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HRHL# CHAPTER 165
🕑 Added 2025-04-27 19:39:02 +0000 UTCA week passed in the blink of an eye, and Harry welcomed his Christmas holiday.
During this time, Harry wasn’t idle. In his spare moments, he began preparing Christmas gifts for everyone. For Snape, he chose a snake skin he’d found in the Chamber of Secrets. For Dumbledore, a jar of Cockroach Clusters. For Poppy Sweeting, Harry carefully selected some berries that unicorns loved, sending them to her at the Alchemy Hut via owl in advance.
According to Poppy, she’d recently reunited with her nephew, Newt Scamander, and his brother, Theseus Scamander. She mentioned that Newt was considering applying for the post of Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts next term. Dumbledore had brought this up with Mr. Scamander more than once, as the current professor was overwhelmed and eager to resign. But Scamander had repeatedly declined, citing a busy schedule. This time, though, for the sake of his aunt, he’d taken on the responsibility.
Since he’s Poppy’s nephew, I might have some sway, Harry thought. So, he wrote a letter to Poppy, asking her to persuade Scamander to let Hagrid serve as his assistant—or rather, his teaching aide. Harry hadn’t forgotten Hagrid’s dreams. Beyond raising dragons, his big, lovable friend craved recognition. Starting as Scamander’s aide seemed perfect—especially since Scamander was Hagrid’s idol. This, then, was Harry’s Christmas gift to Hagrid.
As for Ron, Harry prepared a collection of chess manuals written by legendary Wizard’s Chess players. For Hermione, a pair of two-way mirrors so she could talk to her parents anytime, anywhere. Neville’s gift was a pile of rare herb seeds—though whether this was a gift or a burden for him was hard to say. For Seamus, Harry chose advanced texts on blasting curses, hoping to help him refine his explosive spellwork.
After preparing the gifts, Harry arranged for Hogwarts’ owls to deliver them. Meanwhile, he took advantage of the holiday to visit Knockturn Alley. His first stop was the door of the dark witch Farina.
“Who’s there?” Farina’s impatient voice rang out.
She opened the door and froze when she saw Harry.
“Long time no see, my employee,” Harry said.
The Imperius Curse had long worn off, but Farina’s paralyzing fear of Harry kept her from fleeing—especially since he’d placed a tracking charm on her. No matter where she ran, Harry could find her.
“You…” Farina hesitated.
“Oh, I need a little favor,” Harry said. “So, shall I make the first move, or will you?”
“I’ll do it,” Farina said, resigned.
Harry opened his wallet and hissed in Parseltongue to the creature inside, “Alfonso, I’m sending someone down. Be careful—keep your eyes closed. If you kill her, no more meat for you!”
“Yes, Master!” Alfonso hissed back.
Farina leapt aside in terror the moment Harry spoke. Bloody hell, who’s the dark wizard here—you or me? How the hell do you speak Parseltongue?! Everyone knew Parseltongue was a hallmark of dark wizards.
“Come on,” Harry said, holding the wallet open.
Farina closed her eyes and jumped in. She’d expected a solid floor but landed on something cold and scaly.
“Hiss… hiss… (Hello there),” Alfonso said, eyes still closed, sensing her warmth and nudging his face closer.
In the pitch-blackness, Farina felt an icy voice slither into her ear. Mustering her courage, she raised her wand. “Lumos!”
The light revealed her mistake—and she regretted it instantly. Why did I do that?! Before her was a serpent’s head the size of a dragon’s, its eyes closed, tongue flickering toward her.
“Ahh!” Farina let out a piercing scream.
Harry ignored her reaction. Alfonso had promised not to harm her, so it wasn’t a problem. He peered into Farina’s house and noticed a boy tied up, sporting heavy dark circles under his eyes. The boy looked about fifteen or sixteen, strikingly handsome despite his panda-like appearance.
“Hey, wake up,” Harry said, patting the boy’s face.
The boy stirred, blurting out, “I’m done for today! Please, let me go, Sister Farina!”
“You’re free,” Harry said. “Farina’s been apprehended for illegal confinement.”
“Cool!” The boy grinned. “Are you, like, a wizard cop? That’s awesome. I thought I was a goner! I’m Chris, Chris Wellesley.”
Harry untied him and said, “Sorry, I’m not an Auror—just a Hogwarts student.”
“Really?” Chris looked disappointed.
“Don’t be,” Harry said. “If I were an Auror, you’d have your memory wiped. That’s the only outcome for Muggles like you who learn about the wizarding world.”
“That’s not cool,” Chris said, smacking his lips. “The magical world’s actually pretty great. You know, Farina fed me loads of potions. I used to be frail, but now—check this out!” He flexed his arm, striking a bodybuilder’s pose.
