All the way back, Harry was positively beaming, as though he had just swallowed a vial of Felix Felicis.
As it turned out, Sirius really was an expert when it came to flirting. The man had not only natural talent but also technique.
When someone could already be considered a "stats monster," that was frightening enough—but to combine that with practiced skill…
No wonder Mrs. Black had never once worried about her son failing to continue the Black family line.
Godfather was still Godfather. Harry gave Sirius a silent thumbs-up in his heart.
Even though Cassandra had deliberately stomped on his foot before he left, overall, Harry still counted it as a wonderful day.
Back in the dormitory, Ron caught sight of the strange smile plastered across Harry's face and shuddered involuntarily.
"What were you up to, mate?"
"Nothing," Harry answered absently, his mind still lingering on what had just transpired.
"Then why are you grinning like… like…" Ron searched for a word that wouldn't sting too much and finally settled on, "…a scoundrel."
"You'll understand one day, Ron," Harry cast him a sidelong glance. "Now get to bed. I mean it—if you don't, it's already late, and you'll oversleep tomorrow morning."
"Fine, fine."
Seeing Harry wasn't willing to say more, Ron didn't press.
"Where are Seamus and Neville?" Harry asked, noticing their empty beds as he sat down on his own.
"They went out," Ron explained. "Said they were practicing some of the little spells Professor Lupin taught them earlier. But Lupin gave us strict instructions—absolutely don't let Professor Snape catch us using them. I was going to join, but then I thought—if Snape caught me…" He trailed off with a grimace.
You had to give it to Ron—at least he had some self-awareness about his knack for attracting Snape's attention.
And of course, the spells Lupin had shared were no doubt the very same ones the Marauders had once tested on Snape.
Whether they were harmless or not was up for debate, but Snape always boasted that he was seven times stronger than the Marauders combined. Sirius had even speculated that if Snape truly disliked it, he would simply walk away.
"You really do think things through, Ron." Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the moment you said something bad about him, Snape appeared right behind you."
"Hahahaha!" Ron burst out laughing, hands on his hips. "Impossible! This is the Gryffindor dormitory—we're perfectly safe. Even Snape can't just pop up behind me here!"
Harry fixed him with a steady gaze.
"Want to test that theory?"
Ron shook his head without hesitation. "Not a chance."
Test and perish—no, thank you.
Harry chuckled, seeing right through Ron's cowardice.
"Go to sleep. We've got Potions tomorrow. Maybe you can try insulting him while he's too busy brewing to notice—now that's a decent idea, Ron. You should give it a shot."
Ron gave a pained grin and quickly rejected the suggestion.
He wasn't about to gamble on whether Snape could materialize behind him and deduct points.
The spring term of third year wasn't too heavy with coursework. After all, the real pressure came in fifth year, with the looming O.W.L.s.
O.W.L.s—Ordinary Wizarding Levels—were standardized exams overseen by the Wizarding Examinations Authority.
The core subjects included Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Charms, Astronomy, and Herbology. Electives ranged from Ancient Runes and Divination to Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies.
By third year, students were required to choose at least two electives.
Not everyone was a Hermione—she'd taken practically everything. Harry, meanwhile, had only picked Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, and even skipped sometimes.
One of the best things about Professor Trelawney, in fact, was that she didn't seem to care whether her students showed up at all—which explained the perpetually half-empty Divination classroom.
As Veratia explained it, O.W.L.s were modeled after the British Muggle education system, essentially functioning as final written exams. Passing them earned students subject-specific certifications.
Harry hadn't really understood most of Veratia's explanation, but he did catch the important bit—this system had been borrowed from the Muggle world.
Apparently, wizarding society wasn't as isolated as it liked to pretend.
Still, none of that concerned Harry just yet. Those with real reason to worry were Cedric and Megan.
Lately, both of them had abandoned their usual Duelling Club sessions, choosing instead to spend every waking hour in the Great Hall cramming, looking ready to tear their hair out.
But knowledge, as they discovered, wasn't so easily crammed in.
Cedric was fine—he was a solid student, so he'd likely ace his O.W.L.s.
Megan, however… studying was not exactly her strong suit.
Every now and then, Harry still arranged to meet Cassandra, under the excuse of "replenishing magic."
After each such rendezvous, Harry would discuss progress with Sirius, who would always offer advice.
According to Sirius, girls like Miss Malfoy were classic cases of saying one thing and meaning another. The trick was to invert everything she said.
"No need to bother with me" really meant "please come check on me."
"You're so annoying" meant "I don't actually dislike this at all."
But Sirius also warned him sternly—when it came to someone that contrary, pressing too hard would backfire. The key was patience: push just a little at a time, and never too far.
Harry took those words as gospel—and, following them, had found they worked wonders.
Sirius was, after all, a master in this arena.
From allowing him no more than a hand at her waist in the beginning, Cassandra had now progressed to letting him touch her leg.
That was no small victory, at least in Harry's eyes.
Time passed quickly, and before long, June had arrived.
Veratia returned from the Muggle world, supposedly with two doctoral degrees under her belt.
