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Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

In the final battle against the Wild Hunt, Harry is thrown back to when he was eleven years old, arriving at the beginning of his story in the wizarding world. Now, as memories of his Witcher training resurface, he realizes the source of his unique power—the strange magic that wizards call spells and Witchers call something else entirely. A Witcher? A wizard? Fine…if he can wield a silver sword, adding a wand should be no trouble at all.

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28 Chs

The Ostracized Otter Girl

Professor McGonagall's eyelid twitched twice.

This was the first time she had seen anyone use the Sorting Hat in such a way—an ancient relic that had witnessed all of Hogwarts' history, now reduced to a storage container.

She forced herself to pretend she hadn't noticed and took Harry's wand. Raising her own wand, she tapped the tip of his wand against hers and chanted, "Prior Incantato!"

A faint glow surged from Harry's wand, and a book on the table began to float.

Professor McGonagall blinked.

This was the magic of the Levitation Charm. Cleaning up after a fight with such a spell?

She increased the magic output, and a bright glow radiated from where the wands touched.

This time, it revealed a Lumos spell.

Professor McGonagall furrowed her brow.

That... doesn't make sense.

What use would a Lumos spell have in a fight?

The Prior Incantato spell was supposed to reveal the magic last cast by a wand. But so far, nothing matched Harry's claim—or Malfoy's accusation.

"Is this spell reviewing my previously cast magic?" Harry asked, catching on to why Professor McGonagall had asked for his wand. He was reminded of how Witchers were often disarmed when under investigation.

Professor McGonagall's expression remained serious. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Care to explain?"

"The small charm in question doesn't require a wand," Harry said, waving a hand dismissively. "If you'll allow it, I can demonstrate the spell for you."

Professor McGonagall handed his wand back and, with a flick of her own, transformed a book on the table into a hamster. "Go ahead, Mr. Potter."

Harry raised his hand and cast the Axii sign.

The hamster immediately stood on its hind legs, looking dazed and obedient.

"Turn around, little one," Harry coaxed. The hamster spun in a circle, utterly entranced.

Professor McGonagall leaned back slightly, her expression stern. The effects of the spell were strikingly similar to the Imperius Curse.

"This appears to be a charm of enchantment," Harry explained briefly. "It works particularly well on creatures of low intelligence. On more intelligent beings, the effect is much weaker."

The lower the creature's intelligence, the longer the spell's effects lasted. He remembered relying on this sign during a trial in a swamp, using it to survive a night surrounded by Drowners.

Professor McGonagall pondered this for a while before turning to Madam Hooch. "Perhaps it would be best if Mr. Potter demonstrated this on me—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Harry raised his hand. "Axii!"

Professor McGonagall staggered slightly, blinking. Harry frowned.

The spell's effects were fleeting. The magic within Professor McGonagall quickly resisted and dispelled the Axii's power.

Shaking her head, she appeared unaffected. "It's similar to a Confundus Charm," she explained to Madam Hooch.

Madam Hooch breathed a sigh of relief.

"Confundus Charm?" Harry tilted his head, unfamiliar with the term.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand, transforming the squeaking hamster in Harry's hand back into a book. "It's a powerful and dangerous spell. You'll encounter it in your fifth year."

"Did you invent this charm yourself?"

Harry nodded but said nothing, tacitly agreeing.

"Was it inspired by that group knockback charm you demonstrated earlier?" Professor McGonagall's eyes gleamed with approval. "It's an impressive spell. It caused me to briefly lose focus and even made me feel a slight fondness for you."

"Using only hand gestures—this could be very effective in a duel. Professor Flitwick will surely find it fascinating."

"You call it a Mind-Soothing Charm?"

Harry nodded.

"It's an excellent name," Professor McGonagall remarked. "Mr. Potter, you're undoubtedly talented."

Harry straightened, standing at attention. He knew what was coming next.

"But!" As expected, Professor McGonagall's tone sharpened, "An impressive spell doesn't excuse your behavior—especially brawling with Slytherins."

"Let me think…"

Professor McGonagall flicked her wand, summoning a schedule. "Every Wednesday and Friday evening, you'll report to my office for detention. One month."

"I understand, Professor," Harry replied calmly.

Madam Hooch escorted him back to the Quidditch pitch, where the rest of the flying lesson proceeded without incident.

