Veratia's New Home, and Replenishing Desire's Magic
That's certainly true; the America is, after all, a vast country, ranking fourth in the world in terms of area.
Locating Voldemort's exact location in such a vast country is like finding a needle in a haystack.
If they're really determined to hide, there's no way to find them.
Moreover, the combined strength of Voldemort and Runcorn would be difficult even for Dumbledore to handle. If Voldemort were to be found quickly in America, a large number of wizards would need to be mobilized. But here's the problem: Harry and his friends know Runcorn's abilities very well. Even they had difficulty lurking around Runcorn back then.
If Voldemort and Runcorn discover the scout wizards, can they defeat the two of them?
Ordinary wizard: Huh? I'm fighting Voldemort?
Is it true or false?
How many dishes are there? Why are you drinking like this?
"What should we do then?" Pabbie asked, looking clueless.
"For now, all we can do is wait," Veratia said, squinting. "When Harry dreams again, we can use memory replay to replicate his dream, and then locate the terrain on the Muggle ' military satellites—"
"Europe would be easier to handle, but what about the America?" Harry countered. "Do you think the American Ministry of Magic would allow you access to America military satellites?"
"That is a problem," Veratia's eyes flashed. "But if the American Ministry of Magic doesn't know its place, I think it's necessary to show them the true strength of Old Europe! Otherwise, these people will be led astray by the Muggle World and won't know their own limitations."
"I still don't recommend going to war with the American Ministry of Magic so hastily," Cassandra said, sitting down next to Veratia. "This is a major issue, Grindelwald. We should come up with a reasonable contingency plan and submit it to the think tank for analysis of the pros and cons."
"So you're not against going to war, are you?" Veratia asked with a half-smile.
Cassandra's eyelids immediately drooped.
"I think you're right, some people really need to recognize their own limitations," she said. "It's time to teach these arrogant nouveau riche a harsh lesson!"
Harry felt a little unsure what to say.
Why are both of these Slytherin so belligerent?
"Anne, what do you think?" He turned to look at the only gentle and virtuous Slytherin woman.
"I think they're a perfect match," Anne said very seriously.
have to.
Oh, I forgot, this girl is also a woman from the Sallow family.
The strength of the Sallow family is self-evident, isn't it?
Even though she appears gentle and refined, she is actually not someone to be trifled with.
"Have you calculated how many people will be attending tomorrow's class reunion?" Veratia suddenly asked.
"There are twelve classmates, right?" Harry said uncertainly. "I think there are twenty people in the group, including Professor Garick and us—"
"Hmm." Veratia pondered for a moment, then said, "Let's go back to Grimmauld Place, Number 13 tonight. I've already had the renovations done there, but we haven't gone to see it yet. Shall we go take a look together?"
"Okay," everyone nodded in agreement.
Vienna has Portkey leading to Britain, which was made for convenience; it's a stove hook-like thing.
The five of them held hands. Veratia turned around and asked, "Are you all holding on tight?"
"It's secure."
No sooner had she spoken than Veratia picked up the stove hook.
Harry, who was standing at the end of the line, happened to scratch his nose, and only came to his senses in astonishment when the four girls disappeared from his sight.
I haven't boarded the bus yet!
Left with no other choice, he had to use Intercontinental Apparition to travel to Grimmauld Place, Number 13.
After all, it's a humanoid Philosopher's Stone, so it doesn't care about this little distance at all.
He had never been to Grimmauld Place, Number 13, so he could only go to number 12 first.
When he pushed open the door to number twelve and walked out, Veratia was already standing in front of him.
"They actually let go." She muttered to herself.
"My nose itches—" Harry said somewhat awkwardly, "I had just reached up to scratch my nose when you grabbed the Portkey— "
"Alright, alright, let's go in." Veratia smiled and nudged Harry's shoulder, pushing him into Grimmauld Place, Number 13.
Stepping into the foyer, one is greeted by intricate dark green floor tiles, inlaid with abstract patterns of the Grindelwald family's iconic Deathly Hallows and Phoenix —the Phoenix's origin is not Dumbledore's Fawkes, but rather Veratia's Phoenix, Fiona.
But if it were Gellert did the renovation, the Phoenix could indeed be interpreted as a silhouette of the Fawkes.
The wall next to it was covered with dark olive green wallpaper with subtle dark gold patterns, giving it an understated yet luxurious feel.
A huge chandelier, cast from crystal and black iron, hung from the high ceiling, its candle-shaped bulbs emitting a warm and soft yellow light.
Veratia pushed Harry into the Living Room.
The first thing that catches the eye is the rustic yet grand fireplace, with an ever-burning, Fiendfyre yet incredibly gentle magical flame burning within its hearth.
On the stove stand several oddly shaped silver instruments, some slowly emitting smoke, others with stars revolving inside.
Instead of portraits, several somber yet powerful symbolist oil paintings hung on the wall.
In a glass display case, a flying broom made a century ago lies quietly; at the tip of the broom hangs a silver-white Princess crown.
This immediately transported Harry's memories back to Vienna a hundred years ago.
Harry rode this very broomstick to help Veratia retrieve the Princess crown that those naughty girls had hung on the tree.
In one corner of the room, an old-fashioned gramophone was playing excerpts from Schubert's "Winterreise" through a huge brass horn, the sound carrying a hint of ancient noise, as if it had traveled from a hundred years ago.
Being an old Austria, he always enjoyed listening to this piece.
"How impressive—" Harry murmured.
He fell in love with the house almost instantly.
After being reshaped by Veratia's will and aesthetics, the entire Grimmauld Place, Number 13 perfectly showcases the elegance, weight, and mystery of 19th-century aesthetics, while also exuding a calm and all-encompassing luxury.
"Only someone with Grindelwald's aesthetic sense could design a house like this."
Although Cassandra said this, the envy in her eyes was impossible to hide.
It must be admitted that Slytherin may all share a similar aesthetic.
"The bedrooms are on the second and third floors," Veratia explained. "The third floor is our master bedroom, and the second floor is all guest rooms—I've set up some magic at the entrance to the third floor, so no one but us can get up there."
"Of course," Veratia said again, "There are four bedrooms on the third floor. You can sleep wherever you want, except for the one closest to the inside."
"What about mine?" Harry immediately protested.
"Heh." Veratia suddenly turned her head away, her eyes turning into disdainful, beady ones. "Isn't it your own business whose room you want to sleep in?"
"That guy got off too easy, "Veratia thought to herself.
Of course, Harry is going to be quite tired tonight.
The next morning, Harry was still the first one to get up.
-
There's no way around it; that's just how the humanoid Philosopher's Stone is—no matter how long it rests, it will always be fully healed.
He could have chosen not to rest, but it's just a habit.
They didn't get up until noon.
When Veratia entered the Living Room, the look she gave Harry was incredibly resentful.
"Have some milk." Harry picked up the milk from the table and handed it to Veratia.
Veratia took the milk, and as if struck by a sudden inspiration, she glared at Harry fiercely, then tilted her head back and drank the milk in one gulp.
"The class reunion is this afternoon," Harry said. "Imelda mentioned it in the group chat, so we need to get there early—the party's supposed to start at 3:30, but I don't think we can arrive right on time, can we?"
"We should just get there sooner," Veratia said, yawning, sitting down next to Harry and then straddling Harry lap. "I think I've run out of magic again."
Liar! Your blond hair is almost as dazzling as the sun, and you still say you don't have magic?
"Want some more?" Harry asked with a mischievous grin.
Veratia's face stiffened.
Then it opened its mouth and bit down hard on Harry's neck.
"Ouch, that hurts--" Harry said with a laugh. Veratia hadn't actually used any force; she was just messing around.
Veratia only let Harry go, satisfied, after planting three hickeys on Harry neck.
After laughing and joking around for a while, Veratia rolled off Harry and leaned back on the sofa to browse messages on her phone.
As Minister of Ministry of Magic, she certainly had a lot to do every day—after all, she had to handle affairs of so many countries.
"Is something the matter?" Harry asked with concern.
