Veratia Is So Cute

Harry took the handkerchief, unsure whether to wipe away the tea or to smooth it out.

But he said with a straight face, "I think it makes perfect sense logically, okay? Look, two equally lonely, powerful, and hateful individuals, who appreciate each other on their path to power, transcend the barriers of race and time—what a classic narrative template."

"It's more like the classic 'villainous alliance inevitably turns on each other' template."

Veratia sat back down in her chair, rubbing her temples, trying to banish the image of the two terrifying figures in her mind that seemed to be "mutually sympathizing" with each other in some strange way.

"Let's get down to business, Harry. If your—well, what you call romantic speculation—has even a one in ten thousand chance of being based on some kind of magical connection—like some Ancient Magic that requires an extremely compatible soul or magical power to wield together—then it's actually more troublesome. It means their alliance might be more solid than a simple union of interests."

When she said the phrase "romantic speculation," Veratia used two fingers to manually put quotation marks around it, as if she were making rabbit ears.

So cute!

Joking aside, the two quickly returned to seriousness.

"In any case, it's wise to gain the support of other intelligent races," Veratia pondered. "Centaurs have always had the ability to discern celestial omens; they may have already sensed the anomaly. You can have Dumbledore and Firenze communicate with them; he teaches at Hogwarts, so communication will be relatively easy. As for the Goblin— "

She paused, then continued, "Gringotts ' stance is crucial. Just like a hundred years ago, a significant portion of the Goblin value practical benefits and the fulfillment of ancient covenants more than the destructive, retrogressive fanaticism of Runcorn. But we must present sufficiently convincing reasons to demonstrate that we respect their traditions and rights, and that we have the ability to protect their interests—especially given the possibility that Runcorn might use the slogan 'Make the Goblin great again.'"

Finally, she added, "Of course, I personally believe that the Goblin were actually hedging their bets, at least that's what I thought back then."

"I can talk to Griphook and Bodric," Harry said. "The key is to make them understand that Runcorn's victory means all non-human intelligent beings will be dragged into a hopeless war of destruction. He's not pursuing equality or revival, but dragging the world back to that dark age of bloody conflict, where no race will escape."

"Agreed." Veratia nodded, quickly writing a few lines of instructions on the Parchment. "Regarding public opinion, Rita Skeeter's article is a start, but not enough. We need more formal international communications and evidence presentations. I will arrange for reliable people to publish analytical articles simultaneously in the <International Wizarding Union Gazette> and several influential Europe newspapers, highlighting the seriousness of the attack, the danger of the combination of the two, and the fact that some institutions have failed to respond effectively."

As she said this, a cold smile curled at the corner of her lips.

Harry knew she was targeting the American Ministry of Magic.

On one hand, the American Ministry of Magic had imprisoned Gellert and even tried to cut off his "Silver Tongue." Even because of her brother, Veratia didn't have a good impression of the American Ministry of Magic.

On the other hand, it's because the other party is far too arrogant; if they hadn't kept dragging their feet, things wouldn't have escalated to such a dire situation.

Imagine this: in broad daylight, Runcorn and Voldemort storm the American Ministry of Magic and wreak havoc.

"Furthermore," she looked at Harry, "Hogwarts ' defenses are crucial, but they are also obvious targets."

While Professor Dumbledore fortifies the castle, should we consider establishing several secret, dispersed shelters or backup command posts? We can't put all our eggs in one basket.

Harry nodded. "I remember Sirius once said that the Order of the Phoenix used to have several Safe House. I think we can reactivate them and strengthen their security. The Room of Requirement can also be expanded to have more functions—however, all of this needs to be kept absolutely secret."

"Ah, it's a secret."

Upon hearing this, Veratia pouted.

"Remember to tell Sirius, don't choose an Animagus mouse to keep the secret this time, okay?"

Harry twitched his lips; he remembered what the joke meant.

