Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

Harry locked eyes with Legnack, his vertical pupils narrowing into slits.

Cold. Ruthless. The predator-like gaze made the goblin instinctively shrink back.

Beside him, Hork leaned in and whispered, "Legnack, calm down. Even if Mr. Potter were merciful enough to return the Sword of Gryffindor to you, the Ministry of Magic would never allow you to keep it."

Legnack stood upright, his posture stiff but proud, unshackled and defiant.

"It belongs to the goblins," Legnack growled, clenching his teeth. His voice was strained but steady. "The Ministry knows, and the wizards should know too."

"Give it back to me—"

Harry cut him off, his tone weighty and solemn.

"The era of the goblins is over."

Legnack froze, stunned by those words.

Harry raised his hand and pointed to the floor. "Look around. In this room, there are four people and two goblins—and no one here is on your side."

Hork puffed out his chest. "Hork will continue to serve wizards faithfully!"

The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students quickly scrambled to Harry's side, glancing at Sirius for reassurance before nervously drawing their wands.

Legnack's gaze darted around the room before landing on Harry.

"You won't succeed, Legnack," Harry continued. "Focus on being a blacksmith. Run your shop. Take your orders. The money you make from crafting fake replicas of the Sword of Gryffindor will let you live far better than hiding underground."

Legnack said nothing, his eyes dull and lifeless. Slowly, he picked up his hammer and half-heartedly struck a piece of iron on the anvil.

Then, seeming to remember something, he grabbed a pair of tongs and shoved his hammer into the furnace. He stared vacantly as the wooden handle began to burn, only snapping out of his trance when the flames licked his fingers, causing him to frantically pull it out.

Watching this, Harry frowned. "I'm worried about the quality of my armor if he's the one repairing it."

Hork patted his chest confidently.

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter. I'll personally oversee the repairs to ensure none of your materials go to waste."

Harry gave a nod of approval but then lowered his voice.

"There's one more thing to discuss."

Hork blinked, confused.

"The Sword of Gryffindor... it belongs to me now." Harry's tone was calm, but firm. "I'll allow you to continue making replicas, but not without compensation. I need my share of the profits."

Hork hesitated, a troubled look crossing his face.

"Of course, Mr. Potter. Your request is completely reasonable. It's just..." He glanced nervously at Legnack before ushering Harry, Sirius, and the two students into a side room.

Once they were alone, Hork spoke quietly.

"The profits from the replicas don't go entirely to the Ministry of Magic. Half of it is used to support displaced goblins."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Legnack isn't without supporters," Hork continued with a sigh.

"There are still many old goblins—stubborn, traditional ones—who agree with him. They've lived through too many losses and cling to the old ways."

He glanced at Harry apologetically.

"The Ministry offers them substantial bribes to keep the peace, but they won't be around much longer."

Hork straightened his back, pride returning to his expression.

"The younger generation of goblins—like me—prefer peace and friendship with wizards."

Harry remained unfazed by Hork's attempts to soften the blow.

"So, if I want my fair share, I need to negotiate with both the Ministry and the goblins?"

Hork nodded nervously, clearly ashamed.

At that moment, Sirius stepped forward, grinning.

"Let me handle it!"

Harry turned to him, his expression serious.

Sirius's grin faltered as he matched his godson's stern gaze.

"I'll negotiate for you, Harry. Don't worry—I've dealt with both the Ministry and goblins before."

Harry took a step closer, his voice quiet but firm.

"Promise me one thing."

Sirius's expression mirrored Harry's seriousness.

"I promise to get you the best deal—"

"No fighting." Harry cut him off with a pointed look.

Sirius blinked, stunned.

Harry sighed. "Even if things get tense, don't resort to violence. If you must, stick to Stunning Spells or binding charms. No explosions."

Sirius's jaw dropped.

"Do I really seem that reckless to you?"

Harry didn't answer, simply giving him a knowing look.

Sirius muttered under his breath, "I'm just going to negotiate. Not picking a fight."

"I know," Harry said with a nod as they left the blacksmith's shop.

"But if you were going to fight, I'd feel more at ease."

"Bring Lupin with you," he added. "Just in case."

They soon arrived at Professor Flitwick's cottage. The gate was open, and the charms professor poked his head out upon hearing footsteps.

"Ah, Harry! I was expecting you sooner."

Harry gave a polite nod.

"I had to stop by the forge to repair my armor."

He gestured toward Sirius.

"Professor, my godfather should have mentioned—he needs remedial lessons."

Flitwick sighed, exasperated.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Black definitely needs it. I saw him duel Snape once... or rather, I saw him get thoroughly beaten. It wasn't pretty."

Sirius's face darkened.

The memory of being beaten by Snape was one of his most painful experiences.

With Flitwick leading the way, the summer study sessions began once more.

To Flitwick's surprise, having Sirius in the class actually made things easier.

Harry was already far ahead, so Flitwick spent most of his time catching Sirius up.

Unfortunately, Sirius's lack of discipline often frustrated the professor. Unlike Harry, Sirius had a carefree attitude, often treating his lessons as "good enough" without aiming for perfection.

If not for Harry's constant supervision, Sirius would have given up halfway.

Later that week, Lupin accompanied Sirius to the Ministry of Magic for negotiations.

As it turned out, Harry's warnings had been spot on.

Without Lupin's calming influence, Sirius would have blown the place up.

At one point, he cast a Bombarda spell on the conference room table, shattering it into dust—the kind of damage even a Reparo charm couldn't fix.

Despite the explosion, the outcome was favorable.

The Ministry agreed to give Harry 30% of the profits from the sword replicas, while the goblins reluctantly chipped in another 10% from their share.

Even Cornelius Fudge wasn't too upset about the broken table—he seemed too pleased with his rising popularity ratings to care.

That Evening

At dinner, Sirius couldn't help but boast about his negotiation skills.

"I handled it brilliantly! The Ministry and the goblins were eating out of my hand!"

Lupin simply nodded, too tired to argue.

Harry interrupted, deadpan:

"Godfather, how about we start Animagus training tonight?"

Sirius blinked.

"Tonight? Can't we... wait until tomorrow?"

"We have Flitwick's lessons tomorrow."

Sirius groaned.

"Do we really need both?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"You need both."

Sirius's shoulders slumped.

"Fine. Let's start tonight."

And so, the next Chapter of Harry's training began.

----------

Powerstones?

For 20 advance Chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates