Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World
Chapter 457: The Smell of Gunpowder

Chapter 457: The Smell of Gunpowder

Ge’els remained silent as he watched them. Even with the facts laid out before him, his heart still leaned toward the current, perhaps inauthentic "Eredin."

Eredin had indeed brought the power to control the White Frost and solved a crisis that had threatened the Aen Elle elves with extinction. From the standpoint of an Aen Elle elf, it made more sense to trust the one who had brought tangible benefits, rather than a group of strangers who appeared suddenly and claimed to be adversaries of his king.

Snape glanced at Harry.

With a flick of Harry’s wand and a whispered incantation, the Polyjuice Potion’s effects were dissolved.

This was one of the reasons Polyjuice was classified as a "controlled substance"—not a perfect disguise. Many spells, such as the waterfall of truth at Gringotts, could strip it away.

Snape rolled up his sleeve and exposed his left forearm—the part of himself he hated second only to Harry Potter.

A black symbol burned on his skin.

"You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?" Snape said, mockingly.

"It’s the Dark Mark. A brand of loyalty to the Dark Lord. Anyone who bears it is his servant."

Ge’els’ heart sank.

He had seen this symbol before—on the Red Riders, in the same place, on their left arms.

He fell silent.

Ava’lak’h seized the moment. "There’s something else. Though Eredin is dead, you deserve to know: our former king, Auberon, was poisoned—by Eredin."

Ge’els’ expression changed. "Ava’lak’h, I hope you know what you’re saying."

"I know exactly," Ava’lak’h replied softly but firmly. "I don’t have solid proof right now, but think: I’ve no reason to lie to you at this point."

Ge’els closed his eyes, thinking hard.

He replayed everything he had heard, analyzing it deeply.

Snape, losing patience, raised his wand, already considering a more direct solution—using the Imperius Curse.

"I still can’t believe you," Ge’els said, opening his eyes. "This is too absurd, too damaging to the Aen Elle."

Snape stood, wand aimed.

Ge’els calmly continued, "What do you want from me? If you expect me to rebel against Eredin, then you might as well kill me now."

Harry said softly, "Our target has always been Voldemort—currently posing as Eredin."

Ge’els weighed their words.

Despite his doubts, one thing was clear: Caranthir—the most promising child among the Aen Elle—had been sacrificed. Captured without a rescue attempt. Hidden from him entirely.

Given what he knew of Eredin, Ava’lak’h’s claim that he had poisoned Auberon felt disturbingly plausible.

As Ava’lak’h had said—Ge’els had a fatal flaw: a sense of justice.

He wavered.

"First, prove to me that this Eredin is truly not Eredin," Ge’els said. "If that’s the case, I’ll ensure that during your battle, our soldiers won’t attack you."

Harry nodded. "That’s easy."

Ge’els raised a hand. "Caranthir must be returned to us. And the method to control the White Frost—you say it came from your world. I want it."

Harry’s expression turned cold. "You’re getting greedy."

"We’re not negotiating with you."

"We’re only extending this opportunity because of Ciri, and because she respects Ava’lak’h, who once saved her."

Ge’els seemed about to protest.

Harry cut him off. "Professor, if you would?"

Snape lifted his wand and cast, "Imperio."

Ge’els stiffened.

Under Snape’s control, he strutted around the room, made a passionate speech, then somersaulted three times and sat back down.

Snape released the spell.

Ge’els stared at them in horror.

The Imperius Curse didn’t erase memory. He had experienced every second of what had happened—trapped inside his own body, a bystander.

"See?" Snape said quietly. "I could make you do anything. I could even make you propose to the Dark Lord."

Ge’els shook his head. "Terrifyingly effective methods."

Harry tapped the table. "So, do you understand? We’re not bargaining."

"Then I suppose I should thank you for bothering to explain," Ge’els said quietly. At this point, he was more inclined to believe they weren’t lying.

With powers like theirs, lies weren’t necessary.

A single Imperius Curse was enough.

Harry stood. "Good. Remember your promise."

"Professor..."

Snape looked away. "I know. I’ll stay and keep watch over him."

That was one reason—but not the main one.

Snape still wasn’t ready to face Voldemort.

Ciri stayed behind too.

She had the Elder Blood, limitless potential—but that was the future. Not yet the present.

The remaining five cloaked themselves in Disillusionment Charms and headed for Eredin’s palace.

At the same time—

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the three wandmakers kneeling before him, his face dark.

Cruciatus, Legilimency—

He had used them all, but still found nothing about the Elder Wand.

Only one piece of useful information: Gregorovitch had once possessed it briefly—before it was stolen by a young Gellert Grindelwald.

And Voldemort had already searched Grindelwald. The wand was not with him.

He was clever. He had a theory:

Perhaps Dumbledore had taken the wand—after all, he had defeated Grindelwald. Taking the best trophy from a fallen enemy? Quite natural.

In the end—

He’d have to face Dumbledore and Potter himself.