Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

Making friends was normal.

But for Ragnok, it was not.

That goblin was stubborn to the bone—unless someone was willing to raise the banner of "goblin rebellion" alongside him, he wouldn't just refuse friendship, he wouldn't even bother with casual conversation.

"A goblin?" Harry asked.

Hawke shook his head. "No, no, they were tall, about five or six feet—wait, I mean high!"

"A human?" Harry's eyes flickered with surprise.

Hawke nodded. "Should be a human. Though... it could be a Veela—"

"Goblins don't get attracted to Veela," Harry muttered dryly. "Are you sure they were really five or six feet tall?"

Hawke's face flushed red. "Mr. Potter, we goblins may be small compared to humans, but we are not incapable of judging length! A goblin's sense for size and weight is unparalleled! We can measure something's dimensions the moment we see it—we never get it wrong!"

"A human," Emmeline murmured, frowning. "That makes me think of something... unpleasant."

"Death Eaters," Sirius muttered, his brain catching up. "Could Ragnok have gotten involved with them?"

Harry and Lupin didn't respond—

But their grim expressions showed they had the same thought.

"You're joking," one of the Ministry wizards scoffed, his voice tinged with fear. "Death Eaters? There are no Death Eaters anymore! You're just making up—"

Harry cut him off with a sharp glance. "We weren't talking to you."

The slitted pupils of his eyes were cold, unreadable.

The wizard shivered, instinctively ducking his head to avoid eye contact.

"How many days ago?" Harry turned back to Hawke.

Hawke counted on his fingers. "Seventy-five hours ago," he answered precisely.

Three days.

Harry frowned.

Wizards were a high-mobility group—within an hour, someone could travel from one end of the country to the other.

And three days? That was plenty of time for someone to disappear.

"Should we go looking?" Sirius asked, glancing at Harry.

Harry shook his head. "No need."

His gaze swept over the Ministry officials, then settled back on Hawke. "So—what about the profits I was owed from our previous agreement with the Ministry?"

Hawke stiffened, gripping his notebook.

The room fell silent.

Harry's brow furrowed as he hummed softly. "Hmm?"

"The forge is gone," the Ministry wizard finally stammered.

Harry's gaze sharpened. "And? What does that mean?"

"There are no more profits," the wizard said, inhaling deeply.

Harry nodded. "I understand. Going forward, there will be no more profits. I was asking about the previous ones."

The wizard shook his head. "The past financial records have been sealed—"

"Ah," Harry took a step closer. "So you're saying you don't intend to pay me?"

The wizard said nothing.

Didn't dare say anything.

Harry stepped right up to them and lazily flicked his wand. The vines binding their wrists uncoiled.

One of the witches instinctively raised her wand—

But her colleague was quicker, grabbing her wrist and forcing it down.

"I expected you to attack me the moment I freed you," Harry said calmly.

The wizard gritted his teeth.

The one who had stopped his colleague from acting spoke instead. "Mr. Potter, you are not a wanted criminal in the Ministry."

"The Daily Prophet is practically screaming that Professor Dumbledore and I are the greatest frauds the wizarding world has ever seen," Harry said idly, twirling his wand in his fingers. Yet no matter how it spun, the tip remained pointed at them. "I assumed the Ministry had already charged us with fraud."

The three officials remained silent, eyes flickering with unease—staring at the wand in Harry's hand.

That wand.

The same one that had "mercilessly slaughtered twelve people" that night.

"Go tell Fudge—when I visit the Ministry for his little 'tea party' session, I expect my money to be ready." Harry's voice was light, even gentle. "I would hate to be forced into making certain decisions that could damage the... friendship between us."

Their faces turned slightly green.

Friendship?

Since when did the Ministry and Harry Potter have anything resembling friendship?

Was Potter under some kind of strange delusion?!

Harry let out a small chuckle, then turned to Sirius, casually stepping past the officials as they left the forge.

— 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"You really aren't going after Ragnok?" Lupin murmured, glancing back at the closing forge door.

Harry grabbed Lupin's wrist. "Let's go home. This sort of work is best left to the professionals."

They Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

—

Hermione and Ron were already packed and ready, waiting for Harry so they could head to Diagon Alley together.

Their group included Arthur, Emmeline—

And, unexpectedly—

Rita Skeeter.

"Mr. Potter." Rita's beetle-like face was practically dripping with oily enthusiasm.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, raising a brow. "Have you found anything on Tom?"

Rita's smile froze for a second. Then she shook her head stiffly.

Arthur stepped in to explain. "I invited Ms. Skeeter. Lovegood is taking his daughter to Diagon Alley today to shop for school supplies—I figured I'd arrange for them to meet."

Harry had barely stepped through the door before he was whisked away again.

Grimmauld Place wasn't far from the Leaky Cauldron. Apparating wasn't necessary—the safest method was simply taking Arthur's car through the Muggle streets.

Sirius begged to be allowed to drive.

Arthur, however, had common sense.

No matter how much Sirius pleaded and whined, Arthur did not hand over the wheel.

Flying was one thing.

If Sirius crashed, he'd just end up somersaulting in the air, maybe hitting a tree or colliding with a bird.

But driving? That was another matter entirely.

One accident, and Muggles would be in danger.

That was not a risk Arthur was willing to take.

This left Sirius sulking. He knew he had driving experience! He'd already driven twice!

—

"Arthur, you're so unfair!"

Sirius kept grumbling as they got into the car.

Arthur, meanwhile, carefully navigated the streets—painfully slow, keeping his speed below 25 miles per hour.

Other cars honked behind them, frustrated by his cautious driving.

Arthur, ignoring them, calmly replied, "I am being fair."

"Speed up! They're all honking at you!" Sirius looked ready to press the gas pedal himself.

Arthur shook his head. "No. This is safe. There are three students in the car."

He paused.

"And this road has a speed limit of 25 to 40 miles per hour. I'm well within the legal range."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Uncle Arthur... you actually know about speed limits?"

"Of course!" Arthur puffed up proudly. "I personally studied Muggle driving! I memorized all their traffic rules."

Sirius looked utterly lost.

"...What traffic rules?"

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Powerstones?

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