Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

"Food."

The word made Geralt freeze just as he was figuring out where to stash this potential weapon.

He looked down in disbelief.

The texture, the weight...

This was food?

Even the hardest black bread he'd ever encountered didn't compare. A saw would struggle to cut through it.

"Apologies—cultural difference. I've never seen food like this," Geralt said sincerely, placing the scone into his mouth and gnawing with effort, crunching loudly as he tore off a piece with his molars. "Tastes great! Really."

Hagrid looked flustered, guilt spreading across his face. "Sorry, I didn't consider that."

Harry cleared his throat. "Hagrid, let's get back to what I mentioned earlier."

Hagrid nodded repeatedly and turned to Geralt. "So this gentleman wants children. Is... everything functional on that front?"

He asked delicately, blushing deeper.

Even after all these years, he hadn't sealed the deal with Madam Maxime.

Honestly, he was more innocent than most Hogwarts students past their fourth year.

"Everything's perfectly functional—and very enjoyable," Geralt replied, glancing at Yennefer with a smile in his eyes.

Hagrid nodded.

Geralt patted his chest. "You can rest easy, sir. I'm a fine man—exceptional in every way, including that one."

"Not always," Yennefer chimed in.

Geralt gritted his teeth. "Only when I'm exhausted."

Yennefer turned away, laughing softly.

"The real issue is that his body's been mutated—different from regular people," Harry added calmly. "Kind of like unicorns and thestrals."

"Reproductive isolation?" Hagrid used a surprisingly technical term.

Harry nodded. "Something like that. But not exactly."

Hagrid thought it over, looking between Geralt and Yennefer. "You're both human. That makes it... tricky."

Huh?

Geralt and Yennefer narrowed their eyes.

"I mean, I can't exactly observe you the way I would magical creatures... during mating," Hagrid explained hastily. "Anyway, I'm seeing Mr. Scamander next week. Could you give me a genetic sample?"

"Yennefer was injured. She can't provide one at the moment," Harry answered.

"Only Geralt's, then?"

Hagrid looked a little confused, not understanding what an injury had to do with providing that sort of thing.

But if Harry said no, it was no.

"Just the male sample? That's fine. Mr. Scamander and I can start research with that," Hagrid agreed, locking eyes with Geralt.

Then the rest of them also turned to look at him.

All eyes on Geralt.

"Why are you all staring at me?" Geralt glanced at his waistband. "You don't mean... now?"

Harry chuckled. "Geralt, we're all men here. Yennefer's the only lady present."

Geralt glanced toward the bed—his gaze seemed to pierce it and see into the shadows where Fang was cowering.

"He's male too," Harry added before Geralt could speak.

Geralt sighed. "This doesn't feel like a good idea. Maybe I'll collect a sample tonight and bring it to you tomorrow?"

"It'll lose vitality," Harry said.

Hagrid, sincere as ever, didn't catch Harry's meaning. "No, if it's preserved properly, it can last one to three days."

"I'll write down the preservation method for you."

"And actually, this could help us test if the issue is with the sample. If it deteriorates even when stored correctly, we'll know where the problem lies."

He waved his wand, summoning a large sheet of parchment and a peacock-feather quill, scribbling down instructions quickly.

Geralt squinted at Harry. "Harry."

"Don't you find this fascinating?" Harry replied coolly.

"If you were the one doing it, I'd find it hilarious," Geralt muttered. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Hagrid finished writing and shrunk the parchment to a manageable size, handing it over carefully. "Just follow the steps. It's not too difficult."

"Thanks," Geralt said, taking it.

Harry spoke again. "Hagrid, are the thestrals still in the Forbidden Forest? We need four of them."

"Thestrals?" Hagrid tilted his head. "Wouldn't the motorcycles be better for traveling?"

"We're going deep into the forest," Harry clarified.

Hagrid nodded. "I'll fetch them."

He clapped his hand on the bed. "Fang, we're going out."

From under the bed, the massive hound didn't move. Not even a whimper.

"Fang?" Hagrid called again.

Still no response.

He muttered, "Where's he gone? Harry? I could've sworn he ran under the bed just now."

"Fang probably doesn't dare come out," Harry said flatly, staring under the bed. "Give him a minute."

