Harry Potter: The Forbidden Magic Legend Begins with Him

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

Hodge Blackthorn said to the hospital wing matron with genuine gratitude before asking with keen interest, "So, in your opinion, which spell works better—Episkey or Reparifors?"

"The best choice is always to seek professional help," Madam Pomfrey replied sternly. "If you're injured at school—and I don't mean those minor scratches you've got that heal on their own—you should come straight to the hospital wing. During holidays, my advice is to memorize St. Mungo's address." Behind her, Evelina Selma was biting back a laugh, her face contorted in amusement.

Hodge, prepared for this, shifted to a more academic tone. "I completely understand. Misusing spells can cause more harm than good… Let's look at it another way. Say, in a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, what advice would you give?"

"In that case," Madam Pomfrey said briskly, "you'd do well to learn both spells. And keep a bottle of Essence of Dittany on hand, just to be safe."

They spent a few minutes comparing the merits of various healing methods. When Madam Pomfrey finally left, Evelina approached, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Those scratches weren't deliberate, were they?"

"Of course not! I was attacked and barely got away…" Hodge said, feigning seriousness. "Why would you even ask?"

"Because I've done it myself," Evelina admitted with a knowing look. "I was here with a friend once, and Madam Pomfrey fixed Bertha up in a flash. After that… well… I thought the magic was pretty amazing."

"I can tell," Hodge nodded. "That must've left quite an impression for you to intern at St. Mungo's and volunteer here at school."

"Oh, actually," Evelina said with a sly wink, "Madam Pomfrey asked me to come."

"She knows I'll be working at St. Mungo's someday, so she called me to see a rare case…" Hodge raised an eyebrow as she continued. "The patient claims he was bitten by some mutant dog with dragon-like teeth. Madam Pomfrey thinks treating it as a dragon fang wound will do the trick. Magical creatures aren't our department, after all."

They approached a bed, and Hodge pulled back the curtain to reveal Ron Weasley's miserable, sulky face.

"You holding up alright?"

"Never been better!" Ron muttered, gingerly moving his arm. "I mean, I've never been so aware that I have a left hand. Not the right hand, not the right foot—just this one."

Hodge inspected the oozing wound closely. "And the thing that bit you? It doing okay?"

"Oh, it's thriving," Ron said bitterly. "Hagrid's singing it lullabies three times a day. If I had endless brandy, dead rats, and a plush toy, I'd be belting out hymns myself…"

Seeing Ron getting worked up, Hodge calmed him down before hurrying to Hagrid's hut. The young dragon was growing fast, and time to observe it was running out—it was already twice the size of Hagrid's boarhound, Fang.

Keeping a cautious distance, Hodge used magic to levitate the dragon. "Let me take a look at your knees," he said, waving his wand. "How do those joints move?"

The dragon, irritated, spat a small burst of orange flame at him. But with its head turned aside, it could only flap its wings and thrash its legs, giving Hodge a better view. When Hagrid lumbered in with a crate of dead rats, the Norwegian Ridgeback hatchling's skeletal face looked listless, puffing out a sluggish cloud of black smoke from its nostrils.

"Having fun, are yeh?" Hagrid said cheerfully.

He picked up a dead rat from the crate, and the floating dragon, as its body swung around, lunged and snapped up the food, gulping it down eagerly. Hagrid beamed at it with fatherly affection.

"Look at that, little fella's gettin' prettier every day. Norbert, Norbert, Norbert," he cooed in a tone Hodge found unnervingly tender. Then, suddenly, Hagrid burst into tears.

"It's gotta go… Norbert's leavin' his mum…" he sobbed. "It's only just learned to recognize people. Look, it knows me, maybe even you… What if it won't eat in a new place? Norbert, yeh're a tough little man, yeh gotta be strong." Hagrid sniffled loudly.

Hodge vaguely recalled the dragon was female, but it didn't matter. Fed and energized, the hatchling stretched its long neck, snapping at Hodge's nose.

"Hagrid, let me show you a trick."

With a flick of his wand, the levitating Norwegian Ridgeback began spinning rapidly, resembling a spiky black top. "Whoa, slow down, slow down…" Hagrid chuckled, watching the playful scene.

Hodge stayed out of the logistics of transporting the dragon but gently suggested to Hagrid that a few harmless spells could make Norbert's journey more comfortable.

"A Stunning Spell would work wonders, honestly."

Hagrid pretended not to hear.

Days passed. Malfoy hadn't given up on sniffing out the dragon egg's secrets, but with no evidence, he resorted to taunting Hodge to gauge his reaction.

"If someone's raising a dragon in secret, they've lost their mind. But you know, some idiots would try…"

Hodge lifted his eyes from the telescope in Astronomy class, glancing at Malfoy with indifference. "You heard Ron's in the hospital wing, right?" he asked casually.

"Weasley?" Malfoy sneered. "What, am I supposed to send him a Galleon?"

Crabbe and Goyle snickered stupidly. Hodge gave Malfoy a faint smile, leaving him visibly confused. Malfoy had no idea the dragon was already gone, smuggled out silently. Aside from Hagrid's moping, the school was calm.

Well, except for Harry and Hermione getting caught by Professor McGonagall during a nighttime escapade.

When Hodge couldn't resist asking them about it, Hermione sighed regretfully. "No choice. Harry's Invisibility Cloak got left behind at the Astronomy Tower."

"We were this close to getting away," Harry said, pinching his thumb and forefinger together. "At first, we ran into Mrs. Norris. Hermione had a brilliant idea to bribe her with sardines and even mentioned you—"

Hodge shot her a strange look, and Hermione shrugged. "I told Mrs. Norris you and Harry are best mates."

"And she bought that nonsense?" Hodge asked, deadpan, eyeing the two fibbers.

Harry and Hermione glared at him, offended.

"That's harsh, Hodge," Ron said, freshly discharged from the hospital wing.

"Anyway, she fell for it… I mean, we swore it was our first time and begged for mercy," Harry said gloomily. "Then we turned the corner and ran straight into McGonagall."

Ron let out a low whistle. "Be grateful. She only docked Gryffindor forty points."

They all glanced at the hourglasses in the Entrance Hall. Gryffindor's ruby-filled one had taken a noticeable hit. Hodge didn't have it in him to mourn for them—not only because he was a Ravenclaw, but as Harry himself admitted, this was the least of their worries. At least when they were arguing with McGonagall, there wasn't a crate full of dragon sitting nearby to spice up the conversation.

The other reason? Exam season was looming.

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