Harry Potter In The Witcher

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"Yet you still believe it, for some reason," Geralt observed, his voice a low rumble.

Yennefer turned her head and eyed him for a long, calculating moment. "I do," she finally admitted. "Anyone who truly knows of the Black Mage, who has studied the legends and reports surrounding him, could possibly recognize this as his authentic journal."

"It's in the details. It recounts some of the very specific, often bizarre, experiences that the Black Mage is known for, with a level of intimate, personal detail that would be almost impossible to fake convincingly."

"And if the merchant were trying to pass it off as a real artifact, if he were a clever forger, then he would have undoubtedly tried to sell it for a lot more money, meaning he probably sold it for so little because he didn't actually know about the Black Mage's true infamy. Therefore, it is very unlikely he wrote it himself. Still," she added, her brow furrowing slightly, "it would take quite a bit of incredible luck for it to simply fall into my hands, don't you agree?"

Geralt nodded in agreement. The world rarely worked with such convenient coincidences.

"So, is the book interesting, at least?" Geralt asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

"Oh, yes," Yennefer confirmed, a flicker of genuine fascination in her violet eyes. "If a bit… unbelievable at times. He talks about advanced healing and brutal, efficient murder almost in the same breath, with the same detached, academic tone."

"It's quite unsettling. He also goes on and on, in these long, rambling passages, about these intricate 'plans' he has for a girl he knows, a girl who, he claims, hasn't even been born yet. I believe he purposely leaves some crucial details out, though."

"He never once mentions his own name, nor the name of this mysterious, unborn girl. He also never specifies exactly what these grand plans he has for her actually are. It all just sounds so… so ridiculously unbelievable, yet so intensely interesting as well."

"And he also talks, quite casually, about how he is supposedly from a completely different world, and how our magic, our entire understanding of it, differs so fundamentally from his own. It's almost so utterly ridiculous that you can't help but believe it, surprisingly."

"Fascinating," Geralt grunted, genuinely intrigued now. "Do you believe him to still be alive?"

"I do," Yