Hodge finally uncovered the truth behind the magical accident that had altered the course of so many lives.
A hundred years ago, Sebastian Sallow stole the crystal coffin to save his sister. Later, he broke into the Church's hidden sanctuary of magic, only to be ambushed by the Obscurus and left dormant for a century. Had Hodge not appeared, the Obscurus would likely have waited another decade or more before awakening. By then Dumbledore would have been long dead, and Harry—leading a company of Aurors—would have faced the sanctified Obscurus alone. Perhaps, in the heat of that battle, the fragment of consciousness lingering in Sebastian's magic would have stirred—just as Wolflin's theory claimed: magic possesses will. Sebastian had woven his own memories and those of others into the flow of time itself, crossing the boundaries of space and era…
And the day that happened was the very day Hodge's own magic awakened.
The year that followed was anything but peaceful.
The emergence of the sanctified Obscurus sent shockwaves through the world. Even when Muggle government spokespeople insisted the figure that appeared had merely possessed "extraordinary abilities, the excuse fooled no one for long. Whispers of truth spread like wildfire. For the first time, the word "wizard" entered the common vocabulary. Discussions about wizarding governance followed, then the tangled relationship between wizards and the Church. The Church denied everything, of course—but while Parliament bickered for two solid months before finally approving funds to rebuild the ruined St. Paul's Cathedral, the sanctified Obscurus reappeared.
More precisely, it finally turned its gaze away from Hogwarts.
A week after its first assault on the school, it struck again.
The attack came without warning. More than a dozen young witches and wizards had their magic drained in an instant and collapsed into deep comas. They were rushed to St. Mungo's in critical condition. By the third appearance, Hogwarts was ready. With Hodge—who had fought the thing face-to-face—serving as advisor, the professors employed the most effective countermeasure they could devise: memory magic.
The Obscurus's final host had been Sebastian Sallow, a wizard versed in ancient magic. His body had perished long ago during those hundred silent years, yet his abilities, his magic, and his obsessive love for his family had—through some unknown twist—fused completely with the original Obscurus.
"Magic has thoughts of its own."
On top of that, the Church had played a significant role in the process. Years of ceaseless prayer and scripture had become part of the Obscurus's new "code of conduct." In many ways, it now resembled non-beings like boggarts or dementors.
Non-beings can rarely be destroyed outright. They are born in places rich with magic, spawned by wizards' emotions. The best one can do is drive them away or suppress them until they are invisible to the naked eye—but they always return. During those brief, violent encounters, Hodge keenly noticed a fatal weakness in the sanctified Obscurus: the Memory Charm.
The creature could roam the world and display a rudimentary intelligence only because the magic that formed its core came from wizards and had been steeped for decades in Church doctrine. Remove those two pillars, and its will to act would be severely curtailed. Whether they chose to contain it or establish safe zones afterward, either option would become viable.
Thus, when the sanctified Obscurus appeared at Hogwarts for the third time, it was met with a barrage of Memory Charms. The professors struck so swiftly and in such perfect unison that the creature seemed stunned, rooted to the spot.
"Heresy!"
As the black mist shrouding the Obscurus dissipated, a deafening, sanctimonious thought boomed through every mind present. The professors and the hastily arrived Aurors shuddered as though something unspeakably vile had fixed its attention upon them. Hodge recovered first and led the counter-attack. It turned out the creature had only been posturing—it had been "born" several years ahead of schedule, essentially premature, and was desperately trying to feed on wizards' magic to mature. Before long it fled in disarray.
The wizarding world now had a new non-being on its hands—one that fed on wizarding magic. Panic spread. Fortunately, under the Ministry's leadership, a task force of memory-magic specialists was assembled: Obliviators, St. Mungo's healers, even Evelina Selma (who was in the middle of setting up a new department and training staff). Naturally Hodge, whose reputation preceded him, was among them.
To his astonishment, one very familiar face was present: Gilderoy Lockhart.
He was almost unrecognisable. The famous golden curls had lost their luster, the sparkling blue eyes were dulled, and long years in Azkaban had aged him by two decades. He looked utterly worn.
A witch in ostentatious purple robes passed him and muttered under her breath, "Poor man—just released. The dementors scared the soul right out of him."
The little interlude did not distract Hodge for long. While continuing to teach at Hogwarts, he worked with the Ministry to develop ever more effective defences against the sanctified Obscurus. Roughly six months later, a spell resembling the Patronus Charm was created—one that emitted a brief but intense "white light" capable of repelling the creature.
White light, indeed. Ever since the battle at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow's lingering consciousness seemed to have suffered a severe blow—either erased or forced into deep slumber. The Obscurus now displayed predominantly its "holy" aspect. Besides the occasional attack on wizards, it began haunting churches. A single mass was often enough to summon it; it would stand beneath the crucifix, proclaiming itself divine.
Unfortunately, its entire repertoire consisted of repeating the same handful of gospel verses. Had it not been so stiff and mechanical, a few gullible souls might actually have believed it. The real slap in the face for the Church came when it began bestowing "miracles": whenever it manifested in a congregation, one or two Muggles would suddenly gain magical ability—illiterate wizards, or in common parlance, "anomalous gifted individuals."
The world grew ever more turbulent. In some regions—Africa and South America, for instance—certain wizards stepped willingly into the spotlight. The fallout was enormous. Far to the East, authorities immediately announced the founding of a magical school, created specialised enforcement units, and within months passed more than a dozen new laws at a dizzying pace.
It was around this time that Hodge resigned his teaching post and began tracking the sanctified Obscurus wherever it went. An invisible thread seemed to bind them. Especially when the creature launched attacks on wizards across the globe—Hodge felt every strike as though it were his own. He experienced those wizards' lives, their thoughts, their fears.
He realised, with growing unease, that he was slowly becoming more like the very thing he hunted.
In the years that followed, Hodge's footprints circled the globe—every magical school, every wizarding village or gathering place, every public institution that might draw the creature's hunger. Amid endless gratitude, Hodge grew at an unprecedented rate, becoming stronger than he had ever imagined possible.
And then, at a certain moment, the sanctified Obscurus sent him a single, unmistakable message.
"A duel?"