Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

Harry looked at the man he had tossed aside. The Draught of Living Death kept him unconscious.

Perhaps he could extract some answers from him.

What exactly was Tom so desperate to accomplish?

However, Harry didn't rush to administer the antidote. Instead, he turned to Rita.

"Ms. Skeeter, let's hear your findings now."

Rita quickly put down her cup and let out a heavy sigh.

"Mr. Potter, the two things you asked me to investigate—"

Harry interrupted her.

"Tom?"

Rita shuddered. "Yes, him. I started by looking into that man, but I found nothing. Apart from official Ministry records, he has left almost no trace at all."

"I searched for over a month and came up empty, especially regarding those legendary magical artifacts you mentioned. I couldn't find any leads."

Harry nodded.

Rita continued, "So, I turned to the second lead you gave me and looked into the Crouch household."

"And I actually discovered something. Someone else had been living in that house, but I'm not sure if it was—"

She pointed at the unconscious Corban Yaxley on the floor.

"—or Barty Crouch Jr."

"And for some reason, he's very sharp at detecting Animagi. Just like you, Mr. Potter."

"I hadn't even begun my investigation when he caught me, locked me up, and threw me in that disgusting water tank. Merlin, I need to go to St. Mungo's. I feel like I'm rotting."

Sirius turned his head away in disgust.

Lupin covered his nose. Thinking about how he had just helped Rita up, he suddenly wished he could cut off his own hand.

Wizards weren't afraid of filth, but it was still unpleasant—and bad for one's reputation if word got out.

Meanwhile, Rita had a look of lingering fear, but also a hint of gratitude—she had once considered becoming an Animagus to spy on Dumbledore's private life.

Thank Merlin she had only thought about it and never actually done it.

If Dumbledore had caught her, what would have happened?

"People came and went occasionally, some of whom I recognized," Rita continued, her voice trembling.

"They were still working in the Ministry!"

"Mr. Potter, we had a deal. You said you would protect me."

She was nervous.

She had never truly prepared herself to stand against the Death Eaters. She had ended up on this side by accident—and then got captured just as accidentally.

She couldn't afford to offend Potter or Dumbledore.

But could she afford to offend those Ministry officials either?

She was the most famous journalist at The Daily Prophet, but compared to those who wielded power or formidable magic, she was nothing more than a tiny insect.

"Of course," Harry nodded. "You'll return to Hogwarts with me later, and you can do an exclusive interview with me and Professor Dumbledore."

Rita let out a sigh of relief.

The interview itself wasn't important. What mattered was that it happened.

She had just escaped, and the next day, she'd have an exclusive article published in The Daily Prophet.

Even if it was full of empty platitudes, it would be enough to show those people that she had protection.

Mr. Potter is looking out for me!

You wouldn't dare touch me!

"We should go now—" Rita stood up.

Harry waved her off. "No rush. The Death Eaters won't dare come here."

"How about you take a bath first? You stink."

"The guest bathroom is on the first floor."

Rita froze, raised her arm to sniff her sleeve, and immediately gagged. Her stomach was empty, or she might have actually thrown up.

"I don't have any female-use potions here."

Harry rummaged through the Sorting Hat and pulled out a bottle of Lifewater and a block of dittany. With a flick of his wand, they flew over to her.

"Use these for now. They'll help disinfect you."

"You can buy more later."

Rita blankly accepted them, clenched her teeth, and hurried off to the washroom.

"I should wash up too." Sirius stood up, trying to slip away.

"Godfather."

Harry called him back.

Sirius froze.

"Stay home until my third task, then come to Hogwarts to watch me compete, okay?" Harry asked, making a request.

Sirius turned, his eyes darting, his brain working to come up with an excuse.

"You can go to the pub for a drink," Harry offered some leeway. "Or invite people over for a gathering."

Sirius took a deep breath, ready to argue.

"But even if you don't care about your own safety," Harry continued, cutting him off before he could speak, "they will use you to force me to give something up."

"The Sword of Gryffindor?"

"The Sorting Hat?"

"Maybe even my Invisibility Cloak? That's one of the Deathly Hallows. Voldemort might not have pursued them before, but maybe he's changed his mind now."

"Godfather, please?"

Sirius sighed and sat back down. "Staying put is really hard for me."

Harry didn't soften. "If you were just a little more like Remus and actually used your brain—"

Sirius scowled.

Thinking like Remus? That was even harder.

"Can I at least go to Diagon Alley with Remus?" he tried negotiating.

Harry didn't respond immediately.

Sirius raised his hand. "I promise I won't wander off, just a drink at the Leaky Cauldron."

"You can't go alone," Harry said, sighing.

Sirius put his hands on his hips and declared, "Harry, I'm not a child!"

"You're just as much of a handful," Lupin sighed too. "Looking after Harry is easier than looking after you."

Sirius shot back immediately, "Ha! If anything, it's Harry looking after us. You and I are no different, Remus!"

Lupin turned red, coughing. "I'm better than you. When it's just the two of us, I take care of you."

"Not as well as Harry does," Sirius retorted.

"You can't leave Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes alone," Harry coughed lightly, cutting off their bickering.

Sirius groaned. "I won't get lost."

Harry and Lupin spoke in unison.

"We just found you after you got lost!"

Sirius clutched his head in anguish, unwilling to say another word.

"Be careful," Harry warned. "They might still come after you."

Sirius reluctantly agreed.

For now, he had to behave and not become a burden to his godson.

Lupin dragged him upstairs to clean up.

They stayed for dinner.

