Hodge spread out the Marauder's Map, using the light from his wand to study the tiny labeled dots moving across it. Soon enough, he spotted a small black dot labeled "Peter Pettigrew" darting through the castle corridors. Elsewhere, he noticed a dot representing Tonks wandering the fifth floor—she was on patrol.
Hodge dressed quickly and left the dormitory, stepping into the deserted Ravenclaw common room. He glanced at the map again. Peter Pettigrew had slipped from Gryffindor Tower to the second floor and was now heading downward toward the entrance hall. Hodge let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thank Merlin he hadn't taken Harry to explore the Chamber of Secrets yet—that would've risked tipping Pettigrew off.
Leaving the common room, Hodge cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. His projection shimmered, its glow dimming until it blended into the darkness, drifting like a wisp of moonlight. He descended the stairs at a leisurely pace, passing portraits that dozed on the walls. He paused briefly on the third floor, waiting for Tonks to pass, before emerging onto a second-floor corridor. Through a window, a swath of pale moonlight spilled across the floor, glimmering like a pool of water. Hodge's projection lingered there, more ghostly than any actual ghost.
"He's left the castle," the projection whispered. "The castle gates are locked."
Hodge checked the map again. Peter Pettigrew was hurrying down the white marble steps outside the castle, pausing every few paces. Hodge guessed he was checking his surroundings, wary of being followed. Watching the dot move, Hodge waited a moment longer before drawing his wand and tapping it lightly against the second-floor window. The glass swung open silently. A biting gust of wind rushed in, making Hodge shiver—late November was already bitterly cold. Acting quickly, he cast a Levitation Charm and floated gently to the ground outside.
Hodge wasn't worried about being discovered. If anyone in the school could sense something amiss, it would be Dumbledore. Hodge was ready for the headmaster to appear at any moment, perhaps offering him a Time-Turner with that knowing twinkle in his eye. Dumbledore was well aware of the Chamber's secrets—Hodge had pointed out the castle's unusual spider activity, which was more than enough for someone like Dumbledore to piece things together. The only question was whether Dumbledore had other plans up his sleeve.
The projection drifted upward, merging with the moonlight. As for Hodge, he canceled the Disillusionment Charm and reached into his pocket, pulling out his Blackthorn pocket watch. Under the bright moonlight, he flicked it open with a soft click. The hands pointed to a quarter past midnight. Tendrils of black mist curled from the watch's inner lid, enveloping him entirely.
He took a longer route to the marble steps. Initially, he'd assumed Pettigrew was headed for the Forbidden Forest—not the greenhouses, where Ministry Aurors were stationed, nor the Quidditch pitch, where teams often practiced. The most likely destination was the Whomping Willow, which concealed a secret passage leading to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. But ever since Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban, that route had become too risky. When news of Sirius's breakout had spread, Hodge had hoped Pettigrew might make a move. No such luck—Pettigrew had stayed holed up in the Gryffindor common room. Hodge didn't fancy trying to outwait someone who'd lived as a rat in a wizarding family for twelve years.
Tonight, though, the mystery unraveled. Hodge watched as Pettigrew's dot veered onto a side path near the base of the hill. His finger traced the map, and the answer clicked—the boathouse. It was both surprising and not. By tradition, all first-year students crossed the Black Lake with the gamekeeper, passing through a hidden entrance to reach the castle. The boats docked in an underground harbor by the boathouse, unused until the end of the school year.
Hodge wondered if this was the diary's idea. Voldemort had always been one for theatrics, and the diary Horcrux, created when he was sixteen, likely carried the weight of his first boat ride to Hogwarts—a moment that must have left a deep impression.
As he neared the boathouse, Hodge slowed his steps. Voices reached his ears.
It was Peter Pettigrew. His voice was high and shrill, punctuated by odd pauses and gasps, as if he'd forgotten how to speak like a normal person.
"M-Master—" Pettigrew stammered, "I've got new information. The Ministry people are still here. You… you told me to drive a wedge between the Minister and Dumbledore, and I—I—" He hesitated. "Before I could act, it happened. A woman named Umbridge used an Unforgivable Curse on a student in public."
Silence followed. Hodge couldn't tell how Pettigrew was communicating with the diary.
Then Pettigrew's voice broke into a sob. "I can't do it—Potter knows about you! He's guessed that Lucius Malfoy slipped the diary to the Weasley girl… Yes, I'm sure it was that house-elf, Dobby, who spilled the secret… That's why you couldn't meet. But I know something else—Potter's a Parselmouth!"
Another long pause.
Pettigrew spoke again, his voice trembling. "M-Master, I have to be extra careful… especially now, with Sirius Black on the loose. He's an Animagus too. I-I think it's best to wait until the Ministry catches him before we…" He let out a strange, manic laugh. "Best if Black kills some Ministry people and gets his soul sucked out by a Dementor."
After what felt like an eternity, Pettigrew's voice quivered with gratitude. "Thank you… my Master. I'll return with more news… I swear my loyalty to you…"
A faint rustling followed as Pettigrew transformed, reverting to his rat form. He slipped through a crack under the boathouse's locked door and scurried away, silent as a shadow, as if he'd never been there. Hodge watched him go, deciding against acting immediately. From the conversation, it was clear Pettigrew wouldn't return soon, which meant the stage Hodge had set for Pettigrew and Sirius Black could now come into play.
Only when Pettigrew's dot returned to the castle on the map did Hodge move. He tilted his head, and his projection glided into the boathouse like mist. Moments later, it reappeared and gave him a nod.
"Alohomora," Hodge whispered. The lock clicked open, and he pushed the door.
Inside, the boathouse was pitch-black. Hundreds of small boats bobbed against wooden railings, tethered by ropes, floating gently in the water. At the far end, moonlight illuminated soft ripples on the lake's surface.
Guided by the memory of Pettigrew's voice, Hodge quickly located the diary. It lay quietly beneath the floorboards of one of the boats.
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