The squabble among the house-elves barely drew anyone's attention. After all, it was just a bit of bickering, not escalating into anything serious like a fight.
Ron's focus was entirely captured by the large, golden-brown chicken leg on the table, its glistening, perfectly roasted surface practically begging to be eaten. For someone like Ron—a self-proclaimed tenth-level connoisseur of chicken legs—those delectable morsels held no resistance whatsoever.
As for the massive turkey on the table? Who in their right mind would eat turkey for no reason? It was tough, tasteless, and clearly just there for show, adding a touch of festive flair.
On a smaller table nearby sat gingerbread cookies and a pitcher of eggnog. Even as minors, Hermione and Ron were allowed a sip of eggnog during the holiday season. The Christmas tree sparkled with an array of small, colorful gifts dangling from its branches, though most were purely decorative. Sirius Black hadn't intended to give them away—they just looked nice hanging there, adding to the Christmas spirit.
Even wizards, influenced by Muggle traditions, had begun celebrating this holiday. For once, The Daily Prophet didn't publish some scandalous exposé about the Black family's hidden history. Instead, it was filled with advertisements for various shops, like Zonko's Joke Shop promotions and Honeydukes' new product announcements.
"I honestly think Zonko's is going downhill," Ron said, pointing at the newspaper. "They're just coasting on their old stock, no innovation at all. Ever since I was a kid, it's been the same stuff in that shop, unchanged for years."
"You could say they've been selling the same products since we were students," Sirius chimed in, lounging with one leg crossed over the other. "I could recite their inventory backward."
"Exactly," Hermione said, her hands folded over the book resting on her lap. "But the wizarding world still doesn't have a joke shop that can compete with them. That's probably why they don't bother innovating. Oh, and their stuff isn't cheap either. I remember Lavender Brown complaining about it to me once."
"That's why I think your brothers could make something of themselves in that area," Sirius said with a grin. "Didn't they invent those clever sweets? What were they called—'Skiving Snackboxes'? Brilliant little things. Eat one, and you're instantly spewing blood from your nose. Works like a charm. Plenty of students tried using them to skip class, but I saw right through it."
"All they ever think about is pranks," Ron said, throwing his hands up. "They're obsessed with it. They'd rather run a joke shop than become distinguished wizards."
"Not everyone dreams of being a distinguished wizard, Ron," Veratia spoke up. "Society is made up of all sorts of people. That's just how it is. Some have to do other things. Besides, being a great wizard isn't the only path in life. Of course, that doesn't mean they'll necessarily live well either."
"True enough," Ron said, nodding hesitantly. "But my mum always says students should act like students. She wants George and Fred to be like Bill or Charlie—graduate properly, get a steady job, and live a quiet, stable life."
"That kind of life might suit Percy, but definitely not Fred or George. Trust me," Harry said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. "Those two have rebellion in their bones. I can't see them following your mum's plan and living some predictable, well-behaved life."
"You're right. I think so too," Ron agreed with a nod.
Outside, Kreacher entered carrying a stack of newspapers. "The latest papers, Mistress," he said, handing them to Veratia.
Veratia took the papers but set them aside without immediately reading them. Noticing Kreacher lingering, looking as though he wanted to speak but hesitated, Veratia asked, "What's wrong, Kreacher? Is there something you want to tell me?"
"Well… Kreacher saw something in the papers just now," he mumbled. "Not on purpose, of course. It's about the young master…"
The "young master" Kreacher referred to was, of course, the white-haired Gellert Grindelwald. Sirius, not catching on at first, thought it might be some younger member of the Grindelwald family.
"Gellert? What about him?" Veratia asked, picking up the newspaper and scanning it carefully.
Sirius let out a surprised "Whoa!" before lowering his voice. "I thought it was some random Grindelwald kid. I didn't realize it was that Gellert Grindelwald. Merlin's beard!"
"What's so surprising about that?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow. "With Veratia practically acting as his elder, no matter how old Mr. Grindelwald gets, he's still the 'young master' of the family—especially since he's never married."
At that, Dumbledore suddenly became very interested in the chandelier above, studying its intricate patterns with intense focus. Sirius glanced at him subtly, well aware of the little "anecdotes" between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Knowing about it didn't mean he understood it, though. Sure, he and James were close, but he'd never thought of that kind of closeness. Sirius Black was, and would remain, a staunchly straight man. Weren't soft, charming witches just perfect? Aside from their occasional forwardness, what flaws could they possibly have?
However, Walburga Black's portrait suddenly turned to glare at Sirius. As his mother, she might not know her son all that well, but she was aware of certain things about Dumbledore. It wasn't exactly a secret in their time—she was, after all, Phineas Black's granddaughter and privy to such whispered tales.
Her thoughts drifted to James. No, this wouldn't do. She needed to get this reckless son of hers married off, find a nice girl—anything to ensure the Black family line didn't die out. With a plan forming, Walburga decided she'd have a word with Sirius's godson, Harry, and urge him to convince Sirius to find a girlfriend and settle down instead of gallivanting around as a bachelor.
Meanwhile, Veratia set down the newspaper, her brow furrowed with concern.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his voice laced with worry.
"Nothing," Veratia said, shaking her head. "Just some news about Gellert. It's not a big deal—he's apparently left Nurmengard for a bit of a 'stroll.' The German authorities seem to be making a fuss about it, though. A bit overblown, if you ask me."
A stroll from Nurmengard? Sirius and Lupin exchanged a glance. Wasn't Gellert Grindelwald a prisoner there, defeated by Dumbledore and locked away? Could a high-security prisoner like him just walk out for a leisurely jaunt? If Sirius had to guess, the Germans were probably calling it an "escape."
Wisely, Sirius kept his mouth shut. Best not to bring that up with his future daughter-in-law. Instead, he changed the subject. "Speaking of which, what are your plans after graduation, Miss Grindelwald? If I'm not mistaken, you're in your seventh year now. You'll be graduating in six months."
At his words, everyone turned to Veratia. She'd spoken so casually about Gellert's "stroll" that no one had thought much of it. They were far more curious about what she planned to do next.
"My plans?" Veratia thought for a moment, then smiled. "I'm going to the Austrian Ministry of Magic. I'll start from the ground up."
"The Ministry?" Everyone exchanged looks. Ron, never one for tact, scratched his head and asked, "If I'm not mistaken, your last name is Grindelwald. Do you think the Austrian Ministry will hire you?"
"Why not?" Veratia replied lightly. "It's just a name. They don't have any reason to turn me away, do they?"
"Fair point," Ron said, chuckling in relief.
Harry hadn't expected Veratia to return to Austria. He'd assumed she'd stay in Britain. Still, it didn't bother him much—wizards weren't like Muggles. If they wanted to meet, they could do so anytime.
Cassandra narrowed her eyes. She hadn't anticipated that Veratia, with all her advantages, would choose to return to Austria. Was it sheer confidence, or did she value her career above all else? Cassandra quickly dismissed the latter. If career were everything to Veratia, she wouldn't have sealed herself in Slytherin's study. Instead, the world might have seen a true Dark Lord—not just Gellert Grindelwald, but Gellert with Veratia by his side, her mastery of spells surpassing his and her methods even more ruthless. Their combined power would have been exponentially greater.
Dumbledore seemed to be pondering the same thing, stroking his beard absentmindedly. He was quietly grateful that Harry was there to keep Veratia in check. Otherwise, the world might very well have been ruled by the Grindelwalds.
"So, for the next six months, I plan to continue studying at a Muggle university," Veratia said, ruffling Harry's hair. "Let's be honest—Muggles have their strengths, and there's much wizards can learn from them. The wizarding world's education system has its flaws. It would be better if, before entering Hogwarts at eleven, we could attend Muggle primary schools like Muggle-born students do."
"Like Hermione," Ron said with a grimace. "Look at her—she's practically a know-it-all. She knows everything. I hate to admit it, but Snape wasn't entirely wrong about that, even if he wasn't being kind. Plus, Hermione's got a knack for Arithmancy."
"Everyone knows that," Harry said to Ron. "But you've got to realize not every Muggle-born is like Hermione."
"I'll take your suggestions under serious consideration," Dumbledore said from the side. "The wizarding world does need reform. But as you all know, convincing Fudge to make changes in this climate is no easy task."
"No rush. We'll take it one step at a time," Harry said carelessly. "We've got plenty of time."
"But Muggles won't give us much time, Harry," Veratia said, her tone heavy with concern. "Their progress is frighteningly fast. From what I've learned about them, if Muggles discovered wizards, their first instinct wouldn't be fear—it would be to capture a few of us and figure out why we have magic. Never underestimate Muggle greed."
"No… that can't be right, can it?" Hermione said hesitantly, though even she didn't sound convinced.
Veratia snorted. "Maybe Britain doesn't have the means, but a country like America? They'd would be so eager to investigate or exploit something—however undesirable or absurd it might be."
"You know, my dad says the same thing," Hermione said with a wry smile. "Looks like you and my dad have some common ground, Veratia."
Veratia considered it and nodded. Hermione's father, after all, was a man who read banned books. It wasn't surprising he'd have strong opinions about America.
The conversation about post-graduation plans continued for a while until it was time for dinner. Everyone took their seats, celebrating Sirius's first Christmas since his return. Lupin's life had improved noticeably since Sirius came back—no more patched-up clothes, at least.
"Snape's probably still in his dungeon, brewing some foul-smelling potion," Sirius said as he settled in, launching into a critique. "I was generous enough to invite him to join us for Christmas dinner with Harry, but he hasn't even bothered to reply. Should I say his heart's smaller than a Hinkypunk's eye?"
"Professor Snape's got a tiny heart, alright," Ron said, seizing the chance to vent. "You have no idea how petty he can be."
Sirius glanced at Ron's red hair, then at Hermione, and finally at Harry's green eyes. You three, he thought. It's not like Snape's targeting you for no reason. Red hair, a brilliant Muggle-born witch, and those green eyes? You're basically a walking reminder of Lily.
Snape's grudge against them wasn't entirely baseless.
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