Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

The chattering students immediately quieted down.

Even Ron stopped teasing Neville.

Everyone turned their curious eyes toward Harry, eager to know what he might fear. In their minds, Harry had always been "fearless." He wasn't scared of professors, could face Snape with ease, and even had the courage to confront dark wizards.

Expressions of fear or joy rarely appeared on his face.

As some of the younger witches whispered in private, Harry embodied the idealized "Lion King of Gryffindor" they had imagined—a calm, brave figure.

"Professor, you don't seem too keen on letting me go forward," Harry said as he stepped to the front of the group, still just shy of the Boggart's transformation range.

"I trust you," Lupin replied, his tone warm but distracted. "You won't be afraid of him, I'm sure."

The way Harry had already guessed Lupin's concerns left the professor a little unsettled.

Harry's quick understanding made Lupin realize his worries were misplaced.

Everyone fears something.

Lupin had always worried that Harry's greatest fear might manifest as Voldemort himself, which would cause quite the scene in class. But after their interactions yesterday, he felt more confident that Voldemort wasn't Harry's most profound fear—or at least not the greatest.

Instead, Lupin felt that Harry had faced little true adversity in life so far. He worried that if Harry ever encountered an insurmountable challenge, it could leave him devastated.

This was an opportunity for growth.

He stayed vigilant, gripping his wand tightly.

Harry stepped closer.

A series of sharp pops echoed, as if the Boggart was playing with firecrackers. It made loud, jarring noises but didn't transform into anything.

Lupin was surprised.

Occlumency?

Boggarts could peer into one's mind but were powerless against a well-guarded mind.

Harry seemed to realize this, and he relaxed his mental defenses slightly.

As a Witcher, fear was something he was trained to conquer. He wanted to know what his own deepest fear might be.

The Boggart caught a glimpse of his thoughts, twisting eagerly to transform.

Before the class's eyes, the space twisted into a surreal mix of Hogwarts and Kaer Morhen—two castles blended into one.

At the base of the structure, a wand's tip emerged, surrounded by bone-white frost and pitch-black flames that intertwined and surged violently, exuding palpable malice.

Scattered around the castle's base lay lifeless bodies—silver-haired, red-haired, black-haired—men and women of all shapes and sizes. They were unrecognizably mangled.

Lupin stared in stunned silence.

As he had suspected, Voldemort didn't appear.

But this scene...

Was this truly what Harry feared? For a third-year student, it seemed far too heavy a burden to bear.

Hermione scanned the pile of bodies, finding one with brown hair and a build similar to her own. She wasn't sure if she should feel relieved or even more distressed.

The rest of the students widened their eyes in shock, murmuring in amazement.

Harry Potter truly lived up to his reputation.

While others feared specific things, Harry's fear encompassed an entire castle and a multitude of people.

"Riddikulus," Harry said evenly, raising his wand.

The frost extinguished the flames, and the flames melted the frost, each annihilating the other.

The corpses on the ground stood up, donned women's clothing, and began performing The Dance of the Little Swans.

Harry allowed himself a faint smile.

Reactivating Occlumency, he locked away his thoughts. The castle twisted and popped again as the Boggart desperately tried to breach Harry's ironclad defenses.

After a few futile attempts, it emitted an enormous BANG and exploded into a puff of green smoke before vanishing completely.

Lupin clapped. "That was impressive. But Harry, I was hoping to keep it around for another class. You've worn it out."

"Apologies, Professor," Harry replied seriously. "I didn't mean to."

Lupin waved dismissively. "I'll find another one in the castle. Boggarts aren't exactly rare creatures."

"Well done, everyone," Lupin said, addressing the class. "Ten points each to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!"

The students erupted in cheers.

They were beginning to genuinely like this professor—decisive, humorous, and generous with points, though not as excessive as Lockhart had been.

"Reflect on today's experience," Lupin said, his tone turning serious. "Don't forget what you've learned."

"And—"

"For homework, write an essay on the importance of confidence and determination when casting spells. Five inches."

"Additionally, a detailed report on Boggarts, including their habits and other methods to counter them besides the Riddikulus spell. Four inches."

The students groaned in unison.

Such a joyful lesson, and it had to end like this.

