Chapter 140: Veratia, Be Careful of That Magical Magus

Harry’s heart gave a sudden jolt. His instincts told him this was a question he’d better answer carefully, or else… He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but it felt like if Veratia got angry, the consequences might be even worse than when Hermione did. Professor Rookwood wore an expression of barely suppressed amusement, clearly enjoying the drama and not minding the escalation one bit. Meanwhile, Professor Rackham was frantically winking at Harry, trying to signal the gravity of the situation. “Oh, it’s broken off,” Harry replied at lightning speed, sticking to the truth. “Back at the Leaky Cauldron, she said she didn’t like bitter things and preferred sweets, so I broke off a piece of chocolate for her. The rest I stuffed in my wallet and forgot to eat.” “Then why’d you suddenly remember it now?” Veratia asked, her eyes narrowing, her tone dripping with danger. “Hermione gave Ron some medicine, and Ron didn’t know how to take it, so he just chewed it,” Harry explained, unsure why he felt compelled to justify himself but driven by a gut feeling that he  to. “The pill was meant to be swallowed with water, but chewing it made it really bitter. That’s when I remembered I still had that chocolate—Poppy said it was really sweet.” “And then Ron ate it and said it was bitter, and you know the rest,” he finished. “Oh, so that’s how it was,” Veratia said, turning her face away unnaturally. “Sorry, Harry. I’m just a portrait, stuck in this wretched place for far too long, so sometimes I overreact a bit.” At the same time, she was inwardly seething. “Understandable,” Harry nodded emphatically. “If I had to stay in this… uh, place where even Fawkes wouldn’t bother to drop a turd for a hundred years, I’d probably go stir-crazy too. Fawkes is Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix, by the way.” “Yeah,” Veratia said, her dangerous glint fading as she turned back with a gentle smile. “Harry, you’re always so understanding.” Flattered by the praise, Harry scratched his head happily, brushing off the odd flicker he’d noticed in Veratia’s expression moments before. The three professors exchanged glances, each silently sighing. “Yeah, I think I’m pretty understanding too—” Harry began, then paused. “But I’m still a bit worried. What’s the deal with Poppy? Why would she say the chocolate’s sweet when it’s clearly bitter?” A hush fell over the Map Chamber. Veratia mulled it over for a moment before looking up. “Maybe it’s something to do with the Magical Magus. I remember reading in a book that attempting to use Animagus magic to transform into a magical creature can lead to unpredictable consequences… I don’t think it’s as simple as being unable to revert to human form. She’s definitely hiding something from you.” “Hiding something?” Harry asked, puzzled. “Hiding what?” “No idea,” Veratia replied succinctly. “I’d need to see her in person to figure out what’s going on with her.” “Fair enough,” Harry conceded, accepting the uncertainty. Then he suddenly recalled the icy voice he’d heard on the way to the Map Chamber and spoke up again. “Oh, one more thing.” “Go ahead,” Veratia nodded. “Lately, I keep hearing this cold voice,” Harry said, pausing to recall. “It’s like it’s coming from inside the walls—or the ceiling, maybe. It seems to move through them…” “Moving through the walls?” Veratia blinked. “Could it be a ghost? Usually, only ghosts can do that, right?” Harry shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not a ghost. I heard it once before in Professor Lockhart’s office, but he didn’t hear a thing…” Veratia frowned. “Are you sure he didn’t hear it?” “Impossible!” Harry insisted. “It was loud—there’s no way Professor Lockhart wouldn’t have heard it…” Then he remembered Filch’s cat and added, “Wait, last term I heard that voice too, and afterward, I found Filch’s cat petrified.” Another silence settled over the Map Chamber. “Harry,” Headmistress Fitzgerald spoke up, “are you saying you can hear this voice, but others around you can’t?” “Yes, Professor,” Harry nodded. “In that case, why don’t you tell us exactly what you heard,” Fitzgerald suggested. Harry scrunched up his face, trying to recall the moment. “I heard it say… something about killing, craving blood, purifying the school…” “Purifying the school?!” Veratia’s eyes widened as a realization hit her. “Harry, that voice—could it be the monster Slytherin bred?” “The monster Slytherin bred?” Harry and the professors echoed in unison. Harry felt a nagging sense of familiarity at the mention of a “monster,” but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. Seeing their confusion, Veratia explained, “Harry, remember when we went to Slytherin’s study? We found a letter left by Slytherin himself on the desk. If I recall correctly, the last part said…” She paused, then recited, “‘Next, I will put that creature into a slumbering state until someone who shares my vision awakens it. That chosen heir will undo the sins others have unwittingly committed. Those unworthy will only tarnish my legacy, and my heir will bear the duty of purifying Hogwarts.’” Her words hung in the air, plunging the chamber into silence once more. Professor Rookwood spoke up. “The question is, what exactly is this creature Slytherin left behind? Slytherin lived a thousand years ago—few creatures can survive that long, right?” “Harry,” Headmistress Fitzgerald said, seeming to piece something together, “think back to that voice you heard. Try to imitate it—what did it sound like?” Harry closed his eyes, straining to recall the chilling tone. “Ssslay you all… crave killing… purify the ssschool…” he hissed, his voice slithering like a venomous snake. “I’ve got it!” Veratia exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “You’re speaking