Harry Potter: Returning from Azeroth

School bullying—though Harry had never heard the term before, he was well aware of the phenomenon that occurred when groups of children got together.

Kids, in general, had a strong aversion to those who constantly brought up their parents or teachers, as well as to those they saw as different or embarrassing.

Just like Draco Malfoy right now.

Under normal circumstances, given the Malfoy family's status, Draco wouldn't have been subjected to bullying even if he couldn't stop talking about his father all day. But he had repeatedly embarrassed Slytherin, and that was something they could not tolerate.

Challenging someone only to end up wetting himself in fear—because of that, every Slytherin student had been forced to hang their heads in shame in front of the other three houses. Especially the Gryffindors, who took every chance to mock them, saying all Slytherins were just a bunch of crybabies who wet their pants.

The Malfoy family was indeed rich and somewhat powerful, but most of Slytherin was composed of nobles—Malfoy was hardly their king.

So when Draco Malfoy became a public disgrace, not even his family's influence could protect him. After all, his parents couldn't be there to shield him every moment of the day.

And tonight, separated from his usual two lackeys due to different detention schedules, he found himself cornered by a group of Slytherin students.

Bullying was something even Hogwarts couldn't entirely prevent. Professors and prefects couldn't possibly monitor every corner of the castle, and so, school bullying had always existed.

"You all seem awfully free."

After a moment's thought, Harry decided to step in and interrupt this unfriendly gathering.

After all, the reason he had taught Malfoy a harsh lesson before was simply to stop the boy from constantly buzzing around him like an annoying fly. And in that regard, he had achieved his goal.

Beyond that, Harry didn't hold much ill will toward Malfoy. At the end of the day, he was just an immature kid.

Well, no matter what kind of person Malfoy was, his mouth was truly infuriating. Even when cornered by a group of people, he never stopped running it—Daddy this, Mommy that—only fueling their anger further.

Harry figured that if he didn't intervene, fists would soon start flying.

"Potter?" The Slytherin student leading the group turned to face Harry, his expression full of disdain. "Stay out of this. It has nothing to do with you."

"I don't think the professors would appreciate seeing students bullying each other." Harry glanced at Malfoy… Hmm, his face was still streaked with tears.

"Ha! You're going to pull that card?" The Slytherins burst into laughter. "And what if I say no? Are you going to run and tell the professors?"

"Don't provoke me, kid." Ignoring their laughter, Harry spoke calmly. "Now, take your people and leave."

There was no need for threats or raised voices—just those simple words were enough to make the laughter fade.

Because the entire school now knew better than to mess with Harry Potter. He was reckless, unpredictable, and completely unafraid of anything. Even though people mocked Malfoy, they also hadn't forgotten the insane broomstick flight Harry had dragged him on. That had been terrifying.

From that moment on, everyone at Hogwarts realized that the Boy Who Lived was more Gryffindor than any Gryffindor. Unless absolutely necessary, it was best not to cross him.

And most importantly, he had the formidable Snape backing him.

Without even a parting remark, the Slytherins slunk away in defeat.

"Malfoy?" Harry turned to the boy still sitting on the ground. "Need a hand?"

"…No need!" Malfoy scrambled up, hurriedly wiping at his tear-streaked face. Letting Harry see him in such a state was utterly humiliating. "Mind your own business, Potter!"

"I was just passing by." Harry sighed. "Honestly, with your stubborn nature and your persistence despite constant failure, have you ever considered transferring to Gryffindor? I think you'd fit right in."

"You're the Gryffindor! Your whole family is Gryffindor!!" Malfoy roared, red-faced with anger.

"Yeah, my whole family is Gryffindor." Harry waved a hand dismissively, ready to leave. "Go find your two sidekicks. Kids don't hold grudges for long. Give it a few months, and they'll forget all about this… In the meantime, keep a low profile."

"I don't need your help, Potter!" Malfoy shouted, but Harry was already gone, disappearing around the corridor's bend without a reply.

Staring at Harry's retreating figure, Malfoy suddenly felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks again.

Hogwarts wasn't fun at all. It wasn't anything like what his parents had described. Ever since school started, he hadn't had a single happy day.

He had tried to befriend the Boy Who Lived, only to get beaten up instead. He had mimicked his father's mannerisms—so why was it that his father had so many friends, while he had none?

Even his father's friend, Professor Snape, who often visited Malfoy Manor, seemed to favor Potter over him!!

(Snape is not Draco's godfather—this is a fanon invention. It doesn't exist in the original.)

