The Desire Gem?
Harry and Veratia exchanged a glance. Could there really be something so magical in this world?
But just as Harry reached out to investigate further, Veratia suddenly stopped him.
"Wait, Harry," she said, grabbing his hand.
"What's wrong?" Harry turned back, puzzled.
He didn't know why Veratia was holding him back, but he trusted she wouldn't harm him.
"As far as I know, objects like this that can grant wishes usually come with a price," Veratia said, her eyes fixed on the gem in Harry's hand. "And that price is an equivalent exchange based on the wish you make—have you ever thought about what your heart truly desires?"
"Well…" Harry paused, thinking. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what he desired.
He shook his head and admitted, "I don't know."
"Then that's the unknown," Veratia said after a moment's contemplation. "I suggest you discuss this with your godfather and Professor Dumbledore before deciding whether to use it. What do you think?"
"Alright."
Harry nodded and tucked the gem into a different pocket, one that didn't hold Alfonso's pouch.
On impulse, he pulled out the pouch containing Alfonso, opened it, and called inside, "Alfonso! How are you doing?"
"I've never felt better!" Alfonso hissed happily. "Don't forget to replenish my food, little master—Alfonso's starving!"
Relieved that the basilisk was fine, Harry relaxed.
When he looked up, he noticed Veratia staring at him.
Puzzled, he glanced at his sides, finding nothing amiss.
"What's wrong? Is there something on me?" he asked.
"Nothing," Veratia said with a playful lick of her lips and a mischievous smile. "Just… you're kind of adorable."
"Adorable?" Harry asked, utterly confused. "Why would you suddenly say that? What's adorable about me?"
"Aren't you curious about my Christmas gift?" Veratia asked leisurely, her slender fingers catching hold of Harry's collar.
"What is it?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.
He expected her to pull out a gift, but instead, Veratia gave a mysterious smile, tugged him onto the bed, and caught him off guard.
"My gift?" She chuckled, pulling a rubber band from her pocket and biting it between her teeth as she gathered her hair back and tied it neatly.
Then, under Harry's astonished gaze, she pushed him down onto the bed and leaned over him, pressing herself close.
"This is my gift."
Veratia smiled softly and leaned down to kiss him.
Sweet, fragrant, and soft—that was Harry's first impression.
It wasn't his first kiss—they'd had some practice a few days ago—but Harry was still inexperienced and felt a touch of shyness.
Still, he soon began to respond, albeit clumsily.
To his surprise, under his awkward counterattack, Veratia melted into his arms like a noodle, completely soft and pliant.
The next morning, Harry woke up with his lips still slightly sore.
As he went downstairs, still recalling the previous night, he couldn't help but grin foolishly.
"Mate," Ron said, holding a knife and fork, looking at him curiously. "What's with you? Why are you standing there grinning like an idiot? Merlin's red knickers, have you been hit with the Imperius Curse?"
Harry didn't respond, too busy savoring the memory.
Sirius, seated at the head of the table, caught on immediately. This was clearly the look of someone who'd made a breakthrough in a relationship.
With that thought, Sirius initiated their secret code.
"Wotcher, wotcher?"
"Wotcher forever," Harry replied, giving Sirius a heartfelt thumbs-up.
Sirius smirked, tilting his chin proudly.
See? Your godfather's still got it!
After breakfast, Dumbledore announced his intent to return to Hogwarts.
However, Veratia wasn't about to let him off so easily. She handed him a detailed plan for controlling his sugar intake.
Dumbledore looked at the plan with a pained expression and asked tentatively, "Miss Grindelwald, don't you think this plan is a bit… much?"
"There's no room for negotiation. Your obsession with sweets has reached an excessive level," Veratia said firmly. "To prevent you from becoming completely resistant to Tooth-Cleansing Potions, we have to take drastic measures. After all, your self-control is… let's just say, less than reassuring."
"Couldn't someone else supervise?" Dumbledore made a final attempt to wriggle out. "I don't think Minerva is the best choice…"
"No, Professor McGonagall is the perfect choice," Veratia said resolutely. "Besides her, no one at Hogwarts could enforce this plan with the necessary rigor. Now, don't leave just yet—we're waiting for Professor McGonagall to come here and confirm the headmaster's sugar-control plan."
Dumbledore sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation.
He'd thought that staying single and avoiding girlfriends would spare him from being managed by a woman.
But never in a million years did he expect to be so strictly governed by his boyfriend's sister…
Merlin, what sin did I commit?
Barred from leaving, Dumbledore sat on the sofa, listlessly flipping through The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
It was clear he was distracted, sneaking glances at Veratia or Sirius for help.
Veratia ignored him entirely, and Sirius could only offer a helpless shrug.
Around ten in the morning, Professor McGonagall finally arrived at the Black family home.
The Black family home, located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, was originally a terraced house in London owned by a handsome Muggle.
At some point, an early member of the Black family coveted the beautiful house, "persuaded" the Muggle to leave, and cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm on it.
