Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

He sobbed uncontrollably, just like he had on the night of the Yule Ball.

"Harry," Hagrid mumbled, "I... I can't—"

"You can't keep drinking." Harry pressed down on his arm before he could grab another bottle. "Cry as much as you need. It'll help."

Hagrid only cried harder.

It took a long while before his sobs finally began to subside. The Three Broomsticks had emptied out—most of the remaining patrons had been scared off by the sound of a half-giant weeping his heart out.

Madam Rosmerta quietly pulled up a chair and sat nearby, watching in silence.

With over thirty years of experience as a pub owner, she knew—this was prime eavesdropping material.

"Harry, Madam Maxime hates me," Hagrid groaned, covering his face in misery.

Madam Rosmerta pulled out some freshly washed prunes.

Harry flicked his wand, floating a few over to Hagrid. "Didn't you two get along well before? Even if she turned you down, that shouldn't—"

"It wasn't just that," Hagrid sniffled. "Harry, do you remember what you said when we first met?"

Harry didn't need the reminder. He repeated it effortlessly:

"Is Hogwarts a school that still accepts non-human students?"

Hagrid nodded heavily. With each nod, his massive head drooped lower.

"Harry, I... I lied to you back then," he sighed, slamming a fist onto the table.

Madam Rosmerta flinched, but she wasn't too worried. If he broke anything, Hagrid was rich enough to pay for it.

"You're a half-giant," Harry stated flatly.

Hagrid's eyes widened in shock, his head snapping up. "You—when—does everyone—"

"First year. I've known since first year," Harry replied calmly.

Hagrid looked even more stunned.

"You know I'm not someone who trusts easily," Harry explained. "When I was reading about magical creatures in first year, I came across information on giants."

"Hermione knows too, and probably some of the older students—especially the ones you favor."

Hagrid blinked rapidly. "You mean Diggory and the lot?"

Harry nodded.

Hagrid liked Harry a lot, but it was a friend-to-friend bond rather than a professor-student one. Among the students, the one he favored most was undoubtedly Cedric Diggory.

Just as Gryffindors were known for excelling in Transfiguration, Hufflepuffs had a natural affinity for magical creatures—whether it was Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures.

Cedric had a talent for it.

He could pick up on Hagrid's meanings as intuitively as Harry did, and he took Hagrid's lessons seriously—excluding the parts where Hagrid said things like, "Aren't these Thestrals adorable?"

Outside of his students, only four people truly recognized Hagrid as a "master of magical creatures"—Harry, Hermione, Ron… and Cedric.

"But Cedric always respected me," Hagrid muttered, shaking his head, unwilling to accept it. "He shouldn't know."

"He does," Harry interrupted. "Do you really think people would turn on you just because they know you're half-giant?"

Madam Rosmerta chewed on her prune, eyes widening.

"Who isn't a freak in some way?" Harry chuckled.

Back in first year, he had asked a question.

Now, he had found his answer.

Hogwarts was a school that welcomed all. It didn't reject anyone willing to learn—werewolves, half-giants, Witchers… even bald-headed mushrooms.

Hagrid sat dumbly, staring blankly at Harry.

"But forget that for now. What exactly happened between you and Madam Maxime?" Harry waved his wand, vanishing the fruit pits from the table and floating over a few more prunes. "She's a half-giant too, isn't she?"

Madam Rosmerta leaned in slightly.

Hagrid nodded. "She is. But she hates that part of herself."

"I told her how I felt that night, and as soon as I brought it up, she flew into a rage. She hasn't spoken to me since."

"What should I do?"

"Professor Dumbledore tried talking to her, but she wouldn't listen."

Harry handed him a few more prunes. "Hagrid, you're putting too much weight on the fact that you're half-giant. It might be important, but for the two of you, right now, it doesn't matter."

Hagrid tilted his head, carefully holding the prunes as if afraid of crushing them.

He didn't understand.

How could it not matter?

All his life, he had been mocked for his size. Even now, the jeers hadn't disappeared completely.

"When you have nothing else, being a half-giant is all you have," Harry explained patiently. "But you have so much more now—things far more valuable than just your heritage."

Hagrid hesitated. "You mean my job at Hogwarts? That's just because Professor Dumbledore felt bad for Silvanus and needed someone with thicker skin to take over—"

Harry cut him off. "No, not that."

"Hagrid, you are a master of magical creatures. That's why Diggory respects you."

"Me? A master?" Hagrid jabbed a finger at himself, his expression twisting as if he had just heard the most ridiculous joke.

Harry nodded. "Yes, you are."

"That's impossible!" Hagrid shook his head frantically.

A half-giant expelled in third year? A master of magical creatures?

That would be the laughingstock of The Daily Prophet.

"You admire Professor Dumbledore the most, right?" Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Hagrid nodded.

Harry sighed again. "You should stay away from him for a while. You're already a little dense, and if you spend too much time around him, his way of thinking will rub off on you, and you'll—"

Hagrid blinked. "Wait, is Professor Dumbledore sick?"

Madam Rosmerta buried her face in her hands.

Honestly, after hearing all this, she had serious doubts about Hagrid's intelligence.

"No, he's not sick," Harry clarified bluntly. "For the next six months, don't talk to him at all. Don't stay near him for more than three minutes."

"I'll explain it to him for you."

"Spend more time with Professor McGonagall or Professor Sprout instead."

Hagrid shuddered. "Harry, Professor Sprout is fine, but Professor McGonagall—"

Even as a professor himself, McGonagall still scared him.

"Alright, if you don't want to deal with her, you can spend more time with Professor Snape," Harry said impassively.

Hagrid immediately agreed. "No problem! I'll work hard to be as reliable as Professor McGonagall."

"If you still don't believe you're a master, write to Newt Scamander for advice," Harry continued. "You're friends, right? Norbert is still with him. He'll give you an answer."

Hagrid nodded, carefully committing it to memory.

"And one more thing," Harry tapped the table. "Professor Hagrid, you should give me and Hermione detention."

"Why would I do that?" Hagrid looked stunned. "You're both excellent students, and Hogwarts doesn't forbid romance—if you two want to go on a date—"

"No, not a date," Harry interrupted. "It's for your lessons."

"My lessons?" Hagrid looked incredulous.

"We need to teach you how to talk properly," Harry said, exasperated. "Your classes are great, but sometimes no one understands what you're saying."

"Even Hermione needs me to translate for her afterward."

"I do speak English," Hagrid insisted.

"Mhmm, but not precisely enough. You need a larger vocabulary and better grammar," Harry said firmly.

Madam Rosmerta nodded. "I agree with Potter. We've been friends for years, but I still struggle to understand you sometimes."

Hagrid scratched his head. "Is my English really that bad?"

"Crookshanks and Hedwig communicate better than you," Harry said flatly.

Hagrid crushed a prune in his fist, juice splattering into his beard.

By Monday morning, Hogwarts was buzzing—Professor Hagrid had given the top three students in fourth year detention every Tuesday afternoon until the end of term.

No one believed it was tutoring.

Except Cedric Diggory.

He wished he could join.

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Powerstones?

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