Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World
Chapter 470: Kaer Morhen

Chapter 470: Kaer Morhen

Geralt recounted his recent experiences.

They had been targeted by the Wild Hunt. Yennefer was captured, and to get her back, Geralt made a deal—he joined the Hunt, invaded worlds, until Ciri rescued him.

From there, everything unfolded as Harry had heard before.

Until recently.

Geralt and Yennefer found a djinn, rediscovered old memories, and confirmed their love.

"So Yen and I came straight back to Kaer Morhen," Geralt concluded, raising a glass. "I knew you’d come back."

Yennefer scoffed.

Lambert and Eskel clutched their drinks, eyes sparkling—they’d never had such fine liquor before.

It was strong, yet smooth as silk.

When witchers gather, conversation never runs dry. Even after dinner, they kept talking late into the night.

Yennefer dragged Hermione and Ciri off to bed. No noble sorceress would stay among drunken fools past midnight.

Once the women were gone, Harry pulled out the real stuff—dragon-blood whiskey—and the witchers let loose.

The next morning...

"Harry? Oh god, what did you do last night?" Hermione stepped downstairs, gagging at the pungent smell of alcohol. She stopped dead, staring at the carnage of slumped bodies and... magical oddities.

Witchers were typically popular with women.

Maturity, wisdom, capability—they were irresistible, not just to women but to anyone.

Eskel and Lambert were the exceptions.

Lambert’s foul mouth offset his rugged charm.

Eskel’s face, especially the deep, cursed scar, scared most people off.

But now—neither lacked company.

Eskel lay with arms and legs full—thanks to Harry’s Transfiguration.

Lambert too had companionship.

Geralt? Less indulgent. He lay dressed as a bunny girl, draped over a toy car.

A gaudy statue of a benevolent mother loomed overhead—Vesemir snored beneath it.

A twisted racetrack snaked through the hall—cars on it, under it, even jammed into windows.

As for Harry—

He was in Animagus form, head buried in a trunk, fast asleep.

"Harry?" Hermione called again, eyes scanning for silver fur.

There.

She approached, conflicted. A soft flick of her wand released a spell.

She knew Harry preferred hard liquor over anything else—but he had never gotten this drunk. Not even Gryffindor parties did this to him.

How much had they drunk?

When he woke—

"Harry? What happened last night?"

He lifted his head, dazed. "Awoo!"

Oh... right. Still in Animagus form.

His body twisted back to human. Memory slowly returned. He coughed lightly. "Some... complicated stuff happened."

"They’re always like that," Yennefer said, unfazed. "Lucky they only built a racetrack in the hall."

Harry reached into the Sorting Hat—empty. No wand.

He snapped his fingers.

Whoosh! His wand flew in from the courtyard weeds.

"Why was it out there?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea," Harry replied.

"I have a bad feeling," Yennefer muttered.

"Same," said Ciri.

Harry woke the other witchers.

The women stepped outside.

Unsurprisingly, the courtyard was a spectacle.

Magnificent, detailed statues—some serious, like Lambert fighting a basilisk, a handsome, scarless Eskel, and a youthful Vesemir.

But then—

Bunny Girl Geralt.

Sorceress Lambert.

Princess Vesemir.

"Oh no," Ciri and Hermione groaned, covering their faces.

Yennefer, unfazed, nodded appreciatively. "This version of Geralt’s got charm."

When the men awoke and saw the chaos, they were stunned.

"Dear gods," Eskel muttered.

Geralt tried to change clothes, but Yennefer pinned him in place.

Ciri and Lambert critiqued his own statue.

Vesemir looked pleadingly at Harry.

Harry knew what he wanted without being told.

Kaer Morhen was old. The Wolf School, under attack, dwindled in numbers. Only one tower, a training yard, and this hall were usable—the rest was abandoned.

Vesemir had long wanted to restore the castle—his home for centuries.

But monster-slaying skills can’t rebuild castles alone.

Harry first cleared out all "inappropriate" items—including Lambert’s favorite statue, despite his protests.

He raised his wand, lifted himself with magic, and took flight.

A bit shaky, but manageable.

With a sweep—

Cracked stone walls gleamed anew.

Huge blocks and debris rose, reassembled into walls and towers.

Collapsed walls reformed.

Piece by piece, like time flowing backward.

By nightfall, Kaer Morhen was reborn.

Only the mossy courtyard remained.

Harry tossed magical seeds and fertilizer—let them take care of that.

While he handled structural repairs, Hermione worked room by room.

The great hall was reborn.

Murals restored.

Everflame hung from the ceiling, glowing gently.

Bookshelves, dungeons, labs—

All returned to their former glory under her wand.

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