"Are you in a hurry?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry shook his head. "Finding her sooner would be ideal," he replied calmly. "But it's not a matter of one or two days."
"You want to try sothing different?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. Miss Yennefer has been staying in the library lately, and I haven't found much ti to communicate with her about magic. Besides, she is quite the lady."
"If possible, I'd like to take a look at this curse and understand what it really is."
Harry tilted his head, glancing at Uma. "Alright, three days."
"No matter what, we have to break the curse on Uma in three days."
Dumbledore nodded. "That won't be a problem."
As they spoke, the office door swung open.
Snape walked in, his eyes darting over Harry, inspecting him from head to toe before turning his attention to Uma with a look of surprise. "This is the Ciri you've been looking for?"
"Professor Snape," Harry said, shaking his head. "Use your eyes properly and think with that troll-sized brain of yours."
Snape's face remained cold. "Your tongue is still as sharp as ever."
"And now that you're back, the whole of Hogwarts feels a bit heavier. Ten points from Gryffindor."
He greeted Harry warmly in his own unique way before turning to analyze Uma.
"A sophisticated curse," he comnted.
"A peculiar kind of magic," he added.
"The soul is hidden in there? It almost looks like a Horcrux."
After all, Horcruxes also involved concealing and protecting souls.
"This curse isn't as intricate as a Horcrux," Dumbledore disagreed. "But in turn, it poses a significant threat to the soul inside."
"Of course."
"And the soul in there is strong and resilient. The curse hasn't managed to erode it much."
Harry chid in. "Avalach—the soul inside this little creature. He's a Sage of the Aen Elle elves. Maybe three hundred years old, maybe four hundred... perhaps even five hundred."
"Sounds like a respectable elder," Dumbledore remarked, his tone laced with curiosity. Even he found it strange to call soone else an elder.
That role usually belonged to him.
Yet... Geralt and Yennefer were essentially his peers.
And now, an even older figure had appeared.
"Are you planning to break the curse now?" Snape asked, his gaze still fixed on Uma. "I could possibly provide so potions to assist."
Harry shook his head. "No rush, Professor. Albus wants to study it a bit more."
Dumbledore nodded in agreent.
Snape didn't say anything further but continued to study Uma with great interest. As a master of potions and magic, anything unknown naturally drew his curiosity.
"Professor Snape, I brought you a lot of gifts," Harry said, drawing out his wand. With a slight wave, the Sorting Hat floated from his waist and landed on the table.
Snape froze, his expression complex. For a mont, he seed unsure how to react.
He wasn't accustod to receiving goodwill—especially not the direct, unguarded sort.
It made him feel... awkward.
His whole life, for more than thirty years, he had rarely experienced genuine kindness. Sure, there had been gifts, but they were always transactional, never expressions of goodwill.
And to think... this simple act of kindness ca from a Potter.
His hand instinctively reached for his wand, almost as if he wanted to cast a Fiendfyre to burn the Sorting Hat, every witness, the portraits, and even Fawkes the phoenix out of existence.
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitent. "Gifts?"
"What kind?"
Harry waved his wand. "Sorry, Albus. None for you."
Bleurgh... bleurgh...
The Sorting Hat began to spit out a pile of items onto the table.
Fresh herbs still attached to dirt, high-grade alcohol, basic alchemical components, and various potions ingredients—along with stacks of books about alchemy and herbalism.
And then there were organs reeking of a fishy, tallic sll.
Hearts of Drowners, eyes of Necrophages, and other monster materials.
Of course, there weren't too many.
On their journey, they only encountered a few Necrophages and Drowners.
The herbs and books were things Harry had bought early that morning in Novigrad—he'd been up too early, and so shops weren't open yet, so he had helped himself.
"Potter, you brought back a pile of garbage?" Snape sneered, though he was closely examining each item, his eyes sharp and attentive. His words, however, remained as sharp as ever.
Dumbledore's eyes widened in amazent. "Really? None for ?"
"I couldn't find any candy," Harry admitted with a nod. "That world is rather poor. I even snuck into a few hos with kids using a Disillusionnt Charm, but there wasn't a single piece of candy."
Dumbledore looked genuinely disappointed.
Snape, however, narrowed his eyes. "These are... herbs?"
"Herbs from another world," Harry clarified.
Snape raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
From the appearance and sll, he couldn't detect any magical essence from these materials.
But Harry wasn't the type to make jokes about alchemical components—not even if he was a Potter.
"Well, I suppose I can begrudgingly admit that these might not be entirely useless," Snape conceded. With a flick of his wand, several small, empty vials flew from his robes, expanding as they landed on the table. He began to sort the materials, ticulously sealing them in the vials.
"Has Albus filled you in on recent events?"
Harry shook his head.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I... just hadn't gotten the chance yet."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Crouch seems to have anticipated your departure from Hogwarts."
"And he made corresponding arrangents."
"But he's tampered with his own mory. I've tried to prod him over the past few days, but he just insists I stay at Hogwarts and be a proper Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
"Your two little friends have been patrolling the Room of Requirent regularly."
"So far, nothing has happened."
Harry wasn't surprised.
If it had, he wouldn't have left Hogwarts without setting up precautions.
"It seems Hogwarts must continue believing Harry hasn't returned," Harry noted, glancing up at the portraits on the wall.
They all nodded in unison.
anwhile, in Algirdania...
In a secluded cave...
"The White Frost... what a fascinating force," a tall, slender man murmured. His head was adorned with a delicate crown set with eralds, and he held a glass vial aloft.
Inside, a white substance swirled.
It wasn't snow... it wasn't even a tangible material.
Like grains of sand, the white particles shimred, translucent and pure.
But that was not its true form—rely the closest manifestation to the real thing, the frozen, suspended particles of the air around it.
And this... was what was known as the phenonon of the White Frost.
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Powerstones?
For 20 advance Chapters: /michaeltranslates
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