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HRHL# CHAPTER 175
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 02:55:35 +0000 UTCA hamster?
No matter how Gellert racked his brains, he couldn* couldn’t fathom why, in his sister’s eyes, he had become a hamster.
If anyone else had said such a thing, the Gellert Grindelwald brand gas stove would have already ignited in a blaze of fury.
But alas, the one who uttered those words was his sister.
Even after learning that his sister had lost her magic, Gellert’s target of attack had only been Harry, not her.
Blood ties, after all, held a certain sway. Even if his sister was still sixteen in spirit, she was, undeniably, his elder sibling.
“Veratia,” Harry ventured cautiously from the side, “maybe don’t go there…”
“Hah, Scarhead Veela!” Gellert, sprawled on the floor, glared at him. “You think I need your crocodile tears and fake pleas?”
“This won’t kill him, Veratia,” Harry added matter-of-factly.
He considered upping the ante on Gellert—perhaps by recounting his romantic history with the Headmaster?
But dragging poor, innocent Professor Dumbledore into this mess made Harry’s conscience twinge.
To be fair, Dumbledore had been rather decent to him…
“I think he’s more like a Niffler,” Harry piped up, delivering the killing blow. “Think about it—obsessed with shiny things, emptying your vault of gold and silver. What other creature has such a peculiar hobby besides a Niffler?”
At the mention of the word, Gellert’s face turned positively green.
A Niffler?!
It was common knowledge that Nifflers were his least favorite creatures.
Back at Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, it was Scamander’s blasted Niffler that had stolen his and Alb ’s… their Blood Pact!
He shot a venomous look upward. If glares could kill, Harry would’ve been riddled with holes by now.
Harry raised a hand and gave him a cheeky wave.
With your sister keeping you in check, what’s there to fear?
“You’re right, Harry,” Veratia said, lifting her chin. “To think the Grindelwald family produced such a Niffler of a boy. You’ve brought shame upon our entire lineage!”
With that, she looked down at her brother, still sprawled on the floor, and let out a cold huff. “Gellert, you should know… I could tolerate you taking the gold from my vault, so long as you achieved something worthwhile. Even if you emptied it entirely, so what?”
“But what I cannot abide is your failure. That, more than your thieving, is what I find utterly unacceptable!”
“Oh, really, sister?” Gellert’s heterochromatic eyes flickered with defiance. “And where were you? I seem to recall you promising to stand by my side, no matter what. So, when the entire world turned against me, where were you?”
Veratia froze.
She raised her wand, pulled a chair from the side with a flick, and sat down with impeccable poise.
“Tell me, then,” she said. “Why did you fail?”
Having learned her lesson from earlier, Veratia decided she shouldn’t rush to trust her Niffler of a brother. Better to hear the full story before deciding whether guilt was warranted.
“Why did I fail?” Gellert’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Yes, why indeed… Do you know, sister, what it feels like to hold a lofty ideal, to offer everything for the sake of wizardkind, only to be betrayed by those same kin—those content to scurry like rats in the sewers?”
Veratia raised an eyebrow.
“Wasn’t that your vision too, sister?” Gellert continued, his voice softening. “I remember when you came home for Christmas. You told me, more than once, how you wished wizards could stop hiding, could walk freely in the sunlight.”
Veratia’s mind drifted back. That was after fifteen years as a Squib, when she’d finally grasped magic for the first time.
She had been so enamored with everything magical. Yet, during the holidays, she was told—due to certain laws—she wasn’t allowed to use magic at home.
The crushing disparity left her reeling.
I gained magic, became a wizard, all to be free from constraints.
Now that I have magic, you’re telling me I’m forbidden to use it?
“You despised the Statute of Secrecy,” Gellert pressed on, “hated everything that shackled us…”
At this, he slowly rose to his feet, straightening his back, his expression twisting with fervor as he gestured passionately, much like he had when addressing his followers.
“That law forces us to live like rats skulking in the sewers!”
“That law demands we hide our true selves!”
