Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy

Harry suddenly felt awkward, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"So that’s how it was…" Harry felt a twinge of guilt. "Actually, at the time… uh, I was thinking, if only the Board of Governors could do something about Miss Malfoy. She always called me lazy and arrogant. Back then, I thought she was really annoying..."

In the portrait, Veratia almost burst out laughing. She held back her amusement and said, "Oh yes, oh yes, you wanted the Board of Governors to rein in the daughter of the most powerful member of the Board? You really… have quite an imaginative mind, Harry."

"Yeah, I was really naive back then," Harry sighed in reflection.

It all made sense now.

No wonder… No wonder Cassandra was so furious when he had thanked Gareth back then—and even stomped on his foot.

At the time, Harry had found it baffling, but now, he finally understood.

"Actually, now that you put it that way, Cassandra is rather… well, quite something," Harry struggled to find the right words. "You know? Back outside the Elegant Wizard Robes shop, Cassandra mocked me for coming to buy second-hand robes again…"

Then he suddenly paused.

"And then?" Veratia asked with interest.

"Ah, I didn’t really mind. I was just curious whether she was there to sell second-hand robes herself, so I asked her, 'Are there any here that you’ve worn before?’"

Harry scratched his head and couldn’t help but laugh.

"That’s so you… You never told me about this," Veratia said, stifling a chuckle.

"It wasn’t worth mentioning. I thought she got really mad and just turned and left," Harry said with a shrug.

"She had every right to be mad. That was quite an offensive remark," Veratia smirked.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Ha, you guessed wrong. She wasn’t actually mad. That afternoon, she even had an owl deliver two old Slytherin robes she had worn."

"What did you just say?!" Veratia’s voice shot up.

"Uh— I said she sent me two old robes…" Harry cautiously glanced at Veratia, who was now glaring at him.

Veratia let out a huff and stared at Harry. "And did you wear them?"

"Yeah, I had Professor Weasley help alter them into Gryffindor robes…" Harry admitted guiltily.

"She gives you something, and you just wear it?" Veratia shot him a look.

"You know what things were like for me back then," Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. He instinctively justified himself, "I was alone in the wizarding world. No family, no real friends…"

Veratia's heart softened.

"I’m sorry, Harry."

"Ah, it’s nothing," Harry waved his hand dismissively before turning back to Veratia. "But this time, I really have to go to Malfoy Manor. Whether I can find a Basilisk fang or not will depend on Cassandra’s great-nephew."

"Alright." Veratia smiled and nodded. "I’ll be waiting for your good news in the Map Chamber."

"And when I get out, you still have to come with me to find Cassandra and help me save Poppy," Harry added with a grin. "Oh, and I can’t seem to find any news on Ominis and Sebastian either. I might have to make a trip to Azkaban…"

"Don’t worry, they won’t be in Azkaban," Veratia said. "Once I leave Slytherin’s study, I’ll go with you. We’ll do it together."

She emphasized the word "together."

Harry didn’t catch it and simply nodded.

He stayed in the Map Chamber all night, chatting with Veratia.

It wasn’t until the next morning that he finally left.

After Harry departed, Headmaster Fitzgerald and the others returned to their portraits.

"Honestly," Headmaster Fitzgerald said to Veratia, "you waited in the Map Chamber for a hundred years for nothing—and now I hear that Potter is going to find Cassandra? Was it you who told him?"

"I just don’t understand you young people," said Lockwood from the side. "Love is selfish. If I were you, I wouldn’t have told Potter about Cassandra being trapped in the time rift—not so soon, at least."

"Grindelwald’s pride does not allow her to do that," Veratia lifted her chin high, exuding the elegance of a swan.

"Merlin’s beard, you’re such a soft-hearted fool," Lockwood sighed. "If it were me, I would’ve waited until I secured a relationship with that little Potter before telling him—or maybe I wouldn’t tell him at all."

"No wonder all your descendants are Dark Wizards," Professor Pockham rolled his eyes and delivered a cutting remark.

Lockwood let out a roar and lunged into Pockham’s portrait.

"Charles! Charles!" Headmaster Fitzgerald hurriedly pulled him back. "He’s only telling the truth!"

"Exactly! That’s why it hurts!" Lockwood clutched his chest in anguish. "Merlin, what did I do wrong? Why are all my descendants villains?!"

"Because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree," Professor Pockham whistled.

Lockwood turned red with rage.

Lockwood was utterly defeated.

"But speaking of which," Professor Pockham suddenly mused, "that Potter boy is average in talent and has a rather… questionable personality. Why do you like him so much? You even went as far as separating your soul from your body, hiding in a portrait, and freezing yourself in time just to meet him?"

"Why do I like him?" Veratia murmured. In truth… she wasn’t entirely sure herself.

At first, what attracted her to Harry was the ancient magic she had glimpsed in him at first sight.

Ancient magic inheritors were rare. Most would go their entire lives without ever meeting another inheritor in the world.

But she had been fortunate enough to encounter one at Hogwarts—someone who happened to be in the same year as her.

What intrigued her even more was that, in most cases, inheritors of ancient magic were Squibs or Muggles before the age of fifteen, completely devoid of magical ability. But Harry was different. Before turning fifteen, he already possessed ample magic, defying all conventions.

Later, she discovered traces of Grindelwald’s ancient spellwork within him.

Initially, she had only approached Harry to unravel these mysteries.

But over time, as they spent more and more moments together, Veratia found herself drawn to his character—his resilience, sharpness, courage, integrity, and loyalty. Like a star shining in the night, his qualities illuminated the darkness.

At some point, she had come to accept him. Perhaps it had happened gradually, day by day.

"Love has no reason, Charles," Headmaster Fitzgerald said softly.

Lockwood rolled his eyes and chose to remain silent.

Ah, restless youth.

Harry had no idea what had transpired in the Map Chamber. As he yawned and climbed the stairs, the eastern sun slowly began to rise.

In high-latitude regions, summer daylight always arrives earlier. Harry glanced at his watch—it wasn’t even four o’clock yet.

He walked back to his dormitory, flipped onto his bed, and his mind was still occupied with thoughts of Cassandra.

In truth, Harry felt a tinge of regret. If only he had realized Cassandra’s good intentions earlier.

Perhaps… his school life back then would have been much more interesting?

As the holiday approached, the students’ minds began to drift.

After all, final exam results would only make them miserable for a short while. Not everyone was like Hermione, who placed great importance on grades.

Scrawling a few words on the exam papers was enough to justify the few Galleons their parents spent.

It should be said that wizarding families didn’t place too much emphasis on their children’s grades either.

After all, the wizarding population was small, the ecosystem wasn’t highly competitive, and thus, there was no cutthroat academic pressure.

Moreover, Hogwarts had, intentionally or not, embraced a rather lenient approach to education, leading to a rather mixed level of competence among its graduates.

But…

In times of peace, that might have been acceptable.

However, during an era of war, a wizard incapable of properly casting spells would struggle to survive.

For those without exceptional talent, the reality was harsh. If you slacked off in learning spells, thinking that just barely casting them was enough—then in battle, those spells would fail you just the same.

Right, as long as you could produce a flash of light, that was enough to keep up with the syllabus. Who cared if the spell actually worked?

Harry was well aware of the flaws in Hogwarts’ education system, but he had no idea how to fix them.

Professor Dumbledore might be a good man, but as a headmaster…

From an educational standpoint, Headmaster Black had been far more competent. After all, students who didn’t study were properly disciplined under his tenure.

Harry planned to find a suitable opportunity to discuss this matter with the headmaster.

Soon enough, the holidays were right around the corner.

Before the break, however, there was one last event—the House Cup.

