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Harry Potter: Returns Back From Game of Thrones (ASOIAF) - 22
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 19:04:55 +0000 UTCChapter 22: The Founders' Ritual
Arriving at Hogwarts, with Charisma reaching five points and having partially transformed in certain aspects, Harry—who could occasionally hear the world's whispers—received a revelation.
This time he sensed more specific future information in advance.
Ordinary wisdom, commonly called "hindsight", could only analyse things clearly after events occurred, either through self-analysis or others' help, speaking eloquently in retrospect. But Harry's extraordinary wisdom allowed advance prediction.
Previously in Westeros when participating in major events, besides Bronze attribute point achievement rewards, he'd had opportunities to increase Divine Power and Charisma.
In the [Asian Parents] world, aiming to pass the university entrance exam, he'd predicted in advance that he'd missed opportunities to increase Intelligence in that realm.
Now he saw that future study of magic here might offer opportunities to increase Magic and Charisma.
He sighed. He'd assumed all schools would increase Intelligence. Oh well—Intelligence was already sufficient anyway.
Regardless of how he got in, he had gotten into the top university!
Completing six years in a two-and-a-half-year speedrun return—this clearly demonstrated extraordinary wisdom.
"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of small wooden vessels moored at the shore.
Harry and Ron boarded a boat, with Neville and Hermione following. The boat rocked gently beneath them, water lapping against weathered wood.
"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouted, occupying a boat alone—his massive frame making this a necessity rather than a choice. "Right then—forward!"
The fleet of boats immediately glided across the mirror-smooth lake. Everyone fell silent, gazing up at the immense castle towering into the clouds. The water was so still that reflections of stars rippled beneath them like scattered diamonds. As they approached the cliff where the castle stood, the ancient structure seemed to loom directly overhead, growing larger with each passing moment.
"Heads down!" Hagrid shouted as the first boats reached the cliff face. Everyone ducked low, the boats carrying them through an ivy curtain covering the cliff front to a hidden, wide entrance. The air turned cool and damp, smelling of stone and lake water.
They followed a dark tunnel that seemed to lead beneath the castle, the only light coming from Hagrid's lamp swinging ahead. Finally they reached a place resembling an underground harbour, then climbed onto rocky ground scattered with pebbles that crunched beneath their feet.
During the process, Harry felt something shift. The castle was becoming intimate, almost gentle—this ancient structure seemed to be reaching out to him, recognising him. The sensation reminded him of entering a sacred space, a place of power that welcomed those it deemed worthy.
After disembarking, they climbed a tunnel through rock under Hagrid's lamplight, finally emerging onto flat, damp grass in the castle's shadow. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and distant woodsmoke.
Everyone climbed stone steps worn smooth by a thousand years of students, gathering before a massive oak door reinforced with iron bands.
Here, the covenant was sealed.
Harry felt another foreign magical power added to those suppressed by his forehead's kingly power. The sensation was subtle but unmistakable—like a gentle hand pressing against his consciousness before being absorbed into the complex web of forces already contained within him.
What was this? Did every new student receive this hidden magical power?
As questions arose, another revelation flooded his mind. Harry's eyes saw beyond the present moment—
Scotland's tranquil riverbank... A dream, a wild boar leading them to a cliff by a lake... Four wizards in total... One even carrying a sword... They sat in the same boat, sharing the same faith, crossing the lake to reach the cliff... The dream revealed that here, they would build history's finest magic school...
Harry returned to his senses, silent. That was—
Then sudden realisation struck.
They'd walked the same path the four Hogwarts founders took to arrive here—this was ritual magic.
Through this ritual, newly enrolled students would have greatly increased survival rates during accidents whilst studying at school. The magic woven into their very arrival bound them to the castle's protective wards, making them part of Hogwarts itself.
Harry recalled Hagrid saying Hogwarts students would be very safe under normal circumstances, with relatively few deaths, especially with a powerful headmaster like Dumbledore in office providing additional security.
If this really was large-scale ritual magic continuously effective for a thousand years, those four legendary founders' abilities were truly formidable.
Withstanding history's test naturally demonstrated power.
He wondered how they compared to the contemporary legend—the most powerful wizard, Dumbledore.
Speaking of which, if Harry were Dumbledore with such useful power enhancement, training legion recruits could be even more aggressive and effective.
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. The sound echoed through the night.
The door swung open immediately. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes stood before it, her posture perfectly straight, her expression stern.
Her bearing was severe, but Harry's first thought was that this person had a cold face but a warm heart—inner fire carefully restrained to maintain appropriate authority. A study in contrasts.
Additionally, though he couldn't see her Magic value and her physical strength was very weak, intuitively she was probably somewhat stronger than Hagrid beside her.
If distance stretched far enough, she might pose a slight threat to his current self.
Indeed, proper professors were stronger than ordinary staff.
"First years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here."
She pulled the door wide open. Harry and the other first years followed her forward. Harry naturally stood at the very front—no one questioned it, as if this were the natural order of things.
Harry watched Professor McGonagall's back, his hand resting on his wand beneath his robes.
He wasn't planning a sudden assault—he wasn't insane.
This wasn't like when he'd thought his aunt's family was being hunted. Now it was simply prudence—never let down one's guard in unfamiliar territory.
During his time in the [Asian Parents] world, after two and a half years of study, Harry had mastered knowledge from purchased textbooks. Though unable to practise spells there, he'd gained more predictions about wizard combat, plus deeper insights into high Charisma's influence on spellwork.
According to some texts' descriptions, his spell effects obviously far exceeded normal wizards' capabilities.
Unfortunately, after returning to age eleven, his physical strength, which had fully recovered in that other world, had reverted to its current weak state.
Moreover, his sword was at the Night's Watch temporary headquarters in Knockturn Alley—only a wand in hand now.
If Hogwarts professors were all at this level, three to five at close range, he could try a direct surprise counterattack, but ten or more together, he'd likely be no match.
Fortunately, this Professor McGonagall seemed quite reasonable. Hogwarts probably wasn't as dangerous as previously imagined.
They followed Professor McGonagall along stone-paved floors, their footsteps echoing in the vast entrance hall.
Harry heard hundreds of voices buzzing from the door on the right—other students must have already arrived. Professor McGonagall led the first years to a very small empty chamber at the hall's far end.
Everyone crowded in, shoulder to shoulder, nervously examining everything around them. The stone walls were bare except for flickering torches that cast dancing shadows.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, her voice crisp and authoritative. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before taking seats in the Great Hall, you must first determine which house each of you will enter. Sorting is a very important ceremony..."
Harry noticed that when mentioning the Sorting, she seemed to show barely distinguishable, suppressed amusement—a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth that quickly vanished beneath her stern expression.
Not good—these naturally mischievous wizards definitely had something planned.
