The newspaper might not be British, but the reports in it were vivid and detailed, as if they had eyes and a nose of their own.
Especially the photograph on the page—it was undeniable proof that the report wasn't mere fabrication.
Turning to the next page revealed another photograph—a woman who looked like an older, more mature version of Veratia, perhaps in her late twenties. Her commanding presence seemed to radiate off the page, as if it could pierce the heavens themselves.
"Is this another me?" Veratia asked with interest, picking up the newspaper. "Hmm, she doesn't exactly seem like a shining hero, does she? But why, I wonder, did things turn out this way?"
Yes, why indeed?
"Perhaps because, in that timeline, the Potters weren't killed by Voldemort," Mr. Flamel said, crossing his arms. "As a result, Harry never traveled back a hundred years to befriend Miss Grindelwald… and the Miss Grindelwald who remained in that timeline is evidently far more dangerous than Gellert Grindelwald ever was. So… she became the figure we see in this newspaper."
"Then why do we still remember everything that happened before?" Poppy asked skeptically. "Like meeting Harry, our days at Hogwarts…"
"That's due to the unique nature of this alchemy room, Miss Sweating," Mr. Flamel explained with a cheerful smile. "It's inscribed with some curious little runes that can temporarily shield us from the effects of a shifting timeline…"
"I see…" Poppy nodded, this time truly understanding, rather than only half-grasping the explanation.
"But…" Veratia's attention was clearly elsewhere. "Look, if we're being logical, the me in that timeline should be over a hundred and ten years old by now, right? So why does she still look so young?"
It was an excellent question, and it stumped everyone in the room.
"You're focusing on the strangest things, Grindelwald," Cassandra said, her lips curling slightly. Yet her eyes were glued to the photograph, clearly intrigued by the question as well.
"It seems like the Veratia in that timeline is truly remarkable," Poppy said wistfully. "A Magic Empress? That title alone sounds incredibly grand… But why would you, in that timeline, want to invade Europe?"
"In fact, her ultimate goal is to unify the entire world," Mrs. Perenelle said, tilting her head to glance at Veratia. "It's worth noting that this cabin won't hold out for long. If that timeline fully merges with ours, all of you will vanish…"
Mrs. Perenelle's words extinguished the last shred of hope in the room.
"So," Poppy asked suddenly, "how do we fix this disrupted timeline? What should we do?"
Her question plunged the room into silence.
How to fix the timeline?
It was simple, in theory—just send James and Lily back to their original timeline.
But…
"It looks like we need to go back," James said lightly, slinging an arm around his wife's shoulders. "If I'm guessing correctly, not only do we have to return, but we also have to die under Voldemort's curse as we were meant to, ensuring Harry travels back a hundred years to befriend Miss Grindelwald and bring her back here… creating a closed loop in the timeline, right?"
"No!" Sirius shot to his feet, his voice fierce. "I absolutely won't let you go back like that—"
"Listen to me, Sirius," James said with a warm smile. "This is our fate, what we're meant to do. Even though we'll still face death, compared to our original world, this is already more than we could have hoped for… At least we know Voldemort will ultimately fall, and our son will become a hero—a legendary wizard from a century ago, no less."
At this, James winked at Harry.
"Yes, my son's outdone me," he continued. "To think, three remarkable girls are willing to give everything for him…"
His voice caught, as if something sharp were clawing at his throat, painful and raw.
Harry's eyes reddened.
But he couldn't find a way to keep his parents here.
"But we could fight that Grindelwald together…" Sirius began, only for James to place a steady hand on his shoulder, his voice gentle yet resolute.
"We don't belong here, Sirius," he said. "Lily and I won't let the world bear such consequences just so we can cling to a few more days. That's not what we want."
Sirius breathed heavily, clutching his head in anguish.
"Padfoot," Lily said softly, "thank you for everything you've done for us, for Harry. But this is something we have to do."
"At least stay for a meal before you go," Lupin interjected, trying to hold them back. "Mr. Flamel said this cabin will hold for a while. Why not eat with us first?"
Lupin's suggestion was met with agreement from everyone present.
There was no need to rush off just yet—not before sharing a meal together.
"I'll prepare dinner," Lily said warmly. "Harry's never tasted my cooking…"
Harry sniffled and nodded firmly.
Sirius volunteered to help Lily in the kitchen—a role he'd often taken on in the past, though Lily preferred to call it "making a mess."
Sure enough, it wasn't long before Lily shooed him out of the kitchen.
"Haha…" Sirius laughed awkwardly, trying to salvage his dignity. "Lily doesn't actually need my help…"
"No, she doesn't need you causing chaos," Lupin quipped, mercilessly exposing his friend. "You were banned from the kitchen back then because you kept making a mess."
Sirius's face flushed as he stammered explanations—something about "spilling a pot isn't causing chaos" and "mistaking sugar for salt is perfectly normal." The room filled with lighthearted laughter.
"You can tell the dogfather's nose isn't exactly sharp," Cassandra whispered to Poppy with a smirk.
"So you're admitting he's the godfather?" Poppy whispered back teasingly.
Cassandra's face turned red, and she let out a heavy "hmph" but didn't argue further.