However, Sirius can't be entirely blamed. Choosing Pettigrew as the Secret Keeper was actually James and Lily's way of willingly sacrificing themselves to complete the time loop.

Finally, Veratia sighed softly, leaning back in her chair, a genuine hint of exhaustion on her face. "Sometimes I really wish your outrageous guesses were true," she said half-jokingly, "At least then we'd have some fun."

Harry smiled, walked over to her, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't overexert yourself. This war will be long, and we need to stay alert. As for those two—" he winked, "Whether they're dark allies or dark lovers, we'll break them up—in the most direct way possible."

"You rascal." Veratia rolled her eyes coquettishly, but didn't stop Harry from massaging her.

She pressed a button on the table, and then Ms. Rosier came in.

"Lady." She walked to the desk.

Veratia handed her what she had just written and said, "Go do it now. Tomorrow I want to see everything about Voldemort and Runcorn in the newspapers—remember, make sure they give the American Ministry of Magic a good dressing down, understand?"

"Yes," Ms. Rosier replied, then turned and left.

Ms. Rosier disappeared behind the door, and the office returned to silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace.

Veratia's tense shoulders finally relaxed slightly under Harry's moderate pressure. She closed her eyes and let out a barely audible sigh.

"It's a bit stiff here," she mumbled, her finger unconsciously pointing to the spot where her neck meets her shoulder.

Harry didn't say anything, but adjusted the pressure of his fingertips, skillfully pressing on the taut muscle.

He recalled a long time ago, during the days of fighting Runcorn, when he had also helped her relieve the soreness after practice in the same way.

Don't worry about how much it hurts.

You haven't been sleeping well lately.

Harry used declarative sentences, not interrogative sentences.

"I slept, but not very well." Veratia didn't deny it, her voice heavy with weariness. With her eyes closed, all she could see were the ruins of the American Ministry of Magic building and various disastrous deduction reports—"

At this point, she sighed softly, as if all her energy and spirit had vanished with that sigh.

"Turn around," Harry said softly.

Veratia obediently turned her chair to face him, and Harry cupped her face in his hands.

"You need a real rest, Minister. Otherwise, you'll collapse from exhaustion before the enemy even arrives."

"Easy for you to say," Veratia muttered, but let him do as he pleased, even rubbing her little face against his warm palm. "I'm the Minister, you know. With such a big thing happening in the Magical World, how could I stand idly by? And you, you not only have to worry about these things, but you also have to give those students special training—"

"So I'm actually quite busy, after all, I have to make sure my charging station doesn't lose power first." Harry joked, bending down and gently touching his forehead to hers.

The action was intimate and peaceful; their breaths mingled at close range, carrying the faint scents of black tea and Parchment, and the familiar magical glow emanating from each other.

Moreover, as the human form of the Philosopher's Stone, Harry's earlier comment about a "charging station" was actually referring to himself.

After all, Veratia's magic still needs him to recharge it.

Veratia's violet eyes were inches away, reflecting his image.

"Sometimes I think," she said softly, almost a whisper, "if I hadn't become this Minister, if we were just ordinary wizards—maybe we'd be somewhere now, with a fireplace lit, listening to the rain, without worrying about Voldemort, or Runcorn, and without having to concern ourselves with international politics—"

"Then you'll get so bored that you'll try to use Ancient Magic to alter the house, blowing the roof off," Harry chuckled, picking up the thread. "And I'll be forced to figure out how to make the Chinese chomping cabbage in the garden dance ballet."

Veratia couldn't help but laugh and gently nudged him, "I wouldn't be that bored!"

"So, that's all in good fun. It's fine if you fool me, but don't fool yourself too," Harry said with a grin. "I don't mind if you fooled me; I'll just laugh it off. But I hope you'll wipe your eyes after you finish saying that, so the little pearl doesn't fall to the ground."

"It's really not that I wanted to break your defenses. Wipe away your tears and think about it carefully. Besides me, who else would believe these words of yours?"

