Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

Harry and Hermione didn't buy any souvenirs.

Harry simply loved Quidditch but wasn't interested in famous players, despite Ron and Neville talking about them countless times. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't even understand Quidditch. She was just here to relax with her friends before school started.

As the sun rose, the distant sound of gongs echoed across the campsite, accompanied by a wave of raucous cheers.

The trees were adorned with enchanted lights, intertwining red and green to create an eerie glow. One couldn't expect much from a wizard's aesthetic sense.

Wizards emerged from all directions—out of tents, bushes, and even tree hollows—joining the throng heading toward the stadium.

After a ten-minute walk through the woods, a massive shadow loomed overhead, casting everything beneath it into darkness.

Before them stood a towering golden wall that stretched endlessly across the landscape. It pierced the ground like a divine monument, radiating grandeur and sanctity.

"This is the pinnacle of wizarding craftsmanship in recent years!" Arthur said proudly, leading the group toward the entrance. "Five hundred workers spent an entire year building it."

"Guess how many people it can hold?"

Ron hesitated before cautiously guessing,

"Ten thousand?"

"Fifty thousand?" Hermione ventured, offering a more ambitious number.

Arthur shook his head at both of them.

"Ron, you can aim higher. But Miss Granger, your imagination is a bit too wild—no building could hold fifty thousand people. This one holds one hundred thousand!"

"One hundred thousand people, all in a single stadium! It's the greatest architectural achievement in wizarding history. No other building has ever been this grand."

His voice brimmed with pride.

Even though the British Ministry of Magic was notorious for its incompetence, at least they occasionally got things right.

Ron and the others were ecstatic.

Hermione, however, looked conflicted.

Harry leaned closer to her.

"What's wrong?"

"It's 1994," Hermione whispered, frowning. "And wizards have just built their first hundred-thousand-seat stadium? I thought they'd have done that much earlier."

She lowered her voice even more.

"Ordinary people built their first hundred-thousand-seat stadium decades ago."

Arthur didn't hear Hermione's comment. He was too busy describing the stadium's features. He'd had the chance to visit the site before it was completed and had even been assigned to help out for a brief period.

They soon found the entrance.

"First-class tickets!"

The witch checking tickets gave Lupin and the Weasley family a surprised look. They didn't look like people who could afford such exclusive seats.

They climbed the grand staircase, lined with a deep purple carpet, all the way to the top of the stadium, where the luxury box awaited. The box was level with the golden goalposts and contained over twenty plush, purple-gilded chairs arranged in two neat rows.

They sat in the front row.

Not long after, there was a faint pop behind them.

Harry immediately flipped around, activating the Quen Seal on his wrist and drawing his wand. He pointed it at the source of the noise.

"Harry?" Arthur looked back in surprise.

"It's just a house-elf."

Harry lowered his wand with a stoic expression.

"Sorry. I've had bad experiences with these creatures."

Behind them, the house-elf, who introduced himself as Winky, was tugging at his ears and banging his head against the back of a velvet chair. The soft fabric caused him no harm, so he soon switched to banging his head against the wall, muttering,

"Winky is a bad elf! Winky scared the young master!"

"Stop that—it's too noisy."

Arthur waved his wand, gently pulling Winky away from the wall.

The elf stood nervously in the corner, pressing himself against the wall.

"Whose house-elf are you?" Arthur asked.

"Winky belongs to the Crouch family," the elf replied obediently.

Percy's demeanor immediately changed to one of reverence.

"Mr. Crouch's house-elf? Is Mr. Crouch here?"

Winky blinked, confused, before trembling and lowering his head, covering his face with his hands.

"Master is very busy. He has other important matters to attend to. He sent Winky ahead to save him a seat."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Are you afraid of Percy?"

The elf's voice trembled.

"Winky is not a good house-elf. Winky is afraid of heights."

"When will Mr. Crouch arrive?" Percy asked eagerly.

Winky shook his head.

"Winky doesn't know when Master will come."

"Just don't make any noise," Arthur instructed, and the elf obediently pressed himself against the wall, falling silent.

Soon, more people arrived.

High-ranking Ministry officials, along with many "pure-blood" wizard families, filled the luxury box. The Malfoys, the Shacklebolts, and other notable families entered one by one. Arthur and Percy stood frequently to greet them.

Arthur did so with reluctance, while Percy practically groveled.

When Minister Fudge arrived, Percy's obsequiousness reached new heights—he practically became the chair beneath Fudge's rear.

Ron squirmed uncomfortably at the sight.

Hermione frowned deeply.

She couldn't stand the scene before her. Seeing a grown man act like that, groveling more pathetically than a house-elf, made her sick.

Fudge eagerly introduced Harry to the newcomers.

"The Boy Who Lived! The Savior of the Wizarding World! The Heir of Gryffindor! Hogwarts' brightest student!" he proclaimed.

The phrase "brightest student" immediately caught the attention of many wizards.

