Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

Aunt Petunia's cooking was getting better and better.

Hedwig's circle of friends was also steadily expanding.

After saying goodnight to Fawkes, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room, only to find chaos reigning. With Percy having graduated, there was no one left to rein in George and Fred—not that Percy ever truly succeeded. At most, his presence as an older brother kept their antics somewhat in check.

As Harry climbed into the common room, a strong smell of alcohol hit him like an arrow.

The long table was cluttered with bottles and crates of drinks.

Some belonged to seventh-years, some to George and Fred, and some were the drinks Harry had told them they could bring out for celebrations.

The crates were now mostly empty.

The majority of Gryffindors were thoroughly drunk.

George and Fred had grabbed Ron, making strange "woo-woo" sounds as they ran around the table with him.

Others were either dancing wildly or lying flat on the ground.

There were hardly any who still had their wits about them.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, walking over to Hermione, who was sitting in a corner with a book.

"They're celebrating for you," Hermione replied succinctly.

Harry sat down. "I just got back."

"They got impatient and started celebrating early," Hermione said with a hint of helplessness. "At first, they tried to pace themselves, but eventually, they couldn't control it, and it turned into this."

"Why are you so late? Did you find out who put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

Harry shook his head. "At least three people were involved. One of them was Ludo, and he's already confessed."

"On the way back, I caught someone else."

Hermione blinked in surprise, furrowing her brow. "Someone else who put your name in?"

"Rita Skeeter," Harry revealed, causing Hermione to look utterly shocked.

She closed her book. "Her? Wasn't she uninvited from Hogwarts?"

"She's an Animagus," Harry explained. "She transforms into a beetle."

"That night when we spoke to Scrimgeour in the tent... was she there, listening as a beetle?" Hermione's expression turned dark. The thought of someone eavesdropping, even as an insect, was deeply unsettling.

Harry nodded. "Yes. I sensed her presence in that small room. I set a bait, and she took it."

"You handled her? Is that why you were late?" Hermione asked, a note of concern in her voice. "Did you make sure it's cleaned up?"

Harry looked at her with mild exasperation. "Hermione, what do you think I am?"

"You didn't... take care of her?" Hermione asked, startled.

Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore was with me at the time. And her Animagus form is quite useful. I made a deal with her."

"What kind of deal?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.

"She'll help me gather some information, and I'll keep her secret for now," Harry said.

"Like with Ragnok?" Hermione asked thoughtfully.

"Something like that, but not quite so quickly," Harry admitted.

The common room remained noisy, with someone finally noticing Harry's return. A few drunken Gryffindors staggered or crawled over to him, raising empty cups and bottles. Before Harry could even refill their drinks, they collapsed unconscious.

Harry shared a few drinks with the remaining semi-coherent students, and by the end of the night, the entire common room was out cold, except for Hermione.

He sighed, gave Ron a potion to help him recover, and dragged him off to bed.

Hermione summoned the house-elves to help clean up and take care of the sleeping Gryffindors.

The next morning, Gryffindor's common room was filled with slumbering students wrapped in blankets. The alcohol stench had been completely removed, and the scattered bottles were neatly arranged on the table. Any unfinished drinks had been packed back into crates.

Harry carefully stepped over the sleeping forms of his housemates as he headed out for his morning run.

Hogwarts was bustling with changes.

By Black Lake, a crowd of students had gathered, most of them fourth- to sixth-year girls.

The sight of Harry made them squeal.

"See? I told you, Potter gets up early to train!" A Hufflepuff girl clutched a Gryffindor sword replica in excitement, the ruby on the hilt glowing faintly.

"He's so cool!"

"Should we ask for his autograph?"

"You go, you go!"

They whispered and giggled among themselves, eager but too shy to approach Harry.

Harry's aloof demeanor added to his mystique, and his reputation over the years made him seem unreachable, like someone who existed on a different level.

Many of the girls clutching Harry-themed items also held Viktor Krum posters from the Quidditch World Cup, depicting his dramatic dive to catch the Golden Snitch. In the background, the unfortunate Irish Seeker's head could be seen, inadvertently resembling celebratory fireworks.

Harry ignored the crowd, jogging past without a word. The girls sighed wistfully as they watched him disappear, then returned to waiting by the lake for Krum to emerge from the Durmstrang ship.

Later, George and Fred, now fully awake, created new fireworks.

When launched, these fireworks depicted Harry clad in leather armor, with dual swords strapped to his back.

They even proposed erecting a statue of Harry in the Great Hall, but the idea was quickly vetoed by both Harry and Professor McGonagall.

Even within the common room, such ideas didn't gain traction. Every time the twins brought it up, Harry would end the discussion with a quick Vanishing Spell.

As much as Harry appreciated the twins, their wild ideas could sometimes be overwhelming.

Meanwhile, the professors became more dedicated to Harry's training.

