Harry Potter: Returning from Azeroth

"Of course it's real!" Ron didn't even wait for Harry to speak before answering on his behalf. "Back on the train a few days ago, Harry already predicted that Hermione and I would be sorted into Gryffindor—and we really were."

Seamus and Dean exchanged glances.

"I mean… uh, considering both of your personalities, getting into Gryffindor wasn't exactly a tough guess," Seamus scratched his head and said.

"You just don't get it!" Ron retorted indignantly. "Harry's divination is a kind of—magic! You understand? Never mind, you'll see for yourself soon enough."

And indeed, they would soon understand, because Harry had already begun the ritual. A blend of althaea, sage, and rosemary was set ablaze in a small wooden bowl, yet strangely, no scorch marks were left behind.

Wisps of grayish-blue smoke coiled upwards, encircling Harry like serpents before seeping into his nostrils. He let the pungent aroma invade his senses, then guided a thread of his own spirit outward, drawing it into the stone basin before him.

Just as Ron had seen before, when the smoke cleared, a rippling veil of water manifested in the center of the stone bowl, revealing—

A suitcase?

"What's that?" Dean was puzzled. "Harry, are you divining your Christmas present?"

"A suitcase," Seamus mused, stroking his chin like a detective trying to appear sagely. "And quite an old-fashioned one at that. Honestly, it looks a bit outdated—something my grandparents would've used."

"I think… Harry," Ron looked at him hesitantly, "knowing what your Christmas gift is in advance kind of takes the fun out of unwrapping it, don't you think?"

"It's not a gift," Harry sighed.

The world had suffered riddlers long enough. After being teased mercilessly by Dumbledore's cryptic hints, Harry's first instinct upon returning wasn't even to divine anything about Quirrell—it was to find out what exactly his mysterious reward would be.

He couldn't help it. Just thinking about it made his curiosity itch unbearably.

An absolutely satisfying reward, Dumbledore had assured him, and he had even specifically mentioned that Harry shouldn't worry about moving out and should simply enjoy school life.

So… that reward was a suitcase?

Pressing both hands against the stone basin, Harry poured in more magic, hoping to see more details.

The image on the watery surface shifted once more, and what appeared next left Harry momentarily stunned—

Towering totems stood upright, adorned with patterns and colors so familiar that they tugged at something deep within him. They radiated a sense of raw, untamed beauty.

Beside those totem poles stood a wooden house Harry recognized all too well. It was the house that Old Man Cain and Brother Bane had built for him—a structure that not only suited his needs but was also distinctly imbued with the aesthetics of the Tauren tribe.

His gaze landed on a small break in the eaves—a hole, to be precise, one left behind when Bane, playing with him when he was younger, accidentally jabbed it with his horn.

Bane had been in quite a predicament back then. His horn got stuck in the hole, and for a long while, he couldn't pull it out. Afraid of damaging the house, he didn't dare use force, which only made the scene more amusing. Many had laughed heartily at his expense.

In the end, Old Man Cain had to help him out. At Harry's insistence, the hole had been left there. After all, it didn't let in the wind, and one spring, he even discovered that a pair of sparrows had built their nest inside it.

Bane, however, had always been somewhat resentful of that hole, frequently suggesting that Harry should just build a new house instead. His attempts to secretly patch it up had all been foiled, each time ending in failure as Harry caught him red-handed.

"Harry?" Ron nudged him. Harry had been gripping the stone basin, suddenly breaking into a smile for reasons unknown. "Where is this place? Does Hogwarts have a spot like that?"

"No, it's not Hogwarts." Harry shook his head, collecting himself. "At least, not that I recall."

Not even Thunder Bluff.

For a brief moment, Harry had dared to hope that he was seeing his way back to Azeroth, the world that haunted his soul. But alas, once the initial shock wore off, he realized from the grass and the distant treeline that this was not Thunder Bluff at all.

It had to be a house he had rebuilt in this world, which was why it carried so many memories.

So this was Dumbledore's promised reward?

In the end, had Dumbledore really agreed to let him move out? But where exactly was this place? And that suitcase… why did it appear in his divination?

Harry was now eagerly anticipating whatever it was that Dumbledore had prepared for him. Or rather, at this moment, he was absolutely brimming with excitement.

Once Dumbledore confirmed Voldemort's current form and condition, he could finally claim his reward. Until then, he just had to ensure that the students in the castle remained unharmed.

To be honest, Harry was almost tempted to cheer Quirrell—no, Voldemort—on, encouraging them to hurry up and step into Dumbledore's trap. The sooner they did, the sooner he could receive his reward.

"Huh? It disappeared?" Dean had still been curiously observing the water's vision of the wooden house when suddenly, the image rippled like a stone thrown into a lake, distorting into nothingness.

"That's it?" Seamus looked at Harry, dumbfounded. "I feel like I understood nothing—so this is divination?"

"…Sounds about right?" Dean mused. "Think about it—prophecies in stories or movies are always cryptic and impossible to understand, right?"

"Good point," Seamus nodded. Then, turning to Harry, he asked, "So did you get the answer you wanted? And—was that really divination? Can I try it too?"

He was still skeptical. After all, Harry's method lacked the mysticism and grandeur that made fortune-telling feel sacred and undeniable.

"I suppose I did," Harry considered for a moment before replying. "And sure, you can try—but wait a bit. There's still something else I need to check."

"Hey, Harry, you talk about divining the future like it's as simple as flipping through a dictionary," Dean couldn't help but remark. "Is your divination even legal?"

