Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

Ludo's eyelid twitched.

The Triwizard Tournament had always carried a certain "cheating" tradition, and he was well aware of it.

But couldn't they at least put on a convincing act? Couldn't they show some semblance of actual surprise on their faces? At the very least, some expressions that could be interpreted as "shocked"? Krum and Fleur, you can't just learn bad habits from Harry like this!

"Yes, yes, such adorable little creatures," Ludo said, nodding stiffly. He pretended not to notice their exaggerated reactions and continued reading from the script. "Next, who will go? Mr. Krum or Miss Delacour?"

Fleur glanced at Krum, who hesitated before awkwardly stepping forward. He reached into the bag and pulled out a model of a red dragon writhing in his palm.

The Chinese Fireball.

Among the remaining dragons, it was the most dangerous.

"The result is in. Miss Delacour, it's your turn to pull your dragon," Ludo said, looking at Fleur with a complicated expression.

In his original plan, Harry was supposed to go last.

Fleur stepped forward gracefully and drew the Welsh Green, the least aggressive of the dragons and the easiest to deal with.

She frowned slightly. Her draw had an advantage, but also a drawback.

She glanced at Harry—she would now have to contend with the pressure of his likely outstanding performance as the first competitor. Then, looking at Krum, she worried about whether he, as a Quidditch star, might perform even better than her.

It was a good draw, but also a nerve-wracking one.

"Well, everyone now has their dragon," Ludo said, clapping his hands. "Look at the numbers tied to their necks; that's your order of appearance."

Harry pulled the little cloth tag from the neck of his Swedish Short-Snout. The number "1" was written on it.

He would go first.

Fleur frowned again. Her number was "2," which she found unsatisfactory. The first or last position would have been preferable.

"Now everyone, into the tent. I'll need to host the opening segment outside," Ludo instructed, lifting the tent flap. "Listen for your name, Mr. Potter. When I call you to enter, you can come out."

The three of them nodded.

Ludo added a few more instructions before finally turning to Harry and saying, "Mr. Potter, I'm looking forward to your performance."

With that, he hurried out of the tent.

Fleur let out a disdainful snort.

Krum's expression grew darker.

Harry, on the other hand, remained impassive as he sat down on a bench.

Outside, drums roared, cheers erupted, and applause thundered. Ludo, Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, and even that toad-like woman from the Ministry each delivered lengthy speeches.

The longer the wait dragged on, the more anxious Fleur and Krum became.

They paced nervously, as if the small tent was a cage imprisoning them.

But Harry waited patiently.

He checked his potions, wands, and the two swords he carried.

The craftsmanship of the goblins ensured the blades were razor-sharp and didn't need much maintenance. The ancient runes etched into the hilts would allow Harry to channel even greater power when wielding them.

As a precaution, he applied another coat of Snape's high-grade Dragon Oil to the Sword of Gryffindor.

His armor was in perfect condition—new and untested in real battle, but flawless nonetheless.

Finally, after half an hour, the words they had all been waiting for came.

Ludo's voice boomed from outside the tent:

"Now, let us welcome the first champion to challenge the dragon—Hogwarts' very own Harry Potter!"

Harry stood, letting his robe fall to the ground. He slung both swords over his back and adjusted the Sorting Hat on his hip before stepping out.

Ludo continued his enthusiastic introduction:

"The youngest competitor, personally authorized by his professors, and widely regarded as the most outstanding student in Hogwarts' history! At just thirteen years old, he became the heir to the great Gryffindor legacy. Ladies and gentlemen, give him a roaring cheer!"

The crowd erupted into deafening applause and cheers.

Students lit fireworks purchased from George and Fred, filling the sky above the arena with images of gryphons, lions, and Harry himself.

Under Hermione's leadership, Gryffindor had created a massive gryphon statue modeled after Harry's Patronus. Its colors alternated between gold, red, and silver, dazzling and vibrant.

"Potter! Potter!"

They chanted his name in waves of excitement.

