Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

"I'll take another look around," Geralt crouched down, peeling at patches of moss.

Harry waved his wand.

The moss peeled away, and withered plants merged quickly into the soil.

A low humming stirred in the center of the pavilion.

The stone platform twisted, opening like a door and revealing a downward passage—this led to the room where Godric resided. The Gryffindor sword wasn't even needed to unlock it.

Geralt searched thoroughly.

But in the end, he came to the same conclusion as Harry: only one column bore a mark.

The swallow—wings spread in flight from a thousand years ago.

But now, a thousand years had passed. Where had she flown?

They returned to Hogwarts on the backs of thestrals.

In the Great Hall—

Harry conjured a sheet of parchment, hanging it upright and floating before them. "Let's summarize."

"We need to do two things: find Voldemort, and search for traces of Ciri—whatever she might've left in this world."

Because he himself was here.

Geralt and Yennefer had also slumbered in this world. Ciri had known someone would come to wake them.

"Bellatrix's memories might not be reliable. I tried last night—too badly damaged. Some fragments were even stripped out completely and can't be restored."

"But the idea of him searching for the Wild Hunt isn't false."

"He can't find the Hallows, and Grindelwald won't join forces with him."

As Harry spoke, the quill drew a map of Europe, the Germanic region glowing bright.

"Dumbledore said the Wild Hunt appeared frequently in this area, which likely means Ciri was once active there."

Harry paused and tapped the parchment with his wand.

The map zoomed in on the British Isles.

"More importantly, it's the matter connected to Galahad. Ciri carries Elder Blood—she can see the future," Harry continued softly. "She would've left important intel there."

Dumbledore appeared thoughtful.

Yennefer scoffed, "That woman in Avalon probably met Ciri. That man—Voldemort—read her memory, just like you did?"

Harry nodded.

"Then the question isn't whether Voldemort is looking for the Wild Hunt—it's whether he'll go after Ciri!" Yennefer slapped the table, voice sharp. "He knows what Ciri can do!"

Harry tried to calm her. "Yennefer, there's no 'Elder Blood' legend in our world. Time and space are incredibly advanced branches of magic. If Voldemort knows anything, he'll just think she's a powerful witch. He's a coward. He won't risk provoking her."

Yennefer pressed her lips together.

Dumbledore agreed, nodding. "Indeed. Even with our current magic, Harry and I can only barely toy with space. Time magic is still beyond us."

Yennefer sat down again, silent.

Harry tapped the parchment again. The map expanded to the Scottish Highlands and zoomed in on Hogwarts. "Albus, remember that theory we once considered?"

"You mean the one about Voldemort hiding a Horcrux in Hogwarts?" Dumbledore adjusted his glasses.

Harry nodded.

"But we've searched for two years and found nothing," Dumbledore said softly.

"Voldemort wouldn't make it easy," Harry said with a sigh. "He lived here for seven years. Went out every night, searching that girls' bathroom..."

"The Chamber of Secrets. It remained hidden for years. No one but him found it."

"Not even you."

Dumbledore nodded—the Chamber had indeed evaded him.

"What else is hidden in Hogwarts?" Harry looked up at the transparent ceiling, through which the sky was visible. "No one really knows."

"I still suspect it's here, even if we haven't found it."

He clapped his hands lightly.

"Our tasks are now very clear."

"We need to go to the Germanic region, to find the Wild Hunt and Ciri's trail." His eyes circled the others, resting on Geralt.

"I'm in," Geralt nodded.

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "Geralt should have someone go with him—he's not as familiar with this world as a wizard would be."

"Should we send Lupin?" Dumbledore suggested.

Harry smiled faintly. "George and Fred just graduated, and now you're stealing their best staffer?"

"And pairing him with Geralt, no less."

Dumbledore hummed curiously.

Harry continued, "Lupin—my Uncle Remus—is a werewolf, but he's never hurt anyone. Professor Snape and I are working on a cure for his lycanthropy."

