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"I'm actually quite curious about that rat," Veratia said suddenly. "Logically speaking, an ordinary household rat wouldn't live this long. Typically, they only have a lifespan of a few years—perhaps it found some way to prolong its life."
As she spoke, Veratia cast a leisurely glance at Cassandra, who was peeling a banana.
Her interest wasn't really in Scabbers, the old rat, but rather in using the topic to tease Cassandra.
Cassandra shot back with a smirk, "Let's hope this little rat doesn't have to deal with any meddling third parties, wouldn't you say, Grindelwald?"
"Or maybe this rat's just too timid, so it ends up missing out on a lot," Veratia replied, waving her hand dismissively before grabbing a sandwich and stuffing it into Harry's mouth.
"By the way," Veratia continued, "I think we should swap dorms. What do you say, Cassandra?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Cassandra asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Just like old times. I do miss my old friend," Veratia said with a sly smile. "Or have you already forgotten your old friend?"
"I haven't forgotten my old friend," Cassandra emphasized the word "old" pointedly. "Fine, I accept your proposal."
After all, Veratia was now a seventh-year student, undeniably a bit older than Cassandra.
The moment they returned to the dorms, Veratia promptly moved all her belongings into Cassandra's room.
This left the Slytherin prefect, Miss Farley, feeling a tad regretful about the change.
In the Gryffindor dormitory, Ron wasn't in a hurry to sleep.
Once Neville and Seamus had dozed off, Ron tapped Harry's shoulder, gesturing for them to head out to the balcony.
The two sat on the balcony, and Ron asked with concern, "Mate, what's going on with you? I keep feeling something's off."
"What's off?" Harry asked, chewing on a Liquorice Wand.
Ron paused to gather his thoughts before launching into his critique.
"I just think that Malfoy girl's acting weird—I mean, Miss Malfoy… and Miss Grindelwald's not exactly normal either. I reckon they're both vying for you, Harry. You've heard how they talk, all snarky and passive-aggressive…"
It was Hermione who had clued Ron in on Veratia's situation.
Ron, being the oblivious sort, hadn't picked up on much himself, but Hermione, with her sharp intuition and the early maturity that often comes with being a girl, had keenly sensed what was really going on.
"Vying for me?" Harry snapped off a piece of his Liquorice Wand with a loud crunch.
"I'm getting that vibe," Ron said again. "That Malfoy girl, she acts all high and mighty, but Hermione and I can tell—she's always sneaking glances at you, Harry."
"Look, mate…" Ron crossed his arms, shaking his head with a sigh. "I'm not one to gossip, but I think you'd better make a choice soon. Otherwise, I'm worried those two might tear this school apart."
With that, Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder and headed back inside.
Harry sat by the window, gazing at the bright moon above.
Did he really have to make a choice?
Truth be told, he'd long been aware of Cassandra and Veratia's feelings for him, but he'd been subconsciously dodging the issue.
This choice was painfully difficult. If this were a hundred years ago, he might have been able to cut through the mess and pick one of them.
But things were different now. Cassandra and Veratia had both crossed a century for his sake—one had lost her life, the other her magic…
No matter whom he chose, he'd be letting the other down.
He'd been able to avoid facing this until now, but Ron's blunt words had just ripped through that fragile veil, leaving him feeling utterly lost.
He decided that, when he had a moment, he'd ask Sebastian or Poppy what to do.
Meanwhile, in the Forbidden Forest, Sirius Black, in his black dog form, was gnawing on a rat he'd just caught.
Food was scarce in the Forbidden Forest, and as a wanted fugitive, he couldn't exactly stroll into Hogwarts or any wizarding settlement for a meal. So, catching rats and eating them raw was his only option.
But it wasn't without purpose, Sirius told himself. As long as he could catch the traitor who betrayed James and protect his godson, it was all worth it.
"What are you eating?"
An ethereal female voice sounded from behind him.
Startled, Sirius yelped and leapt to the side, warily turning to see who it was. To his relief, it was a unicorn.
Unicorns, as everyone knew, were noble and sacred magical creatures, so Sirius's guard dropped instantly.
"Woof, woof, woof," Sirius barked in response.
"Oh, you're here to eat grass, aren't you?" Poppy said cheerfully, shaking her head. She couldn't understand dog-speak. "Come on, I know where there's some delicious grass. Follow me…"
Sirius hesitated, unsure if he should go with her.
Eating grass… it didn't sound half bad. Better than dead rats, at least.
He followed Poppy to a small patch of bushes laden with blueberries and other berries.
"Have some berries," Poppy said with a smile. "I remember dogs can't eat grass. Hmm, you're the biggest… creature I've ever seen. Are you a dog?"
She wasn't wrong to question it—Sirius was nearly the size of a foal.
"Woof, woof!" Sirius nodded eagerly.
"Alright, then. Eat some berries and leave those dead rats alone. If you'd like, you can come with me later—I've got plenty of good food in my tent," Poppy said with a warm smile.
Sirius wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he could've sworn he saw a hint of grandmotherly kindness on the unicorn's face.
The next morning, the third-year students headed to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
The classroom for the new term had been redecorated. Professor Lupin's style was simple and understated, nothing like Lockhart's flamboyance or Professor Rosier's extravagance.
In short, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom now felt like a proper classroom.
At the front of the room stood a massive wardrobe, which was rattling and shaking as though something inside was trying to break free.
The students eyed it warily, recalling last year's lesson with Professor Rosier, when a Boggart had turned out to be an Inferius locked in a wardrobe. If this was another Inferius…
It wasn't that Inferi were unbeatable, but they were undeniably creepy to look at.