Harry stepped through the tent flap and into the arena. It was even larger than it had appeared from the outside. The stands were packed with students, and Harry even recognized some familiar faces from Hogsmeade.

They all watched him intently, their expressions a mix of excitement and awe.

Harry stood at one end of the arena.

In the middle lay a forest of jagged stones and scattered dead trees.

At the far end crouched the Swedish Short-Snout.

The dragon noticed Harry immediately, its silver-blue body tensing with cautious hostility. It bared its teeth, a low growl rumbling from its throat.

Few humans had ever given it such a sense of unease.

Harry studied the dragon intently.

It was his first time seeing an adult dragon up close, and it was magnificent. Its silver-blue scales gleamed like a river of stars, though its somewhat flat head made it less ideal as a trophy.

Witcher lore taught that true dragons were never hunted—they were intelligent beings capable of speech and transformation.

But dragon-like beasts were another story entirely.

These fire-breathing creatures, for all their majesty, lacked true intelligence. To Harry, they were nothing more than powerful beasts.

He raised his hand.

Quen Sign!

A golden shield enveloped him. He waved his wand, casting the Shield Charm for extra protection.

On the judges' podium, Ludo's voice rang out:

"Potter begins with an excellent casting of the Shield Charm, a high-level spell that less than a quarter of wizards can perform!"

"And," he hesitated, turning to Dumbledore for help.

Dumbledore stepped in smoothly:

"That is Harry's own invention—a wandless, non-verbal protective spell similar to the Shield Charm but even stronger. It not only blocks magical attacks but also withstands physical blows."

"A wandless, non-verbal spell!" Ludo exclaimed. "Potter is even more remarkable than we imagined. A fourth-year student with his own spell—unbelievable!"

"Incredible! I'll admit it—I'm no match for Mr. Potter!"

The Swedish Short-Snout remained crouched over its nest, unwilling to leave. Sparks crackled from its nostrils, ready to unleash fiery destruction on the intruder.

Harry reached into the Sorting Hat and pulled out a dark purple potion.

He popped the cork and downed it in one gulp.

This was Thunderbrew. Although it wasn't a stormy day and couldn't unleash its full potential, it still caused his magic to surge. His muscles tingled as electric energy coursed through them, making him feel stronger.

Ludo stammered again:

"Potter just drank... a potion I don't recognize?"

"That's one of Harry's own creations," Dumbledore interjected. "He calls it Thunderbrew. It significantly boosts both magical and physical power."

Ludo's astonishment grew. "A self-developed potion, too? Even our Potions Master, Professor Snape, didn't create his own potions as a student!"

In the stands, Snape's expression darkened, his gaze sharp and icy.

But Ludo only had eyes for Harry.

Harry raised his wand, transforming dead trees and stones into enormous snakes that slithered toward the dragon.

Sensing danger, the Swedish Short-Snout roared and launched a stream of blue fire, reducing one snake to ashes. With a sweep of its tail, it shattered the second.

Harry seized the moment.

Conjunctivitis Curse!

The curse struck the dragon's eye, eliciting a pained howl.

Chains erupted from the ground, binding its limbs and neck. The dragon thrashed but couldn't break free, the magical restraints dragging it closer to Harry.

Ludo shouted excitedly:

"An outstanding display of Transfiguration! Gryffindor has always produced masterful Transfigurists!"

As the dragon struggled, Harry acted swiftly. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He plugged its nostrils with stones and cast Axii Sign, freezing the beast in place.

Using another spell, he levitated it closer, its enormous body resting on a makeshift stone tray.

Ludo continued his commentary:

"Potter has single-handedly subdued the most dangerous dragon! All that's left is for him to retrieve the golden egg—"

But his words faltered as he saw Harry draw the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Wait, Potter, what are you—"

Too late.

Harry swung the blade.

With one clean stroke, the dragon's head fell. Blood sprayed like a fountain, but Harry swiftly conjured magic to gather every drop into shimmering crimson orbs, wasting none of the precious material.

Ludo finally shouted, "The dragon wasn't supposed to die!"

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Powerstones?

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