CHAPTER 186: CHAPTER 186

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The Slytherin students sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling with expressions that suggested they’d lost all hope in life.

Being outdone in Charms was a minor humiliation—but to have their ancestors’ deeds dragged into the open, detailed with such viviad clarity, was utterly mortifying, leaving them defenseless and exposed.

Thankfully, their savior had finally arrived.

"Miss Grindelwald?" Snape’s voice echoed from the doorway. "What exactly are you all doing?"

Like a great bat, he swooped toward Veratia with a dramatic flourish.

"I hear you’ve been using Unforgivable Curses within the school?" Snape asked coldly.

"Just a Confundus Charm, Professor," Veratia replied calmly, unflinched. "You can ask Prefect Farley."

Snape said nothing, turning his gaze to Farley.

Farley nodded. "Miss Grindelwald is telling the truth. She didn’t use an Unforgivable Curse..."

"You’re lying!" Byron suddenly bellowed. "You used an Unforgivable Curse on me!"

Without a word, Veratia raised her wand, and a green light struck Byron’s body.

Snape swiftly drew his wand, but upon seeing Byron unharmed, he silently lowered it.

"I’d say you’re like toads sitting at the bottom of a well, unable to see the vast sky beyond," Veratia remarked.

With a flick of her wand, a red chain of lightning flashed, and a dozen wands flew into her hands with a clatter.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

Were transfer students these formidable nowadays?

"Come with me, Miss Grindelwald," Snape huffed, turning on his heel.

Veratia tossed the bundle of wands into Farley’s arms.

"Keep these safe, Miss Farley," she said softly. "I don’t want anyone taking them before I return. If they figure out how to truly embody Slytherin’s values, they can retrieve their wands from you—provided their resolve convinces you."

With that, she turned and left the Slytherin common room, leaving the others exchanging bewildered glances.

What were they supposed to do now?

Snape strode ahead, Veratia following. She assumed he was leading her to his office, but instead, he marched briskly to the eighth floor, straight to the Headmaster’s office.

"Fizzing Whizzbees," he said flatly to the stone gargoyle.

The gargoyle slid aside, revealing a passage for two to enter the Headmaster’s office.

Headmaster Dumbledore was in the office, playfully teasing his phoenix, Fawkes. Upon seeing Veratia, Fawkes let out a clear cry, flapping his wings to glide to her side.

"Fiona’s with Harry," Veratia said.

Fawkes squawked discontentedly and returned to his perch.

"Dumbledore!" Snape burst out the moment he entered, his face impassive but his voice dripping with oily sarcasm. "You must know what it means to admit someone named Grindelwald into this school. Tonight, your transfer student used the Killing Curse on another student... I sincerely hope that honey-soaked brain of yours can still comprehend what this implies."

Dumbledore’s next words left Snape speechless.

"Is that true, Senior Grindelwald?"

"Senior?" Snape’s pupils contracted, though, as a master of Occlumency, he kept his expression tightly controlled.

"Yes, Miss Grindelwald enrolled at Hogwarts in 1891—though she started as a fifth-year," came Phineas’s voice from his portrait frame. "Come to think of it, she was six years ahead of Albus... It’s been a while, Miss Grindelwald."

"Good to see you, Headmaster Black," Veratia said with a reserved smile. "I’m pleased to meet you again."

"Enough with the pleasantries! I don’t believe for a second you’re happy to see me!" Black huffed indignantly. "Merlin’s beard, even you’ve picked up that silver-tongued nonsense!"

"If you were still alive, I’d hardly be thrilled, Headmaster Black," Veratia replied, giving a polite curtsey.

At that, Black burst into laughter. "Well, I’ll be damned... Fair enough."

"You see, Severus," Dumbledore interjected smoothly, "sometimes we must embrace new perspectives and information. Though I suspect our senior here merely used a harmless little spell to give them a fright, didn’t she?"

"Precisely, Professor," Veratia said with a nod and a smile. "Though, to be fair, they provoked me first, claiming my association with ’Mudbloods’ was a disgrace to Slytherin."

"Expel her!" Phineas roared from his portrait, but when Veratia glanced his way, he quickly backtracked. "I mean, expel those Slytherin students! Merlin’s beard, they’re the ones disgracing my beloved Slytherin House!"

"Such views are indeed unacceptable. Perhaps you were right to act, Senior Grindelwald," Dumbledore said, pulling out a tin of Fizzing Whizzbees. "Care for some sweets?"

"No, thank you, Professor," Veratia sighed softly. "I’ve heard those who can’t taste life’s sweetness chase it through their palate..."

Dumbledore’s smile faltered briefly.

But he recovered, saying warmly, "Which is why we must strive to be ever more optimistic and forward-looking, isn’t it?"

"Indeed," Veratia replied quietly, glancing at Snape before shifting the topic. "Much like a witch I once knew... or rather, my student, Lily Evans..."

Snape, who had been about to storm off after his rebuke, froze at the name. His face twitched, and he stayed put.

"You knew her?" Dumbledore asked, feigning ignorance.

Though unsure of her intent, he figured going along with her couldn’t hurt.

"Of course I knew her. Back when I was merely a portrait," Veratia said wistfully. "I remember her at fifteen, finding me in the Room of Requirement. We became acquainted, and she confided in me about many things—including a boy named Sev."

Snape stared at Veratia, expressionless, but his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

"Oh?" Dumbledore’s mischievous streak surfaced. As long as the gossip wasn’t about him, he was happy to play along. He glanced at Snape, ears perked, then back at Veratia. "Why don’t you tell me their story? You must know Lily was one of my favorite students. She was truly a remarkable girl."

