Veratia, Pure and Alluring

Harry focused his mind and tried to suppress the vast, ocean-like magic within him, attempting to separate only a tiny fraction of it for a second or two.

The Parchment remained completely still.

Harry's forehead was a little sweaty.

It's easy to unleash magic at will, but controlling a single drop of water to fall precisely without creating a ripple is extremely difficult.

Veratia watched Harry struggle with the Parchment without urging him on; she knew how difficult it was.

Finally, a small brown mark appeared very slowly in the upper left corner of the Parchment. Although the color was very light, it was useful.

However, just as Harry breathed a sigh of relief, his magic surged again due to his relaxed state.

Laugh!

Centered on that small dot, the entire Parchment was instantly ignited by an invisible, high-temperature flame, turning into a small clump of ashes in the blink of an eye, which drifted down.

Harry:".

Veratia tried to hold back, but in the end she couldn't.

"Pfft."

She finally couldn't help but laugh out loud, not mockingly, but with a hint of mischief.

"It seems our the Savior has gotten used to solving problems with magical torrents and has temporarily forgotten how to work with subtlety." She waved her wand to clear away the ashes and conjured a Parchment. "Don't worry, we have plenty of time. We can take it slow. This is much more difficult than simply increasing power, but it's also much more important."

There is plenty of time. After all, when fighting against Runcorn and Voldemort, there is no need to control the output of magic power. Just use as much force as possible to throw bricks.

Anyway, those who frequently use the Charms Sandalwood know that there's no need to control the output of magic power.

Harry slumped his shoulders in frustration, but quickly rallied, his green eyes regaining their defiant light.

"Again!"

For the next period of time, the Minister's Office was transformed into a temporary training ground for magic control.

Parchment burned one after another. Occasionally, he managed to control the fire, but the scorch marks were burned into bizarre shapes, including several that resembled the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Although he failed most of the time, Harry kept going and Veratia was very patient, occasionally offering pointers and pointing out areas where his magic flow was too rough.

"It's really—" Professor Rackham in the portrait and Professor Sen Bakhar beside him grumbled, "It feels like we're back in the old days, in the Map Chamber, those two always managed to fill the room with that sickening sweetness."

Neither Harry nor Veratia paid any attention to the portrait's mutterings; the atmosphere between them was warm and focused.

The sky outside the window gradually changed color, eventually taking on the warm orange hue of the setting sun.

When Harry finally managed to burn a nearly circular spot onto the Parchment, he was so happy he almost jumped for joy, like a child who had successfully cast Levitation Charm for the first time.

"Veratia! Look!" He proudly held up the Parchment to her.

Veratia took it, examined the small achievement carefully, and a gentle smile curved her lips.

"Very good, a great improvement."

She put down the Parchment, looked at Harry like a mother encouraging her child, and reached out to ruffle his slightly sweaty hair.

"Remember this feeling, this feeling of precise control. It's just as important, if not more important, than the overwhelming power you need to unleash a powerful Charms —strength is the weapon, control is the hand that wields the sword."

Harry took the hand she was using to ruffle her hair, pressed it against his cheek, and looked at her with bright green eyes.

"Without your hand holding it, this sword might injure me one day."

These words were spoken frankly and sincerely, with Gryffindor fervor.

A ripple spread across Veratia's heart, and shimmering light danced in her violet eyes.

The slight disappointment caused by the difference in strength had long since been dispelled by the complete trust and unreserved intimacy shown by the man before him.

So what if they're powerful?

He was still the Harry she knew, who would be overjoyed by a small success, troubled by his inability to control his powers, and would rub against her hand like her child, seeking comfort and reassurance.

"Sweet Nothing."

She gently withdrew her hand, but her ears felt a little hot.

"Training is on hold. I'm hungry, Harry, as compensation for damaging my office wall and using up so much of my teaching Parchment, shouldn't you do something about it?"

Harry's eyes lit up, and he immediately understood. "What do you want to eat? The new Honeydukes at Hogsmeade? Or that Muggle restaurant in London that you like? I can Apparition— "

"No, you know what I want to eat." Veratia licked her lips, looking at Harry with a seductive gaze, as if she wanted to devour him on the spot.

"Hey, you two," Professor Rackham shouted, "There are other people here. Can you please keep it a secret from others? We're too old to see things we shouldn't see, aren't we?"

"You're right, Professor Rackham," Professor Rackham chimed in, "This room really shouldn't be filled with any inappropriate atmosphere; after all, it's the Minister for Magic's office!"

Veratia glanced back at them but didn't say anything.

Even when she missed Harry terribly, she never waited in the office; she always went to another small room to express her longing.

Then, she looked at Harry again with a very innocent and lustful gaze.

Harry's heart skipped a beat at Veratia's undisguisedly aggressive gaze. He knew perfectly well what Veratia wanted to eat, but the protests from the portraits forced Harry to set aside certain ideas that catered to Veratia.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, trying to pull his thoughts away from certain unspeakable images, blinked, and pretended to be clueless, "What do you want to eat? Is it that raspberry éclair you said was delicious last time, the latest House Elf? I heard it has some strange paralyzing toxin added to simulate lightning, and the taste is really stimulating."

Veratia narrowed her eyes, clearly seeing through his little trick, but she didn't call him out on it. She simply went along with what he was saying, her fingertips lightly tracing her lower lip. "Cream puffs? Hmm... desserts are nice, but right now I'd rather eat something that makes me sweat, something hotter."

Her tone was drawn out, implying something.

The professors in the portraits are making exaggerated coughing sounds or rubbing sounds as they turn to face the wall.

Harry glanced at Veratia's "I did it on purpose" expression, then at the portraits on the wall that, though not meant to be looked at, were clearly still listening intently, and suddenly an idea struck him.

