Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

Voldemort twirled his wand absentmindedly as he watched Snape.

Snape answered honestly, "Dumbledore has been away from Hogwarts lately."

"Oh?" Voldemort's eyes flickered, but as the thought of Potter entered his mind, the light in his eyes dimmed and dispersed. "Away from Hogwarts, is he?"

Snape nodded. "My Lord, do you plan to act against Hogwarts?"

He had seen through it—and spoke it aloud.

Voldemort didn't answer, only sat in silence.

After a long pause, he tapped the table. A piece of parchment flew out from the drawer and unfurled before Snape's eyes. "Severus, do you remember this?"

"The Deathly Hallows," Snape read the title written on it.

Voldemort nodded. "Yes, the Deathly Hallows."

He stood and stepped lightly to Snape's side, speaking in a solemn and sincere tone: "My dear Severus, my most powerful friend—I trust you deeply."

"There are some things I cannot keep hidden from you."

He paused briefly, then continued, "It pains me to admit this, but we face a very serious problem—Severus, I have not yet fully returned to the height of my power. Though I can feel the immense strength in my body and the terrifying knowledge I possess..."

"But I must concede—Potter and Dumbledore are both opponents equal to myself."

"They are just as powerful as I am."

"And there are two of them, while there is only one of me."

"Do you understand what I mean, Severus? I need assistance."

He turned back, eyes glowing with a greedy, feverish light as they fell on the parchment. "The Deathly Hallows—those three legendary artifacts said to grant the power of Death itself."

"The Gaunt family ring was the Resurrection Stone. Unfortunately, I learned the truth too late to keep it."

He locked eyes with Snape. "Severus, the Resurrection Stone is in Dumbledore's possession."

"He and Grindelwald once pursued the Hallows together, and as the victor, it's likely that he possesses one or even two of the artifacts."

"Find them for me. I cannot reveal myself right now."

Snape knelt immediately, without hesitation. "All shall be done according to your great will."

Voldemort tilted his head and looked out the window, his crimson eyes gleaming like rubies.

His gaze stretched beyond the Dover Strait, to the distant lands across the sea.

In the mountains, a figure in black robes hurried forward, struggling through rugged terrain. He dispelled one enchantment after another.

At last, as the moon reached its peak, he saw it—a castle nearly indistinguishable from the mountain itself, so dark it blended into the cliffs. Its towers were jagged and blade-like, glinting with cold light.

It took until dawn for him to reach the base.

Nurmengard.

Once infamous alongside Azkaban—not because of Dementors, but because of Grindelwald. It had once held his enemies. Now, ironically, it held him.

At the entrance, the unguarded walls remained pristine, etched with words that had stood untouched for decades:

"For the Greater Good."

The black-robed man stared at them for a long time before moving inside.

The castle was long abandoned. Cobwebs layered thick in every corridor. The cells bore signs of once being lived in—old toothpaste stains long soaked into the floorboards. Footsteps echoed sharply in the vast, empty halls.

A prison unfit for purpose.

No guards.

No magical traps.

Only a lingering enchantment—Compression and Concealment—but it served no real function. The gates were open; any inmate could walk out at any time.

Half an hour later, he reached the top floor.

Here, it was different—recently cleaned. A hallway, tidy and freshly swept. At the end, a door hung half open. The black-robed figure stood there, peering inside.

A simple hardwood bed, a desk, a few children's books—The Tales of Beedle the Bard, mostly.

"Stranger from afar, won't you come in?" said a heavily accented voice from within.

The black-robed man entered, bowing to the man sitting on the bed. "Praise be to you, great Dark Wizard Grindelwald. I bring the will of my great master, the Dark Lord, to you."

He pulled down his hood to reveal a pale, youthful face with golden-brown hair—handsome and bright.

On the bed sat an old man with flowing white hair, his eyes like sapphires, brighter than the rising sun.

"Voldemort?" Grindelwald murmured.

Barty Crouch Jr. nodded.

"He's in Britain and sent you to Nurmengard?" Grindelwald chuckled softly.

Crouch lifted his head. "My master offers to help you escape."

"You rose to power step by step," Grindelwald said, shaking his head. "Do I need to escape?"

Crouch replied, "You are not imprisoned by Nurmengard—but by Dumbledore."

"My master seeks an alliance."

Grindelwald studied him in silence.

Crouch continued, "He says you are alike—sharing the same lofty goals."

"I saw the words carved at the gate."

"For the Greater Good."

"In this, my master is just like you—fighting for the supremacy of wizards. Shouldn't the rights of wizardkind rise above the Mudbloods?"

He grew fervent: "By their own reckoning, we are the superior species—more evolved, more intelligent. Naturally, we should rule."

Grindelwald laughed.

Crouch looked flustered.

"That's your master's grand vision?" Grindelwald stood, his eyes blazing. "Is that all he sees?"

Crouch took a breath. "I'm but a servant, seeing only fragments of his brilliance."

He avoided Grindelwald's penetrating gaze.

"You are great—but you failed," he continued, though with less confidence now. "My master invites you to join him against Dumbledore."

Grindelwald reminded him, "And Potter."

Crouch nodded. "Yes, and Potter. But he's just a student. Strong, but not dangerous."

"And yet he took your master's arm in Gringotts," Grindelwald said, smirking.

Crouch gritted his teeth. "He had just been revived."

"He wouldn't stand a chance now."

Grindelwald's tone grew airier. "Is that because your master saw something in Avalon?"

Crouch blinked, confused.

Avalon?

That mythical place?

He vaguely remembered stories from childhood. Did it really exist?

And did it involve Potter?

"You don't know?" Grindelwald nodded. "So Voldemort doesn't trust you that much, after all."

Crouch's uncertainty vanished, replaced by firm resolve. "A servant doesn't need to know what the master hasn't shared."

"You are loyal," Grindelwald said, eyes unreadable.

Crouch remained silent.

"Go back and tell your master," Grindelwald said as he sat back down, "If he truly wants to talk, he should come himself."

The suffocating pressure that had loomed over his head lifted.

Crouch exhaled in relief and raised his head again. "If not, my master hopes to offer you a trade." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"For the Hallows?" Grindelwald asked—though his tone was laced with certainty, not doubt.

Crouch nodded, shifting uncomfortably.

He hated being under Grindelwald's gaze. He felt exposed—like even his master, far away in Britain, was being seen through alongside him.

"What does he have to offer me?" Grindelwald asked.

"Or rather—what does he still have to offer?"

"Dark magic?"

"A Horcrux?"

"Avalon?"

Each word fell like a stone, weighing heavily on Crouch.

"I'm over a hundred years old," Grindelwald said, snapping his fingers.

Without wand or incantation, a flicker of blue Fiendfyre leapt from his fingertip, instantly forming into a miniature blue phoenix.

"There's little in this world I wish to know that I don't already."

"Your master has nothing I want."

Crouch whispered, "What if it's Dumbledore's death?"

Grindelwald's eyes narrowed.

Crouch flinched, stepping back as cold sweat rolled down his spine. The old man hadn't moved—but in that moment, he felt as if he had died several times over.

"Killing Dumbledore?" Grindelwald slowly opened his eyes.

"What an interesting proposal."

"Then let your master try. If he succeeds—we can talk again."

Crouch nodded. "Of course."

"My master promises—he will soon deliver that gift to you."

Grindelwald chuckled cryptically.

Crouch bowed and left.

At the gate of Nurmengard, he looked back at the wall's inscription—"For the Greater Good"—before Apparating away.

Grindelwald stood at the window, eyes fixed on the distant mountains. In his deep blue gaze, a faint silvery glow shimmered.

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Powerstones?

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