Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

BANG!

The crash was even louder than the howling wind and snow outside the castle.

"S-Scrimgeour?" Sirius turned his head sharply. "What the hell are you doing?"

The Head of the Auror Office took a deep breath.

"Sirius, I'm sorry," he said, his tone grave. "But I must inform you—under the legal statutes of the Ministry of Magic, the Auror Office is here to place you under arrest."

His words fell heavily upon the classroom.

A strange, suffocating tension spread through the air.

Arrest?

Sirius stared at him in disbelief. "Scrimgeour, are you mad? You're arresting me?"

He was, after all, a professor at Hogwarts.

"It's an order from the Ministry," Scrimgeour replied, spreading his hands as if helpless. "They believe you may still have ties to the Death Eaters."

Sirius's voice turned sharp with incredulity. "You must be insane! Me? A Death Eater?"

Scrimgeour shook his head. "Of course, I don't believe that. But these are orders from above. I have no choice."

He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Sirius, listen—considering our past, and for Harry's sake, I came here myself. I'm asking you to cooperate. The Ministry will clear your name soon."

"You want me to trust the Ministry?" Sirius let out a cold laugh. "Scrimgeour, are you actually more naive than I am?"

Scrimgeour opened his mouth, about to respond—

But before he could—

Harry stood up.

His gaze was cold.

His voice was calm.

"Mr. Scrimgeour, we are in the middle of a lesson."

"This is the fifth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Do you know what that means?"

"Leave."

The Aurors behind Scrimgeour instinctively took a step back, their legs trembling.

Scrimgeour took another deep breath. "Harry, I know you've never liked the Ministry, but this time is different."

"It's not just me—"

"Minister Thicknesse himself is here. This is wartime. Any potential threat must be dealt with."

Harry tapped his fingers against the desk.

"Scrimgeour," he said evenly, "do you not understand my words?"

"Leave."

Scrimgeour clenched his jaw. "I have to take Sirius with me."

"I don't think you can," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"Dumbledore will agree," Scrimgeour said softly. "Minister Thicknesse is speaking with him right now."

"This morning, the Ministry held an emergency session. In these extraordinary times, the Ministry has decided to place Hogwarts under supervision. Sirius is only the first—in fact, every professor here will be subject to an inquiry. Anyone with even the slightest connection to the Death Eaters will be—"

"Is that so?" Harry interrupted.

"But right now—"

"Leave."

He raised his hand.

Alduin's warmth surged forward.

A force, gentle yet irresistible, swept through the room—

Pushing Scrimgeour and his Aurors out of the classroom.

With a flick of his wand—

BANG!

The door slammed shut.

"Class," Harry said, turning back to Sirius, who was still standing there, momentarily stunned.

Sirius snapped out of it.

He nodded.

And continued the lesson.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the last class of the day.

Afterwards, students exited into the corridors, just one floor below the Great Hall—just in time for dinner.

"What's the Ministry thinking?" Ron muttered, frowning.

"Or... could Sirius actually be under the curse?"

He was referring to the supposed jinx on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.

Of course—

Hogwarts students weren't sure if the rumor was true.

But it had been said for years.

And honestly—

Considering how the professor changed every single year, it was hard not to believe it.

After all—Care of Magical Creatures was technically more dangerous, yet they'd only had one professor change in decades.

Meanwhile, Defense professors changed so often they could field their own Quidditch World Cup team.

"I wonder if they've gone after Snape," Harry mused, glancing toward the staff table.

None of the professors had arrived yet.

Ron's face lit up.

"Snape's way harder to deal with than Sirius," he said excitedly.

"I hope Scrimgeour gets to him next."

"Snape was so off today. If he runs into them, it'll be a disaster."

Harry lifted his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"His hand," he said after taking a sip. "He got his hand back."

Ron froze.

Then his mind clicked.

His hand.

A whole year had passed—

They had gotten used to Snape only having one arm.

They had assumed he would never replace it.

But suddenly—

After more than a year—

He had a new hand.

Which meant—

If he was always capable of replacing it—

Then why now?

"Harry," Ron whispered urgently, leaning in and lowering his voice.

"Don't you think this is weird?"

"He didn't get a new arm for over a year. Harry—he must have met with him again."

He didn't need to specify who.

Hermione understood immediately.

She looked at Harry, worry in her eyes.

"I know," Harry said simply.

His expression didn't change.

He nodded calmly.

"Don't worry."

Ron tilted his head.

It was difficult to comprehend.

But Hermione...

Hermione understood.

Outside the entrance hall—

Hurried footsteps echoed through the corridors.

A chaotic mix—

Some familiar.

Some less so.

Harry looked up.

A swarm of professors entered the Great Hall—

Surrounding a pink toad in the center.

Dumbledore walked beside her, engaged in conversation.

At Hogwarts, meals were open-ended—

Students could eat early or late, within a set timeframe.

But if you missed the timeframe—

You had to either find the kitchens—

Or go hungry.

Tonight was different.

The four Heads of House had issued special instructions—

Every single student had to attend.

By six o'clock, everyone was seated.

Dumbledore stood up, adjusting his glasses.

"My apologies," he began, "for interrupting everyone on a Mon—"

COUGH COUGH COUGH!

A sickeningly sweet cough cut him off.

"Dumbledore," the toad spoke.

"Allow me to explain."

She stood—

And somehow managed to look even shorter.

Realizing this, she sat back down.

"After all, you are the Headmaster of Hogwarts," she continued smoothly. "However, the orders I bring come directly from the Ministry of Magic."

Dumbledore didn't argue.

He merely gestured lightly.

"Very well. Then, Madam Umbridge—please proceed."

Umbridge raised her wand, amplifying her voice.

"Good evening, everyone," she said sweetly.

"We meet again."

"Many of you may remember me—I was a judge at last year's Triwizard Tournament."

"But for our new students, allow me to introduce myself."

"I am Dolores Umbridge—Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."

She paused—

Then smiled gleefully.

"And I have a new title—"

"High Inquisitor of Hogwarts."

"You may call me Madam Umbridge—"

"But I much prefer Professor Umbridge."

She paused, as if eagerly awaiting applause.

But the students—

Just stared at her.

The Gryffindors frowned.

This woman...

She was worse than Dumbledore at rambling.

And her voice—

At least Dumbledore's voice was tolerable.

"You all seem shocked," Umbridge tittered, spotting a few first-years looking confused.

"Hogwarts already has a full staff. So why a new professor?"

She sighed theatrically.

"Regretfully—"

"Professor Black has been detained on suspicion of Death Eater connections."

"As such, I shall take over as your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry stood up.

"Dumbledore," he said coldly.

"Did you agree to this?"

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head.

"Harry, come to my office later," he said, his expression weary. "We can discuss everything then."

Harry let out a short, amused breath.

He turned his gaze back to Umbridge.

"I don't recall agreeing to a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Umbridge's sickly-sweet smile widened.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor," she said, her tone dripping with satisfaction.

"For disrespecting a professor—"

"And for defying a direct order from the Ministry."

"Mr. Potter, you are merely a student—"

"Is that so?"

Harry's voice was eerily calm.

"Then perhaps," he said, "you remember who I am?"

"Perhaps," he continued, "you recall the title the Ministry once gave me?"

"Madam Umbridge," he said, tilting his head slightly.

"Do you still think I lack the authority?"

The smug expression on Umbridge's face stiffened.

Her lips trembled slightly—

But she forced herself to maintain a stern facade.

She refused to meet Harry's eyes.

Instead—

She fixed her gaze on the hat perched at Harry's waist—

The symbol of Gryffindor—

And Hogwarts itself.

"I don't care what Albus thinks," Harry said, his voice unwavering.

"And honestly—"

"I don't care what the Ministry thinks, either."

"But Hogwarts isn't just his school."

"It's mine as well."

"I'll give you all some time to reconsider your choices."

"Don't test me again."

"Albus's patience is already running thin."

Hermione stood up.

Ron followed immediately after.

They walked toward the grand staircase.

"Potter!"

Umbridge's voice rose sharply.

"Are you defying the Ministry?!"

"Are you opposing the will of the entire wizarding world?!"

Harry didn't even look back.

Instead, he raised a hand in a lazy wave.

"You started it."

And with that, he left.

The Gryffindors sat in silence.

They didn't fully understand what had just happened—

Why Harry and Umbridge had instantly been at each other's throats.

But it didn't take long for their instincts to kick in.

They didn't like the toad woman.

And Sirius—despite his recklessness—had been a good professor.

More importantly—

This was Harry.

And when Harry stood—

The Lions followed.

One by one—

The Gryffindors rose.

Without a word—

They left the Great Hall.

This was their vote against the Ministry.

The pride of the Lions followed their leader.

The Hufflepuffs stirred restlessly.

Some hesitated—

And then, a few began to rise.

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Powerstones?

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