vast plains before signs of civilization appeared. The sky gradually darkened. A prefect knocked on the door to remind them they were nearing the station.

Yet it was nearly an hour later when they finally saw sprawling fields and meadows.

They changed into Muggle clothes, watching as the train pulled into the city and came to a stop at the platform. The moment the doors opened, the train seemed to come alive, a cacophony of noise flooding their ears.

Hodge said his goodbyes and dragged his luggage off the train.

The platform was a chaotic buzz of chattering crowds. Some parents, upon reuniting with their children, Disapparated with a pop. Others laughed and chatted, pushing trolleys in a slow-moving queue. Hodge blended into the crowd, waiting for the single ticket barrier to let them through.

Perhaps to avoid drawing attention from the outside world, the line moved sluggishly. It was a while before Hodge finally stepped out of the platform. He scanned the area and quickly spotted the Blackthorns waiting for him.

Seeing his parents' familiar faces, Hodge's heart leapt with joy.

The Blackthorns hurried over. His father asked, "Why so late?" He took Hodge's luggage, his other hand holding an empty birdcage.

"There was just one old guard on duty, letting only two or three people through at a time," Hodge said apologetically. "What's with the cage?"

"Nyx flew off this morning," Mr. Blackthorn said, shaking the metal cage. "We were worried she'd come looking for you, so we brought it just in case…"

"Oh, I see her."

Hodge looked up. They were now outside the platform, and a black speck was circling in the bright blue sky above. He had sent a pile of packages home earlier, specifically instructing his owl to stay put after delivering them.

A low, rumbling coo sounded as a tawny owl swooped down. As it neared, it spread its wings, gliding lightly and landing gracefully on Hodge's shoulder.

Nyx squinted her eyes, pretending to doze.

When Hodge tried to coax her into the cage, she acted as if she hadn't heard him. Resigned, he cradled her in his arms, and she slept even more soundly.

No incidents occurred, except for when the family waited at a traffic light and an old lady nearby eyed them suspiciously—specifically, the empty cage in Mr. Blackthorn's hand.

"Are you an ornithologist?" she asked.

"Just a hobbyist," Mr. Blackthorn replied without missing a beat.

The old lady glanced at the owl sleeping in Hodge's arms and muttered, "For education, I suppose."

Once they were in the car, Hodge couldn't wait to share stories from school. But by the time they pulled into their neighborhood, he'd barely scratched the surface. His father brewed a pot of tea, and he and Mrs. Blackthorn settled on the sofa to listen to their son.

"Where was I?" Hodge asked.

"The part about house-elves," his mother replied.

"Oh, right. They look like this." Hodge grabbed a sketchpad and quickly drew an outline, then gestured to his thigh. "House-elves are about this tall, a bit timid, but they're incredibly clever and efficient."

He pulled out a few rolls of film to show them.

"I also made some developing potion. If you use it right, the photos will move."

The Blackthorns listened intently.

London's December evening carried a chill, the twilight heavy. Thankfully, the fireplace was warm enough, and the family was fully immersed in the cozy atmosphere.

"…And that's how my experiment worked out," Hodge said, describing the Whimsy Club's activities as a thrilling adventure. He glossed over the troll that appeared on Halloween night, as if it had merely swapped heights with a house-elf.

"Later, with Professor Flitwick's help, I wrote a paper. This is a proof copy, though it won't be published for a while."

Mrs. Blackthorn opened the blue cover of The Journal of Charms and gasped, covering her mouth, when she saw her own illustrations from years ago printed alongside the text.

"Want to hear about the castle's prankster ghost? His name's Peeves. The process was a bit wild, but we ended up becoming friends…"

For Hodge's family, tonight was bound to be a sleepless one.

————

Supporting me on Patreon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.

pat-reon .com/Dragonhair

(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Patreon normally.)