Harry Potter: The Forbidden Magic Legend Begins with Him

"What's wrong?"

"It's a big deal. Come with me, quick!" Evelina grabbed Hodge's hand and pulled him along. "Professor McGonagall's looking for you." As she spoke, she nearly collided with a group of Hufflepuff students.

"Hey, Hodge! Where're you off to?" Justin Finch-Fletchley called out cheerfully.

Evelina lowered her voice, whispering urgently in Hodge's ear, "It's about the dragon." That was enough to kill any thought of stopping to chat. Hodge waved a quick goodbye to Justin and Ernie, letting Evelina lead him through the corridor and up the stairs.

"Slow down," Hodge panted, half-wishing he could cast a slowing charm on her.

They reached a secluded corridor on the third floor. Evelina pushed open the door to an abandoned classroom, her voice tense with nerves. "I just found out—Professor McGonagall knows about the dragon. You've got to figure something out, fast."

"Calm down, Evelina," Hodge said.

He'd already planned for a crisis like this. The Ministry's oversight of student tracking was lax, and private dragon-keeping had similar loopholes. Specifically, there were three key points in their favor.

First, Hagrid hadn't been systematically or long-term raising a dragon, nor had he intended to profit from it. Second, as the Keeper of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid's role included caring for magical creatures, giving him extensive experience—enough to be considered an expert in magical wildlife. Third, after helping the dragon through its most vulnerable stage, Hagrid had willingly sent Norbert to a dragon sanctuary.

With those three points, if the Ministry ever got involved, Hodge was confident he could push Hagrid to demand a medal, not punishment. Plus, Dumbledore was in their corner—Hagrid was his loyal right-hand man.

As for McGonagall finding out, that was even simpler. It could be handled within the school.

Hodge calmed the frantic Evelina, waiting for her to settle before probing for details. "What exactly did you hear? How did McGonagall find out? Did she talk to Madam Pomfrey?"

Ron had been bitten by a Norwegian Ridgeback hatchling. If Madam Pomfrey suspected anything, Hodge wouldn't be surprised, but he doubted she'd report to McGonagall instead of Dumbledore.

"No… no…" Evelina stammered.

"Was it a student? Draco Malfoy?" Hodge asked. That was another likely possibility.

"No… not a student," Evelina said haltingly, sounding so nervous Hodge could've mistaken her for Quirrell giving a speech. He waited patiently as she continued, "It was a professor. He overheard McGonagall talking… and he came to me to pass on the message…"

Hodge's dark eyebrows knit together. "Who?"

"He… he's close to you… doesn't want to see you—or any of us—expelled… I thought he made sense… very wise… his eyes were so bright…"

A growing unease stirred in Hodge's chest. The shadowy image of a figure in a scarf flickered in his mind, and his hand tightened around the memory vial in his pocket.

"Who was it, Evelina?" he asked softly.

"It's—" Evelina's eyes suddenly widened, staring to the side.

The locked door creaked open from the outside.

The rusty hinges screeched like a thunderclap. Hodge whipped around to see a thin, frail figure wrapped in a bulky scarf step inside, waving nervously.

"M-Mr. Blackthorn, g-good to see you," the figure stammered.

"Hello, Professor Quirrell," Hodge replied, his tone calm and composed. "We saw each other just yesterday, at the exams. Remember?" His heart sank. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Evelina had gone silent since Quirrell's entrance, standing there with a blank expression.

If Hodge couldn't tell she'd been charmed, he'd have wasted his entire year at Hogwarts.

Quirrell stuttered, "Y-you're right, we d-did meet yesterday. I-I even congratulated you." He flashed his signature ingratiating smile before continuing, "B-but it's been a while since we've t-talked about magic."

"My skills are limited," Hodge said smoothly, steering the conversation. "So, you know about the dragon. Thank you for the heads-up. I'll talk to Hagrid soon to sort out some paperwork… Evelina? Let's go."

He took a step but stopped. Neither Evelina nor Quirrell moved. Quirrell's face held a faint smile.

"At least hear me out," Quirrell said, glancing at Evelina, whose face remained vacant. "Your friend here knows how to respect a teacher."

Hodge's eyes flicked to Evelina, then past her shoulder, taking in the room's layout. It was likely an old classroom, now a makeshift storage space, cluttered with a dozen scattered desks and wooden crates. To Evelina's left, a narrow stone door blended almost perfectly with the wall.

It looked eerily similar to the stone door Mrs. Norris had led him to when he'd been searching for a boggart—a broom closet.

"Here's the thing. I need a favor," Quirrell said, his speech suddenly smoother.

Hodge stayed silent for a moment before asking, "What kind of favor?"

Quirrell's face lit up with satisfaction. "That's more like it, Mr. Blackthorn. I am, after all, your teacher. I'll be leaving the school for a while—urgent business. I'd like you to stay in touch with me… So, what did you think of the books I recommended?"

"The Restricted Section?"

"Exactly," Quirrell said, his smile widening. "I know you crave knowledge—especially the rare, profound kind. Just like I did when I was young. The Journal of Spellcraft called you a bright student, and I agree. You just lack… systematic guidance. Things other professors won't teach you."

His words dripped with implication. As the "bright" student Quirrell described, Hodge knew exactly what he meant.

When Hodge hesitated, Quirrell pressed on, his eyes gleaming with an almost hypnotic intensity, his voice carrying a captivating allure. "I can teach you how to counter dark magic, how to grow stronger, how to deal with those who whisper about your bloodline behind your back, how to seize power… I see ambition burning in your eyes, Mr. Blackthorn. It must be exhausting, surrounded by mediocrity. With my help, you could achieve greatness. I could even… extend your life."

He spread his arms wide, shedding his usual timid demeanor for a moment of bold confidence.

"Let's make a secret pact—you and I. While you're still young and vulnerable, I'll help you however I can, as a private favor. No one needs to know. You're aware, of course, that I'm not exactly popular here—especially with Snape. He's always badmouthing me, accusing me of stealing or some nonsense."

At that, Hodge understood. Quirrell was trying to recruit a mole before leaving Hogwarts.

Still, he was curious about the method. Hodge doubted Quirrell would use a memory charm like he had on Evelina—those faded over time and left cracks. A stronger curse would ruin the target entirely. Clearly, Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort, pulling the strings—wanted a long-term spy at Hogwarts.

Hodge put on an intrigued expression. "Are you saying you're more powerful than the other professors? Snape's annoying, sure, but he's strong. Harry Potter told me—"

Quirrell cut him off with a string of curses, his eyes flashing with hatred. "Snape?" he spat. "You think he got where he is on his own? Years ago, he was groveling at the feet of a greater wizard, begging for mercy. In the presence of true power, he's nothing but a sniveling coward. But I—" His eyes suddenly blazed with fervor. "I serve that great wizard."

He placed his hands on the scarf around his forehead. "Allow me to introduce my mentor, my master, on this path of magic. He's willing to guide you personally for a time—all he asks is a small price: your loyalty. You might have doubts, but I'll help you."

Hodge's heart pounded. Good grief—Voldemort wanted to possess him.

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