Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

Thicknesse stood up, greeted Voldemort, and, after receiving permission, strode to the center of the hall.

Facing the Death Eaters, he waved his hand enthusiastically.

Perhaps it was because he had become a Death Eater—

Or perhaps it was because he was now Minister of Magic—

But his personality had changed drastically.

Before this, he would never have dared to be so flamboyant.

"My dear brothers, we may find ourselves opposing each other with wands in the future," Thicknesse said, twirling his own wand lightly. "But it will all be for the glorious cause of our Lord!"

"Tonight, let us raise our glasses—and praise our great Lord!"

The Death Eaters lifted their goblets and drank in honor of the Dark Lord.

The new year had arrived, and snow continued to fall.

This winter seemed even longer than those before.

The previous night, the house-elves had been somewhat neglectful—

Failing to add firewood to the common room hearth in time.

When Hermione woke early in the morning, she sneezed several times from the cold.

It wasn't until after seven o'clock that a house-elf came in, muttering anxiously to itself while slapping its own face, as it hurriedly fed logs into the fireplace.

By the time Harry returned, the common room was still struggling to warm up.

"I can't believe the Daily Prophet actually did something useful for once," Hermione exclaimed, her otter Patronus flicking its tail as she waved the newspaper in disbelief. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Harry took the paper from her.

The front page—

A massive, ominous Dark Mark, practically leaping from the page.

"Return? The Great Crisis of Britain! That Man Rises Again!"

Even Harry was stunned—his expression nearly breaking.

He walked over to the window, glancing at the sky—

The sun was indeed rising from the east.

Snow was falling on the first day of January.

There were no bizarre weather anomalies.

Everything was normal.

Everything except for the Daily Prophet.

Harry didn't continue reading immediately.

Instead, he waved his wand, cast a detection spell on himself, and pulled out a vial of potion, swallowing it down.

No illusions.

It was real.

Hermione and Ron fully understood Harry's caution.

Once assured, Harry read the article.

And to his astonishment—

It wasn't just a sensational headline.

It actually had substance.

The Daily Prophet reported that they had interviewed the Minister of Magic, delving into what had transpired at Gringotts on Christmas Eve.

The Ministry officially confirmed that The Quibbler's reporting was accurate.

That night, Death Eaters had indeed gathered.

Their target had not been the gold in the vaults—

But rather, an artifact hidden within them.

They had sacrificed dozens of lives, conducting a brutal ritual to revive a mysterious figure—

Someone who could be the Dark Lord.

Or someone else entirely.

And—

The Ministry admitted they had been ineffective that night.

But thankfully, Harry Potter had been there—

He had driven back the resurrected figure—

And had even severed his arm.

Unfortunately...

Harry Potter, perhaps due to his youth, had not yet reached the strength needed to finish the job.

But!

The future of the wizarding world was bright—

Because Britain has Harry Potter!

Thicknesse even stated that the Ministry had learned from this experience.

They would conduct a complete restructuring of the Auror Office—

And retest all Aurors, removing those who were unqualified for retraining.

The more Harry read—

The deeper his frown became.

"Harry," Hermione asked, noticing his expression, "is something wrong with the article?"

To her, this was one of the most objective and accurate reports the Daily Prophet had published in years.

Harry nodded.

"Of course—" He tapped his knuckles against the newspaper, the crisp crackle of the paper filling the room. "It doesn't mention Dumbledore at all."

Hermione froze.

"They're trying to push me to the front," Harry said, placing the paper down.

"They want to make me the symbol of the fight against Voldemort."

Ron tilted his head. "Aren't you already?"

After all, who else was fighting Voldemort?

As far as Ron was concerned, since first year, Harry had always been the one facing Voldemort directly.

And Dumbledore?

The so-called greatest white wizard of the century?

More often than not, he seemed to only appear after Harry had already handled everything, tossing in a few quirky remarks for good measure.

Even Snape had done more than him!

At least Snape had fought alongside Harry against the Basilisk in second year.

What had Dumbledore ever done for Harry?

...Given him a jar of Cockroach Clusters?

"That may be true," Harry admitted, nodding as he drummed his fingers against the paper.

"But Dumbledore is still the greatest white wizard of this century."

"How do you talk about opposing the Dark Lord—the most powerful Dark wizard in history—without even mentioning him?"

Ron nodded slowly, beginning to understand.

Of course, they couldn't just ignore Dumbledore.

He was the symbol of justice.

Back then, when Voldemort had risen to power, it was Dumbledore who had led the fight against him.

Now that Voldemort had returned—

And Dumbledore was still alive—

Harry might serve as another symbol, but he should not be the only one.

"Of course," Harry added, tossing the newspaper onto the table, "it's also possible the Ministry is simply trying to boost morale."

"A rising star is far more hopeful than an aging one."

"And Dumbledore already holds too much power. If they further elevate him, then what will the Ministry even be?"

"This is how they operate."

"Fudge did it before."

"And I doubt Thicknesse is any different."

Hermione studied Harry, nodding thoughtfully.

Girls matured faster than boys—

And she had already begun considering her own future.

Harry didn't care about these things—

But she did.

Ron furrowed his brow, scratching his face.

A year ago, he wouldn't have understood any of this.

But after spending an entire summer around Percy, he had at least some grasp of the politics at play.

"Ugh," Ron groaned. "I really don't want to work for the Ministry."

"It all sounds too complicated."

Hermione cast him a sidelong glance. "No, Ron—for you, it wouldn't be complicated at all."

Ron blinked.

Then placed his hands on his hips.

"Hermione! I do have a brain, you know! I understand—"

Hermione cut him off.

"No, Ron—I wasn't insulting you."

"For you, it really wouldn't be complicated."

"Because you're Harry Potter's best friend."

Ron blinked again—

Then turned to look at Harry—

And finally understood.

"Oh," he muttered.

"I'm the best friend of the greatest wizard of the 21st century."

"And not just any friend—we grew up together."

"And since Harry doesn't care about politics... If I join the Ministry..."

"I could represent Harry?"

"Partially," Hermione corrected.

Harry clapped his hands. "Alright—enough politics. We have class."

Mondays were packed.

Morning—History of Magic, then Potions.

Noon—barely any break before Divination.

And after that—

The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the week.

Sirius had spent all Christmas preparing for it.

But—

Before he could even finish roll call—

The door burst open.

Rufus Scrimgeour strode in—

Flanked by a squad of Aurors.

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Powerstones?

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