Before Harry had enrolled, Slytherin had already won the House Cup for six consecutive years—thanks to their highly protective and blatantly biased Head of House, who constantly deducted points from other houses while generously awarding Slytherin.

If they won this year, it would mark their seventh consecutive victory.

Already unpopular due to their association with numerous Death Eaters and infamous ancestors, Slytherin was now even more disliked by the other houses.

At the House Cup award ceremony, the Great Hall was decked out in Slytherin’s signature silver and green decorations—serpentine through and through.

From Gryffindor to Hufflepuff, from Hufflepuff to Ravenclaw, everyone wore gloomy expressions—because once again, Slytherin had claimed the House Cup.

It wasn’t that they were upset about their own houses losing. The real grievance was that Slytherin had won.

That was what made it truly unbearable.

Losing was one thing, but watching your enemy succeed? Now that was unacceptable.

The Slytherins, however, weren’t overly jubilant either, as some of them were still preoccupied with the disappearance of Miss Merope.

Not long after, Dumbledore took his place at the head table.

After delivering his speech, he announced the house standings. Hufflepuff trailed at the bottom with 352 points, Gryffindor ranked third with 398 points, Ravenclaw secured second place with 426 points, while Slytherin dominated with a commanding lead of 472 points.

At last, the Slytherins erupted in cheers, their excitement spilling over as they celebrated.

Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore then began his subtle intervention.

He first praised Neville, Seamus, Hermione, and Ron for their outstanding performances before highlighting Harry’s remarkable achievements—then promptly awarded Gryffindor a whopping 200 points.

The Slytherins’ joy was abruptly cut short. Their expressions twisted as though they had just been forced to swallow a pile of dead rats.

Anyone standing outside the Great Hall at that moment might have thought something truly earth-shattering had happened inside.

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, wave after wave of jubilant shouts, but the most shocking thing was—Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were cheering even louder than Gryffindor.

They might not have won, but seeing Slytherin lose? Now that was worth celebrating.

A flood of students rushed forward, eager to shake hands with Harry and his friends—Neville, in particular, was so stunned that he turned pale as he was engulfed by a crowd of people hugging him.

“This means,” Dumbledore had to practically shout over the deafening cheers, “we’ll need to make a few small changes to the decorations here.”

With a clap of his hands, the emerald green drapes instantly turned scarlet, silver transformed into gold, and the enormous Slytherin serpent vanished, replaced by a majestic Gryffindor lion.

Snape was shaking hands with Professor McGonagall, his expression forcibly stretched into an awkward smile.

Harry glanced up at Snape. Sensing the gaze, Snape turned his eyes toward Harry as well.

Then, with a look of utter disgust—as if he had just swallowed a fly—Snape immediately turned away.

Harry felt the urge to laugh but held it in.

The holiday arrived as expected, and Harry had already made plans for his break.

He had a long list of things to do—visiting Gringotts, calling on the Malfoys, stopping by the Weasleys, searching for signs of the Basilisk’s fangs in Knockturn Alley… In short, he had plenty on his agenda.

He intended to tackle them one by one, starting with returning to the Dursleys'.

Though he wasn’t particularly fond of his aunt and uncle, at the very least, their house provided a place to rest.

The hardworking house-elves of Hogwarts had already packed their trunks for them, neatly loading them onto the train before they left.

Just before boarding the Hogwarts Express, Harry went to find Poppy.

After searching for a while, he finally spotted her by the Black Lake.

Her nose was submerged in the water, bubbles rising to the surface in a steady stream.

“Poppy?” Harry asked curiously. “What are you doing?”

Poppy lifted her head and replied, “I’m glub-glubbing.”

With that, she stuck her nose back in the water.

“Glub-glub, glub-glub…”

Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked, “I’m heading home—do you want to come with me?”

Poppy lifted her head again, scrutinizing him as if reassessing the potential of a rather hopeless young boy.

“You want to take a unicorn back to the Muggle world?”

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