Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, the eve of the second task had arrived.
Ever since that soul-level exchange with Harry, Cassandra seemed to have shed her usual insufferable arrogance. Not only did she tease Harry far less often, but she had even become… a little gentle.
When Draco saw this change in his great-aunt, he looked as though he'd seen a ghost.
At the same time, genuine admiration for Harry welled up in him.
Bloody hell, Harry.
You actually managed to tame a woman like her…
Harry himself didn't feel particularly proud of it. A while back, when he'd mentioned Cassandra's transformation to Veratia, she had quoted a famous saying from a lady named Eileen Chang.
It really did make a lot of sense.
At least, after putting it to the test, Harry felt there was nothing wrong with what she'd said.
"So, have you thought about it?" Hermione asked casually while flipping through a spellbook in the Great Hall. "What exactly is the thing you treasure most? I think it'll help with your second task, Harry…"
"There's nothing to think about, is there?" Harry scratched his head. "The second task is just about retrieving whatever the merpeople take from me—my most precious thing. I'm sure the merpeople are reasonable. Once I talk to them, they'll definitely give it back."
"Why?" Hermione frowned. "Even putting aside the fact that the merpeople are part of the task, they don't exactly have a friendly reputation with humans who trespass in their territory."
"Oh," Harry said reassuringly, "don't worry, Hermione—I've dealt with them before. They're actually pretty decent and easy to talk to… And if by some chance they don't agree, I'll give them an offer they can't refuse."
"Is that so?" Hermione shrugged, not pressing the matter further.
Harry was confident, and that was good enough for her.
"Or you could ask my brothers for some prank gear," Ron suddenly chimed in. "If you want something back from merpeople, a fair trade might work best… The stuff those two invent would definitely appeal to merpeople."
"Oh, Ronnie, our precious little baby brother," the twins' voices rang out from behind them. "We're so happy to be praised by you—truly. We thought you hated everything we make."
The trio turned around. Fred and George were standing there with their arms slung over each other's shoulders, grinning wickedly.
"What are you two doing here?" Ron asked. "Weren't you testing some new invention?"
"Looking for you," George said. "Professor McGonagall wants to see you, Ron. And you too, Hermione."
Hermione blinked in surprise. "What for?"
"We're to escort you to her office," Fred answered.
Ron and Hermione looked at Harry. Harry raised his hands with a shrug—I have no idea why Professor McGonagall wants you two.
Hogwarts doesn't forbid dating, and you two… well…
"We'll meet you in the common room later, Harry," Hermione said as she stood up with Ron. Both of them looked visibly nervous. "Don't worry—it can't be anything bad. Professor McGonagall is our Head of House, after all."
Harry thought to himself: That's exactly why you should be worried…
That strict old lady would come down like a ton of bricks on any Gryffindor who stuck their neck out too far.
Ron and Hermione had barely left when Veratia appeared in the Great Hall.
She slid silently into the seat beside Harry, resting her chin on one hand, gazing softly at him while he pored over his notes.
It took Harry quite a while to notice her.
"Hey, Veratia?" Harry closed his notes with a smile. "When did you get here?"
"Right when you turned to the page with 'Sectumsempra'," Veratia answered gently. "That looks like a very powerful dark spell… Where did you find these notes?"
"Professor Snape's Christmas present," Harry said. "They're from when he was a student, apparently… Look at this—'This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince'? Blimey, he really had his own style, didn't he?"
Veratia covered her lips and laughed in a perfectly ladylike manner.
"Yes, everyone goes through a phase like that when they're young… So, what did you dream about at that age?"
As she spoke, Veratia leaned in closer.
They were so close that Harry could feel her breath.
Those beautiful violet eyes shimmered like the most flawless amethysts in the world.
"Me? Well…" Harry thought for a moment. "Pretty much everything I wanted back then has already been perfectly resolved, hasn't it? The Ashwinder syndicate, Rookwood, that goblin… what was his name again? The one we defeated in the end… the one who turned into a dragon."
"Ranrok," Veratia reminded him with a soft smile.
"Right, Ranrok," Harry nodded. "We accomplished things most people never manage in a lifetime. Honestly, our youth wasn't just chuunibyou—it's pretty much without regrets."
"You make it sound like you're seventy or eighty years old already," Veratia said, reaching out to brush a white feather from his robes. "Where's Cassandra? And Poppy?"
"Cass is probably napping in the dormitory. Poppy said she'd come by later," Harry said, scratching his head. "She's bringing some freshly baked treats—she learned the recipe from Tina's brother-in-law… that Muggle old man."
"Jacob Kowalski," Veratia supplied the Muggle's name.
"Yeah, that's it," Harry said. "If I remember right, he's American? Used to run a bakery in America, didn't he?"
"Yes," Veratia answered gently, then asked, "Speaking of which, where are your inseparable duo, Ron and Hermione? I don't see them."
"Professor McGonagall wanted to see them about something," Harry said. "Doesn't look good—the twins were practically gloating. Hope she's not telling them off."
When Harry mentioned McGonagall summoning Ron and Hermione, Veratia's pupils contracted ever so slightly.
But she hid it perfectly, merely patting Harry's hand lightly.
"The second task starts tomorrow," she said. "Are you ready? Oh, I forgot to ask—do you know what your most precious treasure is yet?"
