Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

Drawing wands and dueling — with Potter of all people.

This was the grudge that had taken root in Severus Snape's heart like a stubborn weed, never to be uprooted. Now, that fantasy had come true. He should feel triumphant, ecstatic.

Yet he couldn't summon the strength to even grip his wand, let alone raise it.

Snape forced himself to look at Harry.

The boy's face was nearly identical to James Potter's — except for the expression. That was different. This boy was simply unfortunate enough to have inherited that man's face. He should have looked more like his mother.

"Draw your wand, Snape," Harry said as he advanced, sword in hand, the blade's tip inching closer until it pressed against Snape's throat.

The pale blade reflected off Snape's face, draining all color from his skin.

Snape remained silent.

"Hurry up, will you?" Harry urged, voice sharp with impatience. "What's wrong? Have you turned into one of your beloved trolls?"

Harry smirked coldly. "Empty-headed, worse than Sirius… Have you forgotten that wizards carry wands and cast spells?"

Snape's hands hung limply at his sides. He shook his head, his voice strained and trembling. "No… I can't."

He had prepared himself for this — for Lily's child to kill him.

"This isn't like you." Harry loosened his grip, letting the sword's tip glide down Snape's robes to rest against his chest, slicing through fabric but stopping short of cutting skin. "Since when did you become so indecisive?"

"It's my fault…" Snape's head drooped, his voice fragile and weak.

"I'm not just Lily Potter's child," Harry interrupted, cutting him off again. "I'm also James Potter's child."

"The child of the family you hate the most."

Snape's expression flickered at that, his fingers twitching around his wand — but he couldn't bring himself to draw it.

"We need closure." Harry took two steps back, lowering his sword. "If you can't make the decision, then I'll help you."

With a sudden flick of his wand, Harry cast a spell.

Levicorpus.

Without a word, Snape was yanked into the air, dangling upside down by his ankle as his robes flopped over his head.

Sectumsempra!

Snape's instincts kicked in. His wand whipped out, and he cast the curse directly at the face that haunted him — James Potter's face.

Harry tilted his head to dodge, though he allowed the curse to graze his cheek, leaving a thin gash that oozed blood.

"Now we're getting somewhere." Harry whistled lightly before waving his wand again.

A pile of driftwood along the shore twisted and warped, transforming into two massive serpents. They slithered toward Snape with deadly precision, their scales glinting as they whipped through the air.

Sectumsempra!

Still hanging upside down, Snape snarled, casting the curse again. The invisible blade sliced through the serpents' heads, sending them crashing to the ground. Yet the moment they hit the earth, they twisted and reformed into smaller snakes, which coiled together and lunged back toward him.

Fiendfyre!

Black flames erupted from Snape's wand, consuming the transfigured serpents with relentless fury, burning them down to ashes.

"Starting to remember things now?" Harry pressed.

Snape gritted his teeth.

Eighteen years ago, on this very shore, it had been the same spells.

"Potter," Snape said at last, his voice steadier now. He raised his wand and extinguished the cursed flames. The charred ground around them crackled underfoot, the air thick with smoke.

The commotion had drawn the attention of nearby students. They screamed and fled in panic, while Hermione and Ron reluctantly stepped back, watching Harry with growing worry.

Harry said nothing more.

He simply raised his wand.

Mist began to rise.

Thick, dense fog rolled out, spreading rapidly until it blanketed half of the Black Lake in a swirling sea of gray.

A Fog Conjuration Charm. One of the weather spells Harry had been practicing.

"Your tactics have gotten worse since last year," Snape sneered weakly. "This fog won't save you."

Finite Incantatem!

Ventus Tempestas!

Snape countered immediately, dispelling the fog with a gust of wind before transfiguring the remaining scorched wood into long, fluttering strips of cloth. The ribbons danced through the air, weaving and twisting as they sought to trap Harry.

BANG!

A firework exploded in Snape's face.

Weasley products.

Thick, sticky red sauce splattered across Snape's face — tomato, by the smell of it.

Aerentis!

A burst of wind scattered the cloth strips, but Snape staggered, momentarily blinded as he struggled to wipe his face clean.

Harry took the opportunity to close the distance.

Bombarda!

The padded transfigured robes Snape had conjured exploded into pieces, leaving him disheveled and covered in soot and mud, his tattered robes billowing in the wind.

"Why aren't you fighting back?" Harry demanded, his eyes locked on Snape. "With your skills, you've had at least six chances to retaliate."

Snape said nothing, continuing to conjure harmless strips of cloth in a futile attempt to entangle Harry.

Finally, Harry stopped in his tracks.

Snape froze as well.

"You were curious about all those potion ingredients Sirius bought for me, weren't you?" Harry asked quietly.

Snape's expression darkened.

Harry reached into his hat and pulled out a deep purple potion.

Snape's pupils contracted sharply.

Thunderbird blood. Lobalug venom. Oleander sap…

He recognized the ingredients instantly.

Harry unscrewed the cap. The thick, noxious fumes wafted out, spreading in the air.

Snape's face twisted with horror.

The potion wasn't just dangerous — it was lethal. Every ingredient in it was toxic enough to kill a wizard on its own. Together, they formed a deadly brew that could end a life in moments.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Snape's voice trembled as he raised his wand, pointing it at Harry's hand. "Put the stopper back on. Now!"

"Oh? Finally ready to attack?" Harry smiled faintly. "You're a Potions Master. You should be able to tell what's in this bottle."

Harry held the potion up.

"So, tell me, Professor… How long would it take for someone to die after drinking this?"

Ten minutes? Five? Even less?

Bombarda!

Snape acted on instinct, casting an explosive spell toward the potion.

Protego.

Harry's shield charm deflected the curse with ease.

Before Snape could cast again, Harry lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.

Snape watched in horror as Harry downed the purple liquid, unable to stop him.

The potion slid down Harry's throat, its effects immediate. His face flushed as the potion's toxic energy surged through his body, heightening his senses, empowering his magic.

"Potter… What are you doing?" Snape hissed, the words forced out through clenched teeth.

Harry tilted his head, his voice chillingly calm. "How much longer do I have left to live, Professor?"

"But I won't go quietly," Harry continued. "If you want to save me, you'll have to fight me for real."

Snape cursed under his breath, pulling two vials from his robes.

One was a magical energy potion he had taken before. The other — a vial of Felix Felicis.

"You Potters are all insane," Snape muttered, downing both potions.

"Now you're getting it," Harry said, his tone icy.

He raised his wand once more.

Above them, dark clouds gathered, lightning crackled, and a fierce wind howled.

In seconds, the skies opened, and a torrential downpour began.

"Did Harry… do that?" Ron asked in disbelief as he wiped rain from his face.

"Obviously," Hermione replied, frowning as she conjured a rain shield. "Weather-changing spells are incredibly advanced."

Through the misty rain, they could barely see the two figures standing off against each other.

"You've been reading too many knight stories," Snape muttered, his expression dour. "Did you think a duel in the rain would be more dramatic?"

Harry shook his head. "The Thunderbird blood. I assumed its distinctive color would have given it away."

With a flick of his wand, Harry sent a torrent of water surging toward Snape.

The duel continued.

And this time, Snape didn't hold back.

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Powerstones?

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