“That law commands those it governs to cower in fear, lest our identities be exposed!”
“I ask you, sister—no, I ask all of you—who does this law protect? Us? Or them? I merely refused to bow to it any longer. Tell me, am I wrong for that?”
“You’re not wrong, Gell,” Veratia conceded, agreeing with his stance. “The world is.”
“Exactly,” Gellert said, his ferocious demeanor suddenly dissipating. “But those mediocre, complacent fools are content with the status quo. They’d rather slay a warrior like me, who fought for their sake, just so they can continue wallowing in the sewers…”
“But that’s only part of it, isn’t it?” Veratia said, her hands delicately crossed over her lap. “Your vision, I mean. Ordinary people always cling to some form of hypocritical morality. If your goal was merely to dismantle the Statute of Secrecy, they wouldn’t have opposed you so fiercely. Unless I’m mistaken… your true aim was to make wizards the rulers, with Muggles as our servants and slaves. Am I right?”
Gellert froze.
As the saying goes, no one knows a brother better than his sister. Now he understood why Veratia always held such overwhelming dominance over him—it wasn’t just a matter of blood.
“I know you too well, Gell,” Veratia said softly.
“Do you, now? I never took you for such a conservative, dear sister,” Gellert sneered.
“You should know,” Veratia continued, her tone light but pointed, “that wizards are born among Muggles too. If you seek to enslave all Muggles, you’d inevitably push those Muggle-born wizards to the opposing side. And how many Muggles are there? A billion? Two billion?”
“About five billion, Veratia,” Harry interjected from the side. He’d just learned that from Hermione.
“Five billion,” Veratia mused. “What a staggering number. Even if only one in ten thousand Muggles produces a wizard, that’s… half a million wizards. Would you really push all of them to stand against you?”
“That’s irrelevant, sister,” Gellert said, his eyes narrowing. “The ones we need to rally are the elite, the finest among wizardkind. As for the mediocre masses, I have no need for their mundane minds to comprehend the grandeur of my ideals.”
Veratia let out a soft sigh. She finally understood why Gellert had failed.
At that point in time, it had been the perfect moment to overturn the Statute of Secrecy.
But Gellert’s extreme ideology ensured he’d never gain the support of the broader wizarding community.
“You know, Gell,” Veratia said, looking at him with regret, “you could have succeeded. But your arrogance led to your downfall…”
“Perhaps, sister,” Gellert replied with a sly smile, “but without your help, my failure was inevitable.”
Veratia sighed again.
Despite her resentment over Gellert emptying her vault and his catastrophic failure, the truth remained—she had abandoned him.
If I’d been by his side, would things have turned out differently? she wondered, her heart heavy.
“I’m sorry, Gell,” she said. “Please forgive me for leaving without a word.”
“It’s all in the past, sister,” Gellert replied, struggling to keep the corners of his mouth from curling smugly. “Welcome home.”
Veratia lifted her head, taking in the room’s furnishings.
“It seems, as a defeated man, you’re treated rather well,” she remarked softly. “But I know you, Gell. You’re not one to sit quietly… All these years, you’ve never left this place. Is it because of some magical binding? I recall a spell called the Unbreakable Vow…”
“No, sister,” Gellert said, shaking his head with a smile. “No spell binds me. I’ve chosen to remain imprisoned in Nurmengard.”
Harry suddenly grimaced, turning away to avoid looking at Gellert.
Linking him with the white-bearded Headmaster always felt… well, a bit…
Eye-searing.
“And your descendants?” Veratia asked again. “Don’t you plan to introduce them to me? I am your sister, after all.”
“I’m sorry, sister, but I have no descendants,” Gellert said, lowering his head.
Veratia sighed. “Too engrossed in your grand vision to care about those around you?”
Gellert said nothing, his gaze fixed on the patterns of the carpet beneath him.
“If no spell binds you, then come with me,” Veratia said, standing up with a faint smile. “I’m your sister. Family should stay together.”
“No, sister. I can’t leave,” Gellert said quietly.
“Why not?” Veratia’s eyes narrowed.
