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HRHL# CHAPTER 173
🕑 Added 2025-05-06 00:10:15 +0000 UTCDumbledore, seasoned by countless battles and experiences, weathered a brief storm in his mind before calming his emotions.
A girl surnamed Grindelwald was nothing extraordinary. Bearing the name Grindelwald didn’t inherently make her evil—even if she were Gellert’s descendant, what of it?
Dumbledore was always inclined to give the young a chance.
His unease wasn’t truly about the surname “Grindelwald” and its association with “dark wizards,” but rather its connection to Gellert himself.
Even though their blood pact had been broken, facing a child who might be the descendant of his former lover (?) was hardly something anyone could approach with complete composure.
Still…
The name felt strikingly familiar, yet he couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it.
As the saying goes, it was on the tip of his tongue.
“You may need to visit Nurmengard, Albus,” Professor McGonagall said. “Just in case—I mean, just in case she’s connected to that man…”
“You’re right, Minerva,” Dumbledore nodded gently. “I’ll set out for Nurmengard in a few days. If she truly is his descendant, I imagine she’d reunite with him around Christmas.”
“Very well.”
With Dumbledore’s response, McGonagall gave a slight nod and turned to leave the headmaster’s office.
England, 1898.
“Here is Miss Veratia Elizabeth Emmaly Grindelwald’s authorization from the Austro-Hungarian Empire,” Grindelwald stood in the grand hall of Gringotts, presenting the document to the goblins. “I need to access Vault 313 to withdraw some funds.”
The goblin across the counter took the parchment, raised its head to scrutinize the magical signature, and, after verification, nodded. “Very well, Mr. Grindelwald. Follow me.”
They boarded a rickety cart that hurtled along the tracks at breakneck speed, arriving at the entrance to Vault 313.
“Here we are, Mr. Grindelwald,” the goblin clerk announced.
Grindelwald stood before the massive door, watching as the goblin unlocked it.
A dazzling sea of golden light greeted his eyes.
He instinctively swallowed hard…
Merlin’s beard, so many Galleons?
Well, since the message instructed me to retrieve the money, there must be other clues left in the vault, right?
Yet…
A wave of melancholy washed over him.
Foolishly chasing after that scar-headed fool—what was so special about him? Was that scar-head some kind of Veela?
The first thing Grindelwald did upon entering wasn’t to grab the money but to search for any trace his sister might have left behind.
But…
He scoured every inch of the vault and found nothing—no hint of his sister’s messages.
Grindelwald fell silent.
Since he was old enough to remember, his sister had always cared for him, raising him single-handedly.
They had only each other, relying on one another completely.
But ever since that scar-headed Veela appeared, everything changed. His sister’s eyes no longer held only her little Gellert; they now included that blasted Potter!
Curse that Potter!
And now, that woman had abandoned her little Gellert, sparing no effort to chase after that Potter—even disappearing without a trace!
Grindelwald suddenly felt betrayed, a lingering…
Hm? What’s this?
He looked down and spotted an exquisite little pocket watch.
Could it be a Time-Turner?
He bent down, clinging to a final shred of hope, and picked up the watch.
But when he opened it, he found a photograph of that scar-head inside, grinning at him as if mocking him for being a pitiful wretch abandoned by his sister.
Grindelwald snapped.
He roared in fury and hurled the pocket watch to the ground.
It shattered on impact, just like the fragile heart of his younger self.
He lifted his gaze to the mountain of Galleons once more.
This time, it wasn’t admiration for his sister’s financial prowess but seething hatred for that scar-headed Veela.
And, though he was loath to admit it, resentment toward his sister.
Galleons…
His sister had only instructed him to take ten thousand, but… looking at this vault, there had to be millions!
Ah… Albus had said we’d fight for a greater cause. These funds would surely be our starting capital…
He picked up an Extension-Charmed coin purse and began stuffing it with money.
“Mr. Grindelwald!” the goblin clerk shrieked. “Miss Grindelwald only authorized you to take ten thousand—”
“Imperio!” Grindelwald snapped his fingers.
He bent down, continuing to pack the Galleons, along with various antique treasures…
“Oh, this starry-moon robe is gorgeous…” Grindelwald noticed a robe hanging on the wall, adorned with stars and moons, seemingly enchanted with dust-repelling charms. “Hmph… no doubt my sister bought this for that wretched scar-headed Veela.”
Malice surged in his heart as he thought, Curse that scar-headed Veela—what is it about you that my sister loves so much? He stuffed the robe into the purse.
“Such a pity… my sister won’t see it,” he muttered softly, his expression tinged with desolation as he continued scooping up treasures.
But just as he’d packed away all the Galleons, he suddenly saw his sister sitting at the far end of the vault, looking down at him imperiously.
“My dear Gellert, is this what you’re looking for?”
In her hand, she dangled a silver coronet, a symbol of status, her expression playful.
“Sister?”
The coin purse slipped from Grindelwald’s hands and hit the ground with a thud.
The artifacts on either side suddenly came to life, transforming into two armored knights that pinned him to the ground, one on each side.
“You’re not dead?”
His sister said nothing, only gazing at him with an icy, detached stare, raising her wand to point at his face.
“Sister, spare me, spare me!”
He pleaded instinctively.
He knew that whenever he’d caused trouble in the past, begging his sister would soften her heart.
But what met him was a crimson curse.
“Ah!!”
