Hodge lowered his head, mulling over the conversation he'd just had. He'd been turning it over in his mind for a while now.
"So, some people—whose ancestors might've had wizarding blood—started awakening special abilities after last year's incident. Over the past year, those abilities have developed, and they've even formed secret little groups."
"Exactly."
"What's the Ministry's plan? They can't just lock them all up…"
"Warnings, integration, memory charms, new laws… The Ministry's not exactly united on this. That's probably why they're talking to the Muggle government."
Hodge figured warnings and integration were two sides of the same coin—just a matter of order.
"How do you warn them? They're not exactly going to get owl post, are they? At the very least, you'd have to let them know there's a hidden magical community governed by laws. But how much good would that do? There's bound to be some who don't buy it… or, what, give them a day trip to Azkaban?"
"No clue," Tonks said with a shrug.
She was munching on an ice cream, quickly finishing off the last bit of the crispy cone with a loud crunch crunch.
"Alright, I'm off. Got an action report to write…"
With a dramatic sigh, she left. Hodge watched her step into the emerald flames of the public Floo fireplace, his thoughts lingering on last year's magical incident. It was no small matter—its impact was far-reaching. Now it was affecting "ordinary" people. These "gifted" individuals were even more marginalized in the wizarding world than Squibs, mostly because they didn't even know wizards existed. They thought they were uniquely talented.
What's more, these people had already started meeting in secret, forming the beginnings of an underground organization. They were one step away from developing a full-fledged ideology. If the Ministry didn't step in, it was bound to shake up the current order.
But how do you regulate something like that? Didn't the Muggle government have its own ideas?
Dumbledore definitely knew about this—he always had his ear to the ground. Oh, and he had Voldemort to worry about too. The difference between "Voldemort might still be alive" and "Voldemort is definitely not dead" was night and day…
A long, winding queue snaked around Flourish and Blotts, nearly circling the entire bookshop.
In the crowd, Hodge spotted the Weasleys and a rather disheveled Harry.
"Hey! Over here!" Ron waved at him.
Hodge walked over. "What happened to you?" he asked Harry, who gave a sheepish grin. "Took a wrong turn into Knockturn Alley."
"Yeah, who'd have thought, right?" Fred and George chimed in, smirking. "Mum, doesn't this prove we're the well-behaved ones?"
Mrs. Weasley shot them a warning look. "It was an accident. Harry's first time using the Floo." She turned to Hodge with a warm smile. "You must be Hodge. Thank you for saving these kids. They're a handful, especially Ron." She paused, then added, "And Fred and George."
The twins immediately looked away, pretending to be fascinated by something else.
"Mum!" Ron protested. "We were saving someone! We couldn't just stand there and let Hermione get eaten by a troll, could we?"
Hermione nodded awkwardly in agreement.
"I'm not saying you did anything wrong, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'm proud of you. But I wish you'd use your heads first instead of being so reckless. Percy's already written home about it…"
As Mrs. Weasley launched into a lecture, Ron slumped, resigned to listening. Harry leaned over and whispered to Hodge, "You here to buy books too?"
"Already got mine," Hodge replied.
He glanced at the absurdly long queue. "I'll pass on the signing. I don't like other people's names scribbled in my books. Anyway, I'm heading in to pick out another book… You lot keep queuing."
Before leaving, he cast a quick glance at Ginny. She was standing next to Hermione, quiet and small, almost blending into the background.
Harry watched Hodge's retreating figure, blinking. For a moment, he felt an urge to follow him.
On second thought, he wasn't that starstruck.
Inside the bookshop, Hodge saw Lockhart surrounded by a throng of fans. He was seated at a table, with a massive photo of himself winking in unison behind him—a creepy sight. The photo-Lockharts beamed approvingly as the real Lockhart signed books, dressed in a forget-me-not blue robe and a fancy pointed wizard hat. His quill danced across the pages, and every so often, he flashed a dazzling smile for the photographers.
A tired-looking wizard approached Hodge. "Please join the queue, sir, thank you…"
"I'm not here for a signature," Hodge said. Lockhart, despite being swamped, suddenly looked up, shooting a quick glance his way. Odd how he'd heard Hodge over the cacophony of squeals. Thinking of his upcoming school year and the need for a peaceful life, Hodge quickly added, "I've already bought my books, and that queue's way too long."
He slipped past the wizard into the quieter part of the shop, where hardly anyone lingered.
Soon after, he picked out a book: Enchant Your Everyday: A Guide to Practical Magic. At the counter, the clerk glanced nervously at the crowd. "Madness out there, isn't it? That'll be two Galleons."
Hodge paid and found a spot to sit.
He was about a third of the way through the book when a commotion broke out. Looking up, he saw Lockhart standing, one arm around a miserable-looking Harry, who was struggling so hard his glasses slid down his nose.
Hodge closed his book with interest. From his angle, it looked like Harry was being held hostage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart boomed, "I have a small announcement to make. In this extraordinary moment—young Harry came into Flourish and Blotts today to buy my autobiography, unaware that he'd soon receive something far more valuable than my humble Magical Me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am thrilled and honored to announce that this September, I will be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The crowd, as if under an Imperius Curse, erupted into synchronized applause and cheers. Camera flashes lit up the room. It took ages for Harry to wriggle free from Lockhart's grip, his hair a mess and glasses askew, looking like he'd just survived a duel.
Harry dumped a stack of books into Ginny's new cauldron, then bought another set from the clerk before slumping into a seat near Hodge, letting out a long breath.
"Like waking up from a nightmare, huh?" Hodge said.
Harry nodded, still shaken.
"I just can't wrap my head around it…" Harry said, fumbling for words. "He's written so many books! It's just… not what I expected."
Hodge got it. The glowing image people painted of Lockhart didn't match the reality.
Just then, Ginny approached, clutching her new cauldron, standing shyly beside Harry and glancing at Hodge. "This is Ginny, the youngest Weasley," Harry said. "And this is Hodge. Weren't you curious about him? Well, here he is in the flesh."
"Nice to meet you," Hodge said, a touch formally.
Ginny, though shy, mustered the courage to extend her hand.
As they shook hands, Hodge's curiosity piqued. Things seemed to be shifting slightly. Ginny was here, chatting with them—how was she going to deal with that diary now?
A random thought crossed his mind.
Maybe he should go over and test the waters?
————
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