The post-dinner conversation unfolded in two parts. The first half came from Hodge, the second from Kreacher's own experience. Sirius alternated between glaring and grinding his teeth, itching to charge straight into the cavern with its underground lake and corpses to retrieve Regulus's body.
Hodge stopped him.
It was too late, the lake was crawling with Inferi, and there might be hidden traps. No matter how you looked at it, blindly diving in to fish out a corpse wasn't smart. "We're talking hundreds, maybe thousands of moving corpses. We need to prepare for a long fight. We'll go at first light. Kreacher, get some good sleep."
"Yes, Master Hodge." The house-elf beamed.
Sirius felt helpless. His relationship with Kreacher had always been strained, and now that he'd lent the elf to Hodge, slipping out alone under cover of night was impossible.
"Fine, fine. First thing tomorrow." He shrugged slightly.
Sirius barely slept that night.
Meanwhile, Hodge and Harry huddled together. Grimmauld Place had more than one livable room, but Harry wanted to talk.
"Uh…" Harry hesitated. "Hodge, can I come tomorrow?"
"You want to help?" Hodge asked casually.
His fingers twirled lightly, conjuring a book for bedtime reading. He'd deliberately chosen a travelogue, written by a Black family member two or three centuries ago. Much of it still held up today.
Hodge sighed inwardly.
If wizards before the Middle Ages represented humanity's most advanced, most comfortable lifestyle, the Renaissance and Industrial Revolution had let Muggles catch up—well, at least the elite among them had vastly improved their quality of life through technology.
"Yeah," Harry nodded.
Hodge thought for a moment. "Sure. Clearing Inferi is a pain—perfect for practice. You can bring Ron, too." An idea sparked: Could the cave be a battlefield to ambush Voldemort? He instinctively started counting the remaining Horcruxes. The diary and cup were destroyed. The diadem and locket were in hand. That left Marvolo Gaunt's ring, Harry himself, and the snake—uncertain if it was a Horcrux.
For a moment, Hodge's heart burned.
Things are looking good.My dear headmaster, I hope you've got the ring… Then he remembered: the ring held the Resurrection Stone, could summon the dead from one's heart, and bore Voldemort's curse—one that had doomed Dumbledore in the original timeline.
Time was tight. He needed to sync information fast.
He pulled out parchment and quill, spreading them on the desk to write. Harry, still debating whether to invite Ron or owl Hermione to see if she was back, hesitated. The trip could be dangerous. Seeing Hodge's actions, he leaned over to peek.
Harry's eyes landed on the salutation:
"Dear Professor Dumbledore…"
"You're writing to Dumbledore?" Harry said. "Oh, the Horcrux! Yeah, we should tell him." He glanced cautiously at the door. "Hodge, are you planning to destroy the locket? Do you have basilisk fangs? Mine's with Ron."
He remembered handling the basilisk. At Hodge's enthusiastic urging, he'd taken a fang said to destroy Horcruxes. The three of them—Harry, Ron, and Hermione—had privately agreed to let Ron keep it over the holidays. The other two lived with Muggles who knew nothing of magic; a curious cut could be disastrous.
Hodge looked up from the letter, seriously considering Harry's suggestion.
He'd already extracted venom from his own fang, planning to infuse it—along with the basilisk's magical properties—into his Boggart's second transformation. In Hodge's view, the Boggart's first form was losing power: just brute strength and fire-breathing, ordinary flames at that. A basilisk transformation would grant the full abilities of an adult specimen. And with Hodge in control, even the eyes would be perfectly manageable.
"Use yours," Hodge said.
He could destroy a Horcrux himself—a single Fiendfyre would do. His Fiendfyre wasn't refined; it was hard to control and rarely hit people. But he knew the counter-curse, so burning objects was safe enough. The issue was that Fiendfyre was infamous dark magic. Better avoided if possible.
Hodge finished the letter and sent it by owl, wondering how Dumbledore would react to learning they'd stumbled on a Horcrux while sitting in Grimmauld Place. Harry glanced at Hodge's bed and asked, "How long are you staying? Kreacher said we won't clear those Inferi in a day." Not just clearing—identifying Regulus. One careless flame, and they'd lose him forever.
Hodge slapped his forehead.
"At least three or four days. I told my family one night… Hang on." He stood, peered out the window into pitch black, then—CRACK!—a sound louder than Kreacher's comings and goings. Hodge vanished.
Harry froze, then realized: Apparition!
He hadn't seen Hodge dodge Voldemort's curse on the platform. This was his first time. He marveled, full of envy and admiration for Hodge's nerve. The spell was taught in sixth year; one mistake could be deadly.
Moments later, faint noises drifted from downstairs.
Order members?
Footsteps, Sirius's voice. Then Hodge reappeared, clutching a parcel, leaving Harry gobsmacked.
"How did you…?"
"Grimmauld Place's wards let you Apparate out, but not directly in," Hodge explained simply. "Anyway, I've cleared it with home. I'll stay here for now, though I'll pop back occasionally. It's convenient." At least here, Hodge could study magic freely without risking headlines like "Giant Snake Appears in High-Rise, Damages Property, XX Casualties." Otherwise, he'd have to crash at Uncle Elaine's.
Witnessing Apparition's wonder firsthand—and from a peer—Harry's envy spilled over. He straight-up asked Hodge about the spell.
"Apparition, huh…" Hodge's gaze grew distant.
"I heard it's really hard," Harry said hesitantly.
"For you? Piece of cake," Hodge said nonchalantly. Harry shot upright. "No way!"
"What, wanna bet I can teach you in one night?"
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