Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

"Crookshanks, Hermione's pet," Harry explained, his expression puzzled. "I thought you were only afraid of spiders. When did you start fearing cats?"

Ron stared at Crookshanks warily. "I'm not afraid of cats—it's just... I ran into that one at the pet shop."

"Hmm?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did a cat beat you up?"

Ron flushed with embarrassment. "No! Of course not! Me? Beaten up by a cat? No way!"

Crookshanks tilted his head, burrowed into Hermione's arms, and let out a grumpy purring sound.

"Hermione, you'd better hold onto him," Ron said, still eyeing the cat cautiously as he pulled his rat out of his pocket. "Scabbers hasn't been doing well since we got back from Egypt."

Scabbers had grown thinner and more lethargic, with fur that looked dry and scraggly like weeds—a picture of poor health.

"I took him to the pet shop for a checkup, but the shopkeeper said he wasn't sick. Maybe he's just too old," Ron sighed, gently poking Scabbers' head.

Everything Ron owned was secondhand.

His pet was no exception.

But pets were different from ordinary items; living things foster emotional bonds.

Scabbers was ugly and even missing a toe, but after living together for over two years, Ron couldn't bear the thought of watching him die.

"I was about to buy some rat tonic when that horrible cat pounced on him and nearly ate him!" Ron said through gritted teeth. "Luckily, Scabbers was quick and escaped. It took me forever to find him again."

Hermione blinked and instinctively glanced at the book she had been reading earlier.

Cats chasing rats was natural.

But the details she had just read kept spinning in her mind, making her feel uneasy.

She looked at Harry, whose expression remained neutral as he asked, "How old is Scabbers?"

Ron paused, furrowing his brow. "I don't know. He was Bill's pet first, then Bill gave him to Percy, and when Percy became a prefect and got an owl, he passed Scabbers down to me."

"At least thirteen years, then," Harry said thoughtfully. "That's a long life for a rat."

Ron didn't notice anything strange about Harry's tone and sighed again. "I just hope he can die of old age—not end up in Crookshanks' mouth."

Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something.

Harry raised his hand and tapped Crookshanks on the head. "You heard that—stay away from Scabbers."

Crookshanks bared his teeth, his whiskers twitching in protest, but he let out a reluctant meow before turning his head and snuggling deeper into Hermione's arms.

The rest of his life seemed bleak.

Encountering someone this dangerous...

They chatted for a while longer before Ron waved goodbye and headed home.

"Scabbers might not be an ordinary rat!" Hermione blurted out eagerly as soon as Ron was out of earshot, clutching Crookshanks tightly.

"I know," Harry nodded, pulling a few owl treats from his pocket and offering them to Crookshanks. "What do you think he could be?"

Hermione frowned.

Crookshanks sniffed the treats, his nose twitching at the enticing scent.

After a brief pause, he pawed the treats into his mouth.

His eyes lit up instantly.

He sprang onto Harry's lap from Hermione's knees, rubbing his head affectionately against Harry and swishing his tail enthusiastically.

"I liked you better when you were defiant," Harry teased, stroking Crookshanks.

Aunt Petunia's knack for cooking seemed to work wonders on magical creatures too.

Hermione flipped through her book frantically.

As the day turned to evening, she closed the book in frustration. "I couldn't find anything. Scabbers doesn't seem to have any magical creature traits—he just looks like an ordinary garden rat."

"Why assume he must be a magical creature?" Harry said, rubbing Crookshanks' belly as the cat lay sprawled on his lap, purring contentedly. "He might be something else."

"Something else?" Hermione paused, her eyes widening. "You mean... he might be an Animagus?"

Harry nodded.

"That's... unlikely, isn't it?" Hermione hesitated. "Scabbers has been a pet for thirteen years."

"Rats don't live that long. People do," Harry said, trailing his hand along Crookshanks' tail. "You should trust your pet's instincts."

Crookshanks let out a lazy meow, seemingly agreeing.

"But wizards who stay in Animagus form for too long risk losing their humanity and becoming actual animals," Hermione said, frowning.

She had picked up some knowledge about Animagi while spending time with Harry.

"Who knows?" Harry mused, pulling out his lion amulet. "But Scabbers doesn't seem harmful. This hasn't detected any malice."

"And he's been living with the Weasleys for thirteen years. If he wanted to do something, he would've done it long ago."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "There's no way he could have predicted that the Weasleys would win a big prize thirteen years later."

"Going through all that trouble for a few hundred Galleons wouldn't be worth it."

After chatting a bit longer, Hermione left with Crookshanks.

Harry stopped at the Leaky Cauldron for a drink before returning home through the Floo Network.

Finally, to Professor Flitwick's relief, term began.

On the evening of August 31st, there was a knock at the door.

When Flitwick opened it, a group of Aurors filed in, led by a familiar face—Rufus Scrimgeour, whom they had met briefly at Hogwarts.

"What brings you here?" Flitwick asked, frowning. "I haven't received any notice from the Ministry of Magic."

Scrimgeour waved a hand, smiling. "Relax, Professor Flitwick. We're here to protect Mr. Potter."

"After all, you know that the escapee's target is very likely Potter."

Harry poked his head out, his tone calm. "The Ministry of Magic is here to protect me? Are you sure about that?"

Scrimgeour's eyelid twitched at the reminder of the incidents at Hogwarts earlier that year but nodded anyway. "Of course."

"In terms of ability, I'm more likely to protect you," Harry said bluntly, giving Scrimgeour no chance to save face. "Mr. Scrimgeour, these Aurors..."

"This is an order from the Ministry of Magic," Scrimgeour interrupted, desperate to salvage his dignity.

"I'm not Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, waving his wand. The floor surged like waves beneath the Aurors' feet.

A few managed to steady themselves with their wands, but nearly half were thrown off balance and rolled out the door.

"See?" Harry said, spreading his hands innocently.

Scrimgeour shook his head. "Mr. Potter, the Ministry needs people to believe we're protecting you."

"Considering our shared history fighting the basilisk..."

Harry interjected softly, "Mr. Scrimgeour, are you offering me a commission?"

Scrimgeour froze.

The memory of Harry haggling with Snape surfaced in his mind. He gritted his teeth and nodded decisively. "If that works, then yes."

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Powerstones?

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