Cassandra clearly hadn't expected Harry to answer so bluntly with a simple "No."
Her breathing came fast and shallow, as though the air was caught in her chest, her bosom rising and falling violently.
She was truly furious—so furious that she didn't even understand why. How had that timid, soft little Harry she once knew turned into someone like this?
It was all Grindelwald's fault!
Clutching her chest, Cassandra was overwhelmed with regret—endless, bitter regret.
If she had known things would turn out this way, why on earth had she taken Harry with her to Austria-Hungary that Christmas?
I was such a fool. Truly.
All I thought about was showing Harry the world—bringing him there so Father would train him to become someone capable of standing on his own within the family…
Harry noticed the shift in Cassandra's demeanor and asked, with feigned concern, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Her expression hardened again as she raised her wand and leveled it at him.
"Potter, I expect you to focus and practice this spell properly!"
"Legilimens!"
This time, Harry fought with all his might to control his thoughts, but his inexperience left him utterly defenseless against Cassandra's practiced skill.
His shaky Occlumency was shattered in an instant, and Cassandra slipped once more into Harry's mind.
—1992, Slytherin's study.
Harry paced the room in agitation, searching for a way to break the seal on Veratia.
But he failed to notice that, from the very start, her eyes had been shifting beneath closed lids.
"Harry?"
The faintest whisper sounded. Harry hurried to her side.
"I'm here!"
Veratia's eyes slowly opened, revealing violet irises.
"Harry?" she breathed, "I've finally waited long enough for you…"
She straightened from the back of the chair, and Harry's heart lurched as he realized her golden hair was beginning to fade—
From brilliant, dazzling gold to silver-white…
"Your hair?" Harry asked in shock.
"Oh." Veratia lifted a strand between her fingers, smiling lightly. "This must be the erosion of time… Harry, if I turn into an old woman in a moment, you won't despise me, will you?"
"Of course not." Harry's nose stung. He knew how much pride Veratia had always taken in her radiant golden hair.
And now it was silver-white.
Fortunately, the change seemed limited to her hair—or at least, so it seemed.
"Can you stand?" Harry asked.
Veratia tried to rise, but her legs gave out, and she collapsed back into the chair.
"No… I've been trapped here too long. My legs are weak." She gave a bitter smile.
"I'll help you." Harry said, reaching for her sleeve.
But the moment his hand touched her, her clothing crumbled like sand before his eyes.
Harry swallowed hard.
"Does it look good?"
The voice wasn't Veratia's.
He turned—and there was Cassandra, her face dark with fury.
The world spun violently, and once again they were back in the empty classroom.
Harry panted for breath. Fighting off Legilimency, even clumsily, drained his mind to exhaustion.
"So the two of you have already reached that point." Cassandra lifted her chin, her thoughts unreadable. "I really didn't know, Potter. You shameless boy—actually taking the initiative to strip a girl's clothes and force her to bare herself before you…"
Bare?
Harry thought back. Well, yes, it had been rather bare.
He'd basically seen everything he should see… and most of what he shouldn't… and the rest could be glimpsed from another angle.
So that was the situation. And the situation, well, depended on the situation.
Even so, he needed to defend himself.
Choosing his words carefully, Harry said, "That really wasn't my fault, Cass… You have to understand—she'd been sealed in time for a hundred years. Her clothes had long since decayed. I only brushed against them, I swear I had no idea what would happen. Otherwise I'd never have touched her!"
That was the truth. Back then, he hadn't had the gall for such recklessness; he'd been completely conflicted in his head.
Cassandra hesitated at his words.
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you telling the truth?"
Harry held up three fingers.
"Of course. I swear on my future children's lives—"
But before he could finish, Cassandra—who had almost thawed at the sight of his raised hand—snapped back to ice in an instant.
"Silence!" she barked, her anger flashing. "I'll believe you, but don't you dare swear such things!"
"Oh." Harry obediently shut his mouth.
"Prepare yourself!"
Cassandra raised her wand once more. "Remember what I said. Control your thoughts!"
Harry drew a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and tried to drive certain emotions out of his mind.
"Legilimens!"
It had to be admitted—Harry was making fast progress.
With the Philosopher's Stone in hand, and after so many battles and experiences, his pace at learning Occlumency was far beyond the ordinary.
At first, Cassandra could read long sequences of memory through Legilimency.
But after just two more attempts, she could glimpse only fleeting fragments.
A flash of Harry boarding the Hogwarts Express, sitting beside Ron with his armful of chicken legs, Hermione with her oversized front teeth, and that infuriating Draco Malfoy.
She frowned instinctively. Even those brief fragments made her feel her great-nephew had been a hopelessly uncouth boy.
Had she been there then, she would have scolded him soundly for such disgraceful behavior.
The fragments flickered on—Harry's first Quidditch match, snatching the Golden Snitch, hurling a Screechsnap at the back of Quirrell's head…
At last, she caught a slightly longer memory.
It was from last year—Harry receiving Cassandra's letter and venturing into her vault.
Just as he reached to search, her icy voice intruded from behind.
