Chapter 57: Decision

Near the Forbidden Forest.

Hodge listened to Harry for a while before summing it up. "So, you're saying Hagrid's card game where he won that dragon egg was a trap, designed to trick him into revealing how to deal with the three-headed dog…"

"Hagrid said the guy selling the dragon egg was really interested in Fluffy," Harry added.

"And he was all sneaky, wearing a hooded cloak," Ron chimed in.

"Exactly!" Hermione confirmed.

After the trio took turns filling in the details, Harry said seriously, "That cloaked figure was probably Snape."

"Why not Quirrell?" Hodge asked abruptly.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked stunned.

This wasn't the first time Hodge had raised suspicions about Quirrell, though the last time the dragon egg fiasco had derailed the conversation.

"I know Snape's a git," Hodge continued, "but as Hagrid pointed out, he's been teaching under Dumbledore's nose for over a decade. If we're talking suspects, think about it: the Philosopher's Stone was moved to the school around July, right? Who showed up out of nowhere after that? Quirrell."

"But—" Ron started, only to be cut off by Hermione. "Harry saw Snape threatening Quirrell, more than once."

"Harry," Hodge pressed, "what exactly did Snape say? Did he mention anything about stealing the Stone for immortality?"

Harry fell into thought, and Hermione glanced around nervously before saying, "We've considered another possibility: Snape might be working for someone else… like… Voldemort. You know about him, right?"

"I know," Hodge replied.

"Eleven years ago, Harry stopped Voldemort, leaving him incredibly weak. He's been relying on unicorn blood to survive—we heard it from a centaur in the Forbidden Forest. There's a whole herd of them there… and recently, Hagrid found injured unicorns." Hermione's voice trembled slightly. "If Voldemort's the one ordering Snape—"

"Or Quirrell," Hodge interjected, noticing Ron's wide-eyed stare. "Or someone else entirely. Point is, there's a bit of disagreement here, but I believe you. Someone's definitely after the Philosopher's Stone."

Hodge found himself at a crossroads of fate once again.

Unlike facing the troll during his first year, this time there were no older students to help. He didn't want to drag Evelina Selma into this—it was far too dangerous, dealing with a real dark wizard. Hodge didn't buy Quirrell's bumbling, laughable act for a second; his true magical skill was likely far more formidable.

Still, they weren't entirely without advantages. Setting aside the interference of the original story, Hodge weighed his options.

He could easily walk away—claim he didn't trust Harry and the others, cite school rules, admit they weren't close enough for him to risk it, or even agree to help while stalling for time. Any of those excuses would hold water if he wanted to play it safe and let Harry and his friends deal with Voldemort.

But the thing was, Hodge harbored ambition. He refused to settle for mediocrity.

Mastering forbidden magic, defeating Voldemort, taking control of the Ministry of Magic… and, if possible, stepping into Dumbledore's shoes one day. Dumbledore wasn't just Hogwarts' headmaster, a Merlin Medal holder, or the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot—he was also the President of the International Confederation of Wizards.

That position held far more power than the United Nations did in the Muggle world.

If Hodge could one day combine the roles of British Minister for Magic and President of the International Confederation, he'd become the most powerful figure in the wizarding world, with all its secrets laid bare before him.

For that, he needed prestige, an impeccable record, and undeniable achievements.

When he chose to step forward, everyone else would have to step back.

Otherwise, what—end up as another Fudge?

His greatest trump card was, of course, Dumbledore.

Hodge had already shared his suspicions about Quirrell with him, and with Dumbledore's intellect, he was certain the headmaster had caught the hint and made contingency plans.

Beyond that, Hodge wasn't unprepared himself.

There was the fire dragon Boggart he'd recently tested—its effects were spectacular. And then… his eyes lit up. Maybe he could play with time a bit.

Hodge turned to Harry. To achieve his goals, he'd need to steer things a little.

"What's your plan?" he asked casually.

"Tell Dumbledore," Harry said. "At the very least, we need to share what we know: Hagrid let slip how to subdue the three-headed dog to a stranger; someone's been drinking unicorn blood; the centaurs Bane and Firenze are worried about the situation; and Snape… Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell's weird interactions."

