In the process of hunting for the Boggart, Hodge felt as if he were discovering the castle anew.
Which staircases wobbled precariously, which steps vanished without warning, and which ones swiveled to entirely different locations at specific times... or how to find and open a hidden magical door—these were practically mandatory lessons for every first-year.
But once they got the hang of it, most students were quickly distracted by shinier things, overlooking the fact that the castle itself was brimming with magic.
In just a few days, Hodge had uncovered three secret passages and four hidden rooms. Right now, he stood before a towering, gold-framed portrait in the second-floor corridor, utterly convinced there was something more behind it.
The painting depicted a lush green meadow, where a melancholic man clutched a bouquet of flowers, gazing into the distance as if waiting for someone.
"Have you seen Julia?" the man asked Hodge, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"I could help you look for her. I've got a ton of names memorized lately," Hodge offered. "By the way, could you let me into the space behind the portrait?"
"Oh, no, I'm afraid not," the man replied. "You need the correct command."
"Command? Not a password? Or some specific spell, code, or wand movement?" Hodge scratched his head, sensing a clue. He made a mental note of the man's name, planning to look up why he'd been immortalized on the wall. But first, asking the portrait directly seemed like a solid start.
"Why are you hanging here?" Hodge asked.
"Why am I here?" the man sighed mournfully. "I don't remember. Have you seen Julia?" He repeated his question, stuck on it like a broken record.
"Okay, I get it, Julia's important to you. So the command's probably got something to do with her?" Hodge ventured a guess.
"Not quite," the man said. "It was set by a student."
Hodge let out a long, stunned breath, floored by the idea. "How'd they manage that?" The man gave him a wistful glance but stayed silent.
Hodge's mind raced, instantly jumping to the Weasley twins. "What was the student's name? I might know them."
"I doubt that," the man said, gazing off into the distance again. "It was about five hundred years ago."
Hodge clamped his mouth shut. Just then, heavy, halting footsteps echoed from the right side of the corridor.
It was Neville, his legs stuck together, hopping awkwardly forward. Hodge recognized the Leg-Locker Curse at once and cast the counter-spell.
"Hodge?" Neville looked up, finally noticing him, his face slick with sweat.
"You weren't planning to hop all the way back to the common room, were you? That curse is easy to break. Professor Flitwick mentioned it in class—there's a general counter-spell for minor jinxes like that…"
Neville discreetly rubbed his aching legs and shuffled over, pretending to study the portrait with interest while listening to Hodge explain the spell's mechanics.
The flush in his face gradually faded.
"You want to get behind the portrait?" Neville asked. When Hodge nodded, Neville racked his brain, trying to recall anything useful. Hodge didn't hold out much hope. Even if Neville had stumbled across some trick by sheer luck, his legendary forgetfulness would probably wipe it clean.
"Let's go. We'll come back later," Hodge said.
Neville trailed close behind, watching as Hodge ran his hands along the corridor walls, occasionally pulling a magnifying glass from his pocket. At first, Neville thought it was some fancy magical tool, maybe enchanted to detect hidden mechanisms, but he soon changed his mind.
Hodge was just putting on a show.
When Neville couldn't resist asking, Hodge turned with a surprised look. "Don't you think it adds to the vibe? Investigating a mysterious old castle—even if I live here." He then pulled out a collapsible walking stick and tapped it against the walls, testing for hidden triggers in the torches.
Out of some sense of loyalty or gratitude, Neville stuck by Hodge's side.
"Whimsy Club stuff might have to wait until next week," Hodge said suddenly. "Things have been a bit hectic."
Neville gave a small "mm" in response. After a pause, he added, "It was Malfoy." His voice was higher than usual. Hodge glanced away from the inscription under a torch. "They ambushed me from behind—" Neville's face reddened again.
"Oh."
"I felt someone behind me! But by the time I realized it was them, it was too late," Neville said, sounding a bit aggrieved. "Otherwise, I'd have hit them with a Petrificus Totalus."
"Good spirit," Hodge encouraged, then seemed to remember something. "Oh, and if Malfoy challenges you to a duel in some out-of-the-way place like the Trophy Room, don't fall for it."
Neville's round face broke into a grin.
"I know. It's one of Malfoy's tricks. He pulled that on Harry and Ron… I forgot the password that day, so I tagged along with them. We almost got caught by Filch, and then Peeves was wrecking stuff, so we had to hide in an empty room on the fourth floor." His face went pale. "You haven't been to the fourth-floor corridor, have you? Don't go. There's a three-headed dog there."
"Thanks for the heads-up, Neville."
"It's real! I think it's scarier than a troll. I haven't seen a troll up close, but at least they don't have foot-long fangs…" Neville trailed off, freezing. Hodge froze too. A faintly ajar door had appeared on the wall in front of them.
"Is… is this a secret passage?" Neville asked, his voice tight with nerves. "What do we do? Should we tell a teacher?"
"Yeah, so they can seal it up," Hodge said dryly.
He pushed the door open and peered inside. It wasn't a passage but a spacious room, filled with tables, chairs, benches, and all sorts of furniture—yet completely empty of people. As Hodge stepped in, something felt off. The room seemed… pieced together, like a jumbled mix of a bedroom, living room, and study, but designed by someone who didn't understand how rooms worked.
"Anyone here?" Neville ventured, stepping in cautiously behind him.
He'd asked the right question. A faint, ethereal whisper filled the air, like something a ghost might murmur: "Little brats, you've trespassed into the domain of the dead, disturbing the rest of the great God of Magic—"
Neville trembled like a leaf, especially at that last part.
"—and your bones will remain here forever, for the God of Magic to use as building blocks."
Neville gulped audibly.
Hodge clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on out, Peeves."
How could he have forgotten about Peeves, bound by that contract?
The voice tried to protest, but a hint of the castle poltergeist's sly tone crept in. "Oh… no Peeves here. Even I wouldn't dare disturb that great one…"
"I can see your new shoes."
A pair of short legs dangled from the ceiling.
The sight was unnerving, but Neville calmed slightly, likely used to the castle's ghosts popping up everywhere. Then Peeves' head appeared, dressed in ostentatious finery, floating midair with a tray of moldy peas.
"My apologies," Peeves said with mock politeness, tossing the tray aside and adjusting his bowtie. "Just came from a little gathering when I got word some students stumbled into my trap—er, private domain."
Peeves pulled out a piece of parchment, pretending to study it. "Someone's got to pay a price for this. Oh yes… a price. Let's see, I've got hundreds of compensation plans ready."
"Peeves, if you're not going to honor our agreement, we're leaving," Hodge said.
The room's furniture began to rattle. Peeves' wide face split into a toothy, mischievous grin. "Getting antsy, eh, little brat? Fine, have it your way." He swooped down suddenly.
Neville, trembling, asked, "What do we do?"
"Fight him," Hodge said, raising his wand.
————
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