Despite the delays, everyone finally got a chance to fly.

Harry loved the experience. Aside from the physical enhancements from his Witcher training, he discovered a natural talent for flying.

After the lesson, the hungry young wizards poured into the Great Hall.

"Harry, what happened when you saw Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked, clearly worried. "After you left, Malfoy wouldn't stop claiming you'd be expelled. I had to hold Ron back—he almost started another fight with Malfoy."

Ron scoffed. "You shouldn't have stopped me—"

"No, Hermione did the right thing," Harry interjected, cutting him off.

Hermione straightened, bolstered by Harry's support.

"You probably wouldn't have won, anyway," Harry added matter-of-factly.

Ron gawked at him. "What? Harry, you saw it—I gave Malfoy a black eye!"

"That was a sneak attack," Harry said, shaking his head. "And his eye got hurt when he fell."

"He's taller and stronger than you, more practiced with spells, and—most importantly—his wand is better."

Hermione interrupted. "No! That's not the point!"

"Stop talking about fighting already!" She turned to Harry, her voice rising. "What punishment did Professor McGonagall give you?"

Harry waved dismissively. "Nothing major—another twenty points deducted and a month of detention."

"Another twenty points!" Hermione gasped, her voice shrill. "That makes forty points in total! We haven't earned that many all month!"

Ron shrugged. "Don't worry. We'll make up for it—"

"No, we won't!" Hermione snapped. "And don't forget about Snape's deductions!"

Harry tried to reassure her. "Hermione, caring about house points is fine, but let me offer some advice: don't let it consume you."

Hermione clenched her teeth. "If only you truly believed that!"

"But you don't!" she continued, exasperated. "If you'd just listened to me and avoided fighting the Slytherins, we wouldn't have lost all those points!"

Harry sighed and fell silent, with Ron trailing behind him.

Hermione kept muttering, her fingers twitching as if calculating their lost points.

The other Gryffindors had also noticed. With forty points gone, the hourglasses in the Great Hall showed Gryffindor's once-leading gems had plummeted. Many older students were shocked.

Such drastic point changes were rare—usually just one or two points at a time. Five points was already significant, and only Snape had the audacity to regularly deduct that many.

Speculation ran wild.

Was it Fred and George, finally executing their long-planned prank to blow up a lavatory?

Or had an upper-year student cracked under OWL pressure and punched Professor Quirrell?

By dinner, the truth emerged. It wasn't either of those scenarios—it was Harry. He had led Gryffindor to trounce Slytherin during their flying lesson. Forty points were gone, and Harry was sentenced to a month of detention.

That night, the Gryffindor common room erupted in celebration.

Fred and George smuggled food from the kitchen, even procuring a few bottles of butterbeer.

"To our mighty Lion King!" George raised a glass to Harry. "Long may he reign!"

Percy frowned, trying to intervene. "No, George—Harry shouldn't drink. He's only eleven."

"I'm George, dear brother," Fred corrected, holding Percy back. "Today's a special occasion—don't be such a stickler."

"And besides, Harry grew up with Muggles. He's probably already had alcohol."

Harry took a sip, the buttery smoothness of the drink complemented by a hint of beer's sharpness. "Not bad. Could use a bit of vodka, though."

Fred and George's eyes lit up. "Vodka? Excellent idea!"

"Wood, did you hear? The Lion King demands vodka!"

"Dream on," Oliver Wood shot back, rolling his eyes. "We've got class tomorrow, and I hear Harry has Potions first thing."

Fred pouted. "Fine."

Hermione, meanwhile, couldn't understand the celebration.

"We lost forty points!" she exclaimed to Percy. "Harry has detention for a month! How can you all celebrate?"

Fred, unfazed, grinned. "And? We crushed the Slytherins!"

George, slightly tipsy, added, "Not just a victory—a total rout! Led by the Lion King himself!"

Percy chuckled. "It's an honor, Hermione. This is bigger than the House Cup."

Hermione gawked at them, feeling increasingly out of place.

By the next day, Hermione noticed something worse—she was being ostracized.

Her usual nagging about homework and discipline had already strained her relationships. But her reluctance to join the fight—and her insistence on following rules—left her isolated.

Apart from Harry, only Ron would occasionally speak to her.