The headmaster's office wasn't in Ravenclaw Tower, nor Gryffindor Tower, and certainly not in the Astronomy Tower, West Tower, or North Tower. In fact, it was tucked away in a small, solitary tower that most students wouldn't even notice during their seven years at Hogwarts unless they went looking for it. After all, Dumbledore always seemed to pop up exactly when he was needed.
In a way, Dumbledore was a bit like the Christmas pumpkins in the Great Hall.
Hodge already knew those pumpkins came from Hagrid's patch, but Professor Dumbledore himself? Well, today was his chance to find out. He stood before a peculiar stone gargoyle, greeting it with amused curiosity.
"Hello."
The gargoyle's stone eyes drooped, swiveling quickly in their sockets, but it didn't respond. Naturally—Hodge hadn't given the password. He was about to speak when the gargoyle suddenly leaped aside, and the wall behind it split in two.
A spiral staircase emerged, slowly descending. A figure in black robes appeared from above—Severus Snape.
Snape stepped forward, and the wall sealed shut behind him. He eyed Hodge, standing by the gargoyle, and spoke in a dangerous tone. "Blackthorn, this is no place for you."
Hodge knew that tone all too well—Snape was itching for an excuse to dock points.
"Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to come," Hodge replied.
Snape gave no indication of whether he believed him. He stepped aside, letting the gargoyle hop back into place, then crossed his arms, robes billowing, and stared down at Hodge as if they were in Potions class. Clearing his throat nervously, Hodge turned to the gargoyle and said, "Woolen socks." The gargoyle sprang to life again, leaping aside.
As Hodge stepped onto the spiral staircase, he caught Snape's sour grimace and couldn't help but smirk.
The stone steps began to rotate upward. Hodge counted silently in his head, and on the seventh turn, a gleaming oak door came into view, adorned with a brass knocker shaped like a griffin.
He rapped the knocker, and the oak door opened soundlessly.
Dumbledore's office was a spacious, beautiful circular room. Portraits of past headmasters lined the walls, half of which were covered by towering bookshelves, while the other half displayed tightly packed cabinets. Behind their glass panels, an assortment of peculiar objects emitted strange, whimsical sounds.
Near the bookshelves, Dumbledore sat behind a spindly-legged desk, clad in a long green robe. An open magazine lay before him, but his attention seemed fixed on an odd silver instrument, as if lost in troubling thoughts.
The silver device whirred strangely, puffing out wisps of smoke.
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," Hodge said.
"Ah, Hodge, I've been looking forward to your visit." Dumbledore's gaze shifted from the desk to Hodge, and he waved the magazine lightly. "The exploration of consciousness is endless, and that's what makes it so marvelous."
He was holding a copy of Charm Quarterly.
Hodge seized the opportunity. "Professor Dumbledore, in my essay, I incorporated Waffling's theories… and received some criticism."
A faint smile glimmered in Dumbledore's blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Adalbert Waffling—I've had many long discussions with him. Some say he went dotty in his old age. Of course, they've said the same about me, yet here I am, shamelessly occupying this office. I'd say Waffling's theories lend a breath of freedom to your essay."
"That's what I thought," Hodge said eagerly. "I believe… it's Waffling's later ideas, his growing skepticism and rejection of the modern magical world. He seemed increasingly frustrated by rules and formalities. He wanted… it's as if he wanted wizards to return to a primal mindset. I told Hermione, Harry, and Ron that we should try taming our magic."
The office fell quiet, save for the comical hums of the instruments. A few headmaster portraits exchanged glances in their frames.
"You surprise me, Hodge Blackthorn," Dumbledore said softly.
He stood abruptly, startling Hodge.
Having recently dealt with various modern wizards, Hodge was well aware that Dumbledore was one hundred and eleven years old. Dumbledore, oblivious to Hodge's mental calculations, turned to study the tall, curved bookshelf that hugged the wall. His silver beard quivered as his eyes scanned the shelves. Soon, a thick, ancient-looking book flew from the rack.
"Let's conduct a test."
Dumbledore's slender fingers brushed the book's black cover, and a golden chain-like shimmer flashed across its surface. After a brief clatter of metal, the book sprang open. Dumbledore flipped to a specific page and turned it toward Hodge, gesturing for him to approach.
"What do you see?" Dumbledore asked.
Hodge stared at the yellowed page. It was blank.
"I…"
A sudden idea struck him, recalling how he'd seen Thestrals during the Christmas holiday. He drew his wand, tipped with Thestral tail hair, and focused intently on the page. This time, he thought he saw something. He strained his eyes.
"Well, it's light. I see flowing light, silvery-white, maybe some kind of pattern! But it's not clear…"
Hodge looked up excitedly, only to meet Dumbledore's expression—half astonishment, half regret.
"What is this, Professor Dumbledore?" he asked, calming himself.
Dumbledore sighed. "What Sebastian Sallow chased his entire life—ancient magic. It's an extremely old category of magic, powerful and dangerous. To be precise, immensely dangerous. Back then, there was no distinction for dark magic. Every wizard craved more powerful spells, so nearly all ancient magic could be classified as dark. Yet, this magic isn't accessible to everyone. Most can't even touch it. The real danger lies with those who have some talent but not enough—pursuing it often leads to disastrous consequences."
Hodge wondered if this was a warning aimed at him. Based on his performance just now, he seemed to fit the bill of "some talent, but not enough."
"Did Sebastian Sallow succeed?" Hodge asked.
"There are signs he did," Dumbledore replied.
"How did he—"
"During his school years," Dumbledore's expression grew slightly stern, "he stole the talent of a fellow student, one with exceptional aptitude for ancient magic… After discovering this, he resorted to underhanded tricks."
Hodge stood stunned.
————
Supporting me on Patreon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.
pat-reon .com/Dragonhair
(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Patreon normally.)