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HRHL# Chapter 123: Veratia—My Money! {1}
🕑 Added 2025-03-16 20:30:55 +0000 UTCThe consequence of the Weasley twins' actions was that all the fireworks they had painstakingly stockpiled, along with a whole collection of fun items purchased from Zonko’s Joke Shop, were mercilessly confiscated by Mrs. Weasley.
For a moment, Harry felt as if the twins had lost all color.
But they quickly bounced back, especially since this year, Lee Jordan had somehow managed to catch a giant centipede and was proudly parading it around in a glass jar.
“Last year, he caught a sackful of spiders, and this year, it’s a giant centipede,” Ron peeked into the corridor, his face twitching at the sight of the nearly one-meter-long creature. “I really don’t dare to imagine what he’ll catch next year when school starts—maybe a giant scorpion?”
“If he somehow gets his hands on a prehistoric giant scorpion, I wouldn’t even be surprised.” Hermione’s face was pale, her prominent front teeth barely concealed. “Where did he even find such a huge centipede?”
“I heard he bought it from some Southeast Asian wizard,” Ron answered. “You know, the bugs over there tend to be ridiculously huge, and their wizards have a thing for breeding all sorts of weird creatures.”
“I only heard they like eating centipedes,” Hermione said with lingering fear. “My god, just looking at that thing makes my skin crawl. I can’t even begin to imagine eating one.”
Ron, however, was unimpressed. He waved a hand dismissively. “So what? The ingredients we use in potion-making are way scarier than a giant centipede, and you still manage to drink the potions just fine.”
Hermione was momentarily at a loss for words but, after a moment of thought, had to admit he had a point.
After sitting in the compartment for a little while, the train rumbled to life and began its journey.
The three of them enjoyed a rare moment of peace in their compartment, undisturbed by others.
This time, Ron’s mother hadn’t packed him any sandwiches, since Harry had already prepared plenty of snacks in advance to share with his friends on the train.
By lunchtime, Harry took out all the food he had bought and piled it onto the seats.
Even Scabbers was enjoying himself, burying his head in a biscuit tin and gnawing away noisily.
“Your rat eats a lot,” Hermione suddenly commented. “That’s an entire box of biscuits, and he still hasn’t finished?”
“Oh, he’s not actually eating—he’s just playing.” Ron shook the box, and Scabbers tumbled out along with a scattering of biscuit crumbs.
Harry wasn’t paying any attention to them. He was still trying to figure out what he was going to say when he saw Veratia that evening.
What was he supposed to say? ‘Oh, Veratia, all your money has been taken by your brother. Also—your brother got a boyfriend. And that boyfriend just so happened to be our headmaster. And they broke up...’
Yeah. Harry could hardly begin to imagine the level of fury Veratia would unleash.
“Harry? Harry?” Hermione waved a hand in front of his face. “What are you thinking about? You look awful. Are you feeling unwell?”
“No.” Harry forced a smile and grabbed a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean. “It’s nothing.”
He held the jelly bean up to the sunlight, inspected it, and popped it into his mouth.
“Cabbage flavor.”
“I can tell something’s on your mind, Harry,” Ron said with concern. “If it’s something you can talk about, you should. It always helps to share with someone.”
“He’s right, Harry,” Hermione agreed.
“Hmm...” Harry thought about it and decided they had a point. So he turned to Hermione. “Hermione, let me ask you a question.”
“Go ahead.” Hermione took a bite of her cauldron cake.
“Let’s say—hypothetically—you had a younger brother.” Harry carefully tried to phrase it as gently as possible. “You had a few million pounds saved in the bank, but you had to leave the country for a while, so you told your brother he could withdraw a little money when needed, with a maximum limit of a hundred thousand. But then he goes and withdraws all of it, leaving you with only ten pence...”
At this point, Harry snuck a glance at Hermione and saw that her small fists were clenched tight.
“And then, your brother falls in love—with a man. But something happened, and that boyfriend ended up reporting him and getting him thrown into prison.”
Harry took a deep breath and asked, “If it were you, how would you deal with your brother when you got back?”
“Brother?” Hermione let out a low, cold chuckle. “I don’t have a brother... I only have a mortal enemy!”
With that, she suddenly turned her head and glared daggers at Ron.
Ron, who had just been swallowing a cookie, hiccupped in fright at her glare.
“W-why are you looking at me? I’m not your brother!”
Just then, the compartment door slid open.
“Well, what are you all up to?”