Geralt nodded. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle with him."

"Then I'll stay in Britain to search for Ciri?" Yennefer asked, already eager. "Give me a helper—I quite like those house-elves."

Dumbledore agreed. "Of course, Miss Yennefer."

"Before term begins, I'll go with you," Harry said. "And Geralt—if you don't hate teleportation, you can use a Portkey to come back daily."

Geralt raised a hand and rubbed his forehead, muttering in agony, "Spare me."

Occasional teleporting was fine.

But every day? For a Witcher, that was torture.

They continued discussing.

Dumbledore was fascinated by the magic of the other world. Yennefer, likewise. They exchanged insights, while Harry listened quietly, offering input now and then. Only Geralt sat like an outsider—he might've had the potential for sorcery, but he didn't use magic.

Meanwhile—

At the Ministry of Magic.

In the Auror Office, Scrimgeour took a deep breath and addressed his subordinates. "Good news. Voldemort is dead."

The Aurors blinked, staring at their chief in disbelief.

This...

This was hard to accept.

"Mr. Potter and Professor Dumbledore informed me," Scrimgeour emphasized. "This is no hoax."

"Tonks."

She answered.

"Lead a team to clean up the Malfoy Manor," Scrimgeour instructed. "The rest of you—come with me to the Department of Mysteries. This is our best chance to purge the lot of them."

He didn't finish.

A slip of paper fluttered to him and unfolded hastily.

It was a summons from Thicknesse, calling him to a meeting.

"What is it, Mr. Scrimgeour?" Tonks leaned over, eager to peek.

Scrimgeour didn't stop her. "You go to Malfoy Manor. I'll see what Thicknesse wants—at a time like this."

He straightened his robes, cast a grooming charm, and headed upstairs.

As he pushed open the door—

Scrimgeour realized he was the last to arrive.

Officials from other departments, even those from Logistics—anyone with a title—were already present.

Most eye-catching of all—

Were the two people bound in ropes in front of the Minister's desk.

"Mr. Scrimgeour, you're finally here," Thicknesse greeted warmly. "Everyone's present now. I have a few things to discuss."

Scrimgeour felt a sinking in his chest.

Thicknesse bowed. "First, I want to apologize. I was too aggressive toward Mr. Potter and Hogwarts recently. It cost the Ministry dearly—both in reputation and resources."

"Of course, that wasn't my intention—I had no choice."

He inhaled deeply. "I was under the control of the Dark Lord."

"I knew what I was doing, but I couldn't resist."

The room erupted in shocked murmurs.

Scrimgeour's face darkened.

Thicknesse continued, "Don't be surprised. I didn't escape the Dark Lord's control. He's dead now."

"Yesterday, he was defeated and killed by Mr. Potter and Professor Dumbledore."

Scrimgeour clenched his fists. That announcement should've been his to make.

Another wave of disbelief swept the room.

Thicknesse raised his hands to quiet them. "There have always been Death Eaters—Dark Lord's lackeys—hiding in the Ministry! These two here were Unspeakables, helping him from within."

"When I realized I was free, I immediately arrested them."

He paused, taking a breath.

"I know this doesn't undo the damage I caused under his control. It doesn't absolve me."

"But I want to make two things clear."

"First—I've always stood for justice."

"Second—I hope others who were coerced by the Dark Lord can now step forward. He's gone. We must eradicate his influence completely. We can't be like under Fudge—letting Death Eaters run rampant in our Ministry."

His eyes swept the crowd.

The officials exchanged looks—some suspicious, some wary.

Thicknesse raised a hand. "And one last thing."

"My experiences disqualify me from continuing as Minister. As my final act, I propose the election of a new Minister."

"I nominate Mr. Scrimgeour."

"He's performed excellently, always stood with Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Potter—at the very front lines against Voldemort."

As those words left his mouth, Scrimgeour's face darkened further.

----------

Powerstones?

For 20 advance Chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates