After the Christmas feast, it was time for dessert.
Considering how sweet the desserts were, Veratia ordered Dumbledore to take only a small portion.
Even with just that small portion, Dumbledore, holding a tiny spoon, savored it slowly and meticulously, taking a full hour to finish.
It was clear he truly loved sweets.
After dessert, the traditional Christmas carol session began.
Veratia sat behind the piano, an ancient instrument marked by the passage of time but well-maintained, its appearance far from dilapidated.
"This must have some history," Hermione remarked, running her hand over the piano's visibly weathered surface.
"This is a nineteenth-century piano," Sirius said. "They say it was bought by my great-grandfather—Phineas's father—from a Pole named Frédéric François Chopin."
"Chopin?!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice rising in shock. "You mean the Polish musical genius, Chopin?!"
"Maybe," Sirius replied with a casual raise of his brow. "I'm not too sure about the details."
"Oh my goodness, Chopin…" Hermione clutched her chest. "Merlin, Jesus, and the Almighty above, I can't believe I'm alive to see a piano Chopin used…"
"What's so special about that?" Veratia, who had certainly heard of Chopin, spoke with a hint of Austrian pride. "I've seen Johann Strauss the Younger in person," she said with a bright smile. "But that doesn't stop us from singing a Christmas carol now—come on, I'll start us off…"
"What are we singing?" Hermione asked, curiosity piqued.
Veratia thought for a moment before suggesting, "How about Silent Night? I'll lead."
Silent Night?
Before anyone could recall the song, Veratia began in a heavenly voice.
"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht…"
"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht…"
"Alles schläft, einsam wacht…"
At that point, she noticed everyone staring at her.
"What's wrong?" Veratia asked, then realized she was singing in German. "Sorry," she said with a laugh, "I forgot that was in German. But I know the English version too—do you all remember it?"
"I heard it when I was little," Hermione nodded eagerly. "I've heard it on TV loads of times, but I definitely don't know the German version…"
"How about…" Poppy Sweating floated to Veratia's side, "since we're all wizards and don't really sing Muggle songs, why don't you, Veratia, perform a solo?"
Veratia agreed with a gracious nod. "Alright, then I'll sing this Christmas carol for you all."
With that, her slender fingers began to dance rhythmically across the keys, and she sang the famous Silent Night.
Silent Night is a widely beloved Christmas carol, with lyrics by Joseph Mohr and music by Franz Gruber, completed on December 24, 1818, and first performed by a choir in St. Nicholas Church in Austria. In 1819, the melody was spread across Europe by organ builder Karl Mauracher and became a global favorite thereafter.
Veratia's voice was captivating, untrained yet naturally gifted. Some people could practice their whole lives and never sing well, but others, like her, were born with the voice of a diva.
When the song ended, the room snapped out of its trance and erupted in applause.
"That was beautiful," Cassandra said, clapping lightly. "Maybe you should sing for us more often, don't you think, Potter?"
Harry cleared his throat, unsure how to respond. Cassandra was being sly, setting an obvious trap—one wrong answer could lead to a barrage of teasing.
"What's the song called?" Poppy asked curiously.
"Silent Night," Veratia answered with a warm smile. "There's a little story behind it, too."
"What story?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"In the 1860s, this song spread not only across Europe, Australia, and North America but also to most of South America and even parts of Asia," Veratia explained, pausing briefly. "My uncle took a great interest in this song, which he said 'brought honor to the empire.' He sent the imperial minister of music to investigate its original composer, and many people claimed to be its creator."
"But in the end, they never figured out who the true composer was," Veratia sighed. "My aunt was quite invested in it, too, but sadly, the truth was never found."
"I see…" Hermione nodded, soaking in the new knowledge.
But then…
Aunt? Uncle? Sending an imperial minister of music?
Hermione's history knowledge kicked in. She knew that Austria at the time was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, a dual monarchy.
Tentatively, she asked, "Your aunt and uncle… who are they?"
"Oh," Veratia said casually, "you've probably heard of my aunt. Um… Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie. Does that name ring a bell?"
"No…" Hermione shook her head. "But it sounds vaguely familiar."
Harry suddenly chimed in, "You mean Princess Sisi—that name you must know."
"Oh! Princess Sisi!" Hermione gasped. "If you'd said that name, I'd have known right away! I've seen so many things about her in old films—my parents love watching movies about her!"
"I never would've guessed she's your aunt…" Hermione continued, wide-eyed. "If my parents knew you were her niece, they'd go absolutely mad!"
"She's not just her niece," Harry added with a shrug. "Veratia was her lady-in-waiting before she was fifteen, since she was a Squib back then."
"I see…" Hermione said, nodding in understanding.
"Alright, time for the next song," Veratia interrupted, steering the conversation. "Jingle Bells—you've all heard that one, right? Sure, it's an American song, but it's catchy enough."
What she didn't mention was that, as a child, when Gellert missed his parents during Christmas, Veratia would sing Jingle Bells to comfort him.
Her graceful fingers struck the keys again, producing a cheerful melody.
"Ready—sing!" she commanded.
"Jingle bells, jingle bells…"
"Jingle all the way…"
"Oh, what fun it is to ride…"
"In a one-horse open sleigh, hey!"
That evening, Veratia led them through several more songs before reluctantly calling it a night.
After the singing, the Christmas celebration drew to a close.
"Here's to our friendship, forever and always," Hermione said, raising her glass of eggnog with a smile.
"Forever and always!" Sirius echoed, lifting his own glass.
Everyone raised their glasses, clinking them together.
"Cheers!"
Everyone seemed delighted—except Snape. He wasn't unhappy, per se; it was just that his perpetually stern expression could've made him a cold-faced king in another era.
Once the caroling ended, Snape swiftly returned to his quarters.
Back in his bedroom, Harry continued unwrapping his gifts. He'd just opened one from Hagrid—a vial containing an ounce of Acromantula venom.
Where Hagrid got it, Harry had no clue. Scratching his head, he wondered if, once school resumed, he could visit the Acromantula nest in the Forbidden Forest and "borrow" some venom. Acromantula venom was incredibly expensive—rumored to be pricier than gold by weight. As a Hogwarts student, Harry figured the spiders might do him a favor.
A knock came at the door.
"Who's there?"
He turned to see Cassandra, dressed in a silver-green robe, looking both languid and haughty.
"Cassandra?"
Harry hadn't expected her to show up at his room at this hour. What was she up to?
"I forgot to give you your gift," Cassandra said, striding toward him. She glanced at the pile of presents beside him, smirked, and huffed. "Looks like you still haven't grown up, Potter. Still like a kid, excited for Christmas gifts, huh?"
"Aren't you just as excited for my gift?" Harry shot back.
The room was lit only by a desk lamp, so he couldn't quite make out Cassandra's expression. But his gut told him her cheeks were suddenly a bit warmer than usual.
"Enough nonsense," Cassandra said, pulling a gift from somewhere and handing it to him. "Here's your Christmas present. I hope you're not still waiting for Santa Claus to show up—I told you ages ago he doesn't exist."
Here we go again.
Harry was instantly reminded of their first year, a nearly identical scene…
"You're really looking forward to this Santa Claus, aren't you?" little Cassandra had said, looking down at a pitiful Harry crouched on the floor. "Poor little Muggle, fooled into believing some so-called Santa Claus will bring you gifts?"
"Santa Claus is real!" Harry had protested.
"Oh, is he?" Cassandra's lips curled into a smirk. "Well, if you close your eyes, maybe that silly Santa will show up."
To her surprise, Harry actually closed his eyes.
This idiot…
Cassandra couldn't help but smile. She placed the gift she'd prepared in front of him.
"Alright, open your eyes," she said. "Looks like that silly Santa came and left you a present."
"He's real," Harry insisted.
Standing up, he caught Cassandra off guard by pulling her into a hug.
"Thank you, Cassandra," he said. "I know that gift in first year was from you… I just, uh, didn't dare say it back then."
Cassandra's gaze softened, though her tone remained haughty. "Oh, really? I thought you only had eyes for new friends, ignoring the old ones who cry."
"You cried?" Harry let go, staring at her in shock.
He genuinely hadn't known—no, he couldn't have imagined it, not in a million years.
But that comment struck a nerve. Cassandra stomped on his foot, hard, and stormed out, fuming.
Harry, clutching his foot, rolled on the bed in pain. She hadn't held back—it felt like his foot was about to fall off.
No doubt, the hug was something Sirius had taught him. It worked, sure, but Sirius hadn't warned him about running his mouth.
So… yeah, it backfired.
Harry sighed, thinking he'd need to ask Sirius for more advice. Things had been going so well, and Cassandra had even…
As he mulled it over, Veratia suddenly entered his room.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, smiling brightly.
Harry rubbed his foot, grimacing. "Nothing, just stubbed my toe on the table."
"Be more careful," Veratia said with concern. "That's not a pleasant feeling."
She walked over and sat beside him. Just as Harry was about to say something, Veratia paused, frowning, and sniffed him.
"You smell like Cassandra," she said with certainty.
"Oh," Harry said casually, "yeah, Cassandra was just here. She gave me a gift."
"What is it?" Veratia asked, more curious about the gift than Cassandra's visit.
Harry handed her the present. Veratia, pleased with his openness, didn't take it but said lightly, "It's from Cassandra, so you should open it. I'm curious to see what she got you."
Harry nodded and unwrapped the gift, only to pause at its contents.
It was a photo from the summer after second year, taken in Vienna. Cassandra sat in the center, flanked by a poised Veratia, then a lady-in-waiting, and a shy Harry.
"It's the three of us," Veratia said, her expression softening as she recalled how Cassandra and Harry had stood up for her back then.
What she didn't know was that the gift wasn't entirely Cassandra's idea. Her father, Septimus Malfoy, had painstakingly guided her—advising her on when to deliver it, what to say—because, as any loving parent would, he worried endlessly about his wayward daughter. If only Cassandra could tone down her sharp tongue, he wouldn't still be fretting over her from beyond the grave.
"It's great," Harry said, grinning at the photo. "I'm going to treasure this… Look, we were so young back then."
"You're still young. We all are," Veratia corrected him, her tone serious.
Harry didn't mind and picked up another gift. "Since you're here, help me unwrap some of these. There's a ton! I just opened Hagrid's—it's an ounce of Acromantula venom and a copy of The Monster Book of Monsters. It's over there… Oh, and Lady Death sent me a gift, too."
"Lady Death?!" Veratia's eyes widened. She hadn't expected her to send Harry a gift.
"Yeah," Harry said, picking up a mysterious black box from the pile. "This is it."
"What is it?" Veratia asked, intrigued.
"No idea," Harry shrugged, then noticed a small note. "There's a note here, let me read it…"
He unfolded the paper, which read:
Harry,
Merry Christmas.
This is a Desire Gem. As its name suggests, it can fulfill your deepest desire.
Use it wisely.
—Lady Death
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