Protected by the charm, the house was invisible to Muggles, who had long grown accustomed to the "amusing error" of Number 11 sitting right next to Number 13.
As a witch, McGonagall had no such confusion about why Number 11 was adjacent to Number 13.
As she climbed the stairs, she was startled by the mounted house-elf heads on the wall.
"Merlin's beard!" McGonagall gasped, clutching her chest, visibly shaken.
Sirius chuckled, glancing at the elf heads on the wall. "Pretty barbaric, isn't it? This was a family tradition started by my great-great-aunt Elladora Black. When a house-elf got too old to carry a tray, they'd chop off their head and mount it on the wall… Believe it or not, many of the Black family elves took pride in it."
Elladora Black, sister of Phineas Black, was indeed Sirius's great-great-aunt, roughly equivalent to Cassandra's relation to Draco.
"Very… very…" McGonagall trailed off, glancing up at the elf heads with lingering unease. Her impeccable manners prevented her from openly criticizing the practice.
After all, one doesn't insult someone's ancestor to their face, does one?
"I must say, I admire her," Sirius added. "I mean, my great-great-aunt Elladora, coming up with such a twisted idea…"
"It's not twisted, young master, who only recently redeemed his reputation with the mistress," came a croaking voice.
Sirius didn't need to look to know it was Kreacher.
"Merlin's socks, is that an Inferius?" McGonagall exclaimed, startled again.
She squinted and realized the figure looked familiar. "This… is that Regulus Black?"
"Kreacher!" Sirius barked. "Why did you bring him out? Get him back inside!"
Kreacher muttered under his breath about letting his young master soak up some sunlight and how a walk would do him good, completely ignoring Regulus's attempts to snap at him.
Each of Regulus's lunges was dodged by Kreacher with an almost supernatural agility.
"As you can see, Professor McGonagall," Sirius sighed, "this is my brother, Regulus… We only recently learned he wasn't a Death Eater but a hero who infiltrated Voldemort's ranks to strike a blow against him."
Sirius went on to recount Regulus's story in exhaustive detail.
Unbeknownst to him, a small black beetle perched nearby, its eyes glinting with an eerie light.
"Oh, Merlin's socks…" McGonagall, ever empathetic, clutched her collar as tears welled in her eyes. "This boy… so foolish, yet so kind… I can't believe a wizard from a pure-blood family would show such compassion for house-elves, a group so often scorned by pure-bloods… And to think he betrayed You-Know-Who…"
Sirius sighed. "That's the story. But we've got another urgent matter to attend to."
"Is it about Regulus?" McGonagall asked, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "Whatever it is, Sirius, I was once his professor. I'll do everything I can to help."
"It's not about Regulus," Sirius clarified. "Miss Grindelwald has something important to discuss with you. We touched on it last night…"
McGonagall nodded, recalling the matter. "If it's about that, we should see Miss Grindelwald immediately."
They made their way to the living room, where McGonagall saw Veratia reading intently, Dumbledore pretending to read with a dejected air, and Ron quietly explaining the basics of Wizard's Chess to Hermione.
"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, spotting her first. As a Gryffindor, she naturally offered a greeting, especially since McGonagall had always been fond of her.
"Good morning, Hermione," McGonagall replied with a nod, exchanging greetings with everyone in the room before sitting next to Veratia, directly across from Dumbledore.
Dumbledore raised his book to cover his face, clearly avoiding McGonagall's gaze.
"Here's the plan I've drawn up," Veratia said, handing McGonagall a few sheets of paper. "Please take a look, Professor. It details a sugar-control regimen to prevent Professor Dumbledore from suffering adverse effects due to excessive sugar intake."
McGonagall reviewed the plan carefully and nodded approvingly. "This is a reasonable plan. For someone like Dumbledore, who's developed a resistance to Tooth-Cleansing Potions, strict control of sugar intake is essential. I find your plan feasible, and I accept your proposal to oversee its execution."
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Veratia said, standing and bowing slightly.
"It's my duty, Miss Grindelwald," McGonagall replied, privately wishing Veratia were a Gryffindor—what a shame she wasn't.
The plan was met with near-unanimous approval, with only one dissenter: Dumbledore.
But his objections were overruled, whether by the principle of majority rule or the undeniable authority of Veratia, backed by the Hogwarts Board of Governors, led by Poppy Sweating.
Indeed, the plan was officially spearheaded by the Board.
If Dumbledore, sans his starry robes, might have stood a chance against Veratia, the current Dumbledore, weakened by Voldemort's curse, was no match for his formidable sister-in-law… or rather, Veratia's ironclad sugar-control regimen.
With the plan successfully passed, McGonagall, unable to resist Sirius's warm invitation, stayed for lunch at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
"Let's raise a glass to this plan!" Poppy Sweating proposed gleefully, always eager for a spectacle, though she couldn't drink herself.
"To Headmaster Dumbledore's health," Veratia corrected. "Cheers."
And thus, a world where only Headmaster Dumbledore suffered was achieved.
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