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Even if Gellert was angry, it wouldn’t do him any good. After all, he could hardly roast Jack.
In truth, though his defenses were breached, he wasn’t about to start yelling or threatening a parrot that looked so much like him. If anything, he was rather fond of the bird.
Ever since learning about Jack’s existence, Gellert had taken to visiting the Gryffindor table from ti to ti, teasing the parrot or feeding it so purchased potions. At first, Hermione was wary of Gellert, worried he might an Jack harm. But as ti passed, she let it go, allowing Gellert to co by and pet Jack whenever he pleased.
Wizards and witches of this age were at their most mischievous, much like how Snape had earned the moniker "Greasy Bat." Gellert, too, had been dubbed "Parrot" by his peers. But the nickna was more affectionate than mocking, as he’d already blended in seamlessly with his classmates.
On a Saturday afternoon, while Gellert was busy fussing over Jack, Harry called him out to the Great Hall’s entrance.
"Assistant Gellert," Harry said, "could you step outside for a mont? I need to talk to you about sothing."
A sly glint flashed in Gellert’s eyes.
"Whatever it is, you can say it here, Harry."
"It’s... personal," Harry emphasized the word heavily.
"Alright." Gellert reached out to ruffle the crest of the cockatoo. "Jack, I’m stepping out with this scar—er, Harry—for a bit. I’ll be back soon."
Harry: (*)?!
Did you just almost call Scarhead?
Gellert seed to read Harry’s thoughts. As they reached the Great Hall’s entrance, he nodded politely to two girls who greeted him, then said in a theatrical, sing-song tone, "Actually, I was going to say ’Scarhead Spectacled Beast.’"
Harry chose to ignore him.
"So, what’s this about, Mr. Potter?" Gellert asked with a cheeky grin.
"It’s about Cassandra," Harry said. "You promised us that once you arrived at the school, you’d use your prophecy to help us find her."
Gellert looked surprised.
"Oh..." he said, as if struck by a sudden realization. "I thought you were so wrapped up in my sister’s charms that you’d forgotten your old fla—"
"Cassandra is my friend," Harry protested. "My best friend."
Gellert gave him a look of utter disdain, the kind that could wilt flowers.
"Sure, let’s call her your best friend, Potter," he said with a huff. "But... I must say, it’s impressive you still rember Cassandra. Oh, could it be because my sister’s been ignoring you lately, so you’re reminiscing about her charms?"
At this, Gellert adopted an exaggerated look of epiphany.
"You’re quite the cad, Potter," he said, seizing the chance to stir trouble. "But I’m glad you’re coming to your senses. My sister’s like that, you know—career always cos first. Neither you nor I will ever be her top priority..."
His prophetic eyes spun mischievously, a knowing smile curling his lips as if he’d glimpsed so amusing future.
Harry noticed the telltale whirl of Gellert’s eyes and knew he’d seen sothing.
"What did you see?" he asked, concerned.
"Nothing about Miss Malfoy," Gellert replied with a cryptic glance, turning away. "Co with . I think a prophecy is best perford in the right setting."
They walked, one behind the other, to the fountain in the central courtyard. The Scottish Highlands were still gripped by winter, and snow blanketed the castle grounds. The fountain, too, was covered in a layer of pristine white. Even in this magical school, the seasons held sway, and the fountain lay dormant during its winter rest.
The biting wind kept most students indoors, and the few who passed by were rely cutting through. It was a quiet spot, perfect for discussing Cassandra.
As Harry approached the fountain, Hedwig appeared out of nowhere, flapping her wings and landing on a bench beside him.
"Your bird’s quite sothing," Gellert remarked, admiring Hedwig. "She’s beautiful."
"She was a birthday gift from Hagrid," Harry said, his face lighting up at the ntion of Hagrid.
Gellert raised an eyebrow noncommittally. After half a month at Hogwarts, he knew Hagrid well enough. He rather liked the gakeeper, who lacked any guile and was soone Dumbledore trusted deeply.
"Here," Harry said, gazing at the snow-covered fountain, lost in mory. "Back in first year, this was the place... Yes, Cassandra loved coming here to watch the fountain. Sotis she’d drag along."
Gellert’s expression suggested he saw right through him. "So you resented it back then, didn’t you? Thought she was bullying you?"
Harry shot Gellert a glance but didn’t respond.
"People are complicated, Harry," Gellert said lightly. "You may be an ’87 admit, but I’m older than you—practically an elder."
"Are you about to impart so life wisdom?" Harry asked, squinting.
"Dream on," Gellert chuckled. "We’re enemies, Harry, rember? But don’t worry—I keep my promises. I won’t shortchange you on this."
"I know," Harry said. "Because you’re Veratia’s brother."
Gellert seed to relish the comnt, flashing a smug grin.
"Alright, let’s get to it. Do you have anything of hers?" Gellert asked. "An item Miss Malfoy used could make the prophecy more precise."
Harry thought for a mont, recalling the notebook Cassandra had left behind.
"There’s a notebook," he said. "Wait here—I’ll go get it."
He hurried back to the Gryffindor common room, retrieved the carefully preserved notebook, and clutched it as he ran back.