There was more he didn't say: given Veratia's innate queenly ambition, could she be content to be an ordinary wizard?

Harry preferred to believe that Voldemort would reform and fall in love with a girl.

"You talk too much," Veratia muttered, but didn't argue back.

She simply buried her face deeper into his warm palms, like a kitten that insisted on snuggling up to its owner for warmth.

"I think," Harry said, scratching Veratia's chin with his finger, "That I also quite like a simple life, provided I'm with you."

"Really?" Veratia looked up, her violet eyes filled with Harry.

"Of course," Harry said with a smile.

Veratia raised a hand and poked Harry's barely noticeable bluish-purple eye with her fingertip. "And you're talking to me? Look at yourself. Harry, the fire chief of Hogwarts, the head instructor of the Dueling Club —have you forgotten you're still a student? You'll be taking the NEWTs exams next year."

"Not for long." Harry sighed, gently pulling her head back and kissing her cherry-red lips lightly. "Besides, I think worrying about how to prevent two lunatics from destroying the world is more important than worrying about the NEWTs exam."

"Fallacy."

Veratia commented, but instead of pulling her head back, she leaned forward, hugged Harry, and pressed her head against his chest.

"However—okay, I admit you're right. None of us can truly be ordinary."

The two of them held each other like that, neither wanting to separate first.

Until Veratia's phone rang.

Veratia took out her phone, glanced at it, and then her lips curled into a sharp downward smirk.

"Oh, it's Cass —her nose is really sharp, isn't it?"

"Cass?" Harry asked curiously, "Why is she calling you at this hour?"

"It must have smelled your scent," Veratia snorted, leaving Harry's embrace and answering Cassandra's call.

She quickly composed herself, cleared her throat, and asked, "Cass?"

"It's me," Cassandra's voice came from the other end of the phone. "What are you doing? I happen to be in Vienna, do you have time?"

"It's me," Veratia reached out and pressed Harry's mischievous hand down, "Nothing, I'm at the Ministry of Magic, looking at that news—you know?"

"What news?" Cassandra asked instinctively, then added, "Oh, you mean the news about America, right? Narcissa already told me."

"Hmm----" Veratia suddenly made a nasal sound.

"What's wrong?" Cassandra asked, frowning.

"It's nothing," Veratia glared at Harry, "Come over now, I'll wait for you in my office—by the way, Harry's here too."

"Oh, hehe." Cassandra immediately understood. "I know, no wonder you made that sound—ha, I disturbed you, didn't I?"

Alas.

I'm the one who disturbed you, right?

The jealousy in those words was palpable even to someone with a stuffy nose.

"Hmph, you know it, that's good." Veratia readily admitted, while precisely swatting away Harry's hand that was trying to wrap around her waist again, mouthing him "behave yourself." "So, are you planning to continue venting your grievances outside, or come in and 'talk business' with us?"

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, then Cassandra's emotionless voice came through. "I'll be there in five minutes."

The call was immediately disconnected.

Veratia put away her phone, turned around, put her hands on her hips, and looked at Harry, who had an innocent look on his face.

"Go and tidy yourself up." She reached out and smoothed the front of his shirt, which she had wrinkled from rubbing against it earlier, and then casually tidied his perpetually unruly hair. "Cass has a sharp eye—if we meet here secretly without telling her, that haughty monster will get angry."

"I haven't done anything wrong."

Harry shrugged, but still stood still and let her do as she pleased.

"Besides, weren't we just discussing a very serious international security issue?"

"Ha, so we're discussing things to the point where we need to stand close together and listen to each other's heartbeats to assess the situation?" Veratia raised an eyebrow, a cryptic smile playing on her lips. "My dear Mr. Potter, you always manage to come up with something new."

As she spoke, she grabbed Harry by the collar with both hands, lifted him up sharply, and then pulled him back.