"No need to worry, students," Professor Lupin said, emerging from the staff room. "It's only a Boggart in there."
"If you've done your pre-reading, you'll know that Boggarts thrive in dark, enclosed spaces," Lupin continued, addressing the class. "Wardrobes, gaps under beds, cupboards beneath sinks—I once encountered one hiding inside an old family clock."
"This one was brought in yesterday afternoon. I asked the Headmaster if we could leave it undisturbed so my third-year students could have a practical lesson."
Lupin leaned on the podium, looking out at the class.
"Now, for my first question: what is a Boggart?"
Several hands shot up.
"Hmm…" Lupin considered for a moment before pointing. "Miss Granger, go ahead. Tell us what a Boggart is."
"A Boggart is a shape-shifting creature," Hermione said. "It peers into your mind and transforms into whatever you fear most. The more people there are, the easier it is to deal with a Boggart—laughter is what truly defeats it. When you laugh, the Boggart bursts into a thousand wisps of smoke and vanishes."
"Excellent, excellent," Lupin said, clapping. "I couldn't have said it better myself."
"So, the Boggart in that wardrobe, sitting in the dark, hasn't yet taken any form. It doesn't know what will frighten the people outside," Lupin continued. "No one knows what a Boggart looks like when it's alone, but when I let it out, it will immediately become whatever each of us fears most."
"But we have a significant advantage. Can you tell me what it is?" Lupin asked with a smile, pointing again. "Ron, what do you think?"
"Well?" Ron began, pausing for a moment. "Like Hermione said, the more people there are, the easier it is to deal with a Boggart because it gets confused and doesn't know what to turn into."
"Spot on," Lupin said, clapping again. "When facing a Boggart, the best thing is to have a crowd. It gets flustered, wondering what it should become. A headless corpse? A flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make the mistake of trying to scare two people at once—it turned into half a slug, which wasn't frightening at all."
Just then, a knock came at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door.
"Hello, Professor Lupin," Veratia said.
Lupin turned and smiled upon seeing her. "Hello, Miss Grindelwald. How can I help you?"
"I need to speak with Harry," Veratia said.
"Harry," Lupin called. "Miss Grindelwald has something to discuss with you."
As Harry walked toward the door, Lupin added, "By the way, I believe you missed the first seventh-year Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson?"
"Yes, Professor," Veratia replied politely. "I'm sorry, I had some personal matters to attend to."
"No worries—Professor Dumbledore already informed me," Lupin said with a warm chuckle. "But I'm curious to see what your Boggart might be. If you have time later, you're welcome to join our lesson."
"Thank you, Professor," Veratia said, not declining the invitation.
As they stepped outside, they could still hear Lupin explaining the Boggart's weaknesses to the class.
"The spell to repel a Boggart is simple, but it requires willpower. You see, what truly drives a Boggart away is laughter. All you need to do is force it to take a form you find amusing…"
Outside the classroom, Harry stood obediently, looking at Veratia.
"Come with me to Professor Dumbledore's office in a bit," Veratia said succinctly. "He sent a message via phoenix that the Wizengamot meeting will end in about twenty minutes. I think we should ask him about that Death issue you mentioned earlier."
"Alright," Harry nodded.
"And we should bring Cassandra along," Veratia added after a moment's thought. "Maybe we should also invite Mr. Flamel. After all, he's a legendary alchemist who's lived for over six hundred years. He might know a way to escape Death's pursuit."
"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, curious.
"Because he's someone who's transcended the boundaries of life and death, which is something Death cannot tolerate," Veratia said with conviction. "To live this long in the world without being hunted by Death, he must have some unique method."
"Fair enough," Harry nodded. "So, what now?"
"Back to class," Veratia said with a mischievous grin. "I'm dying to see what your Boggart is."
Harry gave her a wry look before turning and heading back into the classroom, with Veratia following close behind.
As they entered, they saw Lupin with a hand on Neville's shoulder, speaking to him.
Seeing the two return, Lupin nodded at them, then pointed his wand at the wardrobe. "On three, Neville… One, two, three—now!"
A spark shot from Lupin's wand, hitting the wardrobe's handle. The door flew open with a bang.
Out stepped Professor Snape, his long hooked nose and menacing expression fixed on Neville. His greasy hair swayed with each step, like seaweed in ocean waves.
"This Snape doesn't wash his hair either," Ron quipped from the side. He wasn't convinced that a real Snape could randomly appear in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to deduct points.
And he was right—Snape was currently teaching Potions to the fourth-years.
As the Boggart-Snape advanced, Neville backed away, raising his wand but stammering, unable to speak.
It wasn't his fault. Against anyone else, Neville might have drawn his wand or hurled a Biting Cabbage, but facing Snape was like a mouse frozen under a cat's gaze—completely overwhelmed.
Snape loomed closer, reaching into his robes as if to draw his wand.
"Come on, Neville!" Ron shouted. "Don't let Gryffindor down!"
Bolstered by Ron's encouragement, Neville seemed to find his resolve.
Right! It's just a Boggart—nothing to fear!
"Riddikulus!" Neville cried shrilly.
A whip-like crack rang out, and Snape stumbled.
Suddenly, his black robes transformed into a long, lace-trimmed green dress. A tall hat adorned with a moth-eaten vulture sat atop his head, and he clutched a massive crimson handbag.
The class fell silent for a moment, then erupted into raucous laughter.
Students from all four Houses roared, slapping their thighs. Even the Slytherins couldn't help themselves—Draco tried to hold it in, but as Crabbe and Goyle pounded the desks with laughter, he joined in.
It was a rare sight. Who could've imagined the stern Professor Snape in women's clothing?
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