Gellert was still waiting, and when Harry returned, he said nothing, only held out his hand with a smile.
"Here," Harry said, handing over the notebook. "This was Cassandra’s. Can you use it to find any clues?"
Gellert took the notebook without a word, closed his eyes, and held it gently.
Nearly half an hour passed, and he remained still.
Just as Harry was growing restless, Gellert opened his eyes and said softly, "What I saw... it’s incomplete. You might find clues to Cassandra through this notebook, and... rlin?"
He frowned at Harry.
"Finding Miss Malfoy is deeply tied to rlin. If you can figure out how she tried to cross ti, that might be the key to unraveling the mystery."
rlin?
Harry rubbed his temples. rlin... What could rlin have to do with Cassandra?
Could it be that whatever Cassandra stole from her family’s vault was connected to rlin?
Or perhaps...
Harry’s mind drifted to the rlin Trials he and Cassandra had tackled a century ago. Could she be at one of those trial sites?
"Any other clues?" Harry pressed.
"That’s all I can see for now, Potter," Gellert said with a cheerful grin. "Don’t worry—I’m not hiding anything. In fact, I want Miss Malfoy back even more than you do."
And he ant it.
To Gellert, his sister’s greatest rival was Cassandra Malfoy. If Cassandra ever lowered her guard, his sister might not stand a chance.
Though Harry sensed Gellert’s sincerity, his gut told him the boy was up to no good.
Ti flew by, and before he knew it, it was the second Friday of February.
Poppy Sweating, after auditing Harry’s classes for two weeks, lost interest but still dropped by occasionally. She didn’t need excuses—she was a school governor, after all, and could indulge in a bit of whimsy.
As for Harry, he’d been poring over a map of the UK, marking the locations of rlin Trials. Veratia hadn’t returned to Hogwarts, seemingly engrossed in her study of Muggle knowledge. Harry had hoped she could help him pinpoint the trial sites, but no such luck.
The rlin Trials Harry had visited were all in Scotland, and he planned to revisit them soon.
Yawning, he made his way to Dumbledore’s office.
"Professor," Harry greeted.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, glancing up and noticing the dark circles under Harry’s eyes. "You look exhausted. Are you not resting well?"
"I’ve been mapping out rlin Trial locations," Harry said, stifling another yawn. "Haven’t slept much."
"rlin Trials?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What are those?"
"You don’t know?" Harry asked, surprised.
"I’ve heard the term ntioned," Dumbledore replied, "but I’ve never found any so-called ’rlin Trials’ myself."
Harry thought to himself, Every little ga rlin left in the Highlands was solved by and Cassandra. It’d be stranger if you did find them.
"Professor Nora Treadwell believed they were puzzles rlin left for his Slytherin peers," Harry said, yawning. "He was known for his love of riddles and mysteries. Gellert’s prophecy suggested Cassandra’s whereabouts are tied to rlin, so I imdiately thought of the trials."
"Is that so?" Dumbledore’s interest was piqued. "When I was younger, I tried to unlock a rlin Trial myself, but I never found the right thod. I spent an entire year in the Restricted Section searching for answers."
Harry caught the detail and asked suspiciously, "You spent a year in the Restricted Section?"
"Ha, care for a sweet?" Dumbledore fished an orange-cream candy from his jar. "Go on, it’s delicious."
Nice subject change, Harry thought, accepting the candy.
He let it slide, not pressing Dumbledore further. He still needed the professor’s help, after all.
"Unlocking a rlin Trial might require ancient magic," Harry said cautiously. "I don’t think, as Professor Treadwell suggested, they were ant for Slytherins alone."
He didn’t elaborate. Poppy hadn’t been able to attempt the trials, but Cassandra could.
"I see," Dumbledore said, nodding as if a puzzle piece had fallen into place. "No wonder..."
"I’d like to request so ti off, Professor," Harry said.
"To search for rlin’s trial sites, I presu?" Dumbledore asked with a smile.
"Yes," Harry admitted. "It’s vital."
Vital, was it?
Though Dumbledore hoped to nudge Harry and Veratia closer, he respected Harry’s choices.
Instead of dissuading him, he said, "I understand, Harry, but I have a small suggestion."
"Go ahead," Harry said, looking at Dumbledore.
"While searching for rlin’s relics, consider bringing Miss Grindelwald along. An extra pair of hands could help, and..." Dumbledore paused, then continued, "are these trials one-ti events?"
"I think so, but I’m not certain," Harry said, reflecting. "There’s a rlin Trial site not far south of Hogwarts. I recall that after completing it, I couldn’t trigger it again. But who knows what’s changed after a century?"
"I see," Dumbledore said, nodding thoughtfully.
"As for Veratia, I’d rather not disturb her," Harry added. "She’s imrsed in Muggle studies and too busy to help. I’ll handle finding Cassandra myself."
"Very well," Dumbledore said, letting the matter drop.
After Harry left, Dumbledore wondered if he should write to Miss Grindelwald about the situation.
That afternoon, utterly exhausted, Harry slumped onto the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, planning to nap until dinner.
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