Hodge Blackthorn strolled into the room with an air of innocent curiosity, spinning in place to take in the people around him with wide, inquisitive eyes.
The smile on Dumbledore's face vanished. A palpable force radiated from him, as if the entire office had caught fire, the flickering lamplight casting every trace of icy anger across his features.
"Fudge," he said in a low, steady voice, "this is what you promised me."
Umbridge trembled, her mouse-brown hair and butterfly bow askew, her eye bags sagging dramatically.
Fudge was sweating profusely, looking as though he'd been tossed into a steamer. "I… it's not… it was her…" he stammered.
Dumbledore rose abruptly from his chair.
His blue eyes seemed to absorb every detail in the room, and though they blazed with anger, his voice remained calm. "I will report this to the Wizengamot. They might provide a fair explanation. And, as a suggestion, release Mr. Wickham. His wife is waiting for him to spend Christmas at home. I wasn't aware the Ministry had taken up kidnapping as a side job."
Fudge wiped his brow incessantly, opening his mouth as if to defend himself, but Dumbledore swiftly stepped over the sofa and bent down to look at Hodge. Hodge refocused his gaze, and oddly enough, he caught a faint glimmer of amusement in the blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.
"Headmaster Dumbledore? Hello, Merry Christmas," Hodge mumbled.
"Happy holidays. Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"My uncle Elaine said he'd help me catch up on some family lessons, but technically, I'm not supposed to use magic outside school…" Hodge said slowly, as if explaining his presence. His gaze began to wander, eventually settling on Fudge.
Fudge seized the chance to change the subject. "Oh, oh, of course, no issue at all. The Blackthorn family, I know… Dumbledore, what do you think?"
"This is a matter between the Ministry and Mr. Blackthorn. I speak only on behalf of the school," Dumbledore said, straightening up.
"Y-yes, exactly. We must follow the law," Fudge echoed.
Dumbledore then excused himself. Hodge sensed Fudge wanted to keep him there, perhaps to discuss some unspoken "grand plan," but Fudge remained silent. As Hodge closed the door, he caught Fudge glaring at Umbridge, who cowered in the corner.
Umbridge is in for it now, Hodge thought with satisfaction. He could've muddled through on his own, but Dumbledore's presence brought a wave of relief. He hurried to catch up with the headmaster.
They walked through the corridor and into the elevator. Only then did Hodge get a proper look at Dumbledore, who stood with his hands clasped in front, his long silver beard gathered in his fingers. He stared at the golden grille ahead, lost in thought.
"Professor Dumbledore, did you get my letter?" Hodge asked.
"Ah, I thought you'd save the secret of your disguise for a grand reveal. I was looking forward to that moment," Dumbledore said, eyeing Hodge with interest, as if searching for signs of a potion's effects.
Hodge flushed with embarrassment.
A spark of amusement flickered in Dumbledore's eyes. "Yes, I received it. Thank you for the gift, Hodge. Very thoughtful. And your performance tonight was quite clever—not just in Fudge's office, but in the corridor. The portraits alerted me."
"Well, then…" Hodge hesitated. He had a flood of questions, but at the last moment, he pivoted. He described how he'd accidentally used magic that morning to bring a tin soldier to life, his delayed realization, his internal debate, and his eventual decision to test the Ministry's regulations. He then recounted witnessing Ministry officials enforcing rules after dinner while out for a stroll.
Dumbledore watched him with a smile.
"What do you think?" Hodge asked.
"I've always thought the Trace is poorly designed. Students should have a place to practice magic, or I'd face a school full of empty heads every September… Yet, I must acknowledge the Ministry's efforts to uphold the law. Quite the contradiction," Dumbledore said.
Hodge let out a relieved breath. Dumbledore wasn't holding him accountable. If Fudge didn't put up barriers, his biggest worry for now was resolved.
The grille door slid open, and they stepped out of the elevator hall into the vast, golden atrium, empty save for the gushing fountain. Hodge watched the water spurt and resumed the conversation.
"Hasn't anyone objected? I mean, like you said, couldn't there be a safe place to practice, under controlled conditions? At home, maybe, with the Ministry banning loud or disruptive spells, just allowing students to reinforce what they've learned. Wouldn't that be better?"
"I can't ask for more than what's possible," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "Early in Fudge's tenure, we exchanged many letters. Over time, he grew confident, believing he had everything under control. I realized that if I continued to exert influence, even just offering help or advice as before, it would create a rift between us. So I stepped back, as he wished, and stayed at the school."
"But tonight…" Hodge said hesitantly.
"I won't allow Fudge—or anyone else—to whisk my students away for questioning without cause," Dumbledore said calmly.
Hodge's heart swelled with gratitude.
They gazed at the fountain for a moment. Then Hodge stepped forward and tossed two coins into it.
"Just Muggle coins. I figured they'd find them novel," he said.
Dumbledore smiled warmly and took Hodge's arm. A familiar squeezing sensation gripped his chest, and when his vision cleared, Hodge found himself on Baker Street. He didn't ask how Dumbledore knew his address—it seemed only natural.
They walked along the snow-covered street, Dumbledore observing the streetlights and Christmas decorations with evident delight.
Hodge seized the chance to ask more questions.
"Will Fudge release Mr. Wickham?"
"As long as he hasn't lost all reason," Dumbledore replied. "Once I called him out, he can't pretend to be deaf."
"And, er, the magical incident—any progress?"
"Quite the opposite," Dumbledore said, shaking his head slightly. "It's grown more complicated."
"Is it… because of someone involved?" Hodge's throat tightened as he carefully chose his words. "When I was in Umbridge's office, she mentioned a name… Sebastian Salo."
Dumbledore's expression turned grave, every wrinkle etched with alertness.
"Are you certain, Hodge?"
"Absolutely. Umbridge thought I was out of it and spoke freely. She didn't seem to know much either—not even if he's dead or alive. But she was so certain, she must have heard it directly from someone, likely Mr. Wickham, whom she's secretly holding." Hodge glanced at Dumbledore. "Do you know him?"
A look of reminiscence crossed Dumbledore's face.
"Yes, I do," he said softly. "I heard his name when I first started at Hogwarts. He was in his seventh year then, but he left soon after, as if the diploma meant nothing. He did great things, until one day he vanished mysteriously. No word since. Years later, his family announced his death."
Hodge listened, enthralled, but Dumbledore abruptly stopped.
"Enough for now. Look, your parents are waiting."
————
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