"Yes," Veratia said, settling down beside Harry with an easy grace, not showing the slightest hint of restraint. "The two of us have known each other for quite a while. In fact, I've been the one guiding Lily in her study of ancient magic."
Lily glanced at Harry.
"Attaboy!" she said, giving him another enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"Dumbledore's still at the Ministry," Veratia said to Sirius. "It'll be a while before he gets back. Godfather, sir, why don't you fill them in on what happened next?"
Godfather… sir?!
James's respect for his son skyrocketed, reaching a level of awe that could only be described as prostrating himself in admiration. This was Grindelwald's sister, after all!
Lily, stifling a laugh, stole a glance at Veratia, already wondering if one day Veratia might start calling her…
Well… from teacher to close friend, and then to mother-in-law…
The progression of their relationship was anything but ordinary, undulating like a wave, swaying in tandem with the grand tides of fate.
Sirius, hearing Veratia's address, took a deep breath.
At this point, he could only accept his fate.
He'd calculated every possibility, but never anticipated that Veratia would already know Lily—and not just know her, but share a bond that was far from casual…
There was no way to broach that subject now.
Resigned, he had no choice but to recount the events after 1981 to Lily and James.
When he reached the part about switching the Secret-Keeper, James suddenly interrupted.
"Wait, hold on!" James frowned. "Why would I be so foolish as to pass over the infallible Dumbledore and choose someone else as our Secret-Keeper?"
"That's how it happened," Sirius said, scratching his head. "I tried to talk you out of it—tried to convince Lily, too—but it was like you'd both been dosed with some kind of Confundus Charm. You insisted I be the Secret-Keeper…"
"Was I really that daft?" James muttered, starting to question his entire existence.
"But if you were so set on Dumbledore being the Secret-Keeper," Veratia asked, puzzled, "why would you still choose Godfather, sir?"
"No idea," James said, throwing his hands up.
Sirius continued the tale. When he reached the part where James and Lily heroically sacrificed themselves to protect Harry and defeat Voldemort, neither seemed saddened by their own deaths. In fact, they appeared almost pleased.
"If it meant taking Voldemort down with us," James said magnanimously, "our deaths weren't in vain. Aside from a few details that don't quite add up—and slightly tarnish my reputation—it's all rather perfect."
"And you?" Poppy Sweeting raised her hand. "You died too, didn't you? Harry grew up without any family…"
"With our sacrifice, countless other parents got to raise their children," James said, smiling as he draped an arm around Lily's shoulders. "Whether I'm here or not doesn't matter much. But a world without Voldemort? That matters to me."
In that moment, Harry began to understand why his mother had chosen his father. That kind of magnanimity was something a certain greasy-haired bat could never match.
"And then what?" Lily asked, propping her chin on her hands. "What about Harry?"
"Er, better let him tell that part," Sirius said, waving a hand. "His story's a bit complicated, so I think he should explain it himself."
Harry nodded and turned to Lily and James. "Mum, Dad, this might shock you, but it's true—on July 25, 1991, I received an acceptance letter from Hogwarts… but it wasn't from 1991. It was from Hogwarts in 1887, when Phineas Black was still Headmaster!"
"Oh, Phineas Black!" James exclaimed, realization dawning. "I know him—the most unpopular Headmaster in Hogwarts history, right?"
"Exactly," Harry said, nodding. "I don't know how it happened, but I ended up attending Hogwarts a hundred years in the past. That's where I met Cassandra, Poppy, and Veratia…"
"Wait a second!" Lily cut in, her sharp instincts kicking in as something felt off.
She was ready to dig deeper, momentarily setting aside Harry's adventures.
"Cassandra? Poppy? Who are they?" Lily's gaze sharpened as she looked at Harry, a mother's intuition telling her her son might have the makings of a heartbreaker.
Those names were unmistakably feminine.
"That's us," Poppy said, pulling a reluctant Cassandra out from behind the door. "We're from Hogwarts a hundred years ago, and we're Harry's good friends…"
"Why do you all look so young?" Lily asked suspiciously.
Harry didn't hesitate, recounting in meticulous detail how he met these girls, how they ended up in the present, and what they'd each been through. He laid it all out for Lily.
Hearing this heartfelt—well, friendship? Romance? Lily wasn't sure how to categorize it, but she was already in tears. She'd initially worried Harry might be some kind of cad, but learning the full story, she suddenly felt none of these girls could be left behind.