There were two Witchers in the room.

Fang, sensitive to danger, had clearly picked up on it—double.

Hagrid pushed off his knees and stood. "Alright. I'll get the thestrals."

They followed him out, watching as he disappeared into the thick forest. Not long after, he returned, dragging four lean, shadowy horses behind him—thestrals.

They were visibly resistant but had no chance against Hagrid's strength and were forcibly hauled out.

"Can you see them?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

Geralt and Yennefer looked confused.

"Dumbledore, let me explain. Geralt, like me, has a butcher's nickname—Butcher of Blaviken," Harry said quietly.

Dumbledore was surprised.

So was Geralt. "You have one too?"

The title "Butcher of Blaviken" wasn't a badge of honor. He never liked it, but had his reasons for never disputing it.

Harry nodded. "A year ago, the Death Eaters—Voldemort's lot—set a trap for me. I turned it around and killed a bunch of them. The Ministry, as always, refused to recognize the Death Eaters for what they are, so I was named the Butcher of Little Hangleton."

"Because too many Death Eaters were actually Ministry officials?" Geralt asked as they approached the thestrals.

Witchers didn't do politics—but that didn't mean they didn't understand it. Especially Geralt.

He'd been dragged into court intrigue more than a few times.

Harry didn't comment.

As they neared, the four thestrals gradually calmed, blinking curiously at Harry.

They knew him—the one who'd stirred chaos in the forest before.

But...

It had been a while.

Something about him had changed.

He smelled familiar, but... different—pleasant, even.

One bold thestral nudged closer, sniffed his hand, and rubbed affectionately against him.

"Harry, since when are you so close to thestrals?" Hagrid was a little envious. Thestrals weren't naturally affectionate creatures. Their temperament just didn't allow it. Even as a master of magical beasts, Hagrid could win a unicorn's trust—but not a thestral's friendship.

Outside feeding time, they barely acknowledged him.

"Probably the scent of death," Harry murmured, scratching its head with increasing affection.

Ever since returning from Avalon, the aura he carried from beyond the Veil hadn't faded.

"Take us to the heart of the forest, alright?" Harry asked the thestral.

It snorted and nodded.

Each of them mounted a thestral.

They weren't comfortable rides—too bony, no stirrups, legs dangling awkwardly. One had to cling to the neck to stay secure.

The thestrals spread their wings and took off.

Harry leaned close to its ear and gave directions.

They flew fast, soon reaching the designated spot. With a clatter of hooves, they landed in a small clearing.

"Wait for us here," Harry said, patting its head and tossing a large chunk of raw meat from the Sorting Hat.

Dumbledore smiled. "Good thing the Hat went out with Hedwig today, or it'd scold you for stuffing more weird things inside it."

Geralt looked envious. "That's a fantastic thing—so small, yet holds so much."

"Don't worry, I'll get you one too," Harry reassured, leading the way forward.

Soon, a ruined garden came into view.

It wasn't large. After over two years, more walls had collapsed. The view was clearer now.

Harry had been here before—he knew there were no traps.

He led them straight to a small pavilion.

Moss had crept back over the stones. Harry waved his wand, accelerating its growth, then withered it instantly. The moss peeled from the columns and fell away, revealing a rough, carved mark—

A swallow in mid-flight, wings spread wide.

Ciri's symbol. It had always been here.

And it was the only one in the entire garden.

"This is connected to Ciri?" Geralt asked.

Harry nodded. "The elves call her 'Zireael'—it means Swallow in their tongue."

"Only this mark?" Yennefer tried to cast magic, hoping to resonate with it—but no reaction. The badge remained still.

Harry spoke with a hint of frustration. "A thousand years is too long. All other traces have faded—only this symbolic emblem remains."

"Though, in Gryffindor's trial, I learned more about Ciri. It's connected to a knight named Galahad. She left me a clue to Avalon here."

"But that's all."

"Avalon is linked to us—not to Ciri."

Geralt was thoughtful. "Then we're still searching for Ciri."

"The Wild Hunt in Germania—and that knight named Galahad—are our key leads."

Harry nodded. "Exactly."

----------

Powerstones?

For 20 advance Chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates