Hogwarts: Harry Returns From The Witcher

Dumbledore didn't speak, he lowered his head and fell silent.

After thinking for a while, he slowly opened his mouth: "Harry, you are a veritable savior. You have courage and determination."

Harry didn't speak, his vertical pupils became narrower and narrower in the dim light.

"There are some things I can't tell you yet..." Dumbledore paused, his tone as gentle as possible.

Harry interrupted him: "Then there is nothing to talk about, Headmaster Dumbledore, I wish you a sweet dream."

Without delay, turn around and leave.

When Harry pushed open the office door and stepped out with half his foot.

Dumbledore called to him: "Wait."

"Harry, sit back first and let me think about it."

Harry didn't listen to what he said, but he didn't continue the pace of his departure. He half leaned against the door, looking at Dumbledore from a distance.

"I just have a guess. If anyone can kill Voldemort completely, only you can do it." Dumbledore said sincerely.

"Don't worry, he won't treat you..."

Harry waved his hand, thoughtfully: "Only me?"

"Is it because of this scar?"

Speaking of this, Harry paused, his brows furrowed into balls: "No one can survive under the Killing Curse, except me."

"Did my parents protect me?"

"What kind of spell is still effective?"

Dumbledore was taken aback, and his expression became more complicated.

This reminded him of a person whose eyes were also different from ordinary people, and also sharper than ordinary people.

"Dumbledore." Harry walked into the room again, and began to address him without adding the word "headmaster". "What do you want me to do, that's fine."

"Voldemort is the enemy who killed my blood."

"If I can do something, I'd be happy, but you have to tell me the reason, I can't be ignorant, I don't know anything, I'm being manipulated like a puppet show."

"I'm not the kind of person who is encouraged and complimented, and then I get bloody."

Dumbledore sighed: "Well, I think you are ready."

He beckons, and Harry sits down.

"During the period when Voldemort was rampant." Dumbledore slowly said, "There was a prophecy that children born at the end of July would become Voldemort's sworn enemies, and only one of them would survive. "

As he spoke, he looked Harry carefully, trying to see something on his face.

No matter how the prophecy will be fulfilled.

Harry would eventually face Voldemort head-on.

Will he still have courage?

Harry became serious: "Neville is also at the end of July, a day earlier than me."

Dumbledore's face relaxed slightly: "Yes, Neville too, there are two sons of prophecy, but Voldemort chose you in the end."

"In order to protect you, your mother used a very ancient spell to protect you."

"Voldemort was cursed back, and you survived."

As he said that, Dumbledore paused: "That curse has the greatest emotional power in the world - love."

"Before your parents died, they poured all their love into you."

"This power will always protect you - although the physical protection will end sooner or later."

Harry understood: "So... I'm a special potion against Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded.

Harry played with his wand: "You can't kill him, is it because... lack of strength, or after killing him, will he still, or have a chance to resurrect?"

"It's the latter." Dumbledore replied shallowly, "But what method he used, I don't know yet."

He met Harry's eyes and added, "Really."

Harry was silent.

It reminded him of a monster.

A kind of monster that is also...to a certain extent, can be resurrected from the dead - the deer head spirit. It will randomly use black magic to curse travelers in its territory. As long as the cursed person does not leave the territory, no matter how many times it dies, Can be resurrected again.

"I need you to try to confront him." Seeing that he was silent, Dumbledore continued, "This ancient spell has not been seen for a long time, and I need to know what kind of effect it still has. .”

"Just to protect you..."

"It's still like that night, to be able to fight back his malice towards you."

Harry took a deep breath and stopped thinking about the stag's head.

There is almost no similarity between the magic power systems of the two worlds, and the magic that Voldemort can resurrect is hardly the same as the magic of the deer head spirit.

He picked up the milk and moistened his slightly dry throat: "How likely is it."

Dumbledore was taken aback, a little dazed: "What?"

"The possibility that the ancient spell will work." Harry broke the problem apart, in as much detail as possible. "It's possible that it's not working, isn't it?"

"Although the scar responds."

"But I'm sure, I don't have any magical aura that doesn't belong to me."

In the world of demon hunters, Triss had done a detailed inspection for herself, and if there was, she would have told herself a long time ago.

Dumbledore raised his hand, took off his glasses, and put them aside: "The effect of that spell still exists, it hasn't lost its effect, at least in terms of magic, you can trust me now."

"Then what about the reward?" Harry weighed it in his mind.

Dumbledore was taken aback again, he was puzzled: "Remuneration?"

Harry was very confident: "Of course, you let me take a risk to do such a thing, I can't get nothing."

"The sorting hat is already in your hand." Dumbledore spread his hands.

Harry shook his head: "I have the qualifications to conduct the Gryffindor trial, it is in my hands, as it should be."

"What do you want?" Dumbledore tilted his head back, half-closed his eyes, with a deep expression.

Harry pursed his lips.

This is commissioned, and witchers never do unpaid tasks.

But I don't lack Garen.

Moreover, the greatest white wizard of this century on the opposite side only charged Garen, as if entering a treasure mountain and returning empty-handed.

Curse?

At this age, I can't learn any advanced spells at all, and besides...a powerful spell doesn't determine anything, what is most needed in battle is brains.

"Have you figured it out?" Dumbledore said at the right time.

Harry shook his head: "No, let me think about it again and give you an answer before the end of the semester."

Seeing that Dumbledore was about to open his mouth, he immediately added: "It won't be too much, I know how to measure."

Dumbledore nodded and smiled slightly: "Of course, Harry, I believe you."

Harry rubbed his face, drank the remaining milk in the glass, turned and left without delay.

In the office, there was silence.

Dumbledore sat blankly, glasses in hand, wondering what to do.

"Albus, are you too used to him?" A portrait couldn't hold back, "Haggle with you."

Dumbledore exhaled, with a tired tone: "I want to believe him."

In the Gryffindor common room.

When Harry just climbed in.

He was greeted with deafening cheers.

"The warrior who slaughtered the troll is back!" someone shouted with raised arms.

"Nice job!"

George squeezed to Harry's side and handed him a glass of butterbeer deftly, "We heard from Ron that you killed a troll all by yourself."

"This is something that many sixth-grade wizards are still unable to do." Fred echoed.

The sixth-grade wizard who was obviously stabbed by the knife was blushing, and argued with all his strength but reluctantly: "Is it because I can't do it?"

"Change a professor every year."

"I have to keep up with their teaching ideas every time, it's so annoying!"

Harry smirked and responded one by one.

Suddenly, a person complained worriedly: "Potter, I know you are very good, but next time you shouldn't take such a risk."

"There's Hermione," Harry replied.

The man frowned: "Ron said it, but she's not worth it..."

"No, she's worth it," interrupted Harry. "Hermione is a Gryffindor too, and... she went to the infirmary injured because she wanted to help me."

Ron blinked.

I really want to ask a question——Harry, are you going against your will when you say this?

The man was taken aback.

"She's just an eleven-year-old child. It's normal to be immature. If she makes a mistake, she should be given a chance to correct it, right?" Harry asked further.

The people around fell silent.

Harry lifted the head of the troll placed in the middle of the table and waved at Ron: "Come on, Ron, don't you have something else to tell me?"

The two of them walked to the bedroom.

"Harry, do you know what I saw when I went to the professor?" Ron yelled impatiently as soon as he entered the dormitory, before the door was closed.

"What?"

Ron took a deep breath, his expression serious: "I saw Professor Snape, he went to the fourth floor—you know, the hallway on the fourth floor that the principal said he was not allowed to go to."

Harry rubbed his head: "So, you delayed bringing the professor until I killed all the trolls, because you followed Snape?"

Ron was taken aback, with a embarrassed expression, and shrank his head.

But soon he stuck his head out again, baring his teeth and claws: "Harry, you should know what it means!"

Harry turned out the box and stuffed the troll's head in: "What does it mean?"

"The day we first went to see Hagrid." Ron talked excitedly. "He said that the day Gringotts was robbed, he went to pick up a package for Principal Dumbledore."

"That's a very precious thing."

"Gringotts lost nothing else, and that must have been the criminal's target."

"And that thing is definitely hidden on the fourth floor."

Harry nodded, "Yes, you're smart, indeed."

Ron raised his head triumphantly, complacently: "That person must be Snape, I don't know what kind of treasure it is, let him be so..."

"It's the Philosopher's Stone." Harry waved his hand, interrupting him.

Ron froze for a moment, his expression froze: "You know that thing?"

"Dumbledore told me." Harry picked up the Sorting Hat and examined it carefully. "And it's not Professor Snape who wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone, but Quirrell."

"Quirrell?" Ron exclaimed, "How could it be him."

"He is so submissive and timid, it must be threatened by Snape..."

Harry waved his hand and interrupted him: "No, there is nothing about Professor Snape, only Quirrell, and Principal Dumbledore and I have confirmed it."

Ron was a little disappointed and sighed: "Oh, well, but what is that Philosopher's Stone?"

"I don't know, maybe you can ask Hermione." Harry shook his head. He reads a lot, and he almost never reads things that he doesn't use now.

Ron looked complicated.

He clenched his fist and loosened it.

Harry didn't continue talking to Ron, and he didn't mention a word about the agreement with Dumbledore-this is not something a young wizard should bear.

He poked the sorting hat: "Talk, didn't you say you have something to tell me?"

"Taking a bath is really painful." The Sorting Hat sighed, "You don't know how rough this kid Weasley is."

Ron muttered, "You're so dirty."

Harry said nothing, his eyes sharp.

"Put me on, Harry." The Sorting Hat softened and said softly, "I can only let you know about the trial."

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