Parseltongue, Harry! Remember, Ominis Gaunt once suspected you might have Gaunt blood because you used Parseltongue outside Slytherin’s study.” “Indeed, Slytherin himself was a Parselmouth,” Fitzgerald confirmed. “That settles it—the voice you’re hearing is in Parseltongue. And as far as I know, there are no Parselmouth ghosts at Hogwarts. So, in all likelihood, this voice comes from some kind of snake—perhaps the very creature mentioned in that letter.” “To my knowledge,” Professor Rookwood added, “there’s a type of snake whose natural lifespan is about nine hundred years. And if it’s been in a slumber, it could live even longer.” “You mean a basilisk?!” Professor Rackham frowned. “That’s bad news. Looking into a basilisk’s eyes can kill you outright. As for that unfortunate cat you mentioned, it was probably petrified by it. From what I understand, if you don’t meet the basilisk’s gaze directly—say, through a mirror or a reflection in water—it won’t kill you, but you’ll still be severely petrified.” “That’s it!” Harry clapped his hands together. “I get it now—Colin Creevey was petrified by the basilisk! When he was found, he was still holding his camera. He must’ve tried to photograph it, looking through the viewfinder instead of directly at its eyes. That’s why he was petrified, not killed!” “Well, that’s a stroke of luck,” he added with a grin. “I’ve been searching for traces of a basilisk for months—even considered following advice to hunt one down in Greece. I never imagined there’d be one right here in Hogwarts castle…” “Harry,” Veratia said gravely, her tone shifting to one of concern, “this isn’t something to take lightly. A basilisk is a 5X-level magical creature. I hope you won’t let your guard down—you need to be careful. And remember what Slytherin said? His heir would take up the task. That means the basilisk’s sudden appearance is likely due to a Slytherin descendant controlling it. You might not just be facing the basilisk, but also the Slytherin heir pulling its strings.” “Got it, Veratia,” Harry nodded quickly. “Once I’m out of here, I’ll ask Miss Farley, the Slytherin prefect, if there’s anyone named Gaunt in Slytherin House these days.” Veratia filed the name away in her mind. “Not just Gaunts—check for anyone whose mother’s side is Gaunt too,” Veratia added softly. “Even if the mother was a Gaunt, the Parseltongue ability could still pass down to the child.” “Noted, Veratia,” Harry said. “But…” Veratia hesitated, then continued, “I still suggest you seek Dumbledore’s help. He’s over a hundred years old and has been at Hogwarts for decades—he must know this castle inside and out. Even if he doesn’t know where the basilisk is, he’d be invaluable in subduing it and keeping you out of danger.” Harry almost refused, but seeing the worry in Veratia’s eyes and thinking of the threat looming over the school, he swallowed his objection. “Okay.” “Your memory’s incredible, though,” Harry added. “It’s been a hundred years, and you still remember that letter we saw in Slytherin’s study.” seaʀᴄh thё novёlF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. “My memory’s always been sharp, Harry,” Veratia said, her gaze softening. “Right, now that we’ve figured this out, I should get going,” Harry said to Veratia. “Time’s ticking—I need to warn Professor Dumbledore about the danger the school’s facing.” “Mhm.” As Harry left the Map Chamber, Professor Rackham suddenly spoke up. “Miss Grindelwald, why are you hiding the truth?” “What truth?” Veratia asked. “We all know you’re not just a portrait—you’re a soul form,” Rackham said. “And you can return to Slytherin’s study anytime. I’d wager you could recite that note backward by now, couldn’t you?” The plump Professor Rookwood adjusted his hat, his expression one of someone who’d long seen through everything. “Nobody likes a know-it-all, Charles,” Headmistress Fitzgerald quipped, her sharp tongue as cutting as ever. Rookwood’s chubby face twitched, tempted to retort, but he held back. He was good at verbal sparring, but debating Fitzgerald was a losing battle—she’d use her fists to teach him that “eloquence is silver, but silence is gold.” “Oh, some things are better kept to myself,” Veratia said with a light laugh. “Sharing pain only doubles it; sharing joy doubles the happiness. I’d rather share joy with Harry than drag him into my misery. I want him to feel happy when he’s with me, not weighed down by my burdens.” “But have you thought about what happens when Harry gathers all the materials and frees you from the study?” Rackham pressed. “When the portrait in the Map Chamber disappears, how will you explain that?” Veratia fell silent. “It’ll be fine,” she said eventually. “I’ll figure it out.” “You’d better,” Rookwood warned. “That bespectacled kid might seem soft, but he’s got plenty of wits about him.” “Don’t worry, Professor Rookwood,” Veratia said gently. “Thank you.” Rookwood waved it off dismissively. “And that Magical Magus,” Rackham added, “she’s probably your rival. Merlin’s beard, the three of us have watched you and Harry grow up—you’re like our own kids. I’d hate to see that Magus steal your thunder.” “Yeah, the Map Chamber can’t handle another one of your rampages,” Rookwood said, still shaken by the memory. “The Rookwood family castle’s already been razed by you—I’ve only got this place left to hang around in.” “Showing a little vulnerability to a man isn’t a bad thing, Veratia,” Fitzgerald chimed in with her blunt wisdom. “I’m not saying this as a professor, but as someone who’s been around the block. Some women are experts at playing the damsel, tugging at a man’s sympathy and guilt to win him over. You, though? You’re not good at that. You always show Harry your toughest side. That’s not great—not great at all.” --- Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon .com/windkaze