Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy-Chapter 127: Veratia, Cassandra, and Potter {3}

"Later on, I found out that boy's name was Harry—Harry Potter." After recounting the entire story, including the portraits of the professors, Veratia let out an indistinct sigh.

"So this is why, after awakening your ancient magical talent, you chose to come to Hogwarts to study?" For once, Professor Charles refrained from his usual sarcasm. Instead, he pondered for a moment before saying, "If that's the case, I can understand why, as a German, you didn't choose to attend Durmstrang."

"And what happened afterward? What about those cousins who bullied you?" Headmaster Fitzgerald asked.

"Oh." Veratia's tone was extremely light. "They're all dead. My only regret is that, apart from me and Gellert, there are still three other members of the Grindelwald family alive."

The three professors fell into silence.

Now they finally understood why the once-thriving Grindelwald family had dwindled to just two members—Veratia and Gellert.

So, in the end, it was all because of you...

After a long silence, Professor Charles was the first to speak again.

"Well, honestly, I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing," he said. "If they had stayed to wreak havoc on the wizarding world alongside Gellert Grindelwald, who knows how many more people would have died..."

After those words, the atmosphere in the Map Chamber grew even colder.

—

Harry, in truth, had no memory of what happened during his visit to the Austro-Hungarian Empire all those years ago. At the time, he hadn't even known the name of that female official—he had simply thought she looked pitiful and decided to help her out.

Of course, he had also been itching to fly, and if he didn't take his broom for a spin, he would have felt uncomfortable all over.

Afterward, he had worried whether he would be punished by Mr. Septimus, but to his surprise, Septimus hadn't reprimanded him at all. On the contrary, he had even praised him.

Mr. Septimus had said that this was the proper conduct of a pure-blood wizard.

Now, Harry felt rather pleased. After all, Veratia was only angry about Gellert taking away a portion of her money, but she didn't seem that furious overall.

Well then, once she comes out, he could talk to her about those things—like the stories of Gellert and Dumbledore.

Hopefully, Veratia wouldn't explode in rage... or split apart in fury...

Thinking of Veratia's slender waist, as delicate as Empress Sisi's, Harry couldn't help but feel that if he told her the truth, she might just get so mad that—

—

The first lesson of the new term was Herbology. Harry actually quite liked Herbology—provided the class was taught by that beautiful professor from a hundred years ago, Professor Garlick.

But Professor Sprout's teaching was also acceptable. At least she never made things difficult for others or went around spewing venom like Snape.

Actually, Professor Snape wasn't that bad—apart from being strict, cold, and completely lacking in warmth, he didn't really have any other flaws.

"Today, we'll be heading to Greenhouse Three," Professor Sprout announced, her tone as warm and refreshing as always.

The students murmured excitedly amongst themselves. They had only ever been inside Greenhouse One—Greenhouse Three housed more interesting, and more dangerous, plants.

Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door.

A rich scent of damp earth and fertilizer filled the air, mingled with an intense floral fragrance.

The flowers were as large as umbrellas, hanging down from the ceiling.

Harry noticed dozens of earmuffs in various colors placed on the tables. He recognized them immediately—earmuffs used to block out the screams of Mandrakes.

So... were they going to learn about Mandrakes today?

Wasn't this a bit dangerous?

Back in the old days, actual hands-on repotting of Mandrakes was something that was only done in the fifth year. Harry felt like today's teaching methods were completely backward—being gentle where things should be wild, and being wildly reckless where things should be gentle.

Even for someone like him, who had attended school a hundred years ago and had close encounters with Dark Wizards, this seemed a bit extreme.

Just imagine—if some young wizard failed to wear their earmuffs properly and got blasted by a Mandrake's scream...

Hogwarts would have a major teaching accident on its hands.

And, as expected, Professor Sprout stood in the middle of the greenhouse, scanning the students as she spoke, "Today, we'll be repotting Mandrakes. Now, who can tell me the properties of a Mandrake?"

Hermione and Neville raised their hands simultaneously.

Seeing the two of them, Professor Sprout considered for a moment before choosing Neville.

She believed that timid students like Neville needed more opportunities to showcase their knowledge and build confidence.

"Mandrakes..." Neville glanced at Professor Sprout. Seeing her encouraging smile, his confidence grew, and he continued, "They are used to restore people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"And what else is it called?" Professor Sprout prompted.

"It's also called... also called Mandrake Root!" Neville said with much more confidence. "It's a powerful restorative ingredient."

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"Very good!" Professor Sprout praised. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Neville was stunned upon hearing the points—especially ten whole points! He wore an expression of disbelief.

Merlin's beard, he had always lost points in class—when had he ever earned points before?

