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Since the founding of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Peeves had been a fixture in the castle. To be precise, he was "born alongside the very structure itself," emerging one day as countless young witches and wizards gathered within its walls.
From the moment the castle was built, it and its surroundings were steeped in countless ancient spells and enchantments.
Hodge believed these myriad protective magics created the conditions for Peeves' existence, and it was clear that his mischievous personality was shaped by the students who lived in the castle.
This suggested that students a thousand years ago were just as fond of pranks as those today.
Based on this, Hodge reasoned that unless Hogwarts were abandoned and ceased admitting new students, Peeves would persist indefinitely. This led to another logical conclusion in Hodge's mind:
Peeves, born of the castle, must be bound by its magical rules.
The record of Eupraxia Mole's agreement with Peeves gave Hodge both evidence and confidence. If a former headmistress could negotiate with Peeves, perhaps Hodge could too. That was his plan. The only uncertainty was whether such authority was exclusive to the headmaster, but trying it posed no risk.
The results were impressive—Peeves hadn't bothered him for two whole days.
That is, until one day when Hodge was wandering the castle and two pearly-white, translucent ghosts suddenly emerged from a wall behind him. Clearly not watching where they were going, they glided over his head. The corner of a fat, monk-like ghost's robe brushed against Hodge, making his hair stand on end as if he'd been plunged into an icy pit.
"Where's Peeves been lately? He's too quiet—it's unnatural…"
The other ghost, dressed in a ruffled collar, replied, "Someone saw him in an abandoned dungeon classroom, setting up traps." They floated straight through a spiral staircase, descending out of sight.
Hodge's spirits lifted. He'd been itching for a worthy opponent to spar with, and Peeves was the perfect target for practicing spells.
"Are you alright?" a voice interrupted. It came from a portrait on the wall—a grim-faced old wizard dressed as a priest.
"Are you going to preach to me?" Hodge asked coolly.
He glanced at the bloody torture instruments depicted in the portrait, thinking whoever placed it in this secluded corner had remarkable foresight—it was far too gruesome to be displayed where it might scare passersby.
After that, Hodge resumed his routine: attending classes, visiting the library, and watching the days pass.
A heavy snowfall brought Selma's reply.
It arrived one morning as Hodge woke to find thick, goose-feather snow falling outside. There had been snow earlier in December, but nothing like this. The normally dark, foreboding Forbidden Forest seemed to vanish, replaced by what looked like white, terraced steps in the distance.
His owl, Nyx, perched outside the window, her head capped with a fluffy snow hat.
Hodge let her in, fed her some leftover peas from the previous day, and opened the pale yellow envelope to read the letter inside:
"Dear Hodge,
Forgive the delay in my reply. Finding a breakthrough took some time—it seems someone did place a silencing charm on those healers. I had to dig carefully to uncover any clues. I must say, I'm starting to understand the thrill of detective work."
Hodge smiled. He and Selma had discussed detective novels in the common room on the day of the Sorting.
She'd insisted that someone like Sherlock Holmes must secretly be a wizard.
"He probably used Legilimens on the sly!"
"On the day of the incident, a small investigative team did visit St. Mungo's. They stayed for a week until no new patients appeared. They kept a low profile—I only learned about it after questioning Healer Brenda."
Hodge pondered this… until no new patients appeared… He read on, sensing the crux of the matter was coming:
"Nobody knows the exact number of people in the team. Maybe three, maybe four—no one I asked could say for sure. The only confirmed member was a short, stout witch in pink robes. She arrived after Halloween, when I was back at the hospital. I saw her myself, demanding patient records from Healer Ogden in a cloyingly sweet voice.
Naturally, Healer Ogden refused. But then the woman produced a signed authorization from Minister Cornelius Fudge, and Ogden had to comply. This happened in the hospital director's office.
If Fudge sent one of his cronies to forcibly collect records, there's got to be something they're hiding, don't you think?
One more thing—call it a hunch, but it might be useful:
Healer Brenda mentioned a patient who seemed to have ulterior motives. Brenda saw her hair change color several times—only for a moment! This patient's behavior was odd during her stay, too. It was as if she wasn't there for treatment but to chat with people. Brenda thought she was far too lively for a patient.
As for Mr. Wickham, that was easier to uncover.
Healer Prewett said he left on his own, shortly after the Ministry team arrived. Maybe it's a coincidence, maybe not. Either way, Mr. Wickham walked out of the hospital himself.
That's all I know. I hope it helps."
Hodge set the letter down, lost in thought. The investigation seemed to have hit a dead end.
Still, Selma's letter confirmed one thing: the Ministry knew something. If he were pessimistic, he'd have to wait until after graduation to dig for the truth—or at least part of it—from within the Ministry itself.
He didn't have time to dwell on it, though. Christmas was fast approaching.
A week earlier, Professor Flitwick had sent someone to collect the names of students staying at Hogwarts over the holidays. In their dorm, everyone except Anthony Goldstein planned to go home for Christmas.
Terry patted Anthony's shoulder. "Planning to start revising over Christmas?"
Anthony's face flushed red.
"I just thought—spending my first year's holiday at school would be… special."
Michael Corner snickered. Of the four boys in their dorm, Anthony had always been the most studious, with excellent grades. But since Hodge arrived, Anthony clearly felt the pressure, studying longer and longer hours.
"What about you, Hodge?" Terry asked. Among the four, Hodge was the only one from a non-wizarding family, so Anthony's reasoning would suit him perfectly.
"I thought you'd stay."
"My family insisted," Hodge said with a grin. "Didn't want them thinking I'm locked in a dungeon somewhere."
In the days before the break, Hodge rushed to send out a dozen packages. Some were sent via addresses from Hogsmeade flyers, like the one for his uncle, Elaine.
According to his mother's letter, her cousin Elaine had been a handful as a child—somewhere between foolish and a show-off—but "overall, not a bad sort." After careful selection, Hodge had the school owls deliver a Christmas gift box from Zonko's Joke Shop.
For Selma, he sent the complete set of Sherlock Holmes novels he'd brought with him.
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