Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

Hermione glanced at the crowd around the shredded portrait and exclaimed in disbelief, "How could he do something like this? Even if he has reasons, no one will listen to him now."

Ron nodded in agreement.

"You have to understand," Harry sighed, tucking the Marauder's Map back into the Sorting Hat. "He doesn't have much of a brain."

"I'll go check things out. You two stay careful," he said.

"Come back soon," Hermione nodded, adding, "Same rules as always."

Harry grinned, appreciating her diligence, and left.

There were seven secret passageways between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Harry began inspecting them one by one.

The first, which Fred and George had shown him during their first trip to Hogsmeade, had completely collapsed. No signs of a large dog forcing its way through.

Next was the one behind the humpbacked one-eyed witch statue on the third floor. The passage was filled with small footprints—clearly students—but no paw prints.

Out of the six passageways inside the castle, Harry checked four more in turn. None showed any signs of the black dog's presence.

The last passage was outside the castle, inaccessible for now. With students gathered in the Great Hall and professors on high alert due to the Fat Lady's shredded portrait, no one was allowed to wander outside.

That night, Dumbledore decided that all students would sleep in the Great Hall. Professors searched tirelessly through the night.

The situation was better than last year. At least now, they knew who to look for—a very specific individual.

Hermione dragged her sleeping bag over to Harry's side. The other students tactfully left space for the two of them. Some even tried to bring Ron over, but failed to convince him.

How dense could he be?

"Did you find anything?" Hermione whispered.

Harry shook his head. "No sign of him in the castle passageways. He probably used the one beneath the Whomping Willow."

Looking around the hall, he added, "We're stuck for now. Hopefully, the trail will still be fresh tomorrow."

Ron furrowed his brow. "Harry, why not just tell the professors?"

Before Harry could reply, Hermione cut in, "It's not the same as last year. Last year, it was about Voldemort. This year, it's about Peter."

"If we tell the professors, both Black and Peter will be sent to the Ministry of Magic."

Ron, still holding onto a shred of faith in the Ministry, protested, "What's wrong with sending them to the Ministry? They'll investigate properly…"

Hermione interrupted again. "Peter would just be sent to Azkaban. I've researched the laws—like the Muggle world, there's no death penalty."

Harry glanced at her in surprise. "You've thought about all this already?"

Hermione's ears turned red, and she stiffened slightly. "I… I was just speculating."

Harry turned his gaze to the ceiling, where the magical sky reflected a clear night with a full moon. "If Sirius weren't so brainless, I would have killed Peter by now."

Ron opened his mouth, hesitated, and then finally placed a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry promptly swatted it away. "Asleep already? Don't go touching people randomly."

"Do I look like the type to grope people in my sleep?" Ron asked, stunned.

Harry nodded. "Yes, you move around a lot in your sleep."

Ron frowned, confused. "I'm restless in my sleep?"

Neville, who was lying on Ron's other side, turned around nervously and whispered, "Ron, please don't punch me in your sleep tonight."

Ron was dumbfounded.

Feeling conflicted, he burrowed fully into his sleeping bag, leaving only his head exposed. Harry kindly zipped it up for him.

"Ronniekins, our dear little brother." Fred and George approached with mischievous grins, each holding a school bag.

Ron grew alarmed, regretting his decision to get into his sleeping bag so early. "What are you two up to?"

"A Halloween gift," Fred said softly, crouching beside him.

George crouched on the other side, pulling out a quill and some ink.

"No, Fred! Stop!" Ron shouted, struggling, his panic drawing the attention of nearby students and even some professors.

The professors, however, didn't intervene.

In such tense and fearful times, a bit of harmless mischief to lighten the mood was welcome.

Ron was utterly helpless. Completely wrapped in his sleeping bag, he had no way to escape or defend himself.

In the end, he stopped struggling, lying there in resigned despair.

Fred and George's handiwork was impeccable.

By the time they finished, Ron's face bore a detailed caricature of a boy who had just lost a fight with a cat.

That night, sleep eluded many.

Ron wasn't the only one unable to rest. The hall buzzed with chatter about Sirius Black and how he might have infiltrated the castle.

The Fat Lady had already confirmed it: Black had indeed entered Hogwarts.

Despite incidents in previous years, Hogwarts' reputation as the safest place still held weight.

The castle's geography was advantageous, with the Black Lake on one side and the Forbidden Forest on the other. The only access points to the outside world were heavily guarded by Dementors.

Not to mention, the castle itself was imbued with powerful magic, preventing anyone from Apparating in or out.

So how had Black managed to enter? He wasn't a magical object, after all.

The debates continued well into the early hours before dying down.

The next day, Percy announced that students could return to the Gryffindor common room that night. Dumbledore had appointed a new guardian for the entrance, while the Fat Lady recovered from her ordeal.

After breakfast, Harry ventured out.

The passage beneath the Whomping Willow was tricky—it was well-guarded by the tree's thrashing branches.

But there was a simple way to subdue it: pressing a knot near the base of its trunk.

Harry transformed a nearby rock into a cat with a flick of his wand. The cat darted through the swinging branches, hitting the knot and freezing the tree in place before reverting back to a rock.

Approaching the now-quiet tree, Harry saw fresh paw prints—clearly left the previous night.

He entered the passage.

Inside, the paw prints were even clearer. Harry used his wand to raise a layer of dust behind him, erasing his own footprints as he moved.

The trail led to a filthy, broken-down house.

The furniture was in shambles, windows and doors boarded up with wooden planks.

Harry crouched by a nearby chair, examining claw marks on its surface.

"Werewolf claws?"

"The marks are old—over ten years."

"This must be where Lupin transformed when he was at Hogwarts."

Looking around, Harry noticed more claw marks on the walls, some of which had been completely gouged through.

An uncontrollable werewolf…

Harry sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy.

Following the paw prints further, he found they ended in the bathroom, near a small hole no higher than his ankle.

The splintered wood around the hole was fresh, the color not yet dulled with age.

Clearly, it had been made recently.

Harry couldn't fit through the hole, so he turned back, carefully concealing his trail before leaving the house.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione handed Harry a cup of hot chocolate.

"Any luck?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "No sign of him. I'll try again next weekend."

"Maybe wait until December?" Hermione suggested.

She pointed to a weather chart from Astronomy class. Snow was expected by early December, which would make the Forbidden Forest more treacherous.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Where's Crookshanks?"

Hermione smiled wryly. "Sulking in the dormitory. He didn't get to play with the Sorting Hat yesterday or today."

The Sorting Hat shivered. "Harry, no—"

But Harry was already holding it up. "You've been looking forward to this."

The moment Crookshanks appeared, the enthusiastic cat pounced, claws at the ready.

"Wait a moment," Harry told the cat, gently poking its head.

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Powerstones?

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