"Mr. Longbottom," Professor Sprout continued, "Mandrakes are a key component in many antidotes, but they are also quite dangerous. Can you tell me why?"

Neville thought for a moment before replying, "The book says that hearing a Mandrake's cry... can be fatal."

"Absolutely correct! Another ten points!" Professor Sprout declared.

The classroom erupted into applause, led by Hermione.

Neville grinned with joy, momentarily forgetting to sit down.

"Alright, Mr. Longbottom, please take your seat," Professor Sprout reminded him.

Just then, Harry suddenly spoke up. "Professor, I have a question."

Seeing that it was Harry, Professor Sprout smiled warmly.

This boy, who resembled Lily so much, was someone she was quite fond of.

"Go ahead, Mr. Potter," she said.

"Professor, if someone cast a Growth Charm on a Mandrake and then used the Sonorus Charm on it, would that increase its lethal effect?" Harry asked innocently.

Hearing Harry's words, Professor Sprout froze as if she had been hit by a Petrificus Totalus spell.

She stiffly turned to look at Harry, a silent cry of despair echoing in her heart.

Merlin help her—this was another James!

"Mr. Potter, I must remind you that Mandrakes are highly dangerous plants!" Professor Sprout said sternly. "Please refrain from casting such spells on them. It could lead to catastrophic consequences!"

"Oh." Harry nodded, then added, "Actually, I have another question, Professor Sprout."

"Go ahead, Mr. Potter," Professor Sprout said, thinking that surely this time, his question wouldn't be another bizarre one.

But to her dismay, Harry's next question was even more terrifying.

"Professor, if you recorded a Mandrake's scream into a Howler, would it have the same lethal effect?"

Professor Sprout clutched her collar tightly, her face turning pale.

Merlin's beard—this Potter child...

At that moment, she had an overwhelming urge to grab Professor McGonagall, who was likely in her Animagus cat form, and scream at her—

"This is what you call 'like Lily'?!"

Harry quickly shut his mouth. Honestly, he hadn't meant to say that out loud. He had never actually looked into the specific uses of Mandrakes—in fact, the idea had just popped into his head, and he hadn't even put it into practice yet.

Hmm... Maybe the next time he saw Voldemort, he could test it out and see if Voldemort could withstand the deafening scream of an enlarged, magically amplified Mandrake.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter." Professor Pomona "I'm So Tired" Sprout sighed. "I really wish you little wizards would focus your energy elsewhere. Even learning a few harmless jinxes would be better than studying these trouble-making plants."

Hermione's mouth twitched.

Alright, harmless jinxes... If Professor Sprout was referring to the so-called "harmless jinxes" carefully selected by the Gaunt family, then she would rather research Mandrake applications instead.

"Today, we will learn how to repot Mandrakes." After regaining her composure, Professor Sprout addressed the class. "When I tell you to put on your earmuffs, make sure they completely cover your ears. When it is safe to remove them, I will give you a double thumbs-up. Alright—put on your earmuffs."

At Professor Sprout's command, the students quickly donned their earmuffs.

She walked around, carefully inspecting each student's earmuffs to ensure they were properly secured. Once satisfied, she returned to the front and began her demonstration.

She pulled a Mandrake—resembling a wrinkly little baby—out of its pot, completely ignoring its ear-splitting screams, and promptly stuffed it into another pot, burying it with soil.

Then, she held up two fingers, signaling for the students to remove their earmuffs.

"Our Mandrakes are still young. Their cries won't be fatal," she explained calmly. "However, they can knock you unconscious for several hours. I'm sure none of you want to miss the first day of school, so be sure to wear your earmuffs properly while working. When it's time to wrap up, I'll find a way to get your attention. Alright, four students per pot—begin."

The students quickly split into groups. Unfortunately for Harry, he was left without a partner.

"Good luck, Harry," Ron and Hermione said in unison, grinning mischievously.

They weren't the least bit worried about whether Harry could handle it—come on, a guy who could come up with so many potential Mandrake applications? How could he possibly struggle with something this basic?

Under Professor Sprout's supervision, the students put on their earmuffs and began repotting the Mandrakes.

It was a difficult task. The Mandrakes squirmed like restless toddlers, shrieking and flailing about the moment they were pulled from the soil. It took multiple students working together just to force them back into their pots.

Harry reached out and yanked a Mandrake free. As soon as it hit the open air, it let out a piercing scream.

Harry couldn't hear it, but judging by its twisted, furious expression, he could certainly feel it.

He studied the Mandrake for a moment, then placed it atop the soil.

The Mandrake resisted, refusing to go in—but then it suddenly sensed an intense heat approaching.

A small, Veratiad blue flame flickered to life on Harry's fingertip.

The Mandrake let out a terrified screech. Immediately, it started using its root-like hands to frantically dig a hole in the soil. Within moments, it had carved out a shallow pit for itself.