"Of course it's legal!" And the one who answered wasn't even Harry—it was Ron, who declared emphatically, "He's Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived! There's nothing he can't do!"

Having grown up with stories of Harry Potter and having witnessed his power since their first meeting, no one believed in Harry more than Ron.

"…I think you have some serious misconceptions about me," Harry sighed. "I'm just a normal person… never mind."

Without another word, he rekindled the flames. Thick smoke billowed in the stone basin, revealing another vision—

Professor Quirrell. The four of them immediately recognized him.

But Quirrell didn't look well. His face and upper body dominated the entire scene, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He lay sprawled on the stone floor, gasping for breath. Reflected in the flickering firelight, his face was contorted with terror.

The water screen rippled violently once more. Harry hastily poured in more magic to stabilize it—but instead, the image only became more distorted.

With a loud splash, the curtain of water suddenly burst apart, sending droplets flying in all directions. Ron and the others were instantly soaked, but none of them paid the slightest attention to such a trivial matter at this moment. Instead, they exchanged glances, their expressions full of uncertainty.

"Professor Quirrell is injured?" Seamus was the first to speak.

"There's danger inside the castle!" Dean reacted swiftly.

"What should we do, Harry?" Ron turned to Harry and asked, "What were you divining this time? And why did—uh, why did Professor Quirrell appear?"

He looked as though he wanted to say more but hesitated, stopping midway.

"This really is... unexpected." Harry fell into deep thought, remaining silent for a long time before finally speaking under the expectant gazes of his three friends. "Don't worry about it. Divination is ultimately just a reference—what you see doesn't necessarily mean it will happen."

"Really?" Seamus asked blankly. "But I remember my mother saying that prophecies always come true."

"Yeah," Ron swallowed nervously. He looked a little frightened. "They say... they say the Dark Lord's downfall was because of a prophecy..."

For a moment, the dormitory fell into silence. The children were somewhat shaken—after all, they had just witnessed a vision of their professor getting hurt. Meanwhile, Harry was reflecting on whether he might be taking on a bit too much.

The shattering of the water reminded him that he still needed to adapt his knowledge of magic to the differences between the two worlds and develop entirely new spells accordingly. This task was especially time-consuming, and there was a real chance that all his effort might lead nowhere.

And then there was the matter of Quirrell. The Shaman Club. Researching this world's herbs to replicate the potions from his memories based on their medicinal properties...

—The school year had barely begun, and Harry suddenly realized he might be spreading himself too thin.

This kind of busy life was definitely not what to wanted. He needed to slow down a bit.

"Forget it, don't overthink things," Dean suddenly spoke up. "Don't forget, we've got Dumbledore. As long as he's here, nothing bad will happen."

"Yeah, we've got Dumbledore."

"That's right. That means we don't have to worry."

Like a group of multicolored figurines suddenly dyed the same shade of purple, Ron, Seamus, and Dean quickly reached a unanimous agreement.

The name "Dumbledore" had a sort of magical power. Harry watched in amazement as the three of them calmed down almost instantly, their worries about the vision disappearing just like that.

Magical, indeed.

"So, why don't you try divining for me?" Seamus asked excitedly. "There are a lot of things I want to know!"

"Just so you know, for certain reasons, my divinations—aside from the ones I do for myself—can't see too far into the future," Harry explained seriously. "So think carefully before you ask."

"Huh?" Seamus's excitement instantly deflated. "Why's that?"

"What were you planning to ask, anyway?" Ron inquired.

Seamus had just opened his mouth to answer when he was abruptly interrupted by a noise behind Harry—the dormitory door swung open, revealing a bushy-haired girl standing in the doorway.

"Harry? I need to borrow your Transfiguration homework for reference—" Hermione's voice cut off mid-sentence, immediately dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Are you guys divining again?"

She certainly acted like she was doing something sneaky—quickly stepping inside, shutting the door behind her, and locking it in one swift, practiced motion, as if she were back in her own dormitory. Ron, Seamus, and Dean were left staring in astonishment.

"Oh, I hate this rule," Ron grumbled. "Why can girls come into the boys' dormitory whenever they want, but we can't go into theirs? That's so unfair—why are you all looking at me like that?"

Halfway through his rant, Ron finally noticed that the others were all staring at him with complicated expressions. He blinked in confusion.

"Nothing, mate," Seamus clapped Ron on the shoulder. "I just think... you're absolutely right. Completely, utterly right."

"Just maybe a bit bold," Dean added, struggling to hold back laughter.

"Use that onion-filled brain of yours and think it through, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes as she squeezed onto the seat next to Harry. "If boys could go into the girls' dorms freely, wouldn't that be dangerous for the girls?"

"So, what were you guys divining?"

"Harry just finished a divination for himself. Honestly, we have no idea what he saw," Dean shrugged. "The only thing we could make out was that something bad might happen to Professor Quirrell. But with Dumbledore around, there's nothing to worry about."

"Yeah," Seamus chimed in. "So now it's my turn for a divination—ugh, actually, I just wanted Harry to predict the final exam questions for me. Or at least tell me whether I'd pass."

As soon as he finished speaking, Harry clearly saw Ron and Dean's eyes light up—while the girl beside him, on the other hand, was rapidly brimming with fury.

"That's cheating!!" Hermione hissed angrily, even setting aside her curiosity about Quirrell's predicament. "Exams are meant to test our own learning progress! Cheating is meaningless!! And it's unfair!!"

"Don't worry, Hermione, I won't divine anything about the exams," Harry reassured the flustered girl. "You're right—cheating on a test is irresponsible to yourself."

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