Grindelwald jolted awake from the dream, his forehead drenched in cold sweat.
Lately, he’d been plagued by such nightmares, yet the Orb of Prophecy seemed shrouded in mist, offering no glimpse through the fog.
Could it be… his sister was truly coming back?
Grindelwald reached for the glass of water beside him and gulped it down.
He gasped, trying not to dwell on the scene from his dream.
Merlin, it was just too…
He wasn’t afraid of his sister punishing him, but that look in her eyes, as if he were a stranger, terrified him.
That said, he didn’t feel guilty. If anyone was in the wrong, he believed it was his sister.
--
The Flamel household wasn’t small by any means, easily accommodating the Scamander family, plus Harry and Veratia.
The Extension Charm, after all, was a privilege for a six-hundred-year-old alchemist… Besides, even if the French Ministry of Magic wanted to interfere, they couldn’t locate the Flamel residence, as it was protected by the Fidelius Charm.
When Harry woke in the morning, he noticed Veratia’s hair had suddenly turned silver-white again.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked, yawning. “Veratia, why’s your hair white again?”
“No idea,” Veratia said with a cheerful smile, giving his backside a playful pat. “Go wash up, and when you’re back, let your sister top up your magic.”
As Harry stepped into the bathroom, Perenelle’s voice sounded from behind Veratia.
“Well, Veratia?” Perenelle asked. “How’s that hair-dyeing charm working?”
“Thank you, Madame Flamel,” Veratia said with a polite curtsy. “It’s been incredibly useful…”
“But I wouldn’t recommend overusing it,” Perenelle said softly. “He’ll figure it out eventually.”
Veratia raised an eyebrow noncommittally, though she inwardly agreed with Perenelle.
Still…
She quite liked the color.
“When we return to Hogwarts, I’ll have Lucius nominate you as a governor,” Harry said to Poppy. “After all, it’s part of the goblins’ compensation. I’ve already cleared it with the Malfoys.”
“Well…” Poppy swallowed. “What does Veratia think? Do you agree?”
“It was my suggestion to Harry, Poppy,” Veratia said.
She spread jam on a slice of toast, carefully added a layer of butter, and layered it with bacon and sausage before handing the sandwich to Harry.
“Exactly,” Harry said, taking the lovingly made sandwich and biting into it. “We talked about this before, and you agreed, didn’t you? Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you become a Hogwarts governor.”
“Absolutely, Aunt Poppy,” Newt chimed in. “Besides Harry’s support, you’ve got Tina, Theseus, and me backing you.”
“Count me in too,” Nicolas Flamel said leisurely, not eating but sipping tea beside them. “Oh, by the way, Dumbledore invited us to stay at Hogwarts for the new term. I think Perenelle and I could use a change of scenery…”
“But Hogwarts doesn’t have electricity,” Harry pointed out.
Nicolas Flamel glanced at his computer, not turning his head. “Then I’ve decided we’ll stay in France for now—at least until my research is complete.”
The others in the room exchanged glances, knowing exactly what Nicolas meant.
Going to Hogwarts was clearly less appealing than staying home to play Civilization.
After breakfast, Harry and Veratia bid their farewells.
They planned to visit Nurmengard.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to come along?” Newt asked, concerned. “Even if Grindelwald wouldn’t harm his sister, facing Harry… I’m not so sure…”
“No need, thank you, Professor Scamander,” Veratia said with a gentle smile.
“However…” Nicolas Flamel interjected. “I wouldn’t recommend Apparating to Nurmengard. After Gellert founded the Wizarding Party, he renovated Nurmengard extensively, altering the landscape and even relocating the fortress into the mountains.”
“That’s possible?” Veratia asked, astonished.
Nicolas Flamel didn’t respond directly. Instead, he pulled out a map and marked it with his wand.
“Here.”
“Got it,” Harry said, taking the map. “So how do we get there?”
“I have an idea,” Veratia said, grabbing Harry’s arm. “Remember Hermione’s dad taking us in his car? We could drive there.”
“But we don’t have a car, and I don’t know how to drive…”
Before Harry could finish, Veratia dragged him outside.
Ten minutes later, they were seated in the back of a luxurious sedan, Veratia looking smugly at Harry.
“This is your plan?” Harry said, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Using the Imperius Curse on a Muggle?”
Veratia didn’t respond, merely lounging in the backseat with her eyes closed, resting.
“Isn’t this a bit wrong?” Harry whispered. “He’s just an innocent bystander…”
“If he doesn’t drive us to Vienna, five minutes from now, that man will kill him and steal everything he has,” Veratia said, pointing to a masked figure ahead.
Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh… you’re so kind, Veratia.”
“But even if we get to Austria, we still need to find a way to Nurmengard,” Harry said, looking at Veratia.
She paused, then nodded. “You’re right. Nurmengard is likely under a Muggle-Repelling Charm. Muggles won’t be able to find the fortress… If only this car could fly.”
“Fly?” Harry suddenly recalled the Weasleys’ car. “Mr. Weasley has a flying car. If we used that, getting to Nurmengard would be easy.”
Before he could say more, Newt knocked on the car window.
“I have a carriage,” he said succinctly. “A Thestral-drawn carriage from Hogwarts. I can take you to Nurmengard.”
Hearing Newt’s offer, Harry opened the car door and stepped out.
After getting out, Veratia lifted the Imperius Curse from the Muggle driver and erased a small portion of his memory.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
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