It dove in, still wailing as it hastily shoveled dirt over itself, burying every last inch of its body—anything to escape that terrifying student.

"What an obedient little guy," Harry remarked with satisfaction. He had always liked well-behaved children.

When he turned around, he was met with the sight of his utterly stunned classmates.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Harry grinned. "Why aren't you digging?"

But, of course, with their earmuffs on, no one could hear him.

After a long, stunned silence, Hermione let out a defeated sigh and stabbed her trowel into the soil.

Merlin, Harry was inhuman! He... he was just...

Hermione spent a long time trying to find the right word. In the end, she gave up.

Watching Harry effortlessly bury his Mandrake, Professor Sprout considered awarding him ten points later.

She hadn't noticed the part where Harry used fire to intimidate the Mandrake—she had only caught the tail end of the scene.

After class, on the way back to the Great Hall, Hermione walked up to Harry. "Harry, what was that thing you used in class?"

"What thing?" Harry asked, chewing on a piece of licorice wand.

"That blue flame," Hermione said curiously.

"Gubraithian Fire," Harry answered truthfully. "But I wouldn't recommend second-years trying to learn it. Without strong magical control, it's impossible to handle."

"Then how come you can?" Neville asked dumbly.

"Because he's the Chosen One," Hermione rolled her eyes.

She had completely lost the will to compete with Harry. Compared to a genius among geniuses among geniuses, she might as well focus on other things—like reading a book or practicing spells. That would be far more productive than wasting time on this futile comparison.

By evening, the chill of Hogwarts' highland air had set in.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry had been sitting outside, enjoying the breeze, when a particularly sharp gust made Hermione shiver.

"I think I underdressed," she murmured, looking down at her legs.

"Well, you're only wearing knee-high socks and leaving your thighs exposed. Of course, you're cold," Ron pointed out bluntly.

"That's just how it is in the Scottish Highlands, isn't it?"

The trio turned around to see a blonde girl wearing radish-shaped earrings.

She had pale skin, light eyebrows, and silvery eyes. Her long, dark golden-brown hair cascaded down to her shoulders.

Upon closer inspection, her slightly protruding eyes gave her a perpetually surprised expression.

"Hello," she said dreamily, her vacant gaze landing on Harry. "I know you. You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Uh..." Harry had a feeling that this girl would get along well with Poppy.

Hmm... They seemed to share the same... well, let's not dwell on finding the right word for that.

Speaking of Poppy... Harry suddenly realized how much he missed her. It had been a while since he last saw her.

He wondered how she was doing with Mr. Flamel. Maybe he should write to Flamel and ask about her?

After some thought, Harry decided against it. Hedwig had already flown an international trip once. Flying from London was one thing, but from the Scottish Highlands all the way to Paris... He didn't want to risk overworking her.

"I'm Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw," the girl introduced herself, extending a hand to each of them in turn. "Nice to meet you all."

After shaking hands, Luna turned back to Harry, curiosity gleaming in her large eyes.

"You have so many Wrackspurts around you, Harry. They're buzzing all around you, making a humming noise," she said softly.

"Wrackspurts?" Harry asked, puzzled. "What are Wrackspurts?"

He had never heard of them—neither in books nor in real life.

"Wrackspurts... They're invisible. They float into your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," Luna explained. "I think I just saw one hovering here."

She waved her hands around, as if swatting away an invisible moth.

"Is she...?" Hermione nudged Ron, circling her finger near her temple—a universal gesture for "a bit off."

"No idea," Ron whispered back.

"Oh, people do call me 'Loony,'" Luna said lightly, as if she had heard them.

Getting caught gossiping was quite embarrassing. Hermione smiled sheepishly and quickly apologized.

"Sorry, Luna."

"It's alright," Luna said softly. "I'm used to it."

Then, she hopped away toward the Great Hall, bouncing like a rabbit.

"Maybe we shouldn't gossip about people anymore," Ron said awkwardly. "She heard us loud and clear."

"But... do Wrackspurts really exist?"

Hermione looked conflicted—academic types always did when faced with the unknown.

"Harry, have you ever heard of them?" Ron asked.

Harry thought for a moment before answering firmly. "I haven't, but if she says they exist, she must have her reasons. I do know that some wizards have special abilities—like seeing things others can't."

He was referring to ancient magic.

"Alright, that's fair." Hermione shook her head. "Let's head back—I need to review my lessons. After all, we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. And he's an adventurer and bestselling author..."

At this, she clutched her hands to her heart, starry-eyed.

"I bet he's all style and no substance!" Ron grumbled. He had a strong suspicion that this new professor was going to be just like last year's Quirrell—or maybe even worse.

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