Then, Harry sent a letter to Dumbledore before using the Floo Network to return to Hogwarts directly, avoiding another trip through Hogsmeade.

Inside the Headmaster's office—

The motorcycle had just flown back from outside, excitedly telling Godric about the thrill of provoking a flock of Occamys and hippogriffs in the Forbidden Forest, then barely escaping.

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and smiled as he greeted the two stepping out of the fireplace.

"Harry, you should have let me go with you."

"I can't afford to pay you to be my babysitter," Harry replied.

Dumbledore tilted his head and noticed the other person—

Not Rita, but the unconscious man in Harry's grasp.

"And who is this?"

"Corban Yaxley." Harry dropped him onto the floor.

"I've seen him a few times," Dumbledore mused. "He had quite the reputation at the Ministry. And, of course, among the Death Eaters as well."

"Good thing I didn't call Severus over."

Harry took out the antidote to the Draught of Living Death and forced it down Yaxley's throat.

"Not that it would matter. You weren't planning to hand him over to the Ministry, were you?"

"The Ministry isn't exactly free of Death Eaters," Harry said pointedly.

Rita looked around the office in a daze.

She shivered, small and pitiful, shrinking into a corner.

She pulled out parchment and a quill—not to write an article, but a letter to St. Mungo's.

She needed medical treatment. Being trapped in that water tank for months had been absolute torture.

Yaxley stirred awake.

Harry wasted no time.

Accio!

Their eyes met. Magic swirled in Harry's gaze.

Legilimens!

He dove into Yaxley's mind, searching his memories—

But Yaxley suddenly opened his mouth and let out a piercing scream.

His eyes burst.

Harry's Legilimens was disrupted.

Yaxley's eyes exploded with a sickening pop.

Thick pus and blood oozed from his ruined sockets, but his face contorted into a triumphant grin.

"It's useless, Mr. Potter. Legilimency is a fine spell, but it won't work on me."

"What a cruel curse," Harry muttered as he rummaged through the Sorting Hat and pulled out a bottle of potion.

"Did Tom cast this on you?"

"No," Yaxley said, shaking his head proudly. "I am my master's most loyal servant. My mind holds many of his secrets, and I must serve him to the end—"

Harry raised his hand.

Accio!

Legilimency required eye contact, but Accio did not.

For a brief moment, Yaxley's mind went blank.

That instant was all Harry needed.

He uncorked the potion and poured it into Yaxley's mouth—a Veritaserum, the strongest truth potion available.

"What is your name?" Harry asked as he pulled the bottle away.

Yaxley's voice turned distant and empty. "Corban Yaxley."

"Age?"

"Sixty-nine."

"Who coordinated the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Barty Crouch."

Harry frowned. Dumbledore's face reflected the same surprise.

"But he's dead," Dumbledore murmured.

"He is not," Yaxley answered. "We thought he had died, but he explained to us that his mother took Polyjuice Potion to replace him in Azkaban."

"For years, he was imprisoned in his father's house. Until last summer, he found his chance—he escaped from Barty Crouch Sr.'s captivity and returned to our master."

"What chance?" Harry pressed.

Yaxley spoke softly, "Bertha Jorkins discovered that Barty Crouch Jr. had escaped Azkaban. Old Barty had to modify her memory with Obliviate, and in that moment, Barty Jr. managed to seize a wand."

Bertha Jorkins.

Harry had heard that name before.

Arthur and Ludo Bagman had mentioned her in passing before the Quidditch World Cup.

"Why did you cause chaos at the Quidditch World Cup?" Harry asked.

"Barty wanted to see how many still remained loyal to the Dark Lord."

"Why didn't you contact Snape?"

"Barty did not trust him. He never showed up at the Quidditch World Cup."

Harry took a deep breath, then asked the most crucial question.

"What are you plotting with the Goblet of Fire?"

"To take the boy," Yaxley replied without hesitation.

"Harry Potter?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Only Barty knows. The Dark Lord did not tell the others."

He doesn't know?

Harry's frown deepened.

"How were you supposed to take me?"

"I don't know."

"What do you know about the Death Eaters' plans concerning Hogwarts or the Triwizard Tournament?"

"I don't know. Barty personally handled everything related to Hogwarts and the tournament."

A complete lack of information.

Harry sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Do you know anything about Voldemort's child?"

"I don't know."

"You've never seen them?" Harry was surprised.

Yaxley nodded. "No."

"Have you seen Voldemort recently?" Dumbledore finally spoke, posing his own question.

Yaxley shook his head. "The Dark Lord never meets with us. He is still weak and only speaks with Barty Crouch Jr. Most of his commands come through him."

"Where is Voldemort now?" Harry gripped his wand tightly. This was the most crucial question of all.

Yaxley opened his mouth.

"The Dark Lord is in—"

Suddenly, his left arm pulsed with heat.

Harry reacted instantly.

Quen Sign!

A golden shield enveloped him.

At the same time, he flicked his wand.

Protego Totalum!

Nearby tables warped and twisted under a Transfiguration spell, forming a thick barricade.

Dumbledore raised his wand, his voice calm yet commanding.

"Finite Incantatem!"

The spell struck Yaxley, but it failed to stop the dark energy surging within him.

With a sudden whoosh—

Black Fiendfyre erupted from his body.

The flames engulfed him entirely, consuming his flesh in mere moments. In the blink of an eye, all that remained was a pile of charred bones.

"It was a curse," Dumbledore said grimly, his magic shielding the room from the destructive fire. "The moment he attempted to reveal Voldemort's location, the curse activated."

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Powerstones?

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