Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy

The Dark wizard before him never expected that this young man would start by using soul projection on him.

More importantly, he did it wandlessly.

Dear Merlin, who could understand this? Were people these days just casually casting Unforgivable Curses without wands?

He felt as if he were floating among the clouds, surrounded by soft billows, sinking into boundless bliss.

Under the young man's command, he obediently handed over his wand.

And even gave up a rare bottle of Elixir of Life and Death from his private collection. However, Lord Potter was kind-hearted—he couldn't bear to rob the poor—so he spared him the three silver Sickles and eleven bronze Knuts in his pockets.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed several photographs hanging on the walls of the Dark wizard’s home, each marked with a red cross.

"What are those?" Harry asked.

"My contracts," the Dark wizard admitted honestly. "I take assassination jobs from Muggles now and then. How else do you think I make money?"

Harry thought for a moment and decided that this Dark wizard might actually be quite useful.

After all, the students in the Dueling Shack couldn't always just practice friendly duels or spar with classmates. They needed real combat experience.

And this Dark wizard? Wasn't he the perfect live target—er, training material?

"You're hired."

Leaving behind those cryptic words, Harry turned and left the wizard’s house.

The Dark wizard stood there, utterly bewildered, completely unable to grasp what just happened.

After wandering through the alley for a bit, Harry used Homenum Revelio to locate his next target.

As soon as the door opened, a strange, indescribable smell wafted out. It was as if something had been marinating for far too long.

"What are you cooking?" Harry asked curiously.

"Who are you?" the wizard inside asked warily.

"Oh, I’m just here to borrow your wand," Harry answered honestly.

"Here, take it. Now get lost."

The wizard impatiently shoved a wand into Harry’s hands before turning around and slamming the door shut.

Leaving Harry standing outside, completely baffled.

Wait… that was way too easy?

He raised the wand, giving it a flick.

It was real. Not one of those joke wands from Zonkos or licorice wands from the candy shop.

A cold feeling settled in Harry’s gut.

If he handed over his wand that quickly… he definitely had something to hide!

So, gripping the wand tightly, Harry tested the door handle before stepping back to cast Alohomora.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

With a flash of fire and an earth-shattering explosion, the door—along with the entire front wall of the house—was obliterated.

Covered in dust and coughing, the wizard inside looked up in sheer disbelief.

I already gave you my damn wand! What more do you want?!

"Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "I meant to cast Alohomora, but I forgot the incantation. Hope you don’t mind."

"Didn’t you just say it?!" the wizard asked in despair.

Harry nodded politely. "And that’s exactly why I’m apologizing."

As he spoke, his gaze swept around the room. As expected, this wizard was no ordinary spellcaster.

His house resembled Professor Snape’s dungeon office, only far more sinister and gruesome.

Green glass jars lined the walls, filled with floating organs and various body parts. Harry even spotted a severed human head suspended in a jar.

"So… this wand isn’t actually yours, is it?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

The wizard was still panting heavily, trying to make sense of the terrifying young man before him. He only knew that Dawima had fallen at his feet.

"That has nothing to do with you, kid—I've already given you my wand. Now, let me get back to my experiments."

Harry’s gaze flickered past him—to the bound man behind him.

The captive's eyes were wide with terror, his mouth completely sealed by magic. Judging by his clothing, he was clearly a Muggle.

Without hesitation, Harry pointed at the man, instantly dispelling the enchantment on his mouth.

"Help!" The man gasped for air.

"A Muggle?" Harry asked the Dark wizard. "Why did you kidnap him?"

The wizard suddenly reached into his robes—

But Harry was faster.

With a snap of his fingers, the wizard transformed into a spider.

Guided by an ancient curse, the spider shot toward Harry’s feet.

Splat.

The spider burst under his shoe, its insides splattering everywhere, sticking to the sole of his boot.

Seeing this, the Muggle man's eyes went impossibly wide.

Jesus Christ, what the actual fxxk…

He swallowed hard, mentally reviewing every good deed he had ever done and praying fervently to God.

"You're safe now, sir," Harry said softly.

"Th-thank you—thank you!" The rescued man panted, still trembling. "Dear God, he was a monster! Are you… are you the same as him?"

"That depends on how you see it," Harry replied with a gentle smile.

"I think you must be a good man, sir." The man's eyes welled with tears. "My name is John—John Strauss."

He quickly continued, "That—that evil wizard kidnapped so many of us—people like me who can't use magic. Many of them are already dead. Thank you, great sir, you saved me just before he could torture me... There are still two people alive in the basement. Please, you must—"

"Go bring them up," Harry instructed, raising his wand toward the doorway. "Reparo!"

Under John’s awestruck gaze, the shattered bricks flew back into place as if pulled by invisible threads. Within moments, the house was fully restored.

Harry gave him a nod.

John rushed downstairs, and soon returned with a man and a woman, both trembling.

"Thank you, wizard sir," the two sobbed. "We thought we were going to die here…"

"At least you're alive, aren’t you?" Harry replied. "Were all of you Muggles? Oh, I mean, were all of his victims non-magical?"

"Two of them knew magic," the woman said, pointing to one of the floating heads in the jars.

As soon as she finished, her face went pale, and she promptly threw up on the floor.

"What was he doing to you?" Harry asked.

"We don’t know," the three answered honestly.

Then John suddenly added, "Wait—last night, I think I saw someone in the basement. He had black hair… but I might have been seeing things. His body seemed transparent…"

"Transparent?" Harry frowned. "Like a ghost? What did he look like?"

"Very handsome. Kind of like a young Byrne Anderson—but even more beautiful," John said.

Harry noted down this detail and continued asking, "Anything else?—I mean, any distinguishing physical features of this person?"

"I don’t remember, just these things," John replied.

"What about you two?" Harry turned to the remaining two people.

Both shook their heads, indicating they didn’t know.

Harry nodded and said, "Alright—that's all I wanted to ask. In a moment, I'll escort you out of Knockturn Alley—this place is a gathering spot for Dark Wizards. For people like you who can’t use magic... it’s a bit dangerous."

"Understood, thank you," the three of them nodded rapidly in unison.

They had already experienced enough in the past few days to know Harry wasn’t lying.

"Then... Mr. Wizard," the woman asked, "are you... the police of the wizarding world?"

"No, I’m not an Auror," Harry said with a smile. "I’m just an ordinary student who longs for a normal life."

Hearing this, the three looked at him with newfound respect.

No way, with such strength... he’s still a student?

Could it be that all students in the wizarding world are this powerful?

Harry knew what they were thinking. He shrugged and curled his lips slightly. "Alright, maybe I’m a little special."

When he escorted them out of Knockturn Alley, Harry reluctantly accompanied them to the bank to accept his "reward."

It wasn’t much money, and judging by their background, they seemed well-off. In any case… Harry gained a sum of British pounds, which he deposited into his personal account.

Given their gratitude, Harry didn’t cast Obliviate on them.

After all, he was just an ordinary Hogwarts student—erasing Muggle memories wasn’t his responsibility.

However, he thoughtfully used a spell to blur parts of their memories that they shouldn’t have seen, such as the severed head in the jar and the various internal organs.

"Goodbye, Wizard schoolmate."

The three waved to Harry in gratitude.

Harry waved back in farewell.

He didn’t forget to pull out an Aging Potion from his pocket and take a sip to extend its effect.

Standing at the bank’s entrance, Harry was still pondering what John had mentioned.

That young man’s soul… just who was he? What connection did he have with that Dark Wizard?

Thinking about it, Harry suddenly felt a bit regretful.

Damn, I killed him too quickly!

He had been too focused on eliminating a threat for the greater good.

Sometimes, being too decisive in killing didn’t seem like a great thing.

But since it was done, Harry decided not to dwell on it.