"You're third-years now, but for Defense Against the Dark Arts, this is essentially your first year. You need to catch up."

"I've reviewed your records from the past two years—utterly abysmal."

Their groans grew louder as they trudged out of the staff lounge.

Nine inches of essays!

This Professor Lupin was certainly full of surprises.

"Harry, are you really afraid of Hogwarts being destroyed?" Ron asked once they were away from the crowd. "That seems like something Dumbledore should worry about."

"No," Hermione interjected. "Harry's not afraid of the castle itself being destroyed—he's afraid of losing the things he cherishes."

Ron's face lit up with realization. "So the red-haired short guy in the tree was supposed to be me? What kind of death is that?"

Harry hesitated. "Maybe... the cat dragged you up there?"

Ron blinked in confusion.

"I had a nightmare last night," Harry explained. "You went to challenge a cat—not Crookshanks—a duel, lost, and got hung in a tree to be turned into fish snacks."

Ron ground his teeth.

"That's not even possible," Hermione said matter-of-factly, unwittingly backing Harry up.

Harry adopted a contrite tone.

"What was that black fire?" Ron asked, shifting the topic. "I don't think I've seen or heard of magic like that before."

Hermione looked curious as well.

"That's Fiendfyre," Harry replied. "A dangerous dark magic spell. I encountered it when fighting Tom in the Chamber of Secrets."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "So, you're worried about that prophecy?"

She was a clever witch.

The contrast of snow and black flames fit perfectly with one of the lines from the prophecy.

She pulled out the parchment and read it aloud.

"'Will be freed when the snow falls.'"

Ron's pupils dilated as the implication hit him. "Does that mean the Dark Lord will return this winter? This term?"

Harry shook his head but said nothing.

He recalled the Boggart's vision.

That one, unmistakable wand tip... It was his own wand—cedar, eleven inches.

He feared the Horcruxes.

He also feared the Wild Hunt in the other world he had left behind. That legendary, invincible enemy could bring untold devastation to Geralt, Vesemir, Ciri, and everyone else he cared about.

Two of his greatest fears had merged into one horrific vision.

"Harry," Hermione said, looking at him with concern. "Don't you finish your detentions before curfew?"

Harry nodded.

"Then let's plan a few nights each week to sneak out and use an empty classroom," Hermione suggested, counting on her fingers.

Ron was about to look away.

"Ron, you're coming too," Hermione said sharply, using her wand to tilt his face back toward her.

Ron's expression turned perplexed. "Why? You two are planning a date—why would I come along?"

THUD!

A book fell onto Ron's head.

Blushing, Hermione growled, "What nonsense are you thinking now? It's for training! Dueling practice!"

She turned back to Harry, her tone softening. "What do you think? Three or four times a week?"

"I don't mind," Harry said, frowning slightly. "But doesn't that thing you're using affect your health?"

"Don't worry, I know my limits," Hermione replied confidently. "So, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays?"

Ron nodded eagerly. He was determined to grow stronger too.

They hastily ate lunch in the Great Hall, discussing details for their evening training sessions.

Skipping even a midday break, they headed straight for their next class. Hermione was busier than ever, with both Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies.

The path to Hagrid's hut took them outside the castle.

Hagrid stood in front of his cabin, dressed in a brand-new moleskin coat. At his feet, Fang wagged his tail happily at the approaching students, baring his teeth at anyone who dared get too close.

Once everyone had gathered, Hagrid clapped his hands. "Alright, follow me. For our first lesson, I've got something really special to show you. I promise this will be an unforgettable class."

He was even more direct than Lupin.

After their earlier experience, the Gryffindors were filled with anticipation.

The Slytherins, however, looked indifferent. To them, Hagrid—who hadn't even completed his Hogwarts education—was barely qualified to be a professor, let alone a proper wizard.

Just as some students began speculating aloud about whether Hagrid was leading them into the Forbidden Forest, he stopped in front of a fenced enclosure.

This small paddock, situated near the Forbidden Forest, housed a group of grazing Thestrals.

"Gather 'round," Hagrid called. "Don't huddle too close, spread out a bit."

"Now, open your textbooks—"

He didn't get to finish.

Malfoy sneered, cutting him off. "How are we supposed to open them, Professor?"

"You had us buy books that bite."

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Powerstones?

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