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"Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Wishing you a joyful holiday. I'm sorry to disturb you at this time, but I've run into a bit of trouble. I can't think of anyone else who could offer the right advice.
On Christmas Eve, my family and I went to see a magic show.
However, I noticed the magician was weaving real magic into his flashy sleight-of-hand tricks—actual, genuine magic! At first, I thought he might be a wizard in disguise, having a bit of fun, or perhaps someone who'd gotten hold of magical artifacts. You know how some people, those who linger on the fringes of the wizarding world, unnoticed, are called Wandless. But after some probing conversation, I completely dismissed those ideas. This man—if my deductions are correct—is just an ordinary Muggle. He stumbled into the Leaky Cauldron by accident and wandered into Diagon Alley.
But how did he find it? Percy Weasley once told me the Leaky Cauldron is layered with powerful concealment charms, so Muggles don't usually notice it. Was he brought there by someone else? In our talk, he seemed utterly clueless about the true wizarding world. I have a bold theory—
This magician might have been affected by that magical incident in October, though only mildly. Still, it was enough for him to notice places he couldn't see before. He mentioned working as a salesman and knowing the London area well. After our chat, he revealed plans for a nationwide tour, bringing along that quill of his that writes in the air. I thought it best to inform you.
If my conclusion is correct, this magician is the third case I've come across: him, my mother's friend Jamie, and myself.
I've been keeping an eye on developments regarding that magical incident. I suspect there's more evidence out there, hidden in plain sight. For instance, The Quibbler published a story about Mr. Balsa Wickham's disappearance. That paper isn't exactly reliable, and Mr. Wickham himself is a wizard, but I can't shake the feeling his vanishing is tied to this widespread anomaly.
Enclosed is the magician's signature. I may have annoyed him—he crumpled it up, and I fished it out of the bin.
I hope this helps.
If you need me to assist with any investigation, I'm happy to share everything I know. I just don't know the way to the Ministry of Magic.
Merry Christmas, and I hope you like the gift I sent.
Yours faithfully,
Hodge Blackthorn"
Hodge reread the letter, satisfied it was good enough.
The gift mentioned was a pair of woolen socks. He vaguely recalled Dumbledore grumbling about socks once, so this seemed a perfect opportunity.
He wrapped the letter and socks together, watching as Nyx, his owl, soared into the night toward Hogwarts.
Hodge gazed out at the dark streets, a hollow feeling settling in his chest—a mix of unease from tattling and the thrill of unraveling a mystery. Just that morning, he'd been mulling over ways to skirt the law, using the Trace to deduce the Ministry's monitoring patterns.
But those were separate matters.
Hodge knew the wizarding world well enough not to go casting spells in a crowd, but this magician? Not so much. In fact, he'd already done it. Who's to say he wouldn't end up on television, blabbing about his "mysterious discoveries"?
Hodge waited for a reply, though logic told him it wouldn't come so soon.
Finally, Christmas Day arrived.
Hodge leapt out of bed and raced downstairs to the Christmas tree, diving into the gift piles. He found his name and tore into the first package: a bag of gummy candies shaped like Santa hats. He bit into one—ooh, filled with a creamy center.
The second package revealed a remote-control racecar. He eyed it eagerly, planning to test it in the garden after breakfast.
When he unwrapped the third gift, larger than the others with golden wrapping, Mr. and Mrs. Blackthorn came downstairs. They joined in, happily unwrapping gifts and reading cards.
"Thanks for the detective kit!" Hodge said, inspecting its contents: a deerstalker hat, a magnifying glass, a telescoping cane, a Sherlock Holmes timeline, a detective's codebook, and twelve miniature figurines.
After that, he opened a book, a box of chocolates, and a set of game controllers with a disc.
Then Mr. Blackthorn held up a glass orb, intrigued. "What's this?"
The orb was misty, filled with swirling white fog.
Hodge glanced at it. "That's a Remembrall. Grip it tightly, and if you've forgotten something, it turns red until you recall what it is."
"Let me try." Mr. Blackthorn squeezed the Remembrall, muttering, "After Christmas, I've got a business trip abroad. Everything's packed. First two days for troubleshooting, third day to tour the new production line, fourth day's free—I was going to buy some tea…" Suddenly, a patch of the white mist turned red. He stared at it, fascinated. "So this means I forgot something, right? Let me think…" After a moment of deep thought, he slapped his forehead. "Right! Tyler asked me to pick up a set of local teaware before his holiday."
Meanwhile, Mrs. Blackthorn let out a delighted gasp. Hodge and his father looked over. "It's the latest product from Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions!" Hodge began, but his mother was already rushing off to try it.
They tore into a big package of Honeydukes sweets, ordered by Hodge via owl post. Alongside standard treats like creamy almond brittle, coconut ice, and toffee, there were magical ones: juice-filled jelly balls that made you float, bubblegum that filled the room with bluebell-colored bubbles, and fiery Pepper Imps that sparked in your mouth.
Hodge and his family spent the day joyfully, racing the remote-control car, testing the new game cartridge, and strolling through town. The mall was decked out with Christmas trees of all sizes and red-and-white decorations. A group was singing carols on the street, and Hodge lingered to listen before getting distracted by a pack of Santas—tall, short, fat, thin. He was particularly charmed by a golden retriever decked out with antlers, posing as a reindeer.
They passed a small charity parade, and Hodge tossed a few notes into the donation box.
Back home, the Queen's Christmas broadcast was wrapping up. After the final blessings, the family prepared dinner: mashed potatoes, thick soup, Brussels sprouts, beans, fruit mince pies, bacon-wrapped sausages, ham, turkey—all piled on one plate, drenched in gravy. Hodge groaned, stuffed, managing two cups of eggnog before he couldn't eat another bite.
"I'm going for a walk," he said, letting out a satisfied burp.
He wandered down the quiet street. Everyone was indoors for dinner, and Hodge savored the calm, peering at the silhouettes in glowing windows, feeling a quiet contentment.
Suddenly, he spotted a shadowy figure lurking behind some bushes.
The figure, back to Hodge, was peering into the distance, as if avoiding someone. Hodge instinctively tightened his grip on his wand. Then, two figures descended from the sky—wizards. One was taller, older, with a scruffy beard; the other younger, less experienced but quick. The younger wizard pointed his wand, and the lurking figure stiffened and fell backward. Moonlight revealed the face—it was the magician!
Before Hodge could react, the older wizard turned, raising his wand with a flash of white light.
Hodge dove aside. His only dueling experience was with Peeves, but instinct kicked in. He fired a Freezing Charm, and the older wizard froze solid. The younger one, bending over the magician, didn't notice until he heard the spell. As he stood, Hodge shouted, "Expelliarmus!" The young wizard's wand spun through the air, landing in Hodge's hand.
Moments later, the misunderstanding was cleared. The two introduced themselves—as Hodge suspected, they were Ministry of Magic employees.
"You're only a first-year?" the younger wizard said, sounding miffed.
As Hodge prepared to leave, the older wizard studied his face, hesitant. "Wait. You're Blackthorn? Hodge Blackthorn?"
Hodge looked at him, puzzled.
"Someone wants to meet you," the older wizard said.
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