Every time Malfoy thought about it, he felt even more wronged. With his family's close ties to Snape, all the praise Potter received in Potions should have been his!

But now?

Snape still looked out for him, but the moment anything involved Potter, he became a completely different person!

Malfoy had even written to his father to complain, only to receive a scolding in return. His father had told him not to provoke Potter and instead to befriend him. That was the only way to maintain their family's relationship with Snape.

But how could Draco Malfoy ever bring himself to flatter Potter? To be friends with him?! Especially after everything that had happened!!

He had followed everything his father had ever taught him—stay away from Mudbloods, take pride in pureblood heritage—so why had things turned out like this?!

And now Potter had even saved him!!!

The more he thought about it, the more miserable he felt. Instead of heading back to the Slytherin common room, Malfoy crouched back down, burying his face in his knees.

Meanwhile, Harry—completely unaware of Malfoy's emotional turmoil—thought nothing of the incident. To him, it was merely stopping some childish bullying, nothing worth dwelling on.

What did catch Harry off guard, however, was Ron.

The moment he entered the Gryffindor common room, Harry was greeted by the sight of Ron sprawled facedown on the carpet, limbs splayed out like a crime scene victim.

In fact, he wasn't the only one—the entire Gryffindor common room was filled with students lying in similar positions, forcing others to tiptoe carefully around them.

"Is it really that bad?" Harry asked, stifling a laugh. "So, what did Snape make you do? You look absolutely drained."

No response.

Ron lay there like a corpse.

"Let him rest, Harry," Neville said sympathetically from his chair. "I heard from the other students who served detention with him—Snape made Ron spend the entire night picking beetle eyes."

"…Beetle eyes?" Harry fell silent.

A beetle was no larger than a thumb, and its eyes were only a fraction of that size. Sorting through beetle eyes all night…

"I think I'm dying, Harry," Ron finally lifted his head, forcing out a weak smile, like a dying man's final grin. "All I can see now are countless tiny black eyes—I'm going blind."

"Barrels and barrels of beetles, crawling everywhere," Ron groaned, clutching his head. His grip was so tight that Harry saw a few strands of red hair fall out. "And you can't press too hard, or you'll crush the eyes!"

"You know what? I feel like I'm about to go insane from all those eyeballs." Ron suddenly pulled a dazed expression. "I have to stay completely focused while picking them out—not too fast, not too slow, not too light, not too heavy. It's like there's something trapped inside me, and if I hold it in any longer, I'm going to lose my mind."

"Corporal punishment." Hermione, slumped in an armchair, suddenly spoke in a blank voice. "This is undeniably corporal punishment—even in a Muggle school, this would be absolutely forbidden! The PTA would sue them!!"

"But there's no such thing in the wizarding world, Hermione," Neville sighed. "Muggle laws don't apply here."

"So… what did you and Hermione do this time?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Filch wouldn't have made you sort beetle eyes too, would he?"

"No." Neville shook his head grimly. "But he made us clean the most remote bathrooms—oh, Merlin."

"Ugh!" Neville's words seemed to bring back a vivid memory for Hermione, who gagged before turning to Harry with a look of utter disgust. "Why do people use the bathroom and not flush?! Harry—Filch wouldn't even let us use magic! We had to scrub everything by hand!!"

Harry fell into silence.

Compared to what his friends had suffered, he wasn't sure he had the heart to tell them what he'd been doing tonight.

No wonder there was a faint… well, odor in the common room when he walked in. He'd assumed it was from the students who worked in the greenhouse shoveling dragon dung—but apparently, there were some real experts around.

"So, what about you, Harry?" Ron asked weakly. "What was your punishment from Hagrid?"

"The Forbidden Forest," Harry said after a moment's thought. "We went into the Forbidden Forest, and honestly, I'd really advise you not to keep asking."

That was the last bit of kindness he could offer.

"The Forbidden Forest?" Neville swallowed nervously. "I heard there are even werewolves in there. It's really dangerous—one of the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professors actually died in there."

"Oi, don't say things like that, Neville. You know that class is cursed—besides, Harry made it back just fine, didn't he?" Ron looked at Harry expectantly. "So what did you do in the Forest? Were you… collecting some kind of magical creature dung?"

Ron, it seemed, had dung permanently on his mind.

Seeing the eager look on Ron's face, Harry knew exactly what kind of answer he was hoping for—which meant he had to shatter that fantasy immediately.

"Not quite. Hagrid took me to meet the centaurs in the Forest…" Shrugging, Harry briefly recounted his experience from earlier that night.

