Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

"Professor Snape," Harry began.

But before he could finish—

"Shut up, Potter," Snape snapped immediately.

"For talking back to a professor, Gryffindor loses twenty points!"

"Don't flaunt those Gryffindor flaws here, leaping out to be the hero. Besides the incantation of the Imperius Curse, what else do you even know?"

"Do you know how to cast it?"

"Do you understand how to control a person's mind?"

"Do you know the principles of casting the Imperius Curse?" 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"You know nothing, Potter. I don't even need you to say it—I already know your head is completely empty. Absolutely nothing."

He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Dumbledore. "And that goes for you too, Albus. Don't smile. I admit you understand Dark Magic quite well, but when it comes to the Imperius Curse, you're just as clueless."

"The one who mastered the Imperius Curse best is the Dark Lord, and the best group to wield it are the Death Eaters."

"As far as I know, even Grindelwald never used the Imperius Curse."

"Specialized tasks should be left to specialists."

Snape drew his wand—his own wand.

Harry looked at it.

Birch wood, with a dragon heartstring core, thirteen and a half inches.

It was a wand completely unlike Snape's typical demeanor—in fact, it seemed the opposite.

Ollivander rarely used "birch" for wand crafting.

In his published book, he even explained why.

Of course, birch and white birch are entirely different materials.

Dolores Umbridge used regular birch—a wood Ollivander described as mediocre, talentless, and hardly fitting for any competent young witch or wizard.

White birch, however, received the opposite—an almost reverent appraisal.

Ollivander didn't avoid it because it was weak; he avoided it because it was too unique. Unlike elder wood, which symbolized death, or English oak, which symbolized rebirth, white birch was sacred—representing both life and death simultaneously.

Very few wizards possessed the qualities to match it.

And the man holding that white birch wand—Professor Snape—

Was neither sacred nor beautiful.

"Imperio." Before Harry could say another word, Snape raised his wand and cast the spell, almost eagerly.

On the ground, Caranthir's body spasmed. His eyes grew vacant and unfocused.

Snape's wand emanated an exceptionally malevolent aura.

Even his shadow, cast upon the wall, seemed twisted—jagged and warped, flickering with sharp, unsettling distortions.

One spell after another followed.

Snape completed the final adjustments to the Imperius Curse.

"From this moment forward, you will obey every command of Harry Potter," he commanded.

Caranthir's voice came out hollow and distant: "Yes."

Geralt couldn't help but shiver. "That's one hell of a nasty spell."

Snape shot him a glance and stowed his wand.

Harry turned to Geralt. "Are you and Yennefer coming back with me?"

Geralt paused, then shook his head. "I think Yen would rather stay here."

"Even if we don't look for Ciri, that thing on your head is still a huge problem."

He paused for a moment. "Harry, you're quite the reliable Witcher now."

"We've still got a lot to settle with the Wild Hunt...and with Voldemort."

"You go find Ciri. Bring her back. With her around, we can return anytime—and right to the correct moment, right?"

Harry flicked his wand, sending Caranthir's body neatly into his pocket with a spell.

"Potter, I should remind you of something." Snape spoke only after Harry finished talking with Geralt. "No magic is eternal."

"I don't know how the Wild Hunt differs from wizards, Muggles, or anyone else."

"I'm not sure how long the Imperius Curse will last, but with your skill in Occlumency and Legilimency, it shouldn't be hard to tell if he's trying to break free."

"If you sense anything, don't get cocky. Come back and find me to reinforce it."

Harry looked at him.

Snape stared right back, unyielding.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Harry said quietly.

Snape scowled, leaning back and tipping his head. "Don't say such disgusting, slug-like drivel, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor for making me sick."

Harry just smiled.

He exchanged a few more words with Geralt and then left the Headmaster's office.

Even if they couldn't confirm that Voldemort's Horcrux was in the hands of the Wild Hunt, now that Caranthir was captured, Harry knew he had to go back. Finding Ciri and bringing her to Hogwarts would be far safer than letting her continue to run alone.

Gryffindor Common Room.

It was as lively as ever.

Neville was no longer the Neville of old. Though not particularly handsome, he was strong and solid. Since he had personally slain Bellatrix, his personality had brightened considerably. Though he still wasn't popular with girls, the younger students adored him.

Who wouldn't like a big, gentle bear of an upperclassman who was always willing to help with questions, even let you copy his homework sometimes?

Harry walked in and waved to Hermione, Ron, and Neville.

They blinked, then stepped out of the common room.

The younger students didn't dare stop Neville. A group of them holding parchment watched with regret as he walked away.

The Tower Rooftop.

Harry gently sent away the few couples that were out there on dates. He waved his wand, checking thoroughly to ensure there were no other people or Animagi hiding around. He cast a spell to seal off the entrance to the rooftop.

"So cautious?" Ron glanced back at the golden barrier on the floor.

It looked exactly like the charm Dumbledore had placed around the Goblet of Fire during the Triwizard Tournament.

"I might need to take a long leave of absence," Harry said softly, looking directly at Hermione.

Hermione's heart clenched. "A long leave? Where are you going this time?"

Harry explained simply, "The Wild Hunt attacked Mr. Scamander tonight. He's fine, but we got lucky and captured one of their navigators. I might need to go back to that world."

"To find the Elder Blood?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

Hermione took a deep breath, clenching her fists. She hesitated but didn't ask to go with him.

"This time, I'll go alone," Harry said, waving his wand.

The Sword of Gryffindor slid out of the Sorting Hat and landed in Neville's hands.

Neville looked at him, puzzled.

"Neville, Crouch—Barty Crouch Jr.—is right here at Hogwarts," Harry said, looking him straight in the eye.

Neville gripped the sword handle tightly. "When can I kill him?"

"Just be patient for a while," Harry's voice was gentle. "While I'm away, the Sword of Gryffindor is yours. If anything goes wrong and Crouch gets free... he's yours to deal with."

Neville nodded, his response calm and steady. "Of course, I will."

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Powerstones?

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