Professor McGonagall no longer had any complaints.

Professor Flitwick began discussing advanced magical theory with Harry.

Professor Sprout reduced other students' detention sessions to focus more on Harry. Only Cedric and Neville continued to receive her guidance alongside him.

Professor Snape didn't say much but shifted his lessons and detentions toward antidotes, curse removal, and healing magic.

Rita Skeeter, after her encounter with Harry, had become more cautious—at least when it came to writing about him. While she still churned out gossip about Krum and Fleur, her articles about Harry were filled with effusive praise, extolling his embodiment of all the noble traits of Gryffindor.

By Friday, the school was abuzz.

Two back-to-back Potions classes left many students groaning. Professor Snape introduced them to a versatile antidote that neutralized most non-magical poisons.

Though Snape considered it straightforward, the students struggled with the complex preparation, much to his frustration.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the dungeon door.

Snape flicked his wand, and the door creaked open, revealing a nervous second-year student standing in the doorway.

"What is it?" Snape asked, frowning.

The student, looking pale, took a shaky breath before stammering, "Professor Snape, I've been sent to fetch Harry Potter."

"You're aware this is class time?" Snape asked coldly, his voice softening in a dangerous way.

"It's from Mr. Bagman," the student stammered. "All the champions have to go upstairs. It looks like it's for photos and interviews..."

Snape waved his wand dismissively. "Then go. Potter, due to your absence, Gryffindor loses five points. And after your next detention with another professor, you'll spend an additional two hours with me."

The second-year student glanced at Harry with sympathy.

After Harry packed his things and exited, the student hastily apologized. "Sorry, Potter. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Harry reassured him before following him to a classroom on the first floor.

Inside, Fleur and Krum were already seated in a corner, quietly chatting. They greeted Harry when he entered.

The classroom was small, with a long table in the center. Rita Skeeter was seated at one end, scribbling notes for her next article.

Nearby, a rotund man was enthusiastically photographing Fleur, occasionally snapping a few shots of Harry and Krum.

Krum looked particularly sullen.

Harry, though handsome, was intimidating to approach. And Rita Skeeter had learned better than to fabricate stories about him.

Fleur, as the only female champion and a Veela hybrid, was a magnet for attention. Her beauty and mystique ensured she was the center of the photographer's focus.

At the head of the table, Ludo Bagman was chatting with Ollivander, who looked as sharp and timeless as ever.

When Dumbledore and the other two headmasters entered, Bagman rose to his feet with a smile.

"Since Madam Umbridge had to return to the Ministry, the wand inspection will now be conducted by us four judges," he announced.

Rita Skeeter's expression grew uncomfortable—Umbridge's departure likely had something to do with her.

Bagman continued, "Wands are a wizard's lifeline. Ensuring they're in perfect condition is crucial for your safety during the tournament."

"To perform the inspection, we've invited the renowned wandmaker, Mr. Garrick Ollivander." 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

The elderly wandmaker stood, his sharp eyes lingering on each champion, pausing longest on Harry. Seeing Harry dressed neatly with no distracting items save for a peculiar hat at his waist, Ollivander nodded approvingly.

"I'll leave it to you, Mr. Ollivander," Bagman said, sitting back down.

Ollivander approached Fleur first. "Shall we begin with Miss Delacour?"

Fleur promptly handed over her wand.

Ollivander examined it with care, running his fingers along its length. "Nine and a half inches, made of rosewood... Ah, and the core is a Veela hair?"

"My grandmother's," Fleur replied calmly.

"Family ties are the strongest bonds," Ollivander remarked. "Personally, I avoid using Veela materials—they tend to be overly temperamental. But it seems this wand suits you perfectly."

With a flourish, he cast a spell. "Orchideous."

A bouquet of flowers burst from the wand. Ollivander plucked the bouquet and handed it to Fleur along with her wand.

"It's in excellent condition. You've taken great care of it. The finest flowers for the finest champion," he said warmly.

Fleur blushed faintly as she accepted the bouquet. "Thank you."

Next, Ollivander turned to Krum.

Krum handed over his wand without a word.

"Ah, a typical Quidditch player's wand," Ollivander remarked as he examined it. "You've maintained it well, but Quidditch inevitably takes a toll."

Krum nodded silently.

Turning the wand over, Ollivander muttered, "Gregorovitch's craftsmanship. I've never been fond of his work—too focused on brute power. He believes the stronger

the wand, the better the wizard. Perhaps he should take lessons from goblins."

"Still, this is one of his better creations. Ten and a quarter inches, hornbeam wood, with a dragon heartstring core. A strong and reliable combination."

He waved the wand. "Avis."

A flock of birds erupted from the wand, flying out through the open window.

Returning the wand, Ollivander turned to Harry.

"And now, Mr. Potter."

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Powerstones?

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