"Good idea. Let's move," Hodge said briskly.

But Dumbledore wasn't at Hogwarts—Professor McGonagall had told them as much. She also didn't believe their "nonsense" about someone trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone. The four of them—well, three, really—exchanged uncertain glances, while Hodge alone seemed confident, as if he'd known this all along.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked anxiously. "Dumbledore won't be back until tomorrow, which means—"

"Which means whoever's after the Stone, if they're not an idiot, will go through the trapdoor tonight, grab it, and disappear," Harry said grimly. "And that person's likely working for Voldemort. It won't be long before he's back at full strength."

As the group sank into pessimistic despair, Hermione gasped—

Snape had appeared behind them, silent as a shadow.

"You lot need to be more careful," he said, eyeing each of them in turn before addressing Harry in a menacing tone. "A word of advice, Potter—if I catch you wandering around in the middle of the night again, I'll personally see to it you're expelled. As for you, Blackthorn—"

"Professor Snape," Hodge said politely, "did Professor Dumbledore mention anything about me? I mean, after our last meeting by the stone gargoyle. I recall you were rather puzzled by my presence there…"

Snape's thin lips curled into a mocking smile.

"Don't flatter yourself, Blackthorn. The headmaster and I have more important matters to discuss. Though, now that you mention it, one of the former headmasters' portraits did bring up your name—something about your surname—"

"Thank you, Professor Snape!" Hodge cut in, having gotten the answer he needed. He turned and walked off briskly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed, bewildered.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, panting as he caught up. "And where are we going?"

Hodge ignored the first question. He'd confirmed Snape was still reporting to Dumbledore, which was enough. As for the second—

"The headmaster's office," he said.

The trio's faces lit up with a mix of confusion and excitement. They soon reached the hideous stone gargoyle. "Woolen socks," Hodge called out, and the four of them stepped onto the spiraling staircase. Amid their nervous glances, Hodge knocked on the oak door of the headmaster's office.

"Hodge, McGonagall said Dumbledore's not here—" Hermione began, trailing off as she followed him into the grand, circular room. Her jaw dropped as she took in the surroundings, momentarily forgetting their purpose.

"Wow," Ron muttered, unable to stop staring at the whirring, humming silver trinkets. "Hope McGonagall doesn't take points for this."

Hodge didn't venture far. He strode to a tall, gilded perch where a magnificent crimson bird, roughly the size of a crane, stood. Its shimmering golden tail fanned out like a peacock's, breathtakingly beautiful.

"What is that?" Harry asked, his gaze full of awe.

"It's called Fawkes," Hodge answered.

Hermione let out a sudden squeal. "Oh my gosh, it's a phoenix! I never thought I'd see one in real life. Harry, your wand core is made of phoenix tail feather—look!"

"Hermione, don't make a fuss. We've dealt with a dragon, remember?" Ron said, trying to sound nonchalant, though his eyes were glued to Fawkes.

"You don't understand—phoenixes are incredibly rare magical creatures, maybe the rarest. They're powerful, their claws can carry heavy loads, their tears can neutralize poison, they can travel through space, and most importantly, they're the only known creatures that are practically immortal, thanks to their rebirth cycle. Think about Nicolas Flamel and Voldemort—how much they've sacrificed for immortality!"

"Brilliant. We can use it against the three-headed dog," Harry said eagerly. "It'll help us, right, Fawkes? I mean, we're doing this for your master."

Fawkes raised its head proudly.

Hodge looked up at Fawkes, and the phoenix met his gaze calmly.

Whether or not Dumbledore had intended this as a test for Harry, Hodge was determined to get involved, to secure the prestige that would pave his path to power. The risks were worth it, but he'd minimize them as much as possible.

"I need it to send a message to Dumbledore," Hodge said. "But that's not enough, is it, Harry? You've thought about it too—we need to get to the Philosopher's Stone first."

Ron and Hermione gasped, shocked. They looked to Harry, who seemed calm, as if he'd already made up his mind and Hodge had merely voiced it.

But the portraits of former headmasters, silently watching until now, erupted into whispers.

————

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