Harry greeted them with cold indifference, barely saying a word before returning to his seat.

The other wizards didn't seem to mind. They attributed Harry's behavior to his youth and exceptional talent. After all, eccentricities were expected from brilliant wizards. Even Dumbledore was known for his oddities. Compared to a madman, a reserved boy like Harry was preferable.

Once the introductions were over, Ludo Bagman stood up and walked to the front of the box.

Casting a Sonorus charm to amplify his voice, he began enthusiastically,

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"

"Who will claim the championship this year?"

"Will your pre-match bets fill your pockets with Galleons?"

"But enough talk—let's begin! Let's welcome Bulgaria's mascot!"

The right side of the stadium erupted in deafening cheers, loud and wild like a herd of bulls in rut.

A procession of women entered the stadium.

Arthur shot to his feet, snatching off his glasses and furiously wiping them on his robe before putting them back on, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Veela! Bulgaria's mascot is Veela!"

"Veela?" Ron echoed, confused.

But soon, Ron wasn't confused anymore. Like his father, he leaned forward, straining to get a better look.

Veela were humanoid magical creatures, appearing indistinguishable from stunningly beautiful human women.

No—calling them just beautiful didn't do them justice. Their beauty surpassed that of any witch.

But their allure wasn't just physical. They exuded a magical charm that made men—especially those with weak wills—unable to tear their eyes away.

Draco Malfoy was already losing control. If not for his mother clutching his robe, he would have leapt into the stadium.

Ron wasn't faring much better, only held back by Arthur.

Fred and George, usually so confident, sat with hands clasped together, staring at the Veela with eyes full of hormonal longing.

Several spectators in the front rows couldn't resist the Veela's magic. They jumped into the stadium, tossing off their clothes and dancing alongside the Veela.

Hermione glanced at Harry.

He remained seated, his expression unchanged, holding his wand. With a subtle flick, he cast a charm on the Weasleys.

Fred and George suddenly snapped out of it, recoiling in disgust as they wiped their hands clean.

Ron stumbled backward, landing awkwardly in the box.

"What—what just happened to me?" Ron rubbed his bruised backside, his eyes darting toward Draco, who was still struggling against his mother's grip.

"Was I… like that?"

Arthur turned to Harry.

"Oh, thank you! I almost couldn't hold him back."

"You were enchanted by the Veela," Harry explained calmly.

Ron shrank into his seat, while Fred and George, usually bold, stayed put, too nervous to peek outside.

"It's fine. You can look now," Harry said, patting Ron's shoulder.

"I've cast a charm to counteract their magic."

Fred hesitantly peeked outside and, to his amazement, found himself unaffected.

"It works! I'm not enchanted!"

Ron joined him, peeking cautiously.

Even without the magical charm, the Veela's beauty was mesmerizing. Watching their dance was a joy in itself, though now it was harmless.

"You should all learn from Harry," Hermione said with a straight face, trying not to laugh.

"He wasn't affected at all."

"That's Harry," Ron retorted instantly.

George sighed dramatically.

"Hermione, don't brag. Ron's right—it's Harry. We can't all be like him."

Hermione's ears turned red.

"I'm not bragging!"

Fred, curious, asked Harry,

"How did you resist them? Veela magic is almost impossible to counter. Even Professor Dumbledore might not be able to resist."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Are there male Veela?"

Fred shook his head.

"No, they're all women."

"Exactly." Harry remained stoic.

"Dumbledore wouldn't be affected."

Fred froze, rubbing his ears. He felt like he'd just heard something shocking—something that shouldn't be discussed further. He let it go and asked again,

"But seriously, how did you do it? I mean, they're wearing clothes this time."

Arthur stiffened.

Wait… What?

What had these kids been up to?

Why emphasize that the Veela were dressed?

Harry, expressionless, replied,

"I find it hard to be attracted to a bunch of birds in heat."

Veela might look like beautiful women, but when angered or in battle, they revealed their true forms—giant birds capable of spitting fireballs.

To Harry, they felt no different from magical wands with feathers attached.

The Veela finished their performance, and the magic dissipated.

The crowd looked disoriented, as though they had forgotten they were at the Quidditch World Cup. Many cursed and shouted for the Veela to continue dancing.

Ludo cast three spells in a row to silence the crowd.

"Gentlemen, let's not forget—we're here for the Quidditch World Cup!"

"Next, let's welcome Ireland's team!"

"And their mascot!"

While Bulgaria had used Veela to charm the crowd, Ireland took a more direct approach.

They launched a massive firework into the sky.

Fred and George, ever critical of magical fireworks, watched intently.

A giant shamrock exploded in the sky, showering the stadium with golden sparks that rained down like coins—actual Galleons.

The coins rained down so hard that it hurt people's heads.

But Fred and George were ecstatic, waving their wands to gather the scattered Galleons.

"I swear," they said in unison,

"That was the best firework ever."

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Powerstones?

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