He didn't go into too much detail, but even after he finished speaking, the corner of the common room remained silent for a long moment.

"That was an adventure!" Ron finally groaned in frustration. "Centaur divination, a battle, even Dumbledore showed up—Merlin! I hate Hagrid! Why didn't he take me along for something like that?!"

"Probably because he didn't want you to get kicked to death by a centaur," Hermione said dryly. Still, compared to her own miserable evening, Harry's punishment sounded almost… enviable.

"This isn't fair!" Ron let out a low growl. "Why do we have to suffer while you get to do something actually interesting in the Forbidden Forest?!"

"Don't say that, Ron," Hermione continued in the same dry tone. "The Forbidden Forest is extremely dangerous. Didn't you hear? Even Hagrid got injured! Right, Harry? I'm not wrong, am I? This was totally fair, wasn't it?"

To be honest, the look in her eyes was a little terrifying.

"It was definitely dangerous," Harry said firmly. "You can't blame Hagrid—he only took me because he promised me before the school year even started. And honestly, if you three had been there tonight, it really would've been too dangerous."

"I still think nothing could be worse than a whole bucket of beetle eyes," Ron muttered, still feeling bitter.

"Enough, Ron. Harry's right." Hermione, though clearly not happy, conceded, "Surrounded by dozens of centaurs… I wouldn't have been able to protect myself."

"But I never expected centaurs to be like that," Hermione frowned deeply. "No matter what, the Forbidden Forest is Hogwarts property—it shouldn't be their territory. They don't have the right to drive wizards away."

"Even Hagrid isn't too fond of centaurs. That tells you a lot," Neville said. "And after hearing Harry's story, their divinations really are too vague. I mean, they didn't actually explain anything, did they? They just charged at Harry and tried to scare him."

"Oh, Neville, you have to understand—before Harry came along, wizards thought divination was supposed to be like that," Ron said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Well, now I understand why Harry couldn't hold back," Hermione said sharply. "Compared to his own divination, the centaurs' cryptic nonsense really does seem like a scam. And they charge a ton of Galleons too, don't they?"

"A lot." Harry shrugged. "Anyway, it's all in the past now. Are you guys interested in coming with me to visit Hagrid tomorrow? I asked Newt, and he said I could bring my friends along."

"Of course we're going!!" The three of them instantly perked up. Hermione, eyes shining with excitement, exclaimed, "Newt Scamander—I know that name! The author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them! Harry, according to your story, he released massive magical creatures from his suitcase to fight the centaurs?!"

"Yep. And tomorrow, we're going to explore Newt's suitcase."

"What are we waiting for, then?!" Ron practically sprang back to life, leaping to his feet. "Let's go to bed! I can't wait for tomorrow!"

Just as Newt had piqued Harry's curiosity, Harry had successfully piqued his friends' curiosity too. And that made him feel much better—at least Ron and the others weren't sulking anymore, right?

Especially when, the next morning, Harry saw both Ron and Neville with deep, dark circles under their eyes.

That made him feel even better.

After all, what bad intentions could a little bull have?

Even Hermione had faint circles under her eyes, and the three of them—still bitter from last night—skipped breakfast entirely, dragging Harry straight to Hagrid's hut.

The door to Hagrid's cabin was left ajar. Ron called out a few times, but there was no response. Only Fang squeezed through the doorway, bouncing excitedly around them and wagging his tail furiously.

"Oh, oh, Fang, I don't think we have anything to feed you—we're starving ourselves," Ron said, holding back the boisterous boarhound before stepping into Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid wasn't there—or at least, he wasn't visibly there.

In front of the fireplace, they spotted an open suitcase. Its interior was hollow, revealing a downward-leading ladder.

"I'll go down first," Harry said immediately. "Wait for my signal."

"Alright."

For once, even the ever-stubborn Hermione had no objections.

The suitcase's opening looked small, but as Harry climbed down the long ladder, he felt no sense of constraint. He soon arrived in what appeared to be a small study, its shelves lined with all kinds of jars filled with vibrant liquids.

After taking in the first glance at his surroundings, Harry pushed open the door—

And was greeted by golden sunlight.

Sunlight—inside a suitcase.

The kind of golden light that only appeared in the late afternoon, warm and soft rather than harsh or blinding.

But Harry knew perfectly well that he was inside a suitcase, and outside, it was still early morning. There was no logical way for this kind of sunlight to exist here.

"Harry?"

A familiar voice called from the right. Hagrid waved at him.

"Is it morning already? I mean—this is morning, right?"

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