They'd sacrificed so much for Harry. Abandoning any one of them would cause immeasurable pain to the others.
But what could be done?
Lily's head began to ache.
After Harry finished recounting his century-old adventures, James burst into laughter.
"So you're the Harry Potter from a hundred years ago?" His grin stretched ear to ear. "Merlin's beard! When I named you, I was inspired by that Harry from the past, but I never dreamed he'd turn out to be my son—a legendary wizard, a hero! Hahaha!"
"I never expected Harry to go through so much either," Lily said, her heart aching as she looked at her son. "All these years… you must be exhausted, my dear boy."
"It's not so bad," Harry said, scratching the back of his head. "People call me a legendary wizard, but honestly, stopping the Ashwinder cult wouldn't have been possible without Cassandra, Veratia, and the others. They even gave me most of the credit when I didn't really… you know."
At Harry's mention of her name first, Cassandra's lips curled into a subtle smile.
Hmph…
Her heart fluttered with quiet satisfaction.
"So, this Miss Cassandra…" Lily's eyes landed on the subtly smirking girl, instantly pegging her as the proud, tsundere type.
"She's from the Malfoy family," Harry explained to Lily. "Technically, she'd be Lucius Malfoy's great-great-aunt or something."
"I see…" Lily nodded. Harry had mentioned earlier that Cassandra's father, Septimus Malfoy, often brought him along to important events.
It wasn't surprising. Only a family as prominent as the Malfoys could match the illustrious background Harry described.
Lily, well-versed in magical history, knew all about Septimus Malfoy—the shadowy Minister of Magic in the nineteenth century, a man who held immense sway in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. Rumor had it he was even close friends with a certain royal grandmother.
Sharp as she was, Lily could see that Septimus had been grooming Harry as a potential son-in-law.
She also began to understand why the once-open-minded Malfoy family had turned into rigid, pure-blood supremacists.
Bloody hell, Lily thought, clenching her fists as she put herself in their shoes. If her daughter had been swept off by some dark-haired wizard on a flying broomstick, she might've gone even further than Septimus.
But since Harry was her son… well, that was different.
Still, it seemed that even a hundred years ago, Harry hadn't exactly had a hard life, thanks to the Malfoys' protection. Given the wizarding world's climate back then, things could've been much worse for him.
"As for Poppy…" Harry glanced at her, only to see her resting her chin on her folded arms on the table, gazing at him with an innocent, wide-eyed expression.
His eyelid twitched.
What in Merlin's name is clouding my vision?
"She's Newt Scamander's aunt," Harry said quickly. "You know, the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."
"Hey there!" Poppy waved cheerfully at the two.
"Hello, Miss Sweeting," Lily said warmly, nodding.
"Oh, and there's Mr. Flamel."
Harry suddenly remembered Nicolas Flamel. When he turned to look, he found the man sitting quietly in a chair, headphones on, cradling a crystal ball in serene silence.
"Mr. Flamel?" Harry called.
Flamel didn't respond, his fingers rapidly tracing patterns in the air before him.
It looked like he was playing some sort of game—or perhaps coding something.
But judging by the speed of his movements, it didn't seem like a game. No game required that level of dexterity, not yet, anyway.
Just then, Professor Lupin returned from outside.
"It's freezing out there," Lupin said, rubbing his hands together and blowing on his nose as he entered the room. Hearing Harry call for Flamel, he walked over and gently removed the man's headphones.
Flamel looked up, his expression dark as he glared at Lupin.
"Harry's calling you, Mr. Flamel," Lupin said with a smile, pointing toward Harry.
Following Lupin's gesture, his eyes landed on James and Lily sitting at the table.
"Whoa, talk about a shock," Lupin said, chuckling as he rubbed his eyes. "Or maybe I'm still half-asleep. Am I seeing Prongs and Lily?"
"You're not dreaming, Lupin," Sirius said gleefully. "It's really James and Lily—they're back!"
Lupin practically lunged to the table, stopping beside James.
"Prongs?" he asked, trembling with disbelief.
James, however, maintained his usual carefree demeanor, showing no trace of the joy one might expect from a long-awaited reunion.
After all, he'd seen Lupin just the day before he "left."
"Mate, it's not a full moon tonight, is it?" James teased heartlessly. "I'd hate for your furry little problem to act up and take a bite out of me."
The quip lightened the bittersweet atmosphere.
Lupin laughed, throwing his arms around James.
"Thirteen years, mate. Thirteen years…" he murmured. "You're finally back, Prongs!"
"I'm back, alright, and with Lily," James said, clapping Lupin's shoulder with a grin. "I don't mind you hugging me this long, but I'm a married man now. Careful, or Lily might get jealous."
"Hahaha!" Lupin wiped a tear, laughing as he let go of James. "You haven't changed a bit, James."
After a bit more chatter, Flamel finally shuffled over to the table.
"Mum, Dad," Harry said, introducing them. "This is Nicolas Flamel, the legendary French alchemist. At Dumbledore's invitation, he's currently living in seclusion at Hogwarts. We're in his alchemy lab right now."
"Nicolas Flamel?!" Lily gasped. "My goodness, I've read about you in so many books! Veratia's mentioned you countless times… It's an honor, truly an honor to meet you."
She extended her hand, grasping Flamel's.
Crack.
A sharp sound rang out, and Flamel let out a yelp of pain.
Lily froze, horrified, realizing she might've accidentally crushed the alchemist's brittle bones. He was born in the fourteenth century, after all—osteoporosis was practically a given.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Flamel!" Lily stammered, mortified.
"Oh, no worries," Flamel said with a cheerful chuckle. "Just a little prank—thanks to your husband's family, Skele-Gro works wonders for us brittle old folks. I thought I'd have a bit of fun with a fake injury to tease my new friends…"
A prank?
Lily's face fell. I thought I'd broken his bones!
James, on the other hand, looked intrigued. Pranks were right up his alley, and Flamel's antics clearly struck a chord.
"Was it you who brought us across time, Mr. Flamel?" Lily asked, eager to change the subject.
"Not at all," Flamel said, chuckling as he scurried to sit beside Lupin. "You're here because of a gem called 'Desire.' As the name suggests, it grants the deepest wishes of one's heart."
"Harry held that gem," Flamel concluded, "and his deepest desire was to have his father and mother back."
"Is that so?" Lily murmured, her heart aching.
Despite all of Harry's accomplishments, his greatest longing was still for his parents' love.
Noticing his mother's expression, Harry quickly changed the topic. "Anyway, Mum, Dad, what are your plans now?"
"Plans?" James looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Sirius said with a grin. "Now that you're both back, you'll need something to do. For example, Lupin and I are currently teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."
"You two are teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" James laughed. "You lot, teaching… Wait, doesn't Moony have a bit of a furry problem? How'd Dumbledore let him teach?"
"It's a long story," Lupin said, smiling. "Recently, some wizard developed a Wolfsbane Potion. Taken a week before the full moon, it allows a werewolf to keep their mind even when transformed. It's a tricky potion to brew, but being a Hogwarts professor comes with perks, so our Potions professor kindly whips up a batch for me every month."
"Potions professor? Slughorn?" James raised an eyebrow. "That old codger? He never liked me—blind as a bat, that one. Though he got on well with Lily. Is he still kicking?"
"He's very much alive," Lupin said, then corrected himself. "But he's not the one teaching Potions at Hogwarts anymore."
"Not Slughorn?" James's curiosity piqued. "Then who is it?"
Sirius cleared his throat dramatically, revealing the answer. "None other than someone we all know very well…"
"Frank?" James guessed, referring to Neville's father, Frank Longbottom, who'd always excelled at Potions—almost as much as Slughorn's protruding waistline.
"No, not Frank," Sirius sighed. "The Longbottoms are… not in great shape. They're at St. Mungo's, undergoing treatment…"
"Then who?" James scratched his head. "Not McKinnon, surely? I remember she was decent at Potions…"
"McKinnon…" Sirius sighed again. "Her whole family was killed by Death Eaters…"
"Merlin's beard…" James let out a heavy sigh, then pressed, "So who's the Potions professor? I'm drawing a blank here."
Sirius cleared his throat again, shaking his head with mock regret. "None other than our dear old friend… Severus Snape."
The room fell into a stunned silence, a long, heavy pause.
Just then, Dumbledore and Snape pushed open the door.
No sooner had they entered than a thunderous roar echoed through the room.
"What?! That greasy git is a Hogwarts professor?! Impossible! Absolutely impossible! Has Dumbledore gone senile to make such a ludicrous decision?!"
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