Chapter 193

~ 85 Advanced Chapters Available now on my Patreon! Bravery comes at a cost, and even a Slytherin like Draco was no exception. Professor Snape ruthlessly deducted one hundred points from Slytherin and personally penned a letter to Lucius, which was promptly delivered to Malfoy Manor. Summoning the parents—a teacher’s most practiced move. It must be said, if Slytherin couldn’t come out on top, its students certainly weren’t about to let Gryffindor bask in glory either. Thus, the matter of Ron and Draco playing wizard chess came to Professor Snape’s attention, thanks to the “accidental” leak by a certain unnamed Slytherin with a slicked-back hairstyle. It was the angriest Ron had ever seen Snape. In the end… Gryffindor lost one hundred and fifty points—one hundred for Ron, and fifty more because Harry was standing nearby watching. “He’s completely lost it, Harry,” Ron muttered, head bowed. The Gryffindors expressed regret over the point deduction, but since the reason was widely accepted, Ron wasn’t collectively scorned by his housemates. Instead, he was once again treated like a hero. Through entirely reasonable, justified, and rule-abiding means, Ron had managed to make a Slytherin student yell, “Old Bat, I’m going to wash your greasy hair!” during Potions class. This wasn’t just mildly satisfying—it was downright cathartic. The Gryffindors even joked they’d trade five years without the House Cup for such a legendary moment. After all, which Gryffindor hadn’t been singled out for Snape’s “special attention” at some point? Of course, wizarding professors didn’t bother with anything like professional ethics. They had no figures like “Kensius” or “Mensius” to serve as moral exemplars for teachers. At least in the wizarding world, no one ever brought this up with Snape. To Ron’s relief, Snape didn’t inform his parents about the incident. Truth be told, even if he had told the Weasleys, Mr. Weasley might have scolded Ron but secretly praised him behind closed doors. Following Miss Poppy Sweeting being hailed as “our queen,” Ron became Gryffindor’s king—for he never gave the Old Bat the slightest respect. The Monday after the “Old Bat Hair-Washing Incident,” the antidote for powerful petrification was finally brewed. Colin, who had spent most of the term lying in the hospital wing, finally stirred awake. Upon learning he’d missed the Gryffindor-Slytherin wizard chess showdown, he pounded his chest in frustration, lamenting why he hadn’t been there to capture such prime news. “So, how exactly did you get petrified?” Fred asked curiously. “Don’t tell me it’s like they said—Harry found you so annoying he petrified you himself?” “No way,” Colin shook his head vigorously. “I was trying to photograph the school’s decorations, but all I remember is seeing two huge yellow eyes. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here.” “On the less pleasant side, Filch’s cat woke up too,” George sighed mournfully. “That cat is such a nuisance, you know? It always finds us, no matter what. I don’t know what Filch feeds that thing.” “We should figure out what cats are afraid of,” Fred suggested. “Think aboutencję System: it—if we find something that scares cats, we can avoid Filch’s blasted feline.” “I don’t think cats are that smart,” Ron chimed in. “If they knew what fear was, they wouldn’t follow Filch around harassing us.” The group dove into a lively discussion about how to outsmart Filch’s cat, completely ignoring the fact that Filch was sitting nearby, his face as dark as a storm cloud, glaring at them. In the eyes of young witches and wizards, Filch was no saint. On Wednesday, Hermione received her new pet, a gift from her father purchased in the Muggle world. She had initially worried that this pet might not be allowed in the dorms, but after consulting with Professor McGonagall, she was granted special permission to keep it—though McGonagall provided a soundproof pet crate to avoid disturbing Hermione’s dormmates. At lunch, Hermione brought her pet to the Great Hall to show it off. “This is a protected animal from Australia!” Hermione announced cheerfully, introducing it to everyone. The Gryffindors crowded around, eagerly inspecting and commenting on Hermione’s new companion. “What were you thinking, getting a bird as a pet?” Ron chuckled, reaching out to touch the bird’s glossy black beak. “It’s pretty good-looking, though. But for some reason, it feels… familiar.” Now that Ron mentioned it, everyone started to feel the same way. Even Harry couldn’t shake the sense that the bird reminded him of something. “What’s its name?” Ron asked. “Jack,” Hermione replied with a grin, stroking the bird’s feathers. Jack, feeling his owner’s affection, tilted his head back and let out two loud squawks. “Blimey, this Aussie’s got quite a voice!” Ron said, covering his ears. “I meant what kind of bird it is, not its name.” “Oh!” Hermione realized her mistake and explained, “It’s a Major Mitchell’s cockatoo. Look at this crest…” She reached out and scratched the back of Jack’s head. Jack responded by fanning out his white crest. “This is a white-crested variety, so the crest is white,” Hermione said, smiling as she showed it off. “I’ve always loved these parrots. Aside from a bit of feather dust, they don’t have many downsides.” “Feather dust? What’s that?” Seamus asked curiously. Hermione didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned down and blew gently on Jack’s feathers. A cloud of white dust billowed out, catching Seamus square in the face. “Cough, cough, cough…” Seamus fanned the air. “You’re right, that’s definitely a downside.” From the moment Hermione got Jack, she took him everywhere in the castle. Since spring hadn’t yet arrived, she didn’t dare take him outside—Jack was a tropical bird and couldn’t handle the cold. Newt noticed Hermione’s new pet and, during dinner, made a point to sit at the Gryffindor table with his plate. “I’ve seen this type of parrot before. Some wizards have kept them in the past,” Newt remarked. “Yeah, an Aussie bird, right? Pretty magical, eh, Professor?” Ron