He recalled the fine control he had just practiced.

So he picked up the small silver dish on the table.

Veratia raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering what he was up to.

Harry's fingertips trembled very slightly, and a wisp of red light, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, flashed by.

The next second, as if laser-engraved, a miniature Princess crown pattern gradually appeared on the small plate.

"Wow!" Professor Sen Bakhar couldn't help but exclaim, though he immediately covered his mouth.

Veratia was stunned.

She reached out and picked up the small dish; how could she not recognize the Diadem- like shape?

That was the Diadem that Harry had taken from the tree for her, and the vessel that witnessed their Blood Pact.

It has to be said that precisely controlling magic is incredibly difficult; when Harry finished all of this, beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

This is much more difficult than burning Parchment; it requires precise control over the compression and release of magic.

His eyes sparkled as he looked at Veratia, a hint of pride in them, and a desire for praise in them.

"It seems our special training has been very effective." Veratia's voice softened, her violet eyes fixed on Harry, the innocent desire within them replaced by a warmer glow. "I quite enjoyed this appetizer."

She carefully placed the small plate aside, as if it were some precious work of art, then stood up and walked over to Harry.

This time, she didn't make any provocative moves; she simply reached out and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"But the real feast—" she lowered her voice, almost whispering in his ear to make sure only he could hear, "Let's wait until we're back somewhere without so many enthusiastic onlookers. You know, my bedroom in the castle is not only sturdy, but also very soundproof."

Harry immediately sensed the invitation and expectation in Veratia's words, and his green eyes instantly lit up.

"Professors," Veratia straightened up, regaining her composure, though a gentle smile still lingered in her eyes, "It seems today's teaching observation is over. Harry and I have some urgent business to attend to—we'll leave this office in your care for the time being."

9

"Hurry up, hurry up!" Professor Rackham waved his hand, looking exasperated. "These young people nowadays—official business, huh, what an urgent official business!"

Amidst the teasing murmurs of the older professors, Veratia naturally took Harry's arm.

Harry casually picked up his coat from the back of the chair and quietly squeezed Veratia's hand with his other hand.

Instead of using Apparition, the two walked out of the office side by side like any ordinary couple, crossing the now quiet corridor.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone through the tall windows, casting their long shadows on the ground, close together.

"I can keep watching this," Professor Rackham in his office, looking utterly bewildered. "I must say, we've truly watched those two get to where they are today."

"They're like our children," Professor Rackham remarked, shaking his head.

"Anyway, it's not a child between the two of you," Professor Sen Bakhar quipped.

Professor Rackham and Professor Rackham exchanged a glance, roared, and pounced on Professor Sen Bakhar's portrait, punching and kicking him repeatedly.

After spending two days in Vienna, Harry returned to school.

The end of the semester is approaching, and final exams are about to begin. Harry needs to go back and take his exams.

Ultimately, it's about bringing a perfect end to a student's career, even though he doesn't really need the diploma, much less any 0. WLs or NEWTs certificates.

--

When he returned to school, he found that Ron and Hermione, the young couple, seemed to have had a fight.

This was the first time the two of them had argued, but even though it was their first quarrel, it had already made the atmosphere in the entire Gryffindor Common Room uncomfortable.

In a corner of the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione had a thick stack of books spread out in front of her. Her Quill was writing rapidly on Parchment, making a rustling sound, but the pace was so fast that it was almost unnatural, and she was about to break the quill in her hand.

Ron sat opposite her, holding a book called "Practical Defensive Magic," but he clearly hadn't read a single page. Every few seconds, he would steal a glance at Hermione, his lips pressed tightly together, and his ears slightly red, whether from anger or something else, it was unclear.

Harry, clutching his Mpad, had barely reached the long table where they were sitting when he felt the oppressive atmosphere.

He paused, wondering if he should pretend he hadn't seen it and take the opportunity to go back to his dorm room to lie down and play Diablo a while.

But Ron had already spotted him, and his face immediately contorted into a "Guys, help me!" signal.

Harry sighed inwardly, resignedly walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down, trying to make his tone sound relaxed and casual.

"Hey, how's your studying going? I heard Snape's going to be setting the Potions final exams this year, and it might involve seventeen different reactions to African Tree Snake Skin and Sopophorous Bean— "

"He/She doesn't care at all!" The two spoke almost simultaneously, then glared at each other. Hermione's eyes seemed to be shooting Mars, while Ron's face turned even redder, making his freckles stand out.

"Uh—" Harry wisely shut his mouth, looking at this and then at that.

Hermione took a deep breath, slammed the book shut in front of her, and spoke in a low voice, but each word seemed to be squeezed out from between her teeth.

"What I care about is attitude, Ronald Weasley! You can't just smile like a Niffler who's stolen a coin just because Parvati Pettigrew asked you a few questions about Patronus Charm, and then promise to tutor her alone at the library tomorrow night! Is that appropriate?"

Harry opened his mouth, glanced at Hermione, and then at Ron.

Dude, it's not that I don't want to help you this time, but you really aren't in the right!

Go and give Parvati individual coaching? Holy crap.

"Oh, it's an attitude problem!" Ron's voice rose, but he immediately realized they were in the Common Room and swallowed it back, his face turning even redder. "I was just helping out! Besides, you were the one who said you were going to Professor McGonagall for Transfiguration tonight! Parvati just—just happened to need help, and I happen to be better at the Patronus Charm!"

"Need help?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "She asked Seamus last week how to conjure a complete Patronus, so why didn't Seamus help her? And why at night? In a private tutoring session at the library?"

She emphasized the word "alone" very much.

Harry fanned his nose, sensing the strong smell of vinegar around him.

He supported Hermione on this point, because Ron was indeed in the wrong.