Harry Potter: The Forbidden Magic Legend Begins with Him

"Dean Ogden approved my internship," Selma said, bubbling with excitement. "Now I just need to snag one or two high-level certificates, and I'm set."

She was talking about the N.E.W.T.s, the exams a step above the O.W.L.s.

Unless you were aiming for something grand, most students cared more about the latter.

"Congrats," Hodge said.

They were lounging in the courtyard, and it wasn't the damp chill of March or the windy drizzle of April—it was May, warm and gentle, with a soft breeze rustling through the vibrant green lawns and flowerbeds lining the paths.

Every now and then, someone passed by with a forked-tailed Crup or a jewel-encrusted Fire Crab. Clearly, this was Hodge's doing. Even though it had been two weeks since the baby dragon hatched, the trend hadn't died down—it had become a full-blown fad.

More than one seventh-year returning from their internships gaped, wondering if they'd stumbled into the wrong school.

The craze had evolved a few times. At first, as the "trendsetter," Hodge's dragon transformation dominated the scene, amplified by the Weasley twins parading around with their Chimaera. For a few days, the school was crawling with ferocious magical creatures.

Younger students, unable to pull off such advanced transfigurations, could only watch with envy—and occasionally jump in fright.

Soon, the girls got involved.

They despised ugly creatures like Chimaeras, Thestrals, or Manticores. Led by a few bold ones, they launched a counterattack. During one Flying lesson, Hodge spotted a group of older girls, each leading a dazzling unicorn, their snowy white coats practically glowing.

Even Hodge had to admit, the sight of a neatly lined-up herd of unicorns making a grand entrance was stunning. After that, cute creatures like Bowtruckles, Fairies, and Mooncalves took turns stealing the spotlight. Not to be outdone, the Weasley twins, refusing to lose, conjured a Ghoul and boasted it was "a Weasley family member." Ron's face was practically charcoal.

Things veered toward the bizarre. When Herbert showed up with a hairy, eight-eyed Acromantula, the professors finally had enough. Truth be told, they hadn't been idle spectators. Their emotions had been on a rollercoaster ride—though most wouldn't know what a rollercoaster was. Still, their moods swung wildly.

At first, Professors Flitwick (Charms) and Kettleburn (Care of Magical Creatures) found it all delightful. Flitwick even demonstrated how to layer charms on transfigured animals to make them "more magical" in class. Aside from a few unlucky students caught casting in the corridors and punished by Filch, the staff stayed silent.

As the frenzy escalated, Professor McGonagall reached her limit.

She laid down the law in class, forbidding students from disrupting lessons. "Professor Sprout's fig trees were half-eaten!" she snapped. Once her stance was clear, students ditched the elaborate, taxing large-scale transfigurations. Overnight, they reverted to tradition, each wielding a palm-sized, miniature magical creature.

And just like that, McGonagall stopped complaining.

"She's secretly thrilled," Ernie Macmillan whispered to Hodge during Herbology. "Transfiguration's tough to master. With everyone practicing like mad in their free time, she's got no reason to crack down."

Hodge thought Ernie had a point. Proof? McGonagall had been finding every excuse to award him points lately.

In a way, as the figurehead of this "new Transfiguration movement," he'd earned it.

During study breaks, Hodge kept busy. The memory vials his uncle Elaine had ordered from abroad arrived—a set of six thumb-sized crystal bottles, enchanted with durability charms and fitted with cork stoppers.

With these, Hodge could store memories for years.

In the Whimsy Club room, he crafted his first memory: a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon. Truthfully, it had little to do with Hagrid's dragon anymore. Though based on a Ridgeback, Hodge had stuffed it with dragon lore from the library.

Luckily, that knowledge wasn't locked away in the Restricted Section.

Wizards didn't shy away from using dragon parts—blood, scales, hide, nerves. Since the 1709 Wizarding Convention banned dragon breeding, sanctuaries were established worldwide. This kept dragons hidden from Muggles, curbed poaching by dark wizards, and ensured efficient use of dragons that died naturally, in territorial fights, or were culled for attacking humans.

Magizoologists specializing in dragons left behind troves of data, including anatomical diagrams of dragon organs. Hodge compiled it all. In theory, he'd constructed an entire dragon—a feat achieved in the Whimsy Club room at Hogwarts. The room wasn't abandoned, but with final exams looming, club activities had taken a backseat.

Except for Neville's occasional visits, the empty classroom was Hodge's domain.

"Roar!"

A massive creature, resembling an adult Norwegian Ridgeback, sprawled on the floor, its horned, spiky head brushing the ceiling. It lowered its gaze, locking its terrifying yellow eyes with Hodge's. It was too big, too tall for the cramped, low-ceilinged room. Hodge estimated it could reach forty feet if it stood fully upright.

If a dragon expert—like Ron's brother Charlie—were here, they'd notice this wasn't just a Ridgeback. It had traces of other dragons:

Its tail ended in razor-sharp spikes, like a Hungarian Horntail's, but black instead of bronze.

Its horns were larger than a typical Ridgeback's, resembling a battering ram, possibly borrowed from a Romanian Longhorn.

It sported two long fangs, signature of a Peruvian Vipertooth.

These details screamed artificiality—a creature born of imagination, not reality.

And that's exactly what it was.

The dragon Boggart flapped its wings, whipping up a whirlwind in the classroom. With a swipe of its tail, it sliced a row of cabinets in half with its blade-like spikes.

Hodge clambered onto the Boggart dragon's back, a thrill coursing through him.

He felt an urge to burst out of the castle. The beast sensed his restlessness and slammed into a wall, the dull thud breaking through the silencing charm and echoing faintly into the distance.

Hodge quickly waved his wand, and the dragon staggered, dissolving into a cloud of black mist.

A moment later, the door creaked open.

Hodge slipped out, sneaky as a shadow, only to freeze. Mrs. Norris was waiting outside, her bulging, lamp-like eyes fixed on his arms—where another Mrs. Norris was nestled.

"Meow!"

Hodge didn't escape unscathed.

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