The twins’ relaxed voices rang out as they strolled in and plopped down beside Harry.
“Hermione, please don’t bully our little Ronniekins—”
“By the way, I’ve got a question for you.” Hermione sat up straight. “Let’s say—hypothetically—you had two million Galleons saved up. One day, you decided to go traveling, so you entrusted the key to your vault to dear little Ronniekins, telling him he could withdraw up to a hundred thousand Galleons...”
“Impossible!” Fred and George said in unison. “We wouldn’t let him take a single Knut!”
“Fred! George!” Ron protested angrily. “I’m your real brother!”
“Then we wouldn’t let him take even a single Sickle!” the twins chorused again.
“Wait, hold on! This is just a hypothetical!” Hermione smacked the seat. “If Ronniekins spent all two million Galleons and then got into a relationship—with a man—only to have that boyfriend get him sent to Azkaban... what would you do?”
The twins exchanged a glance and, once again, spoke in perfect sync: “Sorry, Hermione, but we don’t have a brother—”
“Here, have this, Ronniekins.” Fred pulled a toffee from his pocket and shoved it into Ron’s hand before he and George sauntered away, laughing.
“I advise you not to eat anything they give you. Anything.” Hermione warned.
A moment later, Ginny entered the compartment.
“Hey, Ginny,” Ron greeted. “You haven’t met Hermione yet, have you? Hermione, this is my sister Ginny. Ginny, this is our good friend Hermione Granger.”
After their introductions, Hermione once again posed her question—this time with Ron as the hypothetical culprit.
Ginny didn’t say much. She simply gave Ron a slow, dangerous once-over.
Ron opened his mouth but ultimately bore the weight of it all in silence.
Soon, the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station.
As upper-year students, they no longer had to endure the first-years’ journey—crossing the lake by boat and climbing the rugged path that the four founders had once tread in their early struggles.
Instead, Hogwarts had prepared carriages for them. Once the house-elves had taken their luggage, the students rode toward the castle.
“It’s freezing,” Hermione muttered, rubbing her hands together. “It’s only September, for Merlin’s sake...”
“Nothing we can do,” Ron sniffled. “Come on, let’s get to the Great Hall and warm up with some hot soup. Hopefully, this year’s feast is as good as last year’s—”
The Great Hall was brightly lit, with four long tables representing each house stretching almost from the entrance to the staff table.
Above the tables, thousands of floating candles illuminated the hall, and banners representing the four houses hung in the air—scarlet and gold for Gryffindor, blue and white for Ravenclaw, yellow and brown for Hufflepuff, and silver and green for Slytherin.
The four long tables gleamed with golden plates and goblets. Senior students were already seated, while several empty seats remained, clearly reserved for the first-years.
At the head of the hall, another long table was set for the teachers.
Above the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling reflected the night sky, with constellations twinkling in mysterious brilliance.
Before long, Professor McGonagall entered the hall, leading the first-year students.
"Look," Ron whispered. "See their expressions? Just like us last year—fooled by our parents into thinking we’d have to fight something for the Sorting..."
"No kidding," Harry whispered back with a grin.
Reaching the front, Professor McGonagall ascended the steps and took the Sorting Hat from the table.
Placed on a stool, the Sorting Hat sat still as everyone fixed their eyes on it. It did not disappoint; soon, a seam split open like a mouth, and it began to sing its usual, rambling song.
It was the same old tune, full of clichés from previous years, lacking any freshness. Before the Hat had even fully opened its mouth, Harry had already guessed what it would sing.
"I think next year we should teach it a new song," Fred and George said in unison, "so it doesn’t keep repeating the same nonsense year after year."
Once the Hat finished its song, Professor McGonagall unrolled a parchment filled with names and stepped forward.
"Hannah Abbott!" she called loudly.
Hannah Abbott, seated at the Hufflepuff table, stood up in confusion. She couldn’t understand why she was being sorted again when she had already gone through this last year.
Professor McGonagall quickly noticed Hannah’s reaction, glanced down at the list, and realized she had picked up the wrong parchment.
"Apologies, wrong list," she said with an embarrassed smile before retrieving the correct one.
Hannah sighed in relief as she sat back down. For a moment, she had thought she was about to be resorted.
After a brief exchange with Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall turned back to the Sorting Hat with the correct list.
"Miles Bletchley!" she called.
A brown-haired boy stepped out from the group of first-years, sat on the stool, and had the Sorting Hat placed upon his head.
"Slytherin!" the Hat announced loudly.
"Rankle Bradley!" McGonagall called next.
"Ravenclaw!"
"Colin Creevey!"
"Gryffindor!"
Harry noticed that this Colin Creevey had a camera hanging from his neck.
To his surprise, Colin spotted him immediately and came straight over.
"Hello, Harry? I—I’m Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly. Seeing that Harry wasn’t rejecting him outright, he hesitantly stepped forward. "It’s such an honor—such an honor to be in Gryffindor with you. Do you think... um, would it be alright if I—if I took a picture with you?"
As he spoke, Colin lifted his camera.
Wait, why did he phrase it like that?
"Let’s save the photos for another time, Mr. Creevey," Harry gently reminded him. "Look, everyone is watching you. It’s the Sorting Ceremony—we shouldn’t interrupt, right?"
"Oh..." Colin turned his head and saw that everyone was staring at him as if he were an idiot. He suddenly felt embarrassed.
"Alright, sorry for bothering you—can I sit next to you?"
"Go ahead," Harry said helplessly.
Seeing that Colin still wanted to talk, Hermione took it upon herself to play the bad cop.
"Mr. Creevey! This is the Sorting Ceremony! Don’t do anything that might cost us house points!"
Faced with a Hermione who looked every bit like the lion on the Gryffindor banner, Colin gulped and fell silent.
Harry discreetly gave Hermione a thumbs-up; Ron gave her two.
Hermione smiled shyly—someone had to be the bad guy, or how were they supposed to continue watching the Sorting?
Before long, it was Ginny’s turn.
"Ginny Weasley!"
Ginny skipped forward. As soon as the Hat touched her head, it called out, "Another Weasley! Gryffindor!"
The twins and Percy gave her a warm welcome, and Ron, too, called her over to sit beside him.
Before long, the Sorting Ceremony was over.
Dumbledore gave the same short speech as last year—just a few sentences—before announcing the feast.
That was one of Dumbledore’s fine traditions. If it were Headmaster Black, he would have gone on for at least an hour before stopping.
Harry glanced toward the staff table and found Professor Snape looking at him.
The moment their eyes met, Snape snorted and turned away.
Harry didn’t mind; he simply shrugged and looked toward Gilderoy Lockhart instead.
As always, Lockhart was dressed flamboyantly. Tonight, he wore an elegant lilac robe, making it hard to believe he was a Ravenclaw.
Noticing Harry’s gaze, Lockhart even winked at him.
Harry barely managed to keep his dinner down.
Ever since learning about The Enigma of Dumbledore from Mr. Flamel, Harry had found this particular alumnus rather suspicious.
Still, he didn’t think Dumbledore had hired Lockhart for his aesthetics. After all... well, Lockhart was the type women liked, especially middle-aged ones.
When Harry turned back, he found Hermione clutching her heart, staring at Lockhart with a lovestruck expression.
"She has no taste, does she?" Ron muttered under his breath, careful not to let Hermione hear.
Hermione, of course, was too enamored to notice Ron’s words. She was utterly mesmerized by Lockhart’s "dazzling good looks."
"Forget it, let’s eat," Ron said, grabbing a drumstick in each hand. "Better to focus on food."
Seeing his friend dual-wielding chicken legs as usual, Harry suddenly felt hungry too.
"Let’s eat," he said.
After the feast, dessert was served. Once the last bite was taken, Dumbledore rose again, and the hall fell silent.
"Now that everyone has eaten their fill," he announced, "I have a few reminders for the start of term. First-years, please note that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits—this also applies to some of our older students."
As with last year, Harry knew he was referring to the Weasley twins.
But from their casual whispers, it was clear they were already planning their next excursion into the forest.
Dumbledore continued, "Additionally, magic is not to be used in the corridors, as requested by our caretaker, Mr. Filch."
"That’s Filch’s rule, not the school’s," Ron muttered.
The surrounding students snickered—not at Ron, but at Filch.
Once the announcements were over, Percy led the Gryffindors back to their common room, where the Fat Lady stood guard as usual.
"Password?" she asked regally.
"Wattlebird," Percy answered.
The portrait swung aside, revealing the entrance.
"Remember," Percy said, "you need the password to enter. If you forget, you’ll be spending the night outside. Understood?"
The first-years nodded solemnly. None of them wanted to be locked out overnight—that would be truly miserable.
Comments
Austin
Looking forward to dumbledoors reaction and grindlewalds reaction
