Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

Small hopes are often quickly realized.

As George and Fred were about to leave, Harry waved his wand, and a notebook flew out from his Sorting Hat, landing gently in their hands.

"Is this really Professor Dumbledore's?" George asked, brimming with excitement.

Harry nodded. "The first volume. It's an introductory one. I've looked through it but don't have the time to dedicate myself to it fully."

"This is incredible!" George carefully cradled the notebook.

The most renowned alchemist in history was undoubtedly the late Nicolas Flamel, but Dumbledore, a close second in many opinions, carried his legacy forward.

What a treasure!

This notebook was a gem in the world of alchemy.

The twins immediately took the book to sit beside Ron. Word by word, they meticulously read through it, occasionally scribbling notes with a quill.

The Gryffindor common room fell silent with astonishment.

Was this truly happening?

The legendary pranksters of Gryffindor, George and Fred, were sitting still and studying with an intensity greater than they had ever shown in Professor McGonagall's class.

In less than half an hour, they'd shattered numerous assumptions, leaving other students astounded.

Some younger Gryffindors whispered among themselves:

"What kind of influence does Harry have to make even the Weasley twins study like this?"

Others began entertaining thoughts about transferring to Ravenclaw or setting up bookshelves in the common room.

Meanwhile, Harry continued experimenting with potions.

Once again, his attempt to concoct the base potion "White Gull" failed. A foul, fishy stench wafted through the air.

Unfazed, he resumed his adjustments, ignoring the judgmental gaze of his failed attempts.

By late evening, Harry finally succeeded in brewing a batch of White Gull that emitted a crisp, biting aroma akin to winter winds. Carefully, he poured out a small amount into a cup.

The potion, tinged with a faint crimson hue, carried a subtle magical aura. Harry drank it in one gulp.

The moment it slid down his throat, it felt like swallowing sharp shards. It burned fiercely in his stomach and quickly coursed through his veins, igniting his entire body in searing heat.

Harry's face flushed red as he gritted his teeth, bracing against the onslaught.

"Harry?" Hermione, noticing his trembling, rushed over. Breaking through the magical barrier he had erected around his workspace, the potent alcoholic aroma hit her, and she immediately felt light-headed.

Her legs buckled, sending her careening toward the cauldron.

Reacting swiftly, Harry grabbed her by the back of her robe, hoisted her up, and tucked her under his arm before carrying her out of the magical barrier.

Hermione's mind cleared once she exited the zone, but her thoughts were in disarray.

She glanced upward from her awkward position, seeing only Harry's determined jawline.

Why this?

Why couldn't he carry her in a dignified princess-style embrace like Percy had with Ginny?

"Harry, what's going on?" Ron asked, confused as he looked up at them.

Hermione's cheeks were flushed, but surprisingly, Harry's face was just as red.

Harry set Hermione down in a chair and explained calmly, "I was brewing a potion. She came too close and got affected."

Hermione struggled to compose herself and pouted. "That didn't smell like a potion! Are you secretly becoming an alcoholic, Harry?"

"Alcohol is the poetry of men," Fred said, looking up from the notebook, his tone lightly chastising. "Every mature man ought to learn how to drink."

Ron's eyes sparkled with envy. Harry and Percy had strict rules about his drinking, only allowing him the occasional Butterbeer, which wasn't nearly strong enough to satisfy his curiosity.

"Don't move." Harry gently patted Hermione on the head, cutting off her next retort.

Fred and George exchanged a smirk as Harry checked Hermione's pupils for signs of lingering effects.

Hermione froze.

Harry's hand reached out, tilting her chin slightly. "Relax your eyes. Don't roll them."

Hermione's gaze settled downward and landed on the necklace Harry always wore.

Harry thoroughly checked both of her eyes and then leaned back. "You're fine. Drink this calming draught, and you'll feel completely better."

Hermione obediently sipped the potion Harry handed her.

"That really was a potion?" she asked after a moment of hesitation.

"Yes. It's not poison or ordinary alcohol," Harry clarified. "It's the base for a type of advanced magical potion."

Hermione seemed convinced, though she still gave Harry a suspicious side-eye.

Fred and George, on the other hand, leaned closer. "Can we try some?"

Harry gave them a withering look but didn't answer.

"Come on, Harry," Fred pleaded.

"You can't even handle a single bottle of whiskey," Harry quipped, dashing their hopes instantly.

Both brothers turned pale as Harry added, "Besides, for you two, it's no different from poison. Even half a glass could kill you."

The twins wisely retreated from the brewing area, shaken by Harry's warning.

As the night wore on, Harry continued perfecting his formula, finally producing thirteen bottles of White Gull. He stored them carefully in the Sorting Hat before heading upstairs to sleep.

With White Gull complete, Harry turned his focus to a new potion. This time, he worked on "Cat's Eye," a brew designed to grant superior night vision, even in pitch darkness.

The potion proved tricky. Attempts to use Snake-Eye Potion as a reference yielded only limited results, with the finished product slightly enhancing the brightness of life forces rather than providing true visibility in darkness.

Undeterred, Harry spent more time in the library and sought permission from Professor Lupin to access restricted materials. He knew he needed to refine his understanding of the theoretical differences between witcher potions and traditional wizarding potions.

As February arrived and the snow began to melt, Harry temporarily paused his potion-making efforts, preparing instead for another challenge: mastering the Animagus transformation.

In a private lesson with Professor McGonagall, Harry demonstrated his impressive progress in human transfiguration by morphing his arm into the wing of a swan.

McGonagall clapped in approval. "Excellent work! You're advancing faster than I expected. If only Oliver Wood had half your aptitude for Transfiguration…"

Harry chuckled. "A Gryffindor who struggles with Transfiguration—that's rare, isn't it?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "E is a perfectly respectable grade, Harry. Even the Auror office only requires an E for their applicants."

"Well, that explains a lot," Harry said, feigning understanding.

McGonagall smirked and waved her wand to undo the spell. "We'll finish here for today. Next week, we'll begin working on torso transformations."

"Professor," Harry began cautiously, "do you think I'm ready to start the Animagus process?"

McGonagall hesitated for a moment before smiling warmly. "Your skills certainly meet the requirements. But are you sure you're prepared?"

"I believe so," Harry said confidently.

McGonagall's expression turned serious. "Animagus transformations aren't as difficult as you might think, but they do come with challenges. Many qualified wizards and witches choose not to attempt it."

Harry frowned. "Why not? Are they afraid of turning into animals they dislike?"

McGonagall gave him a pointed look. "It's not about personal preferences, Harry. It's the Ministry's registration process."

Every Animagus had to be officially recorded by the Ministry—a restriction many wizards found stifling.

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Powerstones?

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