“Last time I was here, the boy she was ‘caring for’ was dead,” Harry said bluntly. “A few more days, and you might’ve been too.”
“That’s definitely not cool,” Chris said, shaking his head. “So, Mr. Wizard, can you get me home?”
Harry grabbed his arm and Apparated them to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.
“Where’s your home?” he asked.
Chris, dizzy from the Apparition, bent over and retched twice before wiping his mouth. “Whoa, is that magic? So cool!”
“Be wary of dark magic,” Harry warned. “It kills painlessly and fast.”
“That’s even cooler!” Chris’s eyes lit up. “Man, with wizard powers this strong, why do we bow to the Americans? They’ve turned us into their missile base!”
“Because America has wizards too, Mr. Wellesley,” Harry said, exasperated. He hadn’t expected Chris to be a nationalist.
“Fair enough,” Chris said, giving Harry his address. “So, you gonna zap me home with that teleport spell again?”
“No.” Harry flagged down a taxi. “Get in. You’ve been gone for days—your family must be worried.”
“Leave me your contact info!” Chris said eagerly. “I owe you for saving my life.”
“No need,” Harry said, pushing him into the cab. “I doubt you can help me, Mr. Wellesley. Just go.”
With that, Harry turned and walked into the Leaky Cauldron.
“Hey!” Chris looked up, stunned. Harry had been right there, but now he was gone—without a spell or a trace. The taxi driver honked twice.
“You getting in or what, kid?”
“Coming,” Chris said, reluctantly climbing in.
Back at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry headed to Diagon Alley. At Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, he ordered several sets of women’s clothing.
“You must understand, dear,” Madam Malkin said after Harry gave her the measurements, “a waist that tiny doesn’t belong to a seventeen-year-old girl—”
“I’m certain, Madam,” Harry sighed. “Please make them to the measurements I provided.”
With the customer’s insistence, Madam Malkin complied, though she warned him repeatedly not to complain if the sizes were off—she’d told him so.
Harry tucked the clothes away and planned to browse elsewhere, perhaps to buy food for Alfonso. That snake ate a lot, but Harry didn’t mind. The Basilisk wasn’t unlikeable—it was almost childlike, a blank slate with simple thoughts. If used wisely, it could be a valuable ally.
Everything ready, Harry returned to Hogwarts and headed straight to the Map Chamber.
“Veratia,” Harry said, pushing open the door and holding up the clothes to her portrait. “I’ve got your outfits ready.”
“Really?” Veratia smiled. “You’re too kind, Harry—remembering my measurements and all.”
“Madam Malkin swore your waist couldn’t be that small,” Harry said, shaking his head. “But I insisted, and she made them.”
“It’s been a century,” Veratia said nonchalantly. “That figure’s out of fashion now. Every generation has its own tastes.”
“Even we don’t quite get it,” Professor Rookwood interjected.
Headmistress Fitzgerald shot him a glare. “Can you not speak, Charles, or will it kill you?”
“It’d drive me mad,” Rookwood said earnestly.
“Anything else I need to know?” Harry asked. “Like where to place those materials?”
“On the desk in the study, there’s a disc with slots shaped for each material,” Veratia replied. “You’ll see it right in front of me. Just place them in the matching spots.”
“Then I’m off to Slytherin’s study,” Harry said. “Wait for my good news, Veratia. Even after we free your body, I’ll come back to visit.”
“Good,” Veratia said, her eyes crinkling with a smile.
After Harry left, Headmistress Fitzgerald asked, “Veratia, why not tell him the truth? Like I said, showing a bit of vulnerability could spark his protective instincts.”
“No, Professor,” Veratia said wistfully. “You don’t know Harry. He’s sensitive, cautious, and… doubts himself. He’s not good at expressing love or recognizing it. That’s why I have to support him, understand him, be someone he can rely on. I can’t show weakness in front of him.”
“That Potter kid’s bloody lucky,” Rookwood said, rolling his eyes. “But that sounds exhausting for you.”
“Exhausting?” Veratia said lightly. “Compared to enduring a century of solitude in the Map Chamber, this is nothing, Professor Rookwood.”
“What if Harry returns and finds your portrait gone?” Fitzgerald asked suddenly.
“I’ll say I’ve absorbed the memories,” Veratia said cheerfully. “He’s a bit scatterbrained—he won’t notice anything off.”
She added, “Thank you, Professors, for keeping me company all these years. I think it’s time to say goodbye.”
“We’ll see each other again,” Rookwood said. “Won’t you visit sometime?”
“True,” Veratia nodded. She stepped out of her portrait and, with light steps, drifted out of Map Chamber.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
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