Poppy giggled, choosing not to press her further.
Harry laughed for a moment before noticing Veratia lost in thought, her head bowed. Concerned, he asked, "What's wrong?"
"Something feels off," Veratia said, frowning. "It's like we're missing something… Wait, I'm almost there…"
Seeing her deep in thought, Harry didn't press further, not wanting to interrupt her.
Poppy suddenly bounced behind Harry, wrapping her arms around him from behind.
"Hey, Harry!" she said. "Should we invite Lady Death? I mean, she's the one who gave you that gem, right? Without it, you wouldn't have seen your parents."
At Poppy's words, Veratia's eyes sharpened.
"You're right, Poppy," Harry nodded. "We should thank her. I almost forgot if you hadn't reminded me…"
"I'll go get her!" Poppy chirped, practically skipping toward the alchemy room.
Her enthusiastic bouncing sent ripples through the air, leaving Harry momentarily dizzy.
What's blinding my eyes?!
Moments later, Poppy returned, with Lady Death trailing behind her.
But no one expected what happened next. The moment Lady Death stepped into the room, Veratia raised her hand and cast a spell.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light struck the unprepared Lady Death.
Yet, astonishingly, the Killing Curse seemed to have no effect. It was as if she'd been hit with a trivial charm instead of a deadly spell.
"You're not Death. Who are you?" Veratia demanded, her wand trained on the figure, her stance wary and alert.
Harry stood, drawing his own wand.
He trusted Veratia instinctively. If she'd resorted to the Killing Curse, she must have had a reason.
Lady Death smiled brightly at Veratia's question.
Then, to everyone's shock, a black vortex swirled around her. With a crackle of distorted space, the white-haired figure of Death vanished, replaced by a striking young woman.
"Veratia?! No—you're that Magic Empress!" Harry shouted in disbelief.
Indeed, this woman was none other than Veratia Grindelwald, the older version of Veratia from the newspaper photograph.
At Harry's words, the wizards in the room leapt to their feet, wands drawn.
No wonder—the newspaper had described this Veratia Grindelwald as…
"You seem surprised, Potter," Veratia said, lowering her head slightly and smiling with narrowed eyes.
She lifted her gaze to Veratia.
"So this is the boyfriend you've chosen? How disappointing, my other self…"
Veratia didn't respond to the taunt. Instead, she asked coldly, "Why did you disguise yourself as Death? What's your goal?"
"My goal?" Veratia laughed. "You've misunderstood me, my other self. The fruit I planted has ripened, and now it's time to harvest…"
"Fruit?" Veratia's eyes narrowed, a suspicion forming in her mind about what Veratia meant by "fruit."
"Of course, it's you, my dear," Veratia said, drawing her wand from her robes. "But… there's still a little time before my fruit is fully ripe. You should know—every gift of fate comes with a hidden price. And this is the cost of using that gem."
Her haughty gaze swept over the room, landing on Dumbledore.
"Albus," she said softly. "Or rather, the Albus of this timeline. I must say, I didn't expect you to look like this in your old age."
"Does it disappoint you, dear lady?" Dumbledore replied with his characteristic humor and grace.
"Not at all," Veratia said, her eyes twitching slightly. "If anyone's disappointed, it would be Gellert… But I've heard a bit about your story in this timeline."
"Have you?" Dumbledore smiled noncommittally. "Just the boring tales of an old man. I'd prefer it if you returned to your own world, rather than staying in ours."
"Oh, really? You're so eager to restore the original timeline, Albus?" Veratia's eyes narrowed further.
"I desire nothing else, Miss Grindelwald," Dumbledore said, gripping his Elder Wand tightly.
He was ready for a fight.
Even sixteen-year-old Veratia had been a challenge. He couldn't imagine the dueling prowess of a hundred-and-sixteen-year-old Veratia Grindelwald.
"If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure, Albus," Veratia said with a smile that, though elegant, sent a chill through the room.
"Perhaps I should tell little Anna that her brother doesn't wish to see her."
"Anna?!" Dumbledore's face changed. "You mean… Ariana?!"
Veratia's smile grew smug. "Yes, Albus. In my timeline, Ariana didn't die. I resolved her Obscurus problem. Now, she's my most trusted ally. We call her… Raphael…"
Before she could finish, another flash of green light struck her.
Veratia flicked her fingers, and an indistinct beam of light coiled like a snake, binding Veratia tightly.
"You think you can kill yourself?" Veratia mocked. "Or has love clouded your judgment, making you weak?"
"I may be weak, Grindelwald," Veratia said, biting her lip and glaring defiantly. "But I'm never alone."
As she spoke, a dark cloud formed above Veratia's head.
It was Harry's ancient magic.
But Veratia didn't flinch. With a casual wave of her hand, the cloud dissipated.
Harry tried to summon his ancient magic again, only to find, to his horror, that he'd somehow lost control of it.
"You dare use my magic against me, Potter?" Veratia's lips curled into a mocking smile.
Then, to the shock of everyone in the room, she declared slowly:
"Yes, I am what you call… Merlin."
"But I prefer the other name the world gives me."
"God!"
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