Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

After Snape left, Harry turned to Dumbledore.

"Did Snape's 'explanation' have something to do with me?" he asked.

Dumbledore, leading the way down the hall, kept a neutral expression. "Why would you think that?"

"He's very interested in me," Harry replied, following closely. "Seven or eight times? He looked over at me that many times during dinner."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, Harry. Everyone is curious about you. You're special, after all."

A dodge, a deflection.

Snape didn't fit into "everyone."

Seeing that the headmaster didn't want to discuss it, Harry kept his thoughts to himself.

They arrived at Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore gestured for Harry to sit, then seated himself and reached into a drawer, pulling out a jar of…something peculiar—a glass jar full of wriggling, crawling insects.

"Fresh cockroach clusters," Dumbledore offered with a straight face. "Would you like some? Quite tasty."

Harry leaned back in his chair, grimacing. "No, thank you."

"Oh, what a shame," Dumbledore chuckled, popping a few into his mouth with a crunch, juice spurting with each bite.

Peanut, cream, sugar…

Harry's keen nose instantly picked up the candy's ingredients.

Thank goodness.

At least they weren't real cockroaches—Harry knew some sorcerers eventually went mad; it was practically inevitable. But he hoped his headmaster wasn't one of those people.

"Before you ask anything, Harry, might I first ask you a question?" Dumbledore began, flicking his wand to summon a glass of milk for Harry. "An old man's curiosity needs a bit of indulging."

"Is it about Professor Snape?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore ignored the question. "What's going on with your eyes?"

"I remember you used to have emerald green eyes, bright as jade."

"I don't know," Harry answered, truthfully enough. "Maybe it's some kind of magic?"

"When did they change?" Dumbledore pressed.

Harry continued, "Around the time Hogwarts' letter arrived."

"Any other changes?" Dumbledore's tone grew more serious.

"Out of nowhere, I could do a little magic," Harry replied.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Magic? Can you show me?"

Harry glanced around. "The effect is a bit wide. I'm not sure…"

Dumbledore raised a hand to reassure him. "Don't worry, Harry. I'm old, but I can protect this office."

Harry didn't hesitate further and raised his hand, forming a sign with his fingers.

"Aard!"

A surge of energy rippled outward, and the room trembled slightly. The phoenix resting nearby let out a startled cry, craning its head to look around.

Otherwise, nothing was disturbed.

"Fascinating. Similar to a Banishing Charm," Dumbledore remarked, tapping his desk thoughtfully. "But with such a broad range, I didn't expect that."

"An intriguing spell."

Harry said nothing, his gaze wary as he studied Dumbledore.

The legendary White Wizard, who had defeated two Dark Lords, was even stronger than Harry had imagined. Harry had used nearly his full power, yet Dumbledore's magic remained unshaken.

"The Potters are a very old, very ancient family," Dumbledore murmured, rubbing his temple. "I'll need to look into this; perhaps there's something I've missed."

"Well, Harry, what would you like to discuss?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I have two…no, three matters to bring up."

"First, I'd like to talk about my inheritance—whether I could take a look at everything my parents left me."

Dumbledore looked at Harry in surprise.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Harry explained quickly, waving a hand. "But you're wise and experienced. You know this is a reasonable request."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, of course. I'm just surprised, that's all."

He'd expected Harry might come to him, perhaps to vent about life with Muggles, ask about his parents, or even question Snape's attitude.

Inheritance, though, had not crossed his mind.

"Your parents left you quite a few things," Dumbledore said, thoughtfully. "Most are in the old Potter estate, your family home."

"Hagrid mentioned you have several hobbies—potions, herbs, even blacksmithing…"

"You won't have to worry about finances. The Potters owned a patent on a hair-restoration potion that brings in a tidy sum every time one is sold."

"I'll provide you with a list of all the families who owe you royalties."

"They haven't paid the Potter estate in ten years, though, so you might have to handle that yourself."

"Or, of course, you could ask me for assistance."

Harry was taken aback.

Oh…

This was quite the surprise.