Hermione nearly fainted when she saw the certificates. In her mind, a doctorate required years of grueling study—yet this prodigy had somehow completed both a bachelor's, master's, and two doctorates in just a year and a half.
Good heavens.
Still, considering Veratia had stockpiled a fair number of Bott's Mind-Awakening Draughts from Snape, not to mention her use of a Time-Turner, Hermione grudgingly found it less outrageous. After all, she herself had used a Time-Turner to manage multiple classes at once.
"Looks like you've turned into a complete Muggle, Grindelwald."
In an abandoned classroom, Cassandra couldn't resist goading her.
"Oh?" Veratia didn't get angry. Instead, she winked mysteriously. "But I'm seventh year now—about to graduate. Which technically makes me your senior."
"Hmph." Cassandra lifted her chin with a sniff. "Senior? Please. Sure, you're older than me… but aside from age, what do you actually have that's bigger than mine?"
She hadn't expected Veratia to finish her off with a single gesture and one sentence.
Veratia straightened proudly and declared, "My chest is bigger than yours!"
A vein twitched on Cassandra's forehead. She sucked in a deep breath—but her eyes betrayed her, drifting despite herself to Veratia's well-developed bust.
And, of course, she compared.
Which left her ready to weep.
Why must life be so cruel?
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Poppy standing nearby, dozing off with her chin on her chest. Cassandra jabbed a finger at her and blurted, "But you're still not better than her, Grindelwald!"
Yet Veratia remained unbothered, smiling lazily.
"Bigger than you is enough."
"Don't worry, don't worry…" Harry hurried to grab Cassandra's arm. "Smaller ones are cute too…"
That did not help. If anything, it poured oil on the fire.
"Potter!" Cassandra hissed, eyes narrowed.
Harry instantly straightened in his chair, falling silent.
"But really," he muttered after a moment, "why is Poppy sleeping while standing up?"
Veratia flashed Harry a discreet thumbs-up, rescuing him with a quip. "Maybe it's a habit she picked up from being a unicorn?"
"Could be," Harry admitted, genuinely curious. What kind of balance did it take to fall asleep upright?
Though he had heard once of a witch who actually nodded off mid-Quidditch match.
Not from being knocked out by a Bludger—she'd simply drifted into natural slumber, right there on her broomstick.
What sort of lunatic achieved that?
Poppy remained peacefully snoozing until they finally called her awake as they were leaving.
"Merlin, I really fell asleep…"
She wiped drool from her mouth apologetically. "Sorry—I couldn't sleep a wink last night…"
She hadn't caught a word of their earlier conversation, but from the looks of it, she'd been dreaming of food—drooling was a dead giveaway.
Typical Hufflepuff gourmand. After a hundred years unable to taste anything, now that she had a body again, of course she overindulged.
But overeating took its toll, even leading to weight gain. Poppy wasn't keen on becoming "chubby," so she'd been rationing herself carefully—which explained why she dreamed of food instead.
Lately, she'd even been eating grass.
Literally grass.
Ever since regaining her human form, Poppy could switch freely between Magizoologist's human shape and unicorn.
A mixed blessing, perhaps.
But munching on grass as a human was too absurd, so whenever she indulged that craving, she chose to shift into unicorn form.
That way, at least, it looked natural.
"Seems you really have become a donkey, haven't you?" Cassandra teased mercilessly. "And you're so well-adjusted to your old identity, you can even sleep standing up."
"It's a unicorn!" Poppy protested hotly.
Cassandra didn't bother replying. But her look said it all: donkey.
Poppy fumed, gnawing on her sleeve in helpless frustration.
"If I recall, you two were practicing Occlumency together?" Veratia suddenly asked Harry, then turned to Cassandra. "It's been quite a while—don't tell me Harry's made no progress."
"Of course not!" Harry slapped the armrest. "I've already mastered Occlumency completely."
"Really?" Veratia arched a brow.
"Of course!"
Before he could elaborate, Veratia had already drawn her wand and aimed it at him.
In an instant, Harry cleared his mind.
When Veratia's Legilimency hit, all she found was a blank, white-walled void.
Withdrawing, she nodded in approval. "Impressive. Your training has clearly paid off. And truly, this is more than enough for you—you don't intend to become a double agent like Professor Snape, infiltrating enemy circles. So you can skip the part about weaving false memories."
Even Cassandra, usually ready to oppose Veratia at every turn, nodded in agreement.
"Grindelwald's right, Potter." Propping her chin on her hand, Cassandra added, "Better to spend your energy practicing spells."
Was she?
Harry eyed the two of them suspiciously. A bad feeling crept over him.
Why did it seem like these two were teaming up to trick him?
He was no longer the naïve, soft-hearted fool he'd once been.
Though outwardly calm, inwardly Harry was already plotting to continue his studies.
Whether or not he ever used false-memory weaving, it couldn't hurt to learn. He'd already gotten this far with Occlumency—why stop now?
But judging from their expressions, Cassandra and Veratia weren't about to teach him.
Which meant…
Harry would have to ask Professor Snape to show him how to weave false memories—how to fool anyone who tried to pry into his mind with Legilimency.
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