Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

Snape's dark, brooding gaze was fixed on Harry. His eyes gleamed like polished obsidian, flickering with traces of magic.

"You know my proficiency in Occlumency," Harry said with a faint smile. "There's no point trying those petty tricks on me."

Snape's eyes shifted from Harry to Hermione. His magic attempted to pierce her mind, but before he could delve into her thoughts, Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him.

"Professor, using Legilimency on students doesn't seem appropriate," Harry said coldly.

"Potter!" Snape growled through clenched teeth, his jaw tightening as if he might shatter his molars. "Ever since Black returned, it seems your brain has gone to the dogs."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Do you remember what I told you?"

Harry met his gaze with an unflinching stare. "Yes, Professor. And I assure you, I know exactly what I'm doing."

"You know what you're doing?" Snape sneered, his lip curling with disdain. "With all those restricted ingredients, what exactly are you brewing?"

Harry tilted his head, his tone calm but laced with sarcasm. "You're the youngest Potions Master of the century, aren't you? A prodigy in Legilimency as well. I'm surprised to hear there's something you don't know."

"Answer the question, Potter." Snape's voice grew harsher.

"Just a bit of potion research," Harry said casually.

"A new potion formula?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "You're not advanced enough for—"

He paused, then corrected himself. "No, you're not at the level where you should be handling such dangerous materials."

Harry didn't back down. "Do I need to repeat myself? I know what I'm doing."

Hermione nervously clutched Harry's robe.

Ron, standing nearby, anxiously twisted his own robe.

"Potter," Snape said, pulling out his wand. "I suggest you start listening to your professors."

Harry smirked. "Ah, so you do know my last name is Potter."

Snape's expression darkened.

Harry's voice softened, and he suddenly quoted a familiar line. "I can't just stand by and watch my friends be killed without doing anything."

Ron blinked, confused by Harry's sudden statement.

Hermione froze, her mind racing back to last year. She remembered that moment vividly — the words Harry had spoken to Snape after Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets by Tom Riddle.

The same words.

Snape stiffened. His grip on his wand tightened. He said nothing.

Harry calmly swung his bag over his shoulder, gave Snape a pointed look, and walked out. Hermione and Ron hurried to follow.

Snape didn't stop him. He stood there, staring blankly at the desk where Harry had been sitting. His mind seemed to drift, his usual mental defenses gradually slipping.

Once they were outside, Ron couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer.

"Harry... did something happen between you and Snape? You two don't seem as... cordial as before."

Harry pressed his lips together, remaining silent.

"Snape... I mean, Professor Snape," Hermione spoke carefully, "does this have something to do with—"

"Speculation," Harry cut her off.

Hermione fell silent. She lowered her gaze, turning a corner into another hallway. Moments later, she reappeared, her robes carrying the faint scent of another classroom.

"Harry," she said softly, gathering her courage, "maybe you should ask him directly."

"I tried asking Dumbledore," Harry replied with a shake of his head. "He wouldn't tell me."

"Then why not ask Snape?" Ron suggested.

Harry and Hermione both glanced at him with a strange expression.

"It's not the same, Ron," Hermione said gently. "If it's what we think it is, then Harry shouldn't be the one to ask Snape about it."

"Why not?" Ron frowned.

Hermione's gaze softened as she looked at Harry's profile. "Because Harry's giving Snape a chance."

"A chance?" Ron still looked bewildered. "You're not explaining this clearly. What exactly are you talking about?"

Hermione shot him a glare.

Ron huffed, shrinking back. "Fine, fine. You two geniuses keep your secrets. I'll figure it out on my own."

During the next Potions class, Snape didn't speak to Harry at all. He ignored him entirely — no critiques, no snide comments, and no deductions of house points.

The other students noticed the change.

"What's going on with the professors lately?" they whispered. "Lupin got more handsome, and now Snape's gone all soft?"

There was even speculation that Professor McGonagall might start doting on students.

Reality, however, was far less kind.

McGonagall had grown even stricter. After consulting with Godric Gryffindor's portrait about Hogwarts' early days, she realized that, with a reckless headmaster like Dumbledore, the deputy headmistress had to shoulder more responsibility.

Harry, unaffected by Snape's silence, continued his potion experiments.

His latest focus was Blizzard Potion — a potion meant to enhance sensory perception. His research led him to Felix Felicis, or Liquid Luck.

While commonly known as a "good luck potion," its true effect was to sharpen one's intuition and sixth sense, creating the illusion of effortless success.

Harry wondered — could he manipulate the negative effects of ingredients to create something more powerful?

He started tweaking his recipe.

On the weekend, he ventured into the Forbidden Forest to gather more Acromantula eggs. Why spend money on ingredients when he could collect them himself?

By Monday evening, Harry stood by the Black Lake, practicing weather spells.

He pointed his wand, chanting incantations. A fierce wind began to blow, rustling the trees and rippling the water's surface.

Another wave of his wand summoned rain — heavier this time, though not quite a downpour.

With a flick of his wrist, storm clouds gathered, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

"You've made remarkable progress," Dumbledore said as he approached, casting a water-repelling charm over himself and Harry. He clapped his hands in approval.

Harry remained expressionless. "It's not enough."

"Is this from Gryffindor's notes?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded, increasing his magical output. The rain intensified.

After observing Harry's spellcasting for a while, Dumbledore spoke again, his tone gentle. "You've had a bit of a falling-out with Severus lately, haven't you?"

Harry's wand remained steady. "I doubt he'd gossip about it."

"I keep an eye on you both," Dumbledore said softly.

Harry chuckled. "Ah, so you've been spying on us again."

"I merely hear things," Dumbledore replied. "You know how Godric has been chatting with every portrait he meets."

"Even portraits aren't safe from your eavesdropping," Harry teased, whistling softly.

Dumbledore shook his head, sighing. "You can trust Severus completely."

"Then you should tell me the truth," Harry said, turning to face Dumbledore. His voice was steady, his expression serious. "Anything related to my parents — I have the right to know."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but a crack of lightning interrupted him. A bolt struck the lake, sending a startled merperson diving back underwater.

Harry lowered his wand. "I trust Snape."

"Do you remember what I did to Peter Pettigrew?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"I gave him a chance," Harry continued. "Hermione, a fourteen-year-old witch, could see that. I'm giving Snape the same chance."

Harry's tone remained calm, but the storm intensified. Thunder cracked louder, and the rain fell harder.

Dumbledore said nothing more.

Harry returned to practicing his weather charms, occasionally asking Dumbledore for guidance.

Neither mentioned Snape again.

By June, exam season had arrived.

The students had grown significantly over the year, particularly in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The professors, except for Snape, were visibly pleased.

The results were clear: this year's O.W.L.s showed nearly double the number of "Exceeds Expectations" and several "Outstanding" marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Lupin's teaching had been a resounding success.

Even better, for the first time in years, the position hadn't been cursed. Lupin would remain as professor next year.

The curse, it seemed, had finally broken.

At the Black Lake...

Hermione sat by the shore, counting her grades. She was proud to have finally matched Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts score. But despite her best efforts, she remained second in class rankings.

Ron maintained his usual third-place position, comfortably ahead of the fourth-ranked student.

The Hufflepuffs celebrated their impending victory in the House Cup.

Ron stretched out lazily on the grass. "Looks like Hufflepuff's taking the House Cup this year."

Hermione shot him a glare. "If Fred and George hadn't been picking fights with the Slytherins every day, we could've won it again."

She glanced over at Harry, who was scribbling a letter on a piece of parchment. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"Harry?" Hermione leaned in to peek. "Are you writing to Dumbledore?"

Harry glanced up briefly. "Yes. I'm asking him to stop giving me points."

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Powerstones?

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