So that's why he hadn't seen a single bald wizard.

Dumbledore continued.

"Your father also left behind a lot of notes on Transfiguration. He was a very skilled master of the art. Transfiguration can be risky, so I'll be giving those to Professor McGonagall, your Head of House and Transfiguration professor."

"She's an excellent teacher, and she'll pass along the notes to you when you're ready."

"And your mother left behind extensive notes on Potions, which are with Professor Snape. You may want to talk to him about it."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

The tone was different. McGonagall would be "entrusted" with his father's notes, while his mother's notes were "in Snape's possession."

Hmm…

If he resembled his father so much, and Snape hated his face and especially his eyes…

Maybe he should find out if Professor Snape was married.

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate, his hands briefly clenched.

After a pause, he continued.

"Of course, the most important item your father left behind is an invisibility cloak."

He stood, walked to a cabinet, and retrieved a box.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Such a cautious approach?

Invisibility cloaks, he knew from his readings, were often woven from the fur of Demiguise and had effects similar to a Disillusionment Charm.

They were rare, certainly valuable…

But they weren't valuable enough to make Dumbledore hesitate like this. Just a cloak worth a few hundred Galleons—the patent on the hair potion alone brought in far more.

Dumbledore opened the box and gently pushed it across the desk to Harry. "Here it is. One of your father's favorite items. He used it quite a bit back in his Hogwarts days."

The box appeared empty, but Harry reached inside and felt a cool, silky fabric.

"This isn't an ordinary cloak, is it?" Harry closed the lid, holding the box tightly.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "What makes you say that?"

"You hesitated," Harry said bluntly. "I could tell you were torn about giving it to me—and not out of fear I'd misuse it."

Dumbledore's expression didn't change, but he exhaled. "The hat was right; you're an exceptionally perceptive young wizard."

"Cedar wand owner, indeed."

"Well, it is quite special, and perhaps, just perhaps, I might need to borrow it again someday. I hope you'll agree when the time comes."

"But as to what it is…"

"Could that wait until later?"

Harry nodded. "Of course."

"Then on to the second matter—I'd like to take the Sorting Hat with me."

Dumbledore blinked, taken aback once again by the unexpected request.

"I knew it! I knew it!" the Sorting Hat, perched on a nearby shelf, exclaimed. "This young wizard is up to no good."

"Why would you want it?" Dumbledore asked, curious.

Harry answered matter-of-factly, "It told me that anyone who pulls the sword can attempt Gryffindor's trial, and if I pass, I'll own the sword."

"Keeping it with me, I'd learn more about the trial."

Dumbledore's eyes softened with nostalgia. "Gryffindor's trial, yes. Very well. You must return it before each term starts, though."

"Hogwarts needs it for the Sorting."

Harry asked, "Did you complete Gryffindor's trial, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "The trial is for young students. Back when I was here, I didn't even have the courage to draw the sword."

Harry didn't press further. He noticed the faint pain in Dumbledore's expression; witchers may lack social grace, but they could read a room.

"And the third thing," Harry said, raising his hand to push back his hair, revealing his scar. "It suddenly hurt earlier when I looked at Professor Quirrell."

Dumbledore's expression instantly grew serious. "Your scar hurt?"

Harry explained, "It never bothered me at my aunt's house. It didn't hurt when I started learning magic either. But today, when I looked at Professor Quirrell, it suddenly hurt."

"Are you sure it was because of looking at Professor Quirrell?" Dumbledore asked, frowning.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I'm certain."

"Magic isn't what's causing the pain in my scar, and no one cursed me. I know it sounds strange, but it's the only thing that makes sense."

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "All right. I understand."

"Do you have an answer?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

Dumbledore muttered, "Harry, you're too perceptive. I'm beginning to wonder if you're using Legilimency on me…if you know how."

"I have a theory, yes, but I'm not certain yet. Give me some time."

"It's late now, and you've had a long day. Take your cloak and the hat, and get some rest in your dormitory."

"I believe the Gryffindor password is 'dragon dung.'"

"The hat will guide you."