Sirius's remark was, to put it mildly, rather cutting—it was the kind of jab that practically danced on Snape's face.
Fortunately, Snape was a master of restraint. With a barely perceptible glance at Sirius, he turned his head away.
Stingy?
Harsh?
Don't you know how many potions your godson has taken from me over the years?
But as a seasoned tsundere, Snape would never voice such grievances aloud.
To prevent the two from sparking a row at the dinner table, Lupin decisively shifted the conversation.
"I must say, I never expected Miss Grindelwald's cooking to be this delicious," he said, twirling his fork. "It reminds me of Lily—she was quite the cook back in the day."
Say what you will about Lupin, but the man always knew how to choose his words.
The compliment left Veratia beaming with satisfaction.
Like Lily, huh?
At that moment, Harry glanced up at Veratia.
She leaned in close to his ear, her voice a whisper only they could hear. "Go on, darling, call me 'Mum.'"
Caught off guard, Harry choked on his drink.
A thunderous cough erupted from him as he shot Veratia a bewildered look.
She, however, carried on as if nothing had happened, addressing Lupin casually. "It's all from practice. My parents passed away when I was young, so I was left to raise Gellert on my own. Naturally, I handled all the cooking."
"You raised Gellert alone?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed. "Gellert… as in Gellert Grindelwald? Merlin's beard, I always thought you were his descendant, not… not his sister."
"Time is a curious thing, isn't it?" Veratia said with a mischievous smile. "I merely used time magic to travel a hundred years into the future. Strictly speaking, I'm not some ancient hag, so you needn't look at me like I'm a museum relic—"
"But why did you travel through time?" Ron blurted out, ever the tactless one.
Veratia glanced at Harry, her smile softening. "For this reckless fool, of course. If he hadn't been struck by Ranrok's curse, he might not have ended up tumbling through time to this era. And we wouldn't have had to dive into time magic to follow him…"
"For this little troublemaker, Cassandra lost her dearest family, and Poppy became a ghost," Veratia added, pinching Harry's cheek. "You know, sometimes I think the nickname Gellert gave him wasn't far off."
"What nickname?" Ron asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Scarhead Veela," Veratia said, barely stifling a laugh.
Her tone was light, but the weight of her words hung in the air.
Sirius, in particular, felt a swirl of conflicting emotions.
He'd thought Harry might have to choose between a few women, but now it seemed Harry's entanglements were a far greater sin—abandoning any of them would be an unforgivable crime.
"Oh, and there's another nickname," Veratia added with a grin. "Scarhead Spectacled Beast."
"Hah!" Ron burst into gleeful laughter. As Harry's best mate, he never shied away from a good chuckle at his friend's expense.
"But I've always wondered—what exactly sent Harry back a hundred years?" Dumbledore interjected, his voice thoughtful.
"I don't know," Veratia said with a shrug, turning to Cassandra. "Cassandra probably doesn't either. The Malfoys must have discussed it at some point, but I doubt they came to any conclusions."
"I do know why Voldemort went after Harry," Sirius said suddenly. "Given all this, maybe after hearing the prophecy, Voldemort remembered that Harry. That's why he targeted him…"
"It's not impossible," Lupin said, spearing a piece of roast. "Voldemort's always been erratic. Nothing he does surprises me anymore."
"I always thought Harry and that Harry were just two people with the same name," Ron said, slapping his cheek lightly. "Harry never denied it, either. I remember in first year, he even admitted it to me, but I thought he was pulling my leg, so I didn't believe him."
"No one's blaming you, Ron," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard with a chuckle. "No one would believe such a thing outright—especially not a first-year. If you had believed it, I'd have suggested a trip to St. Mungo's to check…" He tapped his temple with a wry smile.
Dumbledore's playful jab drew laughter from the table.
After a moment, Hermione pressed on. "What about Poppy? Is she… is she going to stay a ghost forever?"
"Oh, Mr. Flamel's already found a way to restore my body," Poppy said, floating near Hermione. "The potion still needs time to brew, though, so for now, we wait."
"Waiting is tedious, but it always bears fruit in the end," she added.
"So you'll be the first magical Muggle to succeed," Cassandra remarked from the side. "A donkey, right?"
"A unicorn!" Poppy snapped indignantly at Cassandra.
"Oh, a donkey," Cassandra teased, lazily poking at her salad with her fork. She picked out the carrots and handed them to Harry. "Lackey, eat these for me."
Harry didn't protest. Cassandra had always been picky, and since first year, when he became her "lackey," he'd been tasked with eating the foods she refused.
As Cassandra put it, a proper lady never wastes food.
Though Harry had privately grumbled that a proper lady also wouldn't force a man to eat her leftovers.
Still, his emotional intelligence was high enough to know better than to say that aloud. If he did, Cassandra would probably have him strung up and hexed on the spot.
"You're still so picky," Veratia said, wrinkling her nose. Her gaze, however, drifted pointedly to Cassandra's… less-than-impressive Western Plains.