He had come to a Muggle bank, but he had yet to visit the wizarding bank—there were still important materials waiting for him in Veratia’s personal vault.

As for that small fortune, Harry had no intention of using it. When Veratia returned, she might need the money—for something like purchasing property, perhaps.

With that thought, Harry made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

Old Tom didn’t recognize him. Seeing him head straight for the brick wall after entering the pub, he said nothing and simply continued mixing drinks at the bar.

Passing through the brick wall, Harry arrived at Gringotts once again.

The bank remained unchanged since his last visit. Goblins scurried about, while some wizards sat at the counters handling transactions, or followed goblins deep underground to access their vaults.

Harry glanced around and spotted a familiar face—the goblin who had assisted him last time, named Ragnok.

Believing that familiar faces made business easier, Harry plopped himself down in front of the counter.

"Name," Ragnok said without looking up.

"Harry Potter," Harry replied, making no effort to conceal his real name.

Ragnok let out a grunt.

"Oh, Harry Potter. Didn’t you withdraw money last year?"

As he said this, something felt off.

He looked up at Harry, a bit hesitant.

"I recall... last year, you were just a first-year student, weren’t you?"

Ragnok’s small eyes scanned Harry up and down, internally wondering—do human children grow this fast? Disappear for a short while, and suddenly they’re unrecognizable?

What the hell were you eating at Hogwarts? Magical plant fertilizer?

However, he didn’t dwell on it and simply resumed sorting his documents. He said casually, "Alright, the Potter family vault, right? Even though it’s you personally, you still need to present the vault key—that’s the rule of Gringotts, you understand, don’t you, Mr. Potter?"

"No, I’m not here for the Potter family vault. I need access to a different one," Harry said.

"A different one?" Ragnok looked up.

"Yes, another one," Harry replied, pulling out the vault number Veratia had dictated to him. "Vault 313."

"Vault 313, hold on a moment, Mr. Potter." Ragnok crouched down and retrieved a thick stack of documents from beneath the counter. "Apologies, but I don’t have much impression of this vault—it seems no one has accessed it for many years. Please wait while I check."

"Alright," Harry said understandingly.

After a short while, Ragnok hesitated and looked up.

"Vault 313? The one managed by Miss Veratia Elizabeth Amalie Grindelwald from the Austro-Hungarian Empire a century ago?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"According to this, the proof of ownership seems to be a wand," Ragnok said, still unaware of the gravity of the situation. "Holly, phoenix feather core, eleven inches, embedded with a ruby, featuring red veins—and the bottom of the wand is engraved with the name 'Veratia.'"

"Oh." Harry hadn’t noticed the 'Veratia' engraving before. He took out the wand and examined the bottom. Sure enough, it was exactly as Ragnok described.

He raised his head, intending to show the wand to Ragnok, but then noticed the goblin’s face was contorted in sheer terror as he stared at the wand in Harry’s hand.

Hmm?

Oh, Harry suddenly remembered. This wand…

He had used it to kill some goblins before.

Perhaps, for goblins, this thing was a terrifying symbol?

With that thought, Harry glanced at the wand again, only to realize it was now glowing with an eerie red light.

Crap, he thought. I should’ve put it away.

But it was too late—

A surge of powerful magical energy erupted from the tip of the wand, spreading across the entire Gringotts hall!

The wizards in the bank, who had been withdrawing money or handling transactions, suddenly noticed that the goblins before them had expressions of utter terror.

Not just the goblins behind the counters—even the security guards at the entrance were trembling as they dropped to their knees, clutching their heads, and letting out terrified screams.

"Wh-what is this?!"

"My ancestors are screaming!"

"I can smell my kin’s blood!"

The wand in Harry’s hand seemed to tremble with excitement, its red veins pulsating with a ghostly light, vibrating intensely, as if it were craving battle.

At this moment, Harry finally realized what had just happened—

The wand had sensed its prey and was now unleashing an aura of pure fear!

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