"I could vomit…"
Harry jerked awake, the world whirling once more as they were dragged back into the classroom.
He gasped for air, sweat pouring down his forehead from the sheer strain of resisting.
"This is what you call control?"
Cassandra's tone was flat, businesslike, utterly without sympathy.
"Ha… ha…" Harry still hadn't calmed his pounding heartbeat. Who would've thought resisting Legilimency could be this exhausting?
But Cassandra lifted her wand again.
"Wait—" Harry tried to stop her. "Let me rest a moment, I can't concentrate…"
"But the Dark Lord never rests!" Cassandra's face was expressionless. "He will not care whether you can concentrate. The moment he wishes it, he will shatter your defenses…"
Her eyes lowered to the boy still gasping for breath.
Her lip curled in distaste. Suddenly she seized his collar, her words spilling in a rapid torrent:
"You and Grindelwald—you really are the same breed. Both of you like carefree children, full of nothing but willfulness… Perhaps you've never once considered the terrible consequences. If not for your reckless arrogance—"
She stopped short.
Yes. Things had already come this far. What use was more complaining?
Harry understood what she meant, of course.
And she wasn't wrong. If he'd taken things more carefully, step by step, he might never have fallen into Ranrok's trap.
"Look at me!"
Cassandra's wand pointed at him once more. "Every memory you hold can be used against you. If he truly can invade your mind at will, it won't be long before you're nothing but his puppet… Or do you mean to drag the rest of us to the grave with you?"
"No." Harry shook his head.
"Then prove it!" Cassandra's voice was icy. "Control your emotions! Restrain your thoughts! Don't let me see that weakness again—Legilimens!"
Even as she spoke, Harry had already steadied his mind, weaving a shell of magic around it.
It was just a theory, a sudden idea—worth trying.
And to his surprise, it worked.
This time, his memories flashed by even faster than before—several fragments per second, quicker than flipping through pages.
"Not bad." Cassandra lowered her wand. "Constructing a shield outside your mind—it's a clever idea. And you don't need to become a double agent like Professor Snape, so you needn't reach his level…"
"It's still not enough." Harry shook his head. "You can still glimpse some of my memories. Maybe I can refine this method further…"
"As long as you understand that shortcuts won't make you truly strong." Cassandra tucked her wand away. "That's enough practice for today. Tomorrow, we'll continue. Think carefully about how to reinforce your barrier before then—understood?"
"Of course." Harry nodded, then suddenly recalled something. "What about your vitality… is it still holding up?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you planning?"
"Oh, nothing." Harry scratched his head. "Just… concerned for you. I remember the last time we replenished your vitality was quite a while ago."
A suspicious blush crept over Cassandra's cheeks.
She almost snapped at him for being shameless, but then remembered it had indeed been months since their last renewal.
She wasn't sure how vitality was truly measured… but she had no desire to die.
"It's unnecessary."
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping backward several feet.
"I have things to attend to." With that, she started for the door.
The truth was, vitality replenishment was important—but for someone as proud and prickly as Cassandra, agreeing to Harry's offer felt utterly unbearable.
So she could only rise and pretend to leave, though her steps toward the door were slow and hesitant.
"Wait."
Harry quickly called after her.
It had just occurred to him, but truthfully he wasn't thinking only of vitality.
Flamel's method required some level of contact—and Harry was hoping to use that as an excuse to deepen their bond. Two birds with one stone.
Hearing him, Cassandra froze.
She turned her head aside, fixing her gaze on a desk nearby, saying nothing.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked tentatively.
She just stared at the desk, offering no reply.
"Then… shall I begin?" Harry tried again.
"Shut… shut up, Potter!" she snapped, her face scarlet.
"Oh." Harry obediently closed his mouth. He knew how thin-skinned she was, so he refrained from saying anything more that might push her too far. Instead, he slipped an arm around her slender waist.
Her figure wasn't quite like Veratia's exotic elegance, but it was still slim and graceful.
Of course, Veratia wasn't human, so she couldn't be compared. After all, her aunt, Empress Sisi, had been the very symbol of the wasp waist.
Harry, still growing, was only fourteen—much shorter than seventeen-year-old Cassandra.
From behind, he could only rest his cheek against her back.
He rather missed the Ageing Potion; at least it made him instantly grown.
By his reckoning, his adult self would be taller than Cassandra—and taller than Veratia as well.
Still, he'd have to look into potions books—perhaps there was one for height. Best to be prepared.
As a man, he couldn't stand the thought of being shorter than his partner. Now, of course, it was excusable—he was still in the "terrifying little schoolboy" stage.
Or rather, a middle schooler, here in Britain.
They stayed like that, held together, the atmosphere slowly thickening with visible awkwardness.
Harry decided he had to say something, anything.
"Isn't this a bit tiring?" he asked carefully. "We've been standing so long. Why don't we sit down for a bit?"
Cassandra didn't answer. Harry thought she was ignoring him—until he caught the faintest mosquito-soft murmur:
"…Mm."
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my pa-treon:
pat reon .c-om/windkaze