Harry Potter: The Forbidden Magic Legend Begins with Him

In the cramped broom closet, Peeves cackled, his fingers playfully swirling through the blue flame flickering above for light. The faces of Hodge, Neville, and Selma flickered in and out of shadow.

He seized the chance to tease Hodge about throwing a party.

"Just wrapped one up in the empty classroom out there," Hodge said. "Peeves, have the guests outside cleared out?"

"Didn't see a soul," Peeves said with a mischievous grin. "You lot must've had a blast—shattered glass all over the floor, flames everywhere. Never seen anything like it. Filch is gonna lose it…"

Neville and Selma let out sighs of relief. Filch might threaten to string students up, but compared to Voldemort, he was practically cuddly.

"So, he's escaped?" Neville asked.

Selma analyzed, "He can't still be at the school, right? He was badly injured."

Hodge wasn't so optimistic. Caught between Quirrell's body and the Philosopher's Stone, he doubted Voldemort would prioritize healing his servant. More likely, he'd make a desperate last stand—using Quirrell's life as the sacrifice.

Hodge dispelled the protective charms on the stone door and pushed hard. It didn't budge.

"What's wrong?"

"It's locked from the outside," Hodge said, his suspicion about Voldemort's whereabouts growing. But that meant the danger had shifted to Harry.

They took turns trying to open it, but the stone door held firm. Peeves, watching the spectacle, put on a mock-serious tone. "Group activity short on players? Need a hand?"

"Thanks, was waiting for you to offer," Hodge said, feigning sheepishness.

Peeves nearly toppled over in shock.

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Albus Dumbledore… and any professors you might run into along the way," Hodge listed off, counting on his fingers. "Yeah, could you pass a message?"

"Peeves does a lot of things, but delivering messages ain't one of 'em," the castle's prankster poltergeist said, clearly disappointed. "You can't summon me for that."

"Even the naughtiest students don't want the school to fall apart, Peeves," Hodge said. "Ever thought about where you come from? Why you're in awe of the professors? Why you stick around this castle? Ghosts and students call you a lawless troublemaker, but you know the truth—you're the school's last line of defense. Even if everyone else abandons this place, you'd stay."

Peeves's wicked little eyes glared at Hodge.

"Senior, lend us a hand," Selma chimed in from the side.

Peeves's eyes practically popped out of his head.

"Peeves," Hodge said softly, "don't you want to face off against the most evil dark wizard in history? He's out there, causing chaos on your turf. Pretty rude, don't you think?"

Peeves tugged irritably at his funnel-shaped hat, looking deeply conflicted.

"Fine, you win! Damn kid, I'm done with you!" he snapped, spiraling off in a huff. "I'll show that creep who really rules this castle."

The group in the broom closet exchanged glances, their nerves finally easing. They broke into laughter.

"Is that really how Peeves sees himself?"

"What, you just started school or something?"

"Yeah, I thought he was the headmaster. Now he's got a chance to go toe-to-toe with Dumbledore."

At that moment, Peeves's voice echoed back.

"Oh, by the way, the fire's getting close. Have fun!" He poked half his head through the gray wall, then, with a puzzled look, asked, "What're you lot talking about?"

"Nothing," Hodge said, his face instantly blank. "Just picturing your epic showdown with the dark wizard."

Peeves vanished, half-suspicious, half-smug.

"That was close," Neville said, still shaken. "But what fire was he talking about?"

Hodge pressed close to the stone door, peering through the crack. He glimpsed flickering black shadows. It took a few seconds to realize those dark, wriggling, insect-like shapes were some kind of flame.

"What do you see?"

"There's magical fire blocking the way outside—black flames, like bugs. I can't make out what kind," Hodge said.

"I knew it!" Selma gasped, startled. "Quirrell wouldn't just lock us in and stroll off. He's too cunning for that!" She leaned in to inspect the flames, which burned silently but were creeping closer. Even Neville could see the clawing, writhing shadows under the door.

Hodge glanced at Selma, who shook her head, clueless about the flames.

"Never seen anything like it in any records, but just looking at them, you can tell they're pure evil."

"Now what?" Neville asked, voice tight with nerves.

"Don't you already know, Neville?" Hodge said gravely. A miniature dragon's head, conjured by a Boggart, rested on his shoulder. He tried to imagine a powerful claw, but a throbbing vein in his temple warned he'd overtaxed his mind today.

"What—oh." Neville froze, picturing blasting the wall with an Exploding Charm.

Hodge had found a loophole while reading Hogwarts: A History—not exactly a flaw, but close. The castle was protected by countless ancient spells, but the Founders likely assumed students' destructiveness would be magical, not physical. So, the defenses relied heavily on the materials' natural strength.

That gave Hodge an opening.

Selma steadied Hodge, boosting morale. "Peeves went for help. A professor might be here any second…"

"Good idea, but let's be ready just in case," Hodge said, extending his arm. The Boggart on his shoulder released a wisp of black mist, which slithered down his arm, transforming into a robust dragon's forelimb.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, meticulously shaping the details—muscle structure, bones, blood, down to the fine scales, joints, and the dragon's unique anatomy.

Neville and Selma watched in awe. This kind of spellwork was beyond anything they'd imagined.

Soon, Hodge's right side was covered in glossy black scales, his fingers tipped with icy, sharp claws. He exhaled deeply, flexing slightly. His knuckles tapped the wall, producing a chilling clack as the stone cracked.

Selma cut to the chase. "What do we do?"

"Slow the flames' spread. They seem to burn through protective charms, but they're not fast," Hodge said, casting as he spoke, offering his best guess.

As he spoke, the stone door flickered. A small cluster of black flames slipped through the crack, splitting into a dozen streams, wriggling like black insects and devouring the surrounding protective spells.

Selma and Neville sprang into action.

"Let's try water first—not much hope, but—Aguamenti!"

Selma was half-talking to herself. A jet of water shot out, but it did nothing. A thin line of fire coiled into a ball, waving what looked like pincers, making their skin crawl.

"Let's try something else. Protective charms might work, but some dark magic thrives on them, growing stronger. We'd need a specific counter-curse…"

The temperature in the broom closet climbed. Soon, Selma was drenched in sweat.

Meanwhile, Hodge, facing away, slammed a fist into the wall.

A thunderous boom made Selma jump. She kept chanting.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

With each resounding crash, the stone wall buckled inward, forming a deep crater. Seeing progress, Hodge doubled down, silently vowing to sleep for two days straight once he got out.

He aimed carefully, eyes half-closed, pounding away.

Neville covered his ears, but after catching Selma's glare, he freed one hand, tilting his head to block the other ear with his shoulder. Suddenly, he dropped his hands and shouted into Selma's ear.

"What'd you say? Louder!"

"I said—I hear—something—outside!" Neville bellowed.

In the moment Selma faltered, the black flames covering half the door retreated. The door cracked open, then swung wide.

Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, flanked by Professors Flitwick and Snape.

The diminutive Flitwick was circling his wand, corralling the black flames into a single spot. The flames writhed, trying to break free, but couldn't escape the Charms professor's control.

Selma felt a wave of déjà vu, her mind flashing back to that Halloween night.

Boom!!!

McGonagall's expression was stern, about to speak, when Hodge, after relentless effort, finally smashed a massive hole in the wall.

He nodded, satisfied.

Light flooded his vision, but… why was it coming from behind? Hodge rubbed his chin, his exhausted brain churning through possibilities.

Hmm, judging by the layout, this must be the sewers.

Light in the sewers? That was a puzzle, but not impossible…

A sharp voice cut through from behind.

"Hodge Blackthorn?!"

————

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.)