"I—what? I think I'm perfectly normal."
Hodge was stunned. His mind flickered to his talent for Occlumency, but almost instantly, a gentle breeze seemed to sweep through him, smoothing his slightly ruffled emotions.
Umbridge folded her hands on the desk, the motion making the pink velvet bow perched on her head even more conspicuous. She said impatiently, "Don't speak to me so flippantly, Mr. Blackthorn. You still don't grasp what that incident means. It nearly shook the Ministry of Magic's authority to its core. It took tremendous effort to quell the chaos—something unprecedented in over a decade. As a senior Ministry official, Minister Fudge's most capable subordinate, I must do everything in my power to investigate. And you—your testimony is a crucial piece of my investigation's puzzle…"
Her words carried a veiled warning. She plastered on a fake smile, but her eyes remained icy from start to finish.
She pulled a magazine from her drawer. "Take a look at this."
It was The Journal of Charms.
Hodge knew Umbridge was flexing her influence. The magazine wasn't due to be published until next month, and she was making it clear she'd been keeping tabs on him, with the means to gather information from all sorts of sources.
Then, she read aloud from an article:
"Emotions belong to the past, scenes to the future. The deepest emotions are often tied to memories, and constructing an emotional field is less about creating a verified reality and more about crafting an untested imagination. In a pure, undisturbed setting, a wizard's emotional power can be maximized. The future, inherently uncertain, allows a wizard to temporarily set aside the concerns of reality…"
Umbridge finished reading and studied him from behind her desk, searching for any crack in his composure. Finding none, she leaned down to open a lower cabinet. Hodge seized the moment, covering his cup with one hand and silently casting a spell. Without his wand, he only managed partial success—the liquid in the cup was reduced by just a third.
A few seconds later, Umbridge, one hand braced heavily on the desk, sat back up. Seeing Hodge hurriedly lower the cup from his lips, she gave a smug smile and waved a thick stack of documents in her other hand.
"Look at this," she said. "These are case files from St. Mungo's, originally for the investigation. Later, I found they made for amusing reading in my spare time." She flipped to a page in the middle and read, "Ward 22, Bed 1, patient… Selbert Snidget, condition… lymphatic fungal infection, cause… peddling banned potions ingredients in Knockturn Alley, treatment… Doxycide potion. Bed 2… Yerkes Edmund… suspected ingestion of Confundus Draught. Bed 3… bitten by a Chinese Chomping Cabbage…"
She read a few more entries, pausing to gauge Hodge's reaction.
Hodge played along, adopting a rapt expression with a hint of daze. Satisfied, Umbridge said, "So, I suppose you're wondering why I'm reading these to you?"
"Yes," Hodge said slowly.
"These are all connected to that incident—not the cases I mentioned, but the affected wizards' symptoms."
Umbridge leaned back in her cushy chair, her smile sickeningly sweet. "Dizziness, hallucinations, memory distortion, magical instability—these were common symptoms from that magical accident. Some experienced magical instability; in your case, it was a magical awakening. As for dizziness or hallucinations, you might not recall, since you fainted… Have you ever experienced memory distortion? Like there's another person inside you?"
At her final words, Hodge nearly leapt from his chair.
Occlumency saved him. He shook his head slightly, mumbling, "I—I don't understand."
Thank you, Professor Quirrell, for the hands-on demonstration.
"Tch, am I not being clear enough?" Umbridge, exasperated, tried rephrasing, inadvertently revealing more. "It's like, beyond your normal childhood memories, there's something extra… something you might not even have noticed. Your paper's core concept is fabricated memories! Why is that? Did something influence you? Use that clever little head of yours and think!"
Isn't the reason already in the paper? Hodge retorted silently, keeping his face neutral.
"I think… maybe I do recall something…"
"What is it?" Umbridge's bulging eyes grew even wider.
"It's not clear… it's like… a…" Hodge furrowed his brow deeply. Umbridge leaned closer, pressing, "Is it a name?"
"Yes… a name…"
"Think hard!"
"Seb… um… Beth… El… an… I can't quite…"
Hodge mumbled a few syllables, common in British names.
He couldn't keep up the charade any longer, but he'd learned something: the Ministry was tracking someone. Then, unexpectedly, Umbridge grabbed his hand, her stubby fingers and their rings digging painfully into his skin.
"Sainbeth?"
"Uh…"
"Sein—Beth—An—Sebastian?" Umbridge's eyes practically popped out as she rushed to fill in the blanks. "Is it Sebastian Sallow?!"
Sebastian Sallow…
A shiver ran through Hodge's mind. His performance had paid off. He split his thoughts—one to brush off Umbridge, the other to scour his memory for details.
The name felt both foreign and familiar. Sebastian was a character from Hogwarts Legacy, a game where he played a significant role. But in real history, without a "player," what kind of life had Sebastian Sallow led?
"…According to our investigation, he'd be over a hundred years old. Do you think he's still alive? Is there a conspiracy? Is the Sallow family involved?" Umbridge pressed on, but a knock at the door interrupted her.
She shot an irritated glare at the door.
"Come in," she said in a syrupy tone.
A head poked in cautiously. "Minister Fudge requests your presence, and…" The person glanced quickly at Hodge. "And the guest from Hogwarts."
"Minister Fudge? I thought he was on holiday abroad until after the festival," Umbridge said slowly.
"He's currently speaking with Mr. Dumbledore."
Umbridge's fake smile vanished.
Dumbledore? Hodge felt a different kind of stir. He glanced at Umbridge, sensing an opportunity to turn the tables.
"I understand. Tell the Minister I'll be there shortly," she said through gritted teeth. The door snapped shut. Umbridge frantically gathered the items on her desk.
"Come with me, Mr. Blackthorn."
Hodge stood unsteadily, and Umbridge, no longer composed, watched him nervously. She dragged her feet as much as possible, but ten minutes later, they reached the Minister of Magic's office—Hodge showing no signs of "improvement."
"…Troubled times, indeed. I just received news—the Soviet Union has collapsed. Total chaos. I have a grand plan—" Fudge was wiping sweat from his brow when Umbridge and Hodge entered. His eyes lit up. "Look, Dumbledore, they're here, perfectly fine, no—!"
He suddenly froze, eyes wide.
————
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