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"…I thought it was just a mild cold, but I was wrong. The signs kept piling up… A few days before it happened, I was feeling dizzy and didn't even go to Arabella's party… It's a bit of a trek, and to be honest, she keeps cats. I can't stand cats…"
"Was it just dizziness? No other symptoms?" Hodge asked.
Jamie's gray eyes suddenly widened, the wrinkles at their corners seeming to smooth out as she exclaimed, "Just dizziness? You wouldn't believe it!" She lowered her voice mysteriously. "I had a supernatural encounter."
Hodge tilted his head. Could it be magic?
"I saw a ghost," Jamie whispered. "My husband—he's been dead for years. That day, I saw him, clear as day, telling me he liked me in that green dress. This one, see?" She gestured to her outfit, her tone unwavering. "But then, poof, he was gone. I couldn't have mistaken it—it was broad daylight."
"She might've just dozed off," Mrs. Blackthorn mouthed silently to Hodge.
"Do you remember which day you felt dizzy?" Hodge asked.
"Oh, let me think… It's a bit fuzzy," Jamie said. "It seems like there was a parade that day. I was supposed to meet Mrs. Figg, but the streets were packed with people."
"What were they protesting?" Hodge asked, holding his breath.
Jamie waved a hand airily. "Something about government policies… Hmm, something about currency…"
"The European single currency?" Hodge pressed.
"…I think so."
His tense shoulders relaxed, and he exchanged a meaningful glance with his mother. October 25th. Mrs. Blackthorn's expression turned serious. She knew exactly what that date meant—the day Hodge was sent to St. Mungo's, the day his magic awakened.
At Jamie's enthusiastic invitation, Hodge performed a few amusing spells for her, like hiding the overly sweet pastries so she'd stop piling them onto his plate.
Jamie didn't notice the missing pastries at all—she was too busy chatting with Hodge about the magical curriculum at Hogwarts.
"Charms is the most important," she declared after he finished explaining. "Just say a spell, and bam—magic! Nothing's more practical than that. And don't tell anyone, but I signed up for a correspondence course on rapid spell-casting. Now I just need a shiny new wand."
She glanced enviously at Hodge's blackthorn wand, then grumbled about the Ministry's inefficiency. "It's still in processing… No surprise there, it's a new thing, after all…"
As they left Jamie's house, she stood at the door, sprightly waving goodbye.
Hodge wasn't optimistic about her getting Ministry approval anytime soon. As she'd said, it was a new thing—and a complicated one at that.
Now, Hodge was eagerly awaiting the evening. His parents had booked tickets to a magic show. "It's practically the highlight of the pre-Christmas season," they'd said. But when they got home, Mr. Blackthorn was already waving a stack of photos, excitedly announcing the afternoon's success.
"It worked! The potion actually worked!"
"The people in the photos are moving!"
It was a delightful surprise. The family gathered around as Hodge explained each photo's story.
"This one's the castle… This is the spiral staircase in the main tower—I picked a downward angle on purpose… These are the portraits on the walls. They don't just move in the photos—they talk and think for themselves… These are my roommates, look, they're waving… And this is the kitchen. Those are house-elves. Oh, they love bowing—they won't stop even if you tell them to…"
In the photos, a few lanky house-elves with oversized eyes blinked up at them, dressed in pillowcases or tea towels, bowing respectfully to anyone outside the frame.
"This one's a flying photo," Hodge said, pointing to himself in one. He was riding a broomstick fifty feet above the ground, with a corner of the Forbidden Forest and the greenhouses captured in the background.
Before they knew it, the stack of photos was gone, and the Blackthorns were still hungry for more. By then, dusk was approaching. They bundled up warmly and drove to the theater.
The magician was a middle-aged man. As the stage curtain slowly rose, he appeared at the center. He bowed to the audience, then with a deft flick of his hand, a magic wand appeared out of thin air. A pale yellow silk cloth draped over it, and a moment later, a flock of doves flew out from underneath.
The audience erupted in applause.
"I hope you enjoyed my opening act!" the magician said, dressed in grand attire, his voice brimming with confidence. "Some of you may know I've been away for a while. Yes, I journeyed to a land of magic—a truly astonishing place… But I'm back, and I've brought a new trick with me!"
"I need an assistant."
Hands shot up eagerly. The magician strutted across the stage, his voice dripping with mystery. "I can sense the presence of magic… It's my new skill. And so—"
He dramatically pointed at Hodge.
Hodge made his way to the stage, realizing he'd have to play along with the performance.
The magician pulled Hodge forward to face the audience, then, with a clever twist of his wrist, produced a quill and a stiff card in each hand.
He handed the card to Hodge, shrugging. "Just an ordinary Christmas card, but to be safe, let's have our young volunteer inspect it."
After Hodge confirmed it was fine, the magician instructed him to write a few words of blessing on the card. "Just a short message." Once written, Hodge read it aloud to the audience. Then came the main event. The magician tucked the quill into his breast pocket and approached the front row, showing the card to the audience so everyone could clearly see Hodge's handwriting.
Hodge had a hunch about what was coming. The magician would likely tear the card in half—or so it would seem. It'd be a sleight-of-hand trick, swiftly swapping the card, making the audience think Hodge's card was destroyed. Then, the magician would miraculously produce the intact card.
Sure enough, things unfolded as Hodge predicted—
The magician snapped his fingers.
A spark of flame appeared at his fingertips, quickly igniting the card. In a flash, he hurled the burning card into the air, and it traced a long, fiery arc above the theater, drawing gasps from the audience. As it reached the center of the seats, the flames vanished, and what should have been falling ashes transformed into a shower of playing cards. The nearby rows scrambled to grab the unexpected souvenirs.
When a man stood up, excitedly showing off a magic playing card to the crowd, the theater's atmosphere grew even more electric.
Hodge, however, stood stunned. He could've sworn that flame was real magic. But the show wasn't over. The magician pulled out the quill still tucked in his pocket and playfully mimed writing in the air.
The audience craned their necks to see better.
"Oh… my magic quill seems to have failed me. But luckily, we have a special guest tonight." The magician winked impishly, leaning toward Hodge. "Just blow on this quill, and a miracle will happen."
Hodge stared at the magician, who was practically peacocking. He realized the quill wasn't ordinary—no one would suspect a stage magician was using a genuine magical artifact.
"No problem at all!" the magician called to the audience when Hodge didn't respond.
He sucked on the quill's tip, then exhaled a long stream of white smoke, earning even louder applause. As the excitement peaked, the magician raised the magical quill and smoothly traced a string of letters in the air.
The audience watched, breathless, as the quill seemed to wield actual magic—and it did, Hodge thought, his expression blank. From the quill's tip poured a colorful ribbon, twisting and coiling in the air to form lines of vibrant text—Hodge's exact words from the Christmas card.
Thunderous applause filled the theater.
As the magician took his bow, Hodge quietly slipped backstage after him.
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