"It's nothing," Veratia smiled and said. "Remember the meeting at Sirius's wedding? The former Minister of Argentine Ministry of Magic has passed away, and the funeral is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. The various countries agreed to continue discussing the matters that weren't finished at the previous meeting at his funeral."
"So, this is the legendary funeral diplomacy?" Harry asked curiously.
"Yes." Veratia nodded seriously. "Actually, the former Minister for Magic of Argentina didn't contribute much at all, and even caused a lot of trouble—but as the saying goes, his death is more valuable than all the contributions he made in his entire life, isn't it?"
"Indeed," Harry said, suppressing a laugh.
After sitting at home for a whole afternoon, around 2 p. m., the group boarded the Thestral carriage that had been prepared beforehand and headed to the party venue.
"I've always been curious why people like to use Thestral to pull carriages," Harry said from inside the carriage. "You see, Thestral are animals that only those who have witnessed death can see. Isn't that a bit unlucky?"
As he spoke, Harry looked out the car window at the several Thestral.
They have no flesh on their bodies; their black fur clings tightly to their skeletons, and every bone is clearly visible.
Its head resembled a dragon's head, with white, pupil-less eyes that stared unblinkingly ahead.
Wings sprouted from the bulge between the shoulder bones—large, black, and sturdy wings that looked like they belonged to a giant bat.
Pabbie smiled and said to Harry, "There used to be people who thought that way. Superstitious people believed that these creatures were very unlucky and would bring all sorts of terrible disasters to anyone who saw them; they were considered bad omens."
"You should have learned about this in your Care of Magical Creatures, right? Thestral are extremely intelligent animals, which makes them very useful. They are also incredibly loyal; once tamed, they will never leave their owner."
She paused for a moment, then added.
"Furthermore, Thestral possess an astonishing sense of direction; simply tell them where you want to go, and they will lead you there—wizards are more pragmatic than those with vague omens of ill omen; after all, we are not all charlatans like Professor Trelawney."
"Indeed," Harry nodded. "I think I've heard someone say that Professor Trelawney never travels in Thestral carriage —she's afraid of Grim."
When Harry uttered the word "Grim," he mumbled it in a strange, almost mystical way, mimicking Trelawney's mannerisms.
Having seen Professor Trelawney's appearance before, Anne burst out laughing, but Cassandra's expression turned sour.
Because she was reminded of Trelawney's grandmother, the Oracle who had harshly rejected her.
"Are you still holding a grudge?" Veratia asked Cassandra, amused.
"Holding a grudge?" Cassandra asked Veratia, feigning confusion. "Why would I hold a grudge? Professor Trelawney didn't do anything to me."
Veratia chuckled and said, "Really? But I remember someone once apprenticed under that Oracle Cassandra— "
"Shut up!" Cassandra snapped, straightening her back and angrily saying, "I won't allow you to mention that person!" She then looked at Harry, "Did you show that philanderer that letter?"
"Uh--" Harry stammered a little guiltily.
Veratia shook her head and said, "I only learned about this because I saw Harry's memories. It's not Harry's fault."
"Ha, you two are in cahoots!" Cassandra leaned back in her chair, sulking.
She was indeed very angry; it was the most destitute time of her life.
When Cassandra Trelawney kicked her out, the Oracle even wrote her a letter filled with sarcasm, showing absolutely no consideration for her feelings.
And this letter somehow came to the attention of her nemesis.
Even if Harry didn't intentionally show it to Veratia, it was still a bit hard for her to accept.
"Uh--" Harry stammered a little guiltily.
Veratia shook her head and said, "I only found out about this because I saw Harry's memories. It's not Harry's fault."
"Ha, you two are in cahoots!" Cassandra leaned back in her chair, sulking.
She was indeed very angry; it was the most destitute time of her life.
When Cassandra Trelawney kicked her out, the Oracle even wrote her a letter filled with sarcasm, showing absolutely no consideration for her feelings.
And this letter somehow came to the attention of her nemesis.
Even if Harry didn't intentionally show it to Veratia, it was still a bit hard for her to accept.
"I'm sorry, Cass," Veratia reached out and took Cassandra's soft little hand. "I didn't mean to—you know, Harry wanted to practice an advanced version of Occlumency around that time, so I..."