Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy

~ 69 Advanced Chapters Available now on my Patreon!

Veratia's arm was tightly wrapped around Harry, as if afraid he might slip from her grasp.

Harry, too, worried that breaking free from Veratia's embrace might cause her to overexert her magic, so he clung fiercely to her slender waist.

"I'll admit, Senior Grindelwald," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, "if you weren't carrying a burden, I doubt I'd be your match."

"Harry is not my burden, Professor Dumbledore," Veratia replied softly. "Besides, this current stalemate doesn't mean you've won—"

Her words were cut off as the spatial barrier, shimmering like ancient magic, shattered with a thunderous crash. The three of them were abruptly returned to Gellert's room.

"Hasn't anyone taught you not to wear other people's clothes without permission?" Veratia said with a light, teasing laugh.

At those words, Gellert instantly understood what his sister meant.

Dumbledore and Harry, however, were left puzzled, unable to grasp what Veratia was implying.

Before Dumbledore could ponder further, the wand in his hand suddenly flew from his grip, spinning through the air and landing in Veratia's outstretched hand.

In the next moment, he felt a constricting force emanating from his nightgown. Simultaneously, he realized with a start that he could no longer sense his own magic.

Gellert's vision blurred for a split second, and when it cleared, Dumbledore was suspended beside him.

"Well, hello, Al," Gellert said, whistling playfully. "It's been a while since we've been this close."

"So it seems," Dumbledore sighed leisurely.

"Gell, you gave my things to someone else?" Veratia's voice, laced with fury, rose from below. "Hasn't anyone told you not to touch other people's belongings?"

"I get it now, sister," Gellert drawled in response.

"What's going on here?" Dumbledore asked. "It seems this nightgown of mine is the culprit behind my current predicament?"

"You see," Gellert said, his tone light and mocking, "you both have burdens. My sister's burden is her magic. Yours, Al, is that nightgown I gave you all those years ago. Honestly, I never imagined you'd still be wearing it after all this time. Is it because you can't let go of our old friendship, or did you put it on just for me, hoping to play the nostalgia card?"

"You're mistaken, Gellert," Harry said, tilting his head up, still nestled against Veratia's chest. "Professor Dumbledore wears that nightgown all the time at school. If you don't believe me, ask any of the other students."

"Oh?" Gellert flashed a sly, knowing grin, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

For the first time, he found the scar-headed boy rather likable.

"Go take a look," Harry said to Veratia. "I, for one, trust Professor Dumbledore."

At that, he beckoned her closer.

Veratia obediently leaned in, and Harry whispered in her ear, "Even if he can be a bit mad at times."

"Mm," Veratia nodded. She released Harry, handed him the Elder Wand, and approached the Pensieve. Lowering herself, she plunged her head into its shimmering depths.

Half an hour later, she emerged, her expression a complex mix of emotions.

How to put it? The truth she uncovered wasn't exactly what she'd imagined—it was, in fact, almost the complete opposite.

She had assumed her brother was the one deceived in this relationship. Never in a million years did she expect it to be Dumbledore.

The Dumbledore in these memories… he must have been the Dumbledore of that era. His personality was soft, almost gentle, with a warm, unhurried demeanor. If his gender were reversed, he'd be the kind of tender, nurturing older sister type. No wonder Gellert had… ahem, well.

What was that saying? A father in Azkaban, a mother lost too soon, a sickly sister, and a broken man.

In this relationship, it was clear that Gellert had been the aggressor, even manipulating things to his advantage.

Both were young wizards of exceptional talent, brimming with ideals and ambitions. For Albus, trapped in a dull village and weighed down by family duties, Grindelwald's ideas captivated and inspired him. For the self-centered Grindelwald, Albus was a powerful ally, someone he could engage in stimulating conversations with without threatening his sense of control.

Albus fell in love with this charismatic, brilliant friend. His feelings were selfless, romantic, and unreciprocated in the same way. Their bond was close, yet platonic, shaping each other's ideas, their thirst for power, and ultimately, their destinies.

Dumbledore, too, was a tragic figure. He had witnessed, powerless, as a group of Muggle boys tormented his sister, Ariana, driving the innocent girl to madness. Her suppressed magic became dangerous and unstable. This trauma led to their father's imprisonment in Azkaban for retaliating against those boys and their mother's death in an accident caused by Ariana.

Albus sought power to protect his loved ones and to shield the world from the cruelty and prejudice he saw in Muggles. His desire for the Resurrection Stone stemmed from a longing to bring back his lost parents and others he'd loved. Grindelwald, however, saw it as a tool to raise an army of Inferi.

Together, they planned to leave Godric's Hollow, seize power, and launch their "revolution."

When Albus's younger brother, Aberforth, noticed this, he was repelled by Albus's ambitions. If Albus left, Ariana would be left uncared for. Her Obscurus condition was volatile, and without proper attention, it could worsen, even prove fatal.

Tensions escalated into a confrontation between Gellert and Aberforth. Enraged, Gellert used the Cruciatus Curse on Aberforth.

Albus stepped in to protect his brother, sparking a three-way duel.

Tragically, in the chaos, Ariana was killed. No one knew whose curse had struck her.

Whether out of remorse or guilt, Gellert fled Godric's Hollow soon after.

The memory ended there.

Veratia struggled to process it. She'd thought some "yellow-haired" outsider had seduced her brother away. But Dumbledore's memories revealed the truth: her brother was the yellow-haired manipulator.

Worse, he'd caused the death of someone's sister and fled without taking responsibility. No matter how she looked at it, Gellert was utterly in the wrong.

