Harry Potter: Returning from Azeroth

After all, there were only so many professors in Hogwarts.

It seemed that Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't told Snape about their conversation that day… Well, that made sense. There was no need to make a big deal out of such things.

"Take this, Harry." Snape placed a finely crafted leather pouch into Harry's hand, locking eyes with him as he said, "Stop acting like those foolish, reckless, and completely oblivious Gryffindors, running headfirst into danger. Especially with the company you keep… Don't waste your life."

Your mother gave her life to ensure yours.

"…I will, Professor."

The pouch Snape handed over was embroidered with an exquisite silver serpent. But Harry wasn't exactly a die-hard Gryffindor fan, so such decorations didn't matter. The real concern was what was inside.

Without a doubt, an Undetectable Extension Charm had been cast on the pouch. With just a quick glance inside, Harry could already see rows upon rows of glass vials, all filled with various potions.

Snape had even gone through the trouble of labeling them neatly. Potions for bleeding injuries were on one side, while those for lacerations or broken bones were on another. Aside from the common healing potions, there was a separate section containing potions specifically for resisting unknown curses, highly toxic concoctions, and those capable of inducing unconsciousness… The variety was staggering, covering everything from survival to… well, less savory activities.

Simply put, as long as Harry didn't drop dead on the spot when something happened, he'd have a way to keep himself alive. And even if he couldn't fully recover, he could at least buy himself some time.

With Harry's current understanding of the wizarding world, he wasn't sure how to accurately estimate the value of these potions. But given that they came from Snape—a Potions Master—their worth could only be higher than expected.

However, from an alchemist's perspective, just judging by their effects, these potions were definitely expensive.

Harry let out a quiet sigh. Even if Snape's actions were driven by love and guilt for his mother, this was still an incredible gesture.

He wouldn't take it for granted. He'd find a way to repay it someday.

--

"Ron? Neville?"

As soon as Harry stepped out the door, he saw the two of them crouched on the ground.

"You guys alright?"

They looked utterly exhausted, their hands still clutching their legs as if trying to massage the soreness away.

"No, Harry. Not at all." Ron stood up, utterly dejected. "I feel like my legs are about to fall off."

The two unlucky souls had been made to stand against the wall of the Potions classroom ever since their cauldron exploded. While standing might seem like an easy punishment, anyone who had endured it for long enough knew how agonizing it could get.

Ron and Neville had never gone through anything like this before. Their legs had completely given out.

"Merlin's lacy underpants!" Ron couldn't hold back his outburst. "Did you notice, Harry? He seemed to be circling around me and Neville the whole time! Neville couldn't even hold his knife properly!"

"And I don't know why, but I swear, Harry—he's got it out for me! He absolutely loathes me! But why?!"

Gripping his head in frustration, Ron let out a dramatic groan. "I've never done anything to him!"

And Harry… well, Harry could only silently apologize to Ron in his heart.

If his guess was correct, based on what Snape had said earlier, then… well, Ron had probably been taking some of the heat meant for him.

Harry was well aware of his resemblance to James Potter.

Snape didn't want to break his promise to Lily, but he also didn't want to let go of his hatred for James Potter. So…

He had found Ron, the person closest to Harry, the one who always stood beside him at school, and taken it out on him instead.

Ron Weasley, unknowingly shouldering the burden.

If Snape seemed uncharacteristically gentle with Harry, it wasn't because he had suddenly turned into a saint—it was because someone else was suffering in his place.

"…Want some snacks?" Harry patted Ron on the shoulder. "My treat. Besides, Gianna hasn't gotten any exercise in ages—I think she's getting a bit chubby."

And no, don't get the wrong idea—this "Gianna" wasn't a person. It was the name Harry had given to his snowy owl, the one Hagrid had gifted him for his birthday. She was a lively, intelligent girl who seemed to understand human speech, so Harry had happily named her after someone familiar.

"Thanks, mate. You're the best," Ron sighed, but then his expression brightened. "But Harry, do you know what? Your divination came true again!"

"You remember, right? When we were on the train, you did a reading for me and Hermione?" Seeing that Harry hadn't immediately recalled it, Ron hurriedly reminded him, "I was just telling Neville about it—you predicted it perfectly!"

"Do you remember what we saw? A dark classroom, eerie green lights flashing every now and then, and me standing there all alone—uh, actually, most of it was spot on. There was just one thing that didn't match."

Ron scratched his head.

"In your reading, I was supposed to be the only one standing there getting yelled at. But today, it was me and Neville. So it wasn't exactly right… right?"

"Divination is only a glimpse into a possible future, Ron." Harry shook his head. "If you take it as something set in stone, you're in for a lot of trouble."

"…Oh." Ron looked a little disappointed.

"Wait a second, Ron." Neville, who seemed to have finally regained his composure, interrupted, "We didn't step forward together, did we? I remember you went first."

"That's it! That's exactly it!" Snapping his fingers, Ron exclaimed excitedly, "The divination wasn't wrong! It only showed a fragment! Harry! I knew you were the real deal!!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm amazing," Harry said flatly. "Just don't go spreading any more ridiculous rumors this time."

"Don't worry, I definitely won't!" Ron flashed a confident grin.

Definitely won't?

Yeah, sure. He definitely would.

By lunchtime, Ron was enthusiastically recounting how he had confirmed the accuracy of the divination. Harry had no idea how he managed to stretch such a simple scene into an entire saga, and the story was only getting more absurd by the minute.

The worst part? Plenty of people actually enjoyed listening. Not just the Gryffindors at their table, but students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as well.