The implication was clear: Your flatness is clearly from all that picky eating.
Cassandra, ever attuned to Veratia's jabs, took a sharp breath and shot a cold glare at Veratia's… considerably more bountiful assets.
Fine, she was at a natural disadvantage here. Why even bother competing?
Truth be told, Ron had initially been jealous of Harry's situation. Two beautiful girls vying for his attention? That was the kind of thing he couldn't even dream of.
But then he imagined two Hermiones hovering around him.
Suddenly, it didn't seem so appealing.
Dinner passed quickly, and afterward, Harry returned to his room.
According to Sirius, there was no need to preserve the traces of the room's original owner. So Harry watched as Sirius cleared out a pile of belongings from some great-uncle whose name he hadn't caught, emptying the room entirely.
"Isn't this… a bit wrong, Sirius?" Harry asked, scratching his head. It felt a little like stealing someone's nest.
"Oh, it's fine," Sirius said, one hand on the wardrobe, the other waving dismissively. "I'm sure my great-uncle would be thrilled to know you're the one staying in his room."
"Really?" Harry asked skeptically.
"Of course."
Sirius grinned, ruffling Harry's messy hair, showing no sign of distance despite learning his godson was the legendary wizard from a century ago.
"Honestly, I had a hunch," Sirius said, his expression turning nostalgic. "The moment I saw you dominate the Quidditch pitch, I knew you weren't ordinary. But I never imagined you were that Harry Potter."
"When your father named you, he chose the name deliberately," Sirius continued. "He thought, as the Child of Prophecy and Voldemort's nemesis, you deserved a fitting name. He'd heard of your exploits and decided 'Harry Potter' was perfect for you—and for the times. The wizarding world was in chaos back then, shrouded in Voldemort's terror. We needed a destined savior to defeat him."
"But it wasn't me who defeated Voldemort—it was my mum," Harry said with a sigh.
"Yes, your mother, Lily," Sirius said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "She was a kind witch, and the cleverest I've ever known. Even Hermione might not match her brilliance. It's a pity… I don't know exactly what happened, but I heard she willingly sacrificed herself, casting an ancient charm that protected you from the Killing Curse and rebounded it onto Voldemort."
"But you're plenty gifted yourself," Sirius went on. "Remember that letter you saw? At one year old, you were zooming around on a toy broom, showing unmatched Quidditch talent. I knew then you were special."
"Yeah, I also nearly killed a cat," Harry said, scratching his head.
"Oh, right, that happened," Sirius said with a nod. "Lily loved cats, but James was a dog person. They used to argue about it."
"So why'd they end up with a cat?" Harry asked curiously.
Sirius's face turned sheepish. "Well… Lily said the house already had one of me…"
Harry blinked, then burst out laughing. "Hahaha! She wasn't wrong!"
"James suggested more than once that I transform into a milder dog," Sirius said, raising an eyebrow. "But, you know, being a dog… those fleas are a nightmare."
"Just bathe more," Harry quipped.
"Oh, and this is for you," Sirius said, pulling a golden medal from his pocket and handing it to Harry. "Your dad's Quidditch medal. He gave it to me, and now I'm passing it to you."
Harry took the medal, the name James Potter glinting in the candlelight.
"Thank you, Sirius," Harry said warmly. "I love it."
"James always wanted to be a Seeker, but fate made him a Chaser instead," Sirius said with a shrug. "Still, you fulfilled his dream in a way. That's something."
After a bit more chatter, Sirius left the room. It was late, and tomorrow morning, they had to figure out how to get Regulus out of that cave.
Harry toyed with the golden medal for a while before carefully setting it aside.
He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind swirling with thoughts of Voldemort.
As he pondered, his eyelids grew heavy.
But after some time, a rustling sound came from beside him.
And then, he felt someone lie down next to him.
Turning his head, he saw, by the moonlight, Veratia lying on her side, smiling softly at him.
"Veratia?" Harry asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"What, I can't come?" she teased, her smile bright.
"Of course you can," Harry said, grinning for reasons he couldn't quite name. "I was just thinking about you, and here you are…"
"Really now?" Veratia said, her eyes twinkling as she gazed at him. In her mind, she was plotting how to spice up Cassandra's Legilimency session.
As everyone knew, the way to master Occlumency was to practice Legilimency on each other until you could successfully shield your mind.
Harry, unsurprisingly, hadn't learned Occlumency, so Cassandra would likely see right through him.
That was fine, but Veratia thought she'd give Cassandra something to really lose her cool over.
After much deliberation, she decided a nighttime visit was the way to go.
But now, lying beside him, she hesitated.
A century ago, things weren't as open as they were now. As a product of that era's rigid customs, Veratia was, well, a bit old-fashioned.
Making the first move with Harry was already a bold step—going further felt like a bridge too far.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, sensing something off.
"Nothing," Veratia said, biting her lip, her mind caught in a tug-of-war.
What should I do?
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