"Oops, I accidentally got all 'Outstanding' grades again."
On the Hogwarts Express heading back to school, Hodge Blackthorn was smugly showing off to Harry. Not just Harry, but everyone in the compartment—both dorm groups—looked thoroughly fed up. They hadn't gathered to feel worse about themselves, so they quickly and wordlessly agreed to start a game of Exploding Snap to lighten the mood.
The compartment was packed to the brim. Besides Terry, Anthony, Ron, and Neville, Hermione and Ginny were there too, and Ginny had brought Luna along. The tiny space was so crowded that when the food trolley came by, it nearly got stuck in the aisle. The vendor did a roaring trade in their compartment.
As Hodge munched on a beef pasty, Hermione was glumly nibbling on a Cauldron Cake.
She'd also earned all 'Outstanding' grades, but there was a difference between outstanding and outstanding. At least judging by her exam answers, she was still a ways off from perfect scores. She remembered going to Professor Flitwick for clarification. The professor had scratched his bald forehead, hesitating for a long moment before laying out the plain truth.
"Both of you have knowledge far beyond your peers, answering questions with ease…" It was like third- or fourth-year students looking back at first-year exams—full marks might be tough, but getting 'Outstanding' was a breeze. Still, even among those who outshone their peers, there were clear differences. It was like some people stood on the third floor, while others were up on the seventh. "Miss Granger, you've read a ton of books and learned plenty of extra material, but you still see yourself as a second-year student. As for Hodge…" Flitwick had paused. "Mr. Blackthorn, I can tell his sights are set on Minerva, Dumbledore, even You-Know-Who…" And, of course, Flitwick himself.
As someone who often discussed magical theory with Hodge, Flitwick could sense their dynamic was more like a "less knowledgeable" person seeking advice from a "more knowledgeable" one.
Knowledge didn't always align with being a student or a teacher.
Hermione didn't get it. She was just a second-year, after all. Irritated, she turned away and caught sight of Anthony, his face smudged with soot from an Exploding Snap card that had just gone off. In the corner, Ginny was doubled over with laughter. When her eyes met Harry's, she quickly sat up straight, flashing him a shy smile. Hermione had known for ages that Ginny had a crush on Harry, but Ginny was so young, and Harry was completely oblivious… Hermione's mind wandered, chasing a sudden spark of thought. For some reason, she recalled how Ginny had been relentlessly pushing them to practice dueling spells, acting almost exasperated with their lack of effort. Now, though, Ginny seemed like a different person entirely.
In a way, Hermione wasn't wrong.
Ginny's earlier behavior had been a lot like Hodge's. She'd somehow gained fragments of future memories tied to herself—tormented by knowledge of "Horcruxes," "Voldemort," and the "Wizarding War." Desperate to prepare, she'd pushed herself hard and hounded Harry and Ron to do the same. Ron had taken the brunt of her frustration more than once. But after spilling everything to Dumbledore, Ginny had unburdened herself and reverted to her old self—though maybe a bit more lively and bold.
Hodge was like another Ginny. He hadn't realized it, but he'd already set towering goals in his mind: Voldemort, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, even the elusive specter of Death itself… These weren't just targets for strength but milestones on his magical path. Unlike Hermione—who read voraciously out of passion and only dove deep into magic that caught her interest—Hodge approached every book, spell, or theory with a purpose. He instinctively measured himself against those "milestones." It wasn't about directly competing with them but a more abstract evaluation. He and Dumbledore walked different paths, but Hodge would mentally translate his achievements to gauge the gap between them.
It was like walking ten thousand meters in one direction while he forged a new path, estimating he'd gone about two thousand.
For Hodge, this quiet competition gave him a sense of fulfillment and security. He didn't know where his chosen magical path would lead, but it kept him grounded.
Pop! A loud explosion rang out in the compartment.
Michael, who'd finished eating first, had been building a card castle with Exploding Snap cards. It inevitably blew up, sending a cloud of black smoke through the compartment. Everyone coughed as Hodge drew his wand, gathering the scattered smoke into a small ball. He glanced at the window, and Neville, quick on his feet, yanked it open. Hodge tossed the smoke ball outside, where it dissipated instantly.
Beyond the window, a forest stretched out, with glimpses of a winding, shimmering river and dark green hills visible through the trees. A gust of wind blew in, rousing the sleepy compartment. Hodge's mind drifted to the start of the school year, when he'd been on this very train, sending a letter via his owl, Nyx, to Harry and Ron in their flying car.
Clearly, Harry and Ron were thinking the same thing. They exchanged a glance, then looked at Hodge. Ron muttered something under his breath, and Hermione, not catching it, asked, "What'd you say?" Ron's red hair was whipped around by the wind as he stood to close the window. Raising his voice, he said, "I said—if we had—an owl—ow!"
A brown blur shot through the open window, grazing past Ron.
It was an owl.
Hodge's heart sank. He recognized the wobbly, flapping bird struggling to regain its balance. It was Evelina Selma's owl. As it swooped downward, Harry grabbed the poor thing. It let out a couple of weak hoots before closing its eyes.
"Oh, Merlin, it's not…" Hermione gasped.
"It's fine, just asleep. It must've flown a long way," Luna said softly, gently taking the owl from Harry. She smoothed its ruffled feathers and untied a rolled-up note from its leg, handing it to Hodge.
"I think it's for you."
Hodge unrolled the note. It was short, scrawled in hasty writing: "Quirrell disappeared last night." This was part of his and Evelina's agreement—if there were any signs of improvement, she'd notify him immediately. But this wasn't just improvement; it was far beyond that.
He passed the note to Harry, who froze after a quick glance. Ron snatched it, sucking in a sharp breath. "Quirrell's gone?" Hermione cast a Reviving Charm on the owl before taking the note, staring at the words in stunned silence. Those in the know exchanged complicated looks.
Quirrell was awake—and he'd escaped. Where could he have gone?
Hodge's mind raced further. Was this guy about to take Peter Pettigrew's place and resurrect Voldemort?
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