"Indeed," Veratia sighed. "When we first met, her smile was like sunshine. She spoke of Sev more than anyone else."

"Is that so? How intriguing," Dumbledore said, popping a Fizzing Whizzbee into his mouth, his eyes fixed on Veratia, eager not to miss a detail.

"Yes, it was clear Lily cherished their friendship deeply," Veratia said softly. "But sadly... that boy, like these Slytherins today, was obsessed with so-called ’pure-blood’ ideals. He even cast her aside, calling her a ’filthy Mudblood.’"

"That was the end of their friendship. I remember that day—Lily wept for hours in the Room of Requirement. Even with three professors comforting her, we couldn’t lift her spirits."

Veratia subtly glanced at Snape.

Snape remained stoic, staring ahead as if someone owed him a fortune in Galleons.

She continued, "I remember her asking me why—why it had to be this way. They’d been friends since childhood. How could something like pure-blood ideology make him treat her so cruelly? She was heartbroken and couldn’t understand it."

"But she couldn’t tell anyone. Everyone was waiting for her to fail, to see her ridiculed for befriending a Slytherin boy despite house rivalries, just waiting for her to stumble." Veratia’s voice softened. "Did you know, Professor, that Sev invented several dark curses? His classmates even used them on Lily’s friends—Mary Macdonald, wasn’t it? And Marlene McKinnon... I remember those names."

"Sev never knew the pressure Lily endured to maintain that friendship. Everyone questioned her, doubted why she’d befriend a Slytherin like Sev. Yet she stood by him—until he betrayed her, ripping out her loyal heart and stabbing it repeatedly."

"Enough!" Snape growled suddenly.

"Hm?" Veratia turned to him, feigning surprise. "What’s wrong, Professor Snape? Do you know this Sev, this wretched man? Merlin’s beard—if you do, please tell him Lily and I have long wanted to kick him square in his smug face."

"You may not know, Senior Grindelwald," Dumbledore interjected, "but the professor before you is none other than Severus Snape, Lily Evans’s friend."

"Is that so?" Veratia said, pretending to be shocked. She stepped aside, shaking her head. "It seems you haven’t changed a bit. Just as Lily described."

"How so?" Dumbledore asked, winking playfully.

"Unwashed hair," Veratia said bluntly. "But Lily wasn’t shallow. Did she ever shun you for your poor grooming? No, she still saw you as her best friend. And you, Professor? How did you repay her? By calling her a Mudblood?"

Snape stood rooted, lost in some painful memory.

"I never imagined you’d know so much, Senior," Dumbledore said, his expression one of gleeful curiosity. Even he, as Lily and Snape’s professor, hadn’t known such details.

Veratia smiled lightly. "Lily was my student, after all. By her fifth year, she’d developed a habit of sneaking out at night. You knew that, didn’t you?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment, then nodded. "Indeed. I recall Minerva mentioning it. She wasn’t upset, though—rather pleased, oddly."

"Why?" Veratia asked, puzzled.

Dumbledore chuckled. "A Gryffindor who doesn’t sneak out at night hasn’t lived a full life. But don’t let Minerva catch you—she’s merciless with rule-breakers."

"Then why was she pleased?" Veratia pressed.

"Being pleased and punishing aren’t mutually exclusive, Senior," Dumbledore said with a grin, but his tone shifted. "Though Lily was your student, Severus..."

"What?" Veratia asked.

"Nothing." Dumbledore offered her a sweet. "He deserves this, Senior."

It took Snape a long while to snap out of his reverie.

"My apologies, Miss Grindelwald," he said, turning. "I have personal matters to attend to. If you don’t mind, please return to the common room on your own."

With that, he swept out of the office, leaving not a trace behind.

"How should I judge him?" Veratia’s face and heart were heavy with complexity. "Merlin’s beard, I can’t believe Lily put up with such a friend for so long..."

"Perhaps that’s why she ultimately didn’t choose him?" Dumbledore suggested with a smile.

"No," Veratia said. "Lily once told me she didn’t mind Severus’s personality. What she couldn’t accept was that her lifelong friend secretly despised her deep down."

Dumbledore’s eyes flickered, but he remained silent.

"Think of it this way, Professor," Veratia said softly. "Imagine Gellert—if you learned he’d always looked down on you, thought of you as just some English country bumpkin..."

Dumbledore paused mid-reach for a sweet, then grabbed a handful from the tin.

"Exactly," Veratia said with a smile. Noticing her junior seemed a bit unsettled by the thought, she shifted to recounting what happened in Care of Magical Creatures class that day.

Dumbledore’s beard quivered with laughter. He hadn’t expected Gellert to suffer such a blow in class.

No one could’ve predicted the students would openly debate whether Gellert or Voldemort was stronger—comparing Voldemort’s defeat by a baby to Gellert’s loss to a Niffler.

Proud as he was, Gellert would never tolerate being mocked for losing to a Niffler...

Yet he could neither retaliate nor refute it. It was more unbearable than his imprisonment in Nurmengard.

Especially coming from innocent children—such guileless mockery was the most devastating.

"Oh, by the way," Veratia added, "Harry gave him the nickname ’Nifflert.’ We all quite like it."

"And Gellert?" Dumbledore asked.

Veratia recalled Gellert’s expression at the time.

"Gellert... Gellert didn’t object."

Dumbledore burst into laughter again, clutching his beard. After a moment, his expression turned serious.

"However... Senior, I have a question for you."

"Go ahead," Veratia said softly.

Dumbledore’s half-moon spectacles glinted.

"I’d like to know—what is your stance toward Harry?"

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