Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

Crookshanks retracted its claws, crouched on the Sorting Hat, and let out an obedient yowl.

"Do me a favor," Harry said, waving his wand. The parchment on the table twisted and transformed into a palm-sized black dog. "If you encounter a black dog like this, notify me immediately."

Crookshanks meowed twice in response.

"Yes, just like last time. Two pounds of food as a reward," Harry nodded.

Crookshanks meowed again, its tone slightly indignant.

"I can't go out searching right now," Harry said as he patted its head. "Hermione's right. I need to finish mapping the Forbidden Forest before the heavy snowfalls. You have a little over a month."

Crookshanks meowed proudly and stood tall on the Sorting Hat.

"But no, you can't keep the hat," Harry refused flatly.

Crookshanks meowed pitifully, its ears drooping.

"The hat isn't mine," Harry explained patiently. "And I keep a lot of my belongings in it. Sometimes I need to use it."

"How about this? I'll let you play with it on Saturday nights, but that's it," he offered.

Reluctantly, Crookshanks agreed, picking up the Sorting Hat in its mouth before hopping off the table.

"Don't take it out of the common room. If you want to play with Hedwig and the others, call them here," Harry added.

Crookshanks paused mid-step, its body stiffening as it turned back to let out a begrudging meow. Then, it leapt through the common room exit.

Hermione and Ron stood dumbfounded.

"When did you learn to speak cat?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"I don't," Harry replied with a shrug.

"But you…" Hermione gestured between Harry and the exit, her words faltering as her cheeks and ears turned red.

Did Harry understand cat language? That couldn't be!

After all, she had whispered countless secrets to Crookshanks herself!

Harry clarified, "It's just easy to understand what it's trying to say."

"Really? You don't speak cat?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Truly," Harry replied earnestly, nodding.

Though still doubtful, Hermione didn't press further.

November arrived, and Harry's schedule grew even busier.

Detentions, extra lessons, grueling Quidditch training sessions, and weekends spent exploring the Forbidden Forest to map new routes left little free time.

Occasionally, he would encounter the Weasley twins in the forest.

They were careful, staying near the edges of the forest and only gathering herbs and materials. Even though they could handle up to ten Acromantulas, they avoided provoking such dangerous creatures.

Harry, on the other hand, delved deeper.

The Forbidden Forest had changed drastically over the centuries.

What once was forest was now swamp.

The former home of the Thestrals was now overrun with Acromantulas.

Areas once inhabited by fairies were now lairs for trolls.

The originally planned route was unusable. Any student venturing into those areas risked falling prey to the swamp's creatures or becoming a meal for the spiders.

After a month of careful exploration, Harry finally identified a relatively safe path.

The materials from numerous Dark creatures now filled his pouch to the brim.

The Sorting Hat frequently complained, "No more! I'm full! Please, no more!"

The first match of the Quidditch Cup—Gryffindor versus Slytherin—finally arrived.

The weather was terrible. Rain began in the morning and turned into a downpour by noon, accompanied by strong winds that nearly toppled the spectator stands.

Despite the extreme conditions, the match was not canceled. Professor McGonagall used a Transfiguration spell to stabilize the stands, but there was no way to stop the rain.

Dressed in raincoats, students braved the weather, though the heavy rain and fog reduced visibility to the back of the person in front of them.

Hermione stood outside the changing rooms as the team emerged in their uniforms.

"You didn't prepare any rain protection?" she asked incredulously.

Fred replied with mock seriousness, "We don't need such things!"

"Absolutely not!" the other team members roared in agreement, as though shouting would banish the storm.

Hermione raised her wand, aiming at Harry as she prepared to cast a spell.

Harry gently pushed her hand down. "I don't think we're allowed to use magic."

Wood approached with a stern expression. "That's right. No magic or magical items are allowed in Quidditch matches."

"A wizard sport that bans magic?" Hermione muttered, bewildered. She just couldn't understand this game.

Wood raised his fist high. "It's a challenge! A test of chivalry!"

"Let's go out there and tear apart those despicable, cunning, and insidious…" He paused, struggling to find more adjectives.

"Toothless!" Fred chimed in.

"And short, thin, and small!" George added.

The boys roared with laughter.

Angelina snickered quietly, while Hermione, puzzled, glanced around.

"Exactly, Fred's right," Wood declared, raising his fist again. "Let's crush those short, thin, and small toothless snakes!"

George raised his fist as well, muttering, "Hey, I said that, not Fred. I'm George."

Wood paused awkwardly. "Right. For George's words, let's go!"

The match began with Madam Hooch's whistle.

Slytherin employed a defensive strategy, with players focusing on blocking Harry's movements rather than scoring goals.

Slytherin's wealth showed; their brooms were Nimbus 2001s, and while they couldn't match Harry's flying skills, they had no shortage of dirty tricks.

If they couldn't keep up, they grabbed Harry's robes or broom.

Five minutes in, Gryffindor led 30-10, thanks solely to penalties against Slytherin. Gryffindor's new Chasers struggled in the harsh weather, making the match more challenging.

Rain and wind intensified, and Harry spotted the Golden Snitch hovering near the stadium's drainage system, seemingly seeking shelter.

Harry dove toward it, but a Slytherin player grabbed his broom, shouting, "Potter, you're not getting it!"

The sound of another player yelling, "Draco, the Snitch is over here!" was drowned out by the storm.

Harry, frustrated, wished he could punch them all for their clingy, underhanded tactics.

Suddenly, everything fell eerily silent.

A bone-chilling cold swept through the stadium.

Looking down, Harry saw Dementors.

Not just a few—all the Dementors stationed near Hogwarts had gathered, over a hundred of them, their hoods pulled back as they hungrily absorbed the students' emotions.

Harry quickly drew his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A massive silver lion pounced on the Dementors, driving them back.

On the stands, Dumbledore rose, fury evident. He raised his wand high and cast a spell with commanding clarity.

Harry watched as a massive silver phoenix erupted from Dumbledore's wand, sweeping through the Dementors, scattering dozens at a time with each flap of its wings.

The remaining Dementors fled in fear.

As the world returned to normal, Harry seized the moment to dodge his pursuers and capture the Snitch.

The match ended with Gryffindor's victory, but fear and confusion lingered.

Professor McGonagall quickly organized an evacuation. Dumbledore, his expression grim, stormed out of the stadium, furious that the Dementors had violated their agreement.

Back in the common room, Hermione and Ron sat pale and shivering, their first close encounter with Dementors leaving them shaken.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling.

Harry cast a drying spell on their clothes and his own. "Look at yourselves. I should be the one asking if you're alright."

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Powerstones?

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