“Because I made a promise,” Gellert said, lifting his head. “A promise I keep because I was defeated—because I lost a wizard’s duel.”
“Just because Dumbledore beat you?” Veratia’s voice turned icy. “You don’t need to say it. I’ll settle that score with this Dumbledore myself…”
Harry’s head snapped up. He sensed something big was coming.
As the former face-rubber of the Little Sunflower Parrot, Harry felt a moment of silent mourning was in order.
“No, sister, please don’t,” Gellert said, sniffing and shaking his head. “I lost to him willingly… It was my choice.”
“Even now, you’re defending Dumbledore?” Veratia’s gaze turned dangerous. “What, is he your friend? Is that why you’re protecting him?”
The room fell into a heavy silence.
“Oh, my dear sister,” Gellert said, a mysterious smile spreading across his face. “Guess.”
“Guess?” Veratia blinked, caught off guard.
Harry said nothing, sitting quietly to the side, sipping his tea with fervor.
Veratia turned to Harry, who was drowning himself in tea, and sensed something was amiss.
“You were close friends?” she ventured. “Let me guess… For you to defend him like this, could he have been the first to share your so-called grand vision?”
“You’re getting warmer, sister,” Gellert said, still cryptic. “But not quite…”
“Could it be…?”
She turned to Harry again, her eyes searching.
Harry’s face was a mask of indescribable emotion as he downed cup after cup of tea.
Veratia suddenly recalled something she’d seen at the mall a few days ago—a peculiar British trend.
Oh, Mr. Granger had called it the latest… British fashion.
She’d never forget the psychological jolt of seeing two men holding hands, their eyes brimming with affection.
As an old-school, reactionary imperialist from Vienna, Veratia was, at heart, deeply conservative.
Wait…
Gell… he couldn’t possibly… with Dumbledore…
“You don’t mean…” Veratia’s trembling hand pointed at Gellert. “You and Dumbledore, you two…”
Gellert said nothing, only winking mysteriously at his sister.
“Was zur Hölle?!” (What the hell?!)
Veratia felt as though something had violently struck her mind. She instinctively let slip a coarse phrase in her native tongue.
Shaking, she stammered, “You and Dumbledore… you… Verdammt scheiße! (Damn shit!) Is that why you have no descendants?!”
“As you can see, dear sister,” Gellert said with an enigmatic smile, “sometimes, geniuses are simply drawn to one another…”
Veratia drew her wand.
Its tip began to flicker with an unsteady green glow.
“Veratia!” Harry lunged forward, snatching the wand from her grasp.
“I’m open-minded enough, Harry,” Veratia said, turning to him with a look of sorrow. “I’ve tried… I just… I don’t know… Merlin’s beard, I thought this was just a simple wizard’s duel, a falling-out between friends. I never imagined it was… Was soll der scheiße!”
“Er, what does that last bit mean?” Harry asked cautiously, unfamiliar with German.
“It’s a load of rubbish!” Veratia spat, her composure crumbling.
Harry could tell Veratia was livid—furious to the point of abandoning all pretense of decorum.
For someone who prided herself on being a lady, Veratia had always maintained impeccable poise.
But all that shattered the moment she heard her brother had come out.
Of course, it wasn’t just the coming out that Veratia found unbearable. The real kicker was that the two had parted ways.
Former lovers facing off in a wizard’s duel, one imprisoning the other in a tower…
“So, you’re telling me,” Veratia said, looking at her dear brother with a mix of disbelief and exasperation, “you and a man… you two… fine, whatever. But you broke up and fell out?”
“The ways of the world are fickle, sister,” Gellert said nonchalantly. “I think you should be more open-minded…”
“Open-minded about what?!”
Veratia cut him off, her voice brimming with fury.
Her hair began to ripple as if caught in a windless storm, her wizarding robes billowing ominously.
Violet flames ignited around her.
“Open-minded about my precious brother being deceived by some wild man?! Ha…
Dumbledore, you think Gell will mourn for you?!”
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
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