Hogwarts: Harry Returns From The Witcher

"Harry, Harry!"

"Wake up, the wild hunt is coming!"

Geralt's half-dead voice echoed in his ears.

Harry opened his eyes suddenly, struggled up from the bed, and there was a thump—his head hit the steps hard.

steps?

He was a little dazed, clutching his forehead, carefully surveying the surrounding environment.

The narrow, cramped space is dim and dark, with stairs above your head, one step at a time, and you can hear the slight movement of spiders crawling.

The most important thing is his frail, thin body, which can be blown away by the flick of a griffin's wings.

Old memories flooded my mind.

This is…

My aunt's home when I was on Earth.

He sat up softly, pushed open the door of the cupboard, and poked his head out—the scene in the room gradually matched those dusty memories.

came back?

But how could...

Is it a dream, an unusually real dream?

It was hard for him not to have such doubts—no matter what the reason was, he let himself come back from that world, but his body also returned to ten or eleven years old.

But he was sure that the experience was not a dream.

He could feel the magic power in his body—the magic power that was completely different from that of warlocks and demon hunters, and he could also feel the impact of the mutation on his body.

Sharper senses, hungrier bodies.

as well as…

"Igni." Harry said, read the sign rune, rubbed his fingers, and a small flame burst out, and then went out in the blink of an eye. He also wields the power of the Sign.

"Is it Ciri?"

The girl with the blood of the ancients can manipulate time and space. Although it is unbelievable, it is not impossible for her to send herself back to this age.

Harry rubbed his head.

This is really not good news.

If I have the opportunity to meet the white wolf mentor in the future, I hope he can give me a chance to sit down and explain the reason.

Da da da--

The sound of procrastinating footsteps came from not far away, not very heavy, and the mood was anxious.

"Get up—" the female voice was sharp, and she was about to call the family's mop bottle to get up as usual, but when she saw Harry sitting on the stairs, her voice stopped abruptly.

What an incredible thing.

Petunia's tongue was tied in her mouth: "Are you up yet? Very good, you finally look a bit human today, go, wash up, take the letter, and have dinner."

Harry nodded, and walked to the door after washing up as he remembered.

Petunia stared at Harry's back, frowning in confusion.

Harry today...

Something is different.

But where exactly?

There were only three letters on the doormat.

The thickest one was addressed to myself—"Mr. Harry Potter, under the cupboard, No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

Who will send me a letter?

The memory of his childhood is already a long time ago for him, but the pain will not pass with time, it will only be engraved more clearly.

Thanks to his aunt's family, no matter in society or school, he is a person who is not likable and has no friends.

He walked back to the kitchen with the letter, put the remaining two on the table, and prepared to open this one.

Someone sneaked up!

Harry shrank his head, rolled off the stool, squinted his eyes, and looked at Uncle Vernon who stretched out his hand.

"Boy, what are you holding in your hand!" Seeing that he hadn't brought the object over, the man who was about the size of a troll thumped the table heavily and asked with a grin.

"Letter." Harry replied succinctly, "my letter."

Uncle Vernon sneered, "Who will write to you?"

"Bring it here, let me see!"

Harry ignored him, opened the letter, shook the letter paper, glanced at it, raised his eyebrows involuntarily: "It's a magic school called Hogwarts, and they invited me to go to school."

He looks up.

Uncle Vernon's eyes widened, his face was full of horror, and his face turned pale in an instant.

In the kitchen, with a bang, Petunia shook off the pot in her hand, rushed out with a stride, and rushed towards Harry, trying to snatch the letter from him.

Harry dodged lightly: "It seems that you know about Hogwarts, tell me?"

"You bastard, give me the letter!" Uncle Fernon stood up, strode over, and stroked his sleeves, "You don't want to suffer any more, do you?"

"Alder!" Harry raised his hand and cast the seal.

With the shock of thought power, Feinon flew backwards and hit the dining table heavily, his body was in a mess.

Peggy exclaimed, sharp and piercing!

Harry shook the letter in his hand: "We should be able to have a good talk now."

"No, how could you!" Petunia looked at Harry in astonishment, "You haven't entered school yet, how can you use magic?"

"Magic." Harry repeated the word. "So it looks like the letter is real?"

When it was picked up by Vesemir, the oldest master wolf-sect demon hunter, there were a group of corpses lying beside him. Considered a source warlock.

But Ye Naifa checked him for him. Although there is a power in his body, it is different from the magic power used by warlocks.

That doesn't stop him from becoming a witcher.

Even... maybe it will make him the first master witcher who can master powerful magic instead of a few signs.

Harry never felt that magic power was his own - he just regarded it as a gift from an inexplicable arrival in a strange world.

Now it seems that the facts... seem to be different from what he imagined.

This power, which can strengthen one's own seal in simple exploration, belongs to oneself.

"Your eyes!" Petunia finally found out where the strangeness in her nephew came from. "How did your eyes become like this?"

He doesn't wear glasses like he usually does, and his eyes...

Harry was unimpressed.

He knew what Aunt Petunia was talking about.

Demon hunters are a group of mutant monsters in human skin. Their eyes are the biggest difference between them and normal humans.

Amber, vertical pupils - like a cat, like a snake.

"It's not important, it's time to tell me about Hogwarts." Harry waved his hand towards them, pulled a chair, and sat down, "I can see that you guys are hiding a lot of things I."

Petunia stood blankly, with a dazed expression, her expression was complicated.

Fernon collapsed powerlessly on the broken and messy dining table.

"Oh, well, since they have already sent a letter, you don't know why you have mastered the magic." After a long time, Petunia sighed, pulled over the chair, and sat down. "If you want to know, I'll tell you."

"Your parents, they are actually wizards."

"Wizard..." Harry raised his eyebrows, and couldn't help interjecting, "My mother is also a wizard?"

Petunia nodded: "Yes."

"You're her sister, aren't you a witch?" Harry asked.

Penny's face froze.

This reminded her of the letters she sent when she was young, in the gentle style of writing, the words that coldly rejected and broke her fantasy.

There was a snort.

The heart was stabbed severely.