"It's definitely you!" Harry answered instantly, his survival instincts in full swing.
The look on his face was the picture of sincerity.
But then he immediately changed tack. "But… if it's not actually you at the bottom of the lake, I hope you'll understand, Veratia…"
"Why?" Veratia was clearly pleased with the first part, but curious about the rest.
"Because you're a high-ranking official in the Greater German Ministry of Magic," Harry said, scratching the air awkwardly. "Putting you in the lake would cause a major diplomatic incident… Besides, who could possibly knock you out without you noticing and dump you in the Black Lake?"
That answer was acceptable—Veratia didn't object.
"Hmm…" She nodded. "I'm satisfied with that reasoning…"
With that, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's cheek.
Everyone nearby froze.
Wait, you two are doing this right here in the Great Hall?!
This is the sacred Great Hall!
But remembering who she was, they swallowed their indignation.
Fine—the guy's Hogwarts' champion, and the girl is the former Queen of Slytherin and current department head at the Greater German Ministry of Magic…
Yeah, better not mess with that.
"Have something to eat," Veratia told him. "You've got the task tomorrow… Eat well tonight and tomorrow morning."
"I just ate," Harry said dryly. "Sandwiches earlier—they were pretty good… But I think I need to lose some weight. Look, my abs are almost gone."
He grabbed Veratia's hand and slipped it under his shirt.
"Hmph." Veratia felt around, then nodded. "You really should eat less—or rather, you need to work out, my dear Mr Potter."
"True," Harry agreed.
A little while later, Cassandra and Poppy arrived in the Great Hall, one after the other.
Cassandra still looked half-asleep. Poppy was carrying a basket brimming with all kinds of baked goods.
"Try this!" Poppy cheerfully set the basket on the table and offered Veratia a piece. "Veratia, try this—it's grape crème mousseline I learned from Jacob. Muggles always have the best ideas when it comes to food, don't they?"
Veratia didn't refuse Poppy's kindness—she knew Poppy, unlike Cassandra, would never dare slip her a Canary Cream.
It really was delicious. She chewed thoughtfully and gave Poppy an approving smile.
"Right?" Poppy took another piece and handed it to Cassandra. "Cass, you try one too."
Cassandra didn't refuse Poppy either. After eating it, she gave Poppy the highest praise possible—no snide remark.
"Harry, Harry, you have one too!" Poppy passed one to Harry.
Veratia opened her mouth, then said, "Eat less, Harry. Your abs are disappearing…"
"Really?" Poppy gasped. "That won't do! You'd better not eat it then—"
She snatched the treat right out of Harry's hand before he could protest.
Fine…
Harry figured if the queen had spoken, he'd just go without.
"How is it?" Poppy still remembered to ask. "Are you ready for the second task? I have total faith in you, but I still want to hear how your preparations are going."
"Yeah," Cassandra added casually, "have you figured out the final answer yet? Your treasure…"
"Preparations are… alright," Harry said, spreading his hands non-committally. "I still don't know what I'll have to retrieve from the Black Lake, but… well, probably my Firebolt, right? A precious treasure… it's not very likely to be a person, is it?"
Surprisingly, that slippery answer didn't fully satisfy everyone, but no one could object either.
"You'd better be sure," Poppy said. "Broomsticks aren't supposed to get wet—they say it affects performance. Or maybe they'll put a protective charm on it?"
"I think so too," Harry said, inexplicably feeling cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck.
That entire evening was spent listening to three women trading veiled barbs. Harry's brain had to run at full throttle just to keep up with what they really meant.
By the time he got back to the dormitory it was very late. He was far too exhausted to do anything else—that night had completely drained him.
The next morning, he was still shaken awake by Seamus.
"Get up and have some breakfast, Harry," Seamus said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're going into the Black Lake soon—you need food, or you might get a cramp."
Harry mumbled in response and dragged himself to the Great Hall.
He was poking listlessly at his breakfast when Hermione came rushing over, looking frantic.
"Harry!" she cried. "They've taken Ron! The person you have to rescue—it's Ron!"
The words hit the Great Hall like a Silencing Charm.
What?
Harry has to rescue Ron from the lake?
The students had, of course, just heard Bagman announce the task: the champions would retrieve whatever the merpeople had taken—the thing they treasured most.
Right now, the general consensus around the tables was roughly:
"Miss Grindelwald has to be Harry's most precious treasure, right?"
"Miss Malfoy isn't far behind—she's the white moonlight of his heart."
"Miss Sweeting is actually really cute too—she's not inferior to the other two."
"If we're talking about Harry's true love, the Firebolt is a strong contender!"
"Shut up—Ron Weasley? What the hell?"
The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students stared at Harry in open shock—why Ron, and not one of those three stunning girls?
They'd been at Hogwarts long enough; even if they didn't gossip, they'd all seen the three girls Harry had danced with at the Yule Ball.
Any one of those three was breathtakingly beautiful—especially the most mature and gorgeous one, who outshone even Fleur with her Veela blood.
Everyone had assumed Harry would be rescuing that woman in the second task.
Who could have guessed it would be Ron bloody Weasley?
Hang on…
This is Britain—maybe that's normal here?
The Hogwarts students, however, didn't find it strange at all.
After all, friendship is one of the most precious treasures there is, isn't it?
--
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