By the time it reached its peak, people were even approaching Harry to ask if he could do a reading for them—some were even willing to pay. Harry politely declined, citing a lack of materials and the need for further preparation—but notably, he never outright denied that he could perform divination.

That only made the chatter in the Great Hall grow even more intense.

"Hermione, don't let it get to you," Harry reassured the girl sitting beside him. "Divination isn't absolute. In fact, Ron's situation today was already slightly different from what was predicted—he just didn't mention it. So don't overthink it."

The more Ron hyped up Harry's supposed divination skills, the more he insisted that everything happening today matched the prophecy exactly, the more pressure Hermione felt.

She hadn't forgotten what she saw that day—herself, alone in the girls' bathroom, secretly crying.

No way. Absolutely not!!

"Thanks, Harry. I'm fine," Hermione forced a rather unconvincing smile. "By the way, could I borrow your Potions homework later? I just want to compare notes."

"Of course, no problem. I'll give it to you once I'm done," Harry nodded.

"Thanks."

With that, Hermione excused herself, claiming she was already full, and quickly gathered her things to leave.

"If I'm not mistaken, she only ate one little sausage?" Dean speared a sausage with his fork and muttered, "Looking at her now… Merlin, I'm starting to be grateful I didn't ask you for a reading that day. If I saw something bad, I'd probably die of anxiety."

"Only those who are truly lost seek guidance," Harry said kindly. "You made the right choice, Dean."

"Oh, I don't think it's so bad at all," Ron chimed in excitedly. "But forget about that for now—you guys should've seen the look on Malfoy's face! Especially when I roasted him on the way out of Potions."

"Hah! Snape must've been disappointed he didn't get to dock points from you in class. But seriously, Harry, I still can't believe he gave you so many points today—nearly fifty in a single lesson."

Even after deducting all the points Gryffindor lost as a whole, they still came out with a net gain of over twenty.

"If you weren't the most Gryffindor of all Gryffindors, I'd almost think you were a Slytherin," Seamus laughed.

"Professor Snape just… has trouble expressing himself," Harry sighed helplessly.

At Hogwarts, aside from the Slytherins, he was probably the only person who thought that way.

Life at Hogwarts was gradually settling into a routine. First-year classes weren't particularly intense, leaving the students plenty of time to explore the castle and have fun—though Harry spent most of his free time buried in the library.

Of course, unexpected incidents didn't happen every day. But thanks to Ron's big mouth, rumors of Harry's supposed prophetic abilities spread like wildfire, reaching increasingly ridiculous heights. And Harry… did nothing to stop them.

More and more students sought him out, hoping for a reading. Harry didn't reject them all; instead, he carefully selected those who genuinely seemed to be struggling with something significant and gave them a divination.

As for the ones who just wanted to test if it was real—or worse, those who wanted to know what they'd be having for lunch or dinner—Harry turned them all away.

One particularly notable case involved a seventh-year student who came to Harry asking about his future with his girlfriend after graduation. The vision Harry showed him? The student lying in a hospital bed, grinning from ear to ear.

Outraged, the boy accused Harry of using magic to fabricate fake visions and scam people. But Harry wasn't about to get mad over something like that.

The rumor spread quickly, with the whole school buzzing about it—until, just days later, that same student actually ended up in the hospital wing.

His girlfriend, having heard about Harry's divination, had been so touched by his concerns that she impulsively proposed to him, asking him to marry her right after graduation.

Overjoyed, the boy promptly fell down a flight of stairs and broke his leg.

And just like the vision predicted, he was grinning from ear to ear as he was carried to the hospital wing.

The next day, after getting his leg mended, he even returned with his fiancée to thank Harry—gratefully stuffing fifty Galleons into his hands and warmly inviting him to their future wedding.

Because the readings were all short-term predictions, they often came true very quickly, fueling the school's fascination even further. The legend of Harry Potter's prophetic abilities only grew more exaggerated.

The one thing that frustrated students the most was that Harry only read for those he deemed to be truly lost or troubled. What defined "true confusion" was a mystery known only to Harry himself. It was as if he had a pair of eyes that could see straight into people's hearts, instantly determining who was lost.

This led to some students genuinely considering bashing their own heads against the wall—just to see if they could get confused enough to qualify.

"So, this is why you're hiding out here?" Hagrid asked dryly, pouring a bucket of hot water into the large wooden tub where Harry was soaking.

"Ahh… Thanks, Hagrid," Harry sighed in contentment, sinking into the warm medicinal bath. "I wouldn't say I'm hiding. It's just that, well, you know, Gryffindor dorms have five people crammed into one room. It's way too crowded—it's hard to get anything done."

It did sound a bit suspicious, like he was sneaking around to do something shady. But in reality, all Harry was doing was taking a medicinal bath.

It was a way to make up for malnutrition in his early years, strengthening his body, improving his agility, and ensuring his growth stayed on track.

The formula was something Harry had put together himself, combining his past knowledge with the unique magical herbs of this world. It was still experimental, but it already showed promising effects.

"Hah, I still feel like there's more to this than you're letting on," Hagrid muttered, walking over with a bottle of thick, red liquid. He uncorked it and poured it into the tub. "Alright, there's your Fire Salamander blood… Lucky for you, Professor Kettleburn always keeps a few of them in his fireplace, or I wouldn't have had a clue where to get some."

Fire Salamander blood had healing properties and was often used in vitality-enhancing potions.

"To be honest, Harry, I'm starting to regret agreeing to this," Hagrid admitted, eyeing the now rather ominous-looking liquid in the tub. His brows furrowed with concern. "Are you sure this formula is safe?"

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