said with a grin. “It’s not actually from Australia. This species is native to Indonesia,” Newt corrected, ever the magical creatures expert. “But it’s not a big deal. It’s not one of the magical creatures we study, so I won’t deduct points, Mr. Weasley.” “Thanks, Professor Scamander,” Ron said quietly. “Though Hermione told me it was Australian. She’s Muggle-born and doesn’t even know where Muggle birds come from…” “I don’t know everything, Ronald!” Hermione shot back, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t you ‘Know-It-All’? That’s what Snape calls you, and I’ve always thought it suits you,” Ron teased. Before he could finish, Hermione elbowed him in the arm. Ron dramatically clutched his arm and fell backward with an exaggerated groan. “Chimera…” Newt muttered under his breath. “What was that?” Hermione asked, not catching what he said. Newt awkwardly looked away. A chimera—a bloodthirsty, violent magical creature from Greece with a lion’s head, a goat’s body, and a dragon’s tail—had clearly come to mind. He was mentally linking Hermione’s fiery temper to the beast and silently mourning Ron’s future. “You should feed him some specialized supplements, Miss Granger,” Newt said, pulling a small vial from his pocket and handing it to her. “This is a tonic for parrots. You probably bought him from a Muggle pet shop, right? Look at the poor thing… he’s got stress marks. See those black edges on his feathers? Those are stress marks, usually from poor nutrition or a stressful environment.” “Poor thing,” Hermione said, gently ruffling Jack’s head. Jack, unbothered, focused entirely on pecking at the oily seeds in front of him. “Maybe don’t pet him while he’s eating?” Ron suggested. “I know some animals get protective over food. With a beak that big, a bite would hurt, wouldn’t it?” “Parrots generally don’t guard their food. They guard their nests and their owners,” Newt explained. “But typically, parrots see their owners as mates…” “So, it’s a male bird?” Ron asked, suddenly on edge. He was getting protective now. “No, she’s a lovely lady,” Newt replied. Ron relaxed, though he wasn’t sure why he’d been so tense in the first place. “But I still feel like it looks like something,” Ron said, propping his chin on his hand, brow furrowed in thought. Newt tilted his head. “Now that you mention it, I feel it too…” “What are you lot talking about?” Veratia’s voice suddenly cut in. She had appeared beside Harry without anyone noticing. “When did she get here?” Ron asked, startled. “Blimey, Harry, when did Miss Grindelwald show up? How did I not notice?” “Because you were staring at the parrot,” Veratia said with a laugh, tapping the table. A house-elf promptly delivered her a plate of Viennese-style dinner. “Oh,” Ron nodded, then turned to her. “Miss Grindelwald, don’t you think this parrot looks familiar?” “Familiar?” Veratia glanced at the parrot and, in a flash of realization, exclaimed, “Oh! I know! It looks like… it looks like Gellert, doesn’t it, Professor Scamander?” Veratia’s comment was like a bolt of clarity. Everyone suddenly saw it. “So that’s it… Gellert,” Hermione said, glancing down at the parrot and then at Gellert, who was chatting with Dumbledore at the staff table. She bit back a laugh with great effort. Newt froze for a moment, then exchanged a glance with Harry. Only the two of them knew Gellert’s true identity, and only they knew that Veratia was Gellert’s older sister. Somehow, the rumor spread like wildfire. Almost daily, students flocked to Hermione’s side to catch a glimpse of the “mini Gellert.” Jack, oblivious to the attention, often went wild, scampering across the table and shrieking “Aah, aah, aah!” This only made the students laugh harder, sneaking glances at Gellert, who was utterly baffled by their amusement. Finally, one day, a few students couldn’t resist. They approached Gellert while he was tending to a Niffler in Newt’s tent. “Gellert,” one student asked, “do you have feather dust?” “Feather dust?” Gellert blinked, confused. “Why would I have feather dust?” “Well, it’s just…” The student gestured vaguely, trying to explain. After much fumbling, Gellert finally understood. He shot the student a look. “Sorry, I don’t have dandruff!” “Oh, do you take supplements, then?” another student piped up. “I heard if parrots don’t get supplements, they can become malnourished and develop stress marks…” Gellert felt a surge of indignation rising in his chest. “I don’t take that stuff, and I don’t have stress marks,” he said, fuming but forcing a smile, mindful of his promise to Albus. The students giggled and scampered out of Newt’s tent, leaving a bewildered Gellert standing there. “What in the world is going on?” he asked, turning to Newt. Newt awkwardly averted his gaze. “Yes, what indeed?” Gellert’s instincts told him something was off. That evening, as Ron headed to the Great Hall, Gellert called out to him. “Mr. Weasley,” Gellert said, trying to keep his expression friendly, “I have a few questions for you.” “Oh, sure, Gellert,” Ron replied, not minding the assistant who’d always been kind to him. “What’s up?” “Some students came to my tent today asking about feather dust and supplements. Do you…?” Before he could finish, Ron burst out laughing. “Oh, that!” Ron guffawed for a good while until Gellert’s face darkened. Then he explained, “It’s Hermione’s parrot. Miss Grindelwald said it looks just like you…” “Take me to see it,” Gellert said, forcing a polite smile. “You know I’m quite fond of magical creatures.” Ron, unsuspecting, thought a side-by-side comparison sounded fun and led Gellert to the Gryffindor table. When Gellert laid eyes on the white-crested Major Mitchell’s cockatoo standing before Hermione, he froze. Then, in a flash, the distinctive white streak in his hair sprang upright. At that exact moment, Jack noticed Gellert’s raised hair. Seeing the challenge, Jack flared his crest in response. The moment Jack’s crest fanned out, the resemblance between them became undeniable… --- Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon .com/windkaze