Seeing Veratia's expression, Harry grew curious and leaned forward, dipping his head into the Pensieve.

Veratia sat quietly, lost in thought, or perhaps waiting for Harry to emerge.

"He's really a piece of work," Harry said the moment he resurfaced, glaring venomously at Gellert.

Gellert, ever the unrepentant rogue, merely grinned wickedly at Harry, as if daring him to do something about it.

"Senior Grindelwald," Dumbledore said softly, "might you consider letting me down? You know, a hundred-year-old man doesn't handle this kind of thing well."

"While your breakup with Gellert isn't your fault, there's another matter," Veratia said, her gaze sharp and dangerous. "Besides this nightgown, what else did Gellert give you?"

"Oh," Dumbledore mused, thinking back. "Quite a lot, actually. A few buzzing silver trinkets, a pair of two-way mirrors, some magical and alchemical materials…"

Veratia's eyes narrowed as she turned to Gellert.

Oh, you little—using my property to charm… men?

"I bet you meant to give that nightgown to Scarhead's Veela sweetheart, didn't you?" Gellert said lazily, unfazed, clearly deflecting the crisis onto someone else.

His method of dodging trouble was, as always, to redirect it.

"So, on behalf of Scarhead here, let me ask: why did you enchant that nightgown with an ancient binding curse?"

Veratia's expression darkened.

Why? She knew exactly why.

But how could she say it out loud?

Before she could respond, Harry interjected, "That's not the most pressing issue right now, Gellert. The real question is: how are you going to compensate your sister for her losses?"

Harry was crystal clear. Whatever was between him and Veratia could wait. The priority was dealing with this crested cockatoo of a man.

"Hey, Scarhead! You're hopeless!" Gellert snapped, exasperated. "You've let my sister put a bridle and saddle on you—you're completely tamed!"

His words were met with a flash of red light.

Gellert let out a muffled groan.

Veratia flicked her wand, lowering Dumbledore to the ground.

After venting her frustration, she felt a small sense of satisfaction. Letting Dumbledore down was fine for now.

But Gellert? He could stay strung up.

Dumbledore produced a candy jar from somewhere, this time filled not with Cockroach Clusters but orange candies—likely orange-flavored with a creamy filling. As he popped one in his mouth, he waved cheerfully at Gellert, still dangling from the ceiling, infuriating him further.

"Care for a sweet?" Dumbledore asked with a smile. "These are Honeydukes' latest—Orange Cream Delights. Oh, and Gellert, how did you know I'm now a major shareholder in Honeydukes?"

"Who asked you?!" Gellert growled, exasperated.

Dumbledore chuckled, picking up another sweet. "Senior Grindelwald, may I ask why I never detected the curse hidden in the nightgown? Forgive my curiosity."

He wisely avoided mentioning his age this time. Playing the "old man" card in front of Veratia was clearly a bad move.

"Those without a talent for ancient magic can never detect its traces, no matter how long they live," Veratia replied softly.

"I have a few more questions," Dumbledore said, turning to Harry. "The Harry before me—is he the Harry from a century ago, or Lily and James's son?"

"He's both," Veratia said with a soft sigh. "Lily sacrificed herself, casting a protective charm of love on Harry, which sent him back to Hogwarts a hundred years ago. If I recall correctly, he started as a first-year."

"Such a thing is possible?" Dumbledore asked, astonished.

"Yes. Speaking of Harry's mother… Lily Evans, right?" Veratia said, ruffling Harry's messy hair with a tender smile. "She was fifteen when she stumbled into the Map Chamber. Back then, I was just a portrait in that chamber."

"But aren't there only three professors in the Map Chamber?" Dumbledore frowned. "Headmaster Fitzgerald, Professor Rackham, and Professor Rookwood. That's what Lily told me."

"That's because my surname is Grindelwald, Professor Dumbledore," Veratia said, her tone carrying a faint, pointed hum. "To Lily, your defeat of my brother inevitably made her wary of me, his sister. So she kept that detail from you."

"I see," Dumbledore nodded gently.

"Lily was a brilliant witch, but…" Veratia's voice grew wistful, "she could be a bit rigid."

"How so?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"No matter how much we urged her, she refused to learn any Dark Magic," Veratia explained. "This was during Voldemort's reign, mind you. And as a bearer of ancient magic, she wouldn't have been affected by its corruption. Still, I must commend her noble character."

"So, Lily's protective charm—she learned it from you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Veratia said, her tone tinged with regret. "At the time, we were out of options. It was too late to learn any new spells. If she'd embraced her responsibilities and realized… well, it's all in the past now."

She stopped herself from saying anything more about her future mother-in-law.

"And Harry?" Dumbledore looked at him. "Perhaps I should call you 'Senior.' No wonder Phineas was always so secretive. You were his student back then…"

"Indeed," Veratia said, a fond smile creeping onto her face. "Harry once used Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Phineas and announced in the Great Hall that all decorations would be permanently changed to Gryffindor's."

"That must have driven Phineas up the wall," Harry said, laughing. "Merlin, he was furious. He even docked Gryffindor a hundred points."

Dumbledore tried to picture the scene and couldn't help but chuckle.

"I can't imagine how livid Phineas must have been," he said, winking at his senior and senior sister. "But honestly, I always thought Phineas was a terrible headmaster. I wasn't fond of him as a student either."

Veratia and Harry exchanged a glance, nodding in agreement.

"Then we're friends," they said in unison.

If you dislike Phineas Black, you're one of us!

Dumbledore's candy slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

But before he could dwell on it, Veratia spoke up. "Now, let's discuss compensation, Headmaster."

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