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HRHL# CHAPTER 183
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 00:42:16 +0000 UTCAmid the noisy chatter of her classmates, Veratia rose from Harry’s side and walked over to Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat by its pointed tip, and the old hat squirmed a couple of times in protest.
“Thank you, Professor,” Veratia said, performing a graceful curtsy.
Professor McGonagall had a favorable impression of the blonde girl. Given Gellert Grindelwald’s reputation, she had initially imagined Veratia as a brooding, ambitious, perhaps even volatile young woman. To her surprise, Veratia was an elegant and composed girl, far from the image she had conjured.
“You’re welcome, Miss Grindelwald,” McGonagall replied, her expression softening. “Please take a seat. The Sorting Hat will now place you in the house best suited for you.”
Veratia settled onto the stool. This wasn’t her first Sorting, but she was still filled with anticipation.
She couldn’t wait to see how the Sorting Hat would react once it was placed on her head.
Without delay, Professor McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat and set it atop Veratia’s head.
“Ah…”
The Sorting Hat let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Veratia asked silently in her mind.
“Have you lot planned this or something? One after another, coming to torment an old hat?” the Sorting Hat grumbled. “Last year it was that Potter boy, this year it’s you, Grindelwald. I shudder to think who’ll show up next year, sitting here expecting me to Sort them!”
“I can’t say it won’t happen,” Veratia replied. “But no matter who comes to Hogwarts, you’re bound to Sort them according to the rules, aren’t you?”
“You’ve got a point there, Miss Grindelwald,” the Sorting Hat chuckled. “It’s genuinely delightful to see an old friend. I only hope Phineas doesn’t have too extreme a reaction when he learns you’re back—especially since you’re here with that Potter boy.”
“I still don’t quite understand,” Veratia said. “Why does Phineas admire Harry so much yet still target him?”
“Because he’s a Gryffindor who’s won the hearts of two pure-blood Slytherin girls,” the Sorting Hat said with a cheeky whistle. “Remember the Black family motto? Toujours Pur—‘Always Pure.’”
It quickly added, “But Phineas is quite fond of Harry now. He’s realized Harry isn’t some Muggle-born troublemaker.”
“That’s not the kind of thinking a headmaster should have,” Veratia remarked. “It’s no wonder Phineas isn’t exactly well-liked.”
“Still, I maintain that every Hogwarts headmaster excels in at least one aspect,” the Sorting Hat said with a chuckle.
Veratia nodded in acknowledgment. “Tell me about Dumbledore,” she said. “I’m quite curious about him.”
“Curious in what way?” the Sorting Hat’s interest was piqued. “Oh, I remember now—that troublemaker expelled from Durmstrang was your brother, wasn’t he? Albus once told me that story… Personally, I think you can trust Hogwarts’ headmaster, even if he did lock up your brother for a time.”
“And the other professors? Like that greasy-haired one who screams Slytherin at first glance?” Veratia asked, referring to Snape.
She had a viviad impression of him. If Snape had been even remotely decent, he wouldn’t have driven Lily into the arms of that big-headed James Potter.
“You mean Severus, don’t you?” the Sorting Hat chuckled. “A boy with a complicated childhood, now the Head of Slytherin House. I don’t know much more than that, but I can tell you he’s loyal to Dumbledore.”
“That’s a rather ambiguous way to put it,” Veratia commented.
“Oh-ho!” the Sorting Hat exclaimed. “We’ve chatted quite a bit, so how about you drop that Occlumency for a moment? You’re not like Harry, at least. He doesn’t hide his thoughts from an old hat.”
“If he knew Occlumency, you wouldn’t be able to read his mind either,” Veratia retorted.
The Sorting Hat paused, as if struck by a revelation. “Fair enough. If you’re not willing, I won’t press. Now… I don’t believe anyone would betray their house. You belong in Slytherin once more.”
“Yes,” Veratia said, a spark igniting in her eyes. “I should reform Slytherin. What do you think?”
The Sorting Hat didn’t respond directly. Instead, it bellowed its decision for all to hear.
“No doubt about it! SLYTHERIN!”
The Great Hall fell silent for a moment, but Harry quickly began clapping, preventing the ceremony from growing awkward.
“Blimey, she’s a Slytherin,” Ron whispered. “I thought she’d be a Gryffindor. I mean, she’s your sister…”
Hermione rolled her eyes. Merlin’s beard, Ronald, your emotional intelligence…
Couldn’t he see there was more to it?
“Everyone makes their own choices, Ron,” Harry said with a smile, patting Ron’s shoulder. “I think—”
Before he could finish, Veratia returned to Harry’s side.
She had already changed into Slytherin robes but chose to sit at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by a sea of red and gold.
Just like their first Sorting.
“Blimey, aren’t you going back to the Slytherin table?” Ron asked in a low voice, only to be tugged back by Hermione.
“The school doesn’t dictate where students sit, Mr. Weasley,” Veratia said lightly.
She didn’t have a bad impression of Ron. After all, his great-grandfather Gareth had given her plenty of help back in the day.
A few Slytherins at their table shot her displeased looks, but since they were in the Great Hall, they held their tongues.
Miss Farley, however, gave Harry a meaningful glance before turning her gaze to Veratia’s back.
With a wave of Dumbledore’s hands, the tables of every house were instantly laden with a dazzling array of delicious dishes.
Ron wasted no time, grabbing a chicken leg in each hand and digging in with gusto.
“What, rewarding yourself for winning two chess matches with two drumsticks?” Seamus teased from the side.
Ron turned, rolling his eyes, but said nothing, continuing his assault on the chicken legs.
After the feast, Veratia bid Harry farewell and followed Miss Farley to the Slytherin common room.
