Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

This was the second time Harry had heard the word "Avalon."

Avalon.

He wasn't particularly interested in the mythical paradise. But if Gryffindor believed that "the White Wolf and his wife" were buried there—or if Ciri herself had uttered that name—then it was worth pursuing.

But... where was Avalon?

Harry was about to ask, hoping to see if the projection of Ciri could somehow respond.

The projection vanished.

Their fleeting encounter came to an abrupt end.

The Gryffindor sword in Harry's hand let out a faint hum.

A golden aura swirled around his hand, emanating from the ruby on the sword's hilt. It danced joyfully around him before fading away.

Harry wasn't surprised.

Instead, he lifted his gaze upward, following the lingering magical connection.

Since encountering those knights, Harry had suspected that this trial was more than just a simple test. That was why he had told the Sorting Hat:

"I am playing the role of Gryffindor."

The final stage of the trial was a ceremonial passage.

Just like how first-years crossed the lake to Hogwarts in small boats, following in the footsteps of the Founders—here, Harry was retracing Gryffindor's journey.

From Godric Gryffindor to Harry Potter.

A radiant golden-red light shot from the lake into the sky, forming a shimmering curtain. The Gryffindor crest appeared, projected proudly onto the glowing canvas.

The curtain slowly parted. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Gryffindor emerged, riding a white horse, his sword gleaming at his side.

He dismounted gracefully, removed the sword from his belt, and held it out to Harry with both hands.

"I, Godric Gryffindor, recognize you as a worthy and excellent successor. Will you accept my legacy and uphold its honor?"

Harry solemnly took the sword. "I thought you'd disapprove of me."

Gryffindor froze for a moment. "This isn't the time to ruin the mood with such remarks."

"I'm genuinely curious," Harry said seriously.

Gryffindor glanced back toward the misty shore, his expression thoughtful. "You're referring to Holsen, aren't you?"

"Was he the knight I killed?" Harry asked.

Gryffindor nodded. "Yes. My choice back then was as you guessed—I spared him."

He hesitated, his tone turning wry. "Although I must say, I would never have thought of using a memory-altering spell to make them think I was someone else. Even if I had known that spell, I wouldn't have used it to make them forget me."

A bitter smile crossed his face. "Though, looking back... I might have altered their memories to make them think I was Salazar."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"

Gryffindor sighed. "Very unpleasant."

"Holsen betrayed me. After I retrieved Galahad's relics, he revealed my identity to the Muggles. They put a bounty on my head, forcing me to live a rather miserable life for a time."

"It wasn't until I met Rowena that things improved. Her wisdom helped me resolve the trouble."

"If you had the chance to do it over?" Harry asked.

Gryffindor shook his head. "I still wouldn't have killed him. But I would have used magic to hide my identity. Beyond his hatred for wizards, Holsen was an excellent person."

He gave Harry a long, searching look. "But I don't disagree with your choice."

"For someone who seeks to kill, facing death in return is a fitting consequence."

After a pause, he added, "But... you're only in your third year."

Harry's expression didn't waver. "I have no parents. I am an orphan."

Gryffindor froze.

The Sorting Hat piped up to explain. "Harry's an orphan. His life with his aunt and uncle before Hogwarts was far from pleasant."

"He's always been more mature, decisive, and clever than his peers—or even most adult wizards."

Gryffindor's expression shifted to one of shame. "I'm sorry... I didn't know."

He sighed deeply. "I thought that after all these years, the outside world would have become safer. The student from five centuries ago told me that things had improved."

"It is safer," Harry replied. "In my year, I'm the only orphan."

Gryffindor's face twisted further in guilt.

He wanted to slap himself.

He'd meant to offer comfort. How had things taken such a dark turn?

"It's fine," Harry reassured him. "Don't dwell on it. It's just the truth."

Gryffindor exhaled, regaining his composure. "Harry, you're more extraordinary than I expected. If I were in your shoes, I don't think I'd have handled things as well as you."

Harry shook his head and changed the subject. "I saw a woman demonstrating sword techniques in Galahad's relic. Is that where you learned your swordsmanship?"

Gryffindor chuckled. "Yes. She's likely the Lady of the Lake Galahad encountered. I learned my swordsmanship from her. That recording is part of my legacy."

"She mentioned Avalon." Harry's brow furrowed. "Have you ever tried to find it?"

Gryffindor nodded. "We did. Helga and I wanted to build a school there—a safe haven for young wizards."

"But we never found it."

"In the end, Salazar built a castle in the Scottish Highlands. His magic was strong, and the castle was secure. So, we built Hogwarts there."

"Do you want to search for Avalon?" Gryffindor asked.

Harry smiled. "If it's real—and according to the Lady of the Lake, it is—why not try?"

Gryffindor nodded approvingly. "Then I hope you find it."

With a wave of his wand, he conjured a painting frame before Harry.

"It's time for you to leave."

Harry stepped into the painting, his vision fading to black.

When he emerged, he was back in the dark corridor, retracing his steps until he returned to the sealed room.

Gryffindor's portrait slid aside, revealing a hidden cupboard filled with books and rare magical materials. Despite the passage of a thousand years, the items still radiated potent magic.

One object stood out—a worn wooden box.

The Sorting Hat groaned dramatically. "Oh no!"

It curled up as much as a hat could, trying to make itself smaller.

Harry ignored its antics and began stuffing the books and materials into the Hat.

"Harry! We need to talk. Can't you buy a proper bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm? I'm a hat, not a suitcase!"

Gryffindor watched, intrigued. "I never thought to use a hat like that... ingenious."

"Thank Merlin you didn't think of it," the Hat grumbled. "I'd rather be a scratching post for a cat!"

"You'll see Crookshanks soon enough," Harry teased, patting the Hat.

Turning to the Gryffindor sword, Harry gripped its hilt.

A familiar tug at his navel. The Portkey magic activated, pulling him away in a swirl of light and motion.

He tumbled onto familiar ground, quickly casting a Quen Shield around himself.

When he opened his eyes, he realized he hadn't been sent back to the abandoned garden.

He was at Hogwarts, standing on the training grounds where he often practiced with Dumbledore.

The school's protective wards hadn't applied to Gryffindor's sword.

Harry smiled. "Saves me the walk."

He conjured a small boat and drifted toward the castle.

Across the lake, someone sat on the grass, engrossed in a book. Occasionally, they glanced toward the Forbidden Forest—waiting for something.

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Powerstones?

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