After much deliberation, Miss Farley decided to assign Veratia to her own dormitory. As a prefect, her authority was… well, limited, but she did have access to a private room.
This was, of course, the work of unseen influences.
“Hello, Miss Grindelwald,” Farley said, extending her hand. “I’m Gemma Farley, Slytherin’s prefect.”
“Hello, Miss Farley,” Veratia replied with a reserved smile, taking a seat across from her.
Soon, Lucy appeared, bustling about to make Veratia’s bed.
“Is that your house-elf?” Miss Farley asked with interest. “Merlin’s beard, I’ve never heard of Hogwarts allowing house-elves to serve students in the castle.”
“Perhaps I’m a bit of an exception,” Veratia said with a casual smile.
“Then… are you, as some say, a descendant of that… er, Mr. Grindelwald?” Miss Farley asked tentatively.
“No, I’m not,” Veratia replied, picking up a glass of water.
At her answer, Miss Farley wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Deep down, she realized she had secretly hoped Veratia was that Grindelwald’s heir.
“Are you British, then?” Miss Farley pressed.
“I’m German,” Veratia said, claiming the identity she had always embraced.
Not Austrian, not Hungarian, not even strictly German—but German.
“Oh, you’re from Germany,” Miss Farley said, nodding. “I’ve been there a few times with my father. The pork knuckles and sausages are divine…”
Veratia didn’t respond, instead gazing gently at Miss Farley with eyes that seemed to pierce through her.
“Mistress,” Lucy’s voice interrupted from beside them. “Lucy has unpacked your luggage, and your books are sorted on the shelves as you requested.”
“Thank you, Lucy,” Veratia said warmly.
“Mistress… Mistress is always so kind to Lucy…” Lucy’s large eyes blinked, brimming with tears. “Oh, Mistress…”
“It’s nothing, Lucy,” Veratia said with a smile. “Perhaps you should head home to rest. It’s getting late, and I’d like to chat with Miss Farley a bit longer.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Lucy said, wiping her tears. With a pop, she vanished.
Miss Farley’s eyes held a trace of envy. She, too, wished she could have a house-elf at school.
But she knew the rules. Without the approval of the headmaster and the board of governors, bringing a house-elf to Hogwarts was unthinkable.
In her mind, she concluded that Miss Grindelwald must be that Grindelwald’s descendant. Why else would she have such privileges?
Perhaps she was simply avoiding trouble by denying it.
“After all these questions, let’s talk about you, Miss Farley,” Veratia said, folding her hands in her lap.
“Ask away, Miss Grindelwald,” Farley replied.
“When did Slytherin become like this?” Veratia asked softly.
“Become like this?” Miss Farley blinked, confused. “Hasn’t Slytherin always been this way? Why say it’s changed?”
“The Slytherin I remember was cunning, resourceful, and adaptable,” Veratia said. “Not this current lot, clinging blindly to so-called ‘pure-blood’ ideals while abandoning every other quality.”
Her gaze drifted to the window.
“But pure-blood supremacy is a core Slytherin value,” Miss Farley countered.
“I won’t deny that,” Veratia said quietly. “It’s one of Slytherin’s principles, but only one. We’re ambitious, we value honor, we’re strategic, we strive for victory. But now? Beyond hurling ‘Mudblood’ at a few Muggle-born witches and wizards, what do they do?”
Miss Farley opened her mouth to argue but found herself at a loss for words.
The truth, after all, cuts like a knife.
“Of course, it’s not entirely your fault,” Veratia continued softly. “Generations of Slytherins, poisoned by the Dark Lord’s ideology, have let go of the house’s finer qualities. That’s a flaw built up over time. I think it’s time to set things right.”
Miss Farley suddenly recalled how Veratia had sat with Harry after the Sorting.
“Do you care about what other houses think of us?” she asked cautiously.
She assumed Harry must have said something about Slytherin to spark these ideas.
“It’s my own judgment,” Veratia said with a faint smile. “And yours, too, of yourselves. A person can be as humble as dust, but they must never be as twisted as a worm.”
“I understand, Miss Grindelwald,” Miss Farley said, nodding but not entirely convinced.
In her view, the actions of Slytherins outside her circle had little to do with her.
“Now, one more question,” Veratia said softly. “You seem quite familiar with Harry. I’d like to hear about your story with him.”
At that, Miss Farley felt a chill run down her spine.
It was the unmistakable sensation of being caught.
In a flash, she formulated a response.
She recounted everything, from her duel with Harry to their exchange of Christmas gifts, sparing no detail.
As she spoke, Veratia’s expression shifted from amused to calm.
“I see,” Veratia said thoughtfully. “Well, it’s getting late. We should probably get some sleep, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Miss Grindelwald,” Miss Farley agreed immediately.
To everyone’s surprise, for several days afterward, Miss Grindelwald continued to dine at the Gryffindor table.
The Gryffindors didn’t mind. A Slytherin joining them for meals or study wasn’t a big deal, especially a new transfer student with no grudges against them.
But the Slytherins saw it differently.
Even if her surname was Grindelwald, and she might be that Grindelwald’s descendant, it was unacceptable for her to cozy up to Gryffindors—laughing and chatting with that know-it-all Mudblood, no less.
What, was there no one in Slytherin worth her time?
Still, the weight of the Grindelwald name kept them at bay. No one wanted to be the first to act.
Days passed, and they observed her closely. In classes, Miss Grindelwald’s performance was average, her mastery of charms merely passable.
Just as they began to grow restless, a rumor surfaced from an unknown source.
Miss Grindelwald, it seemed, was not a descendant of that Grindelwald. It was merely a coincidence of names.
Upon learning this “truth,” a group of sixth- and seventh-year Slytherins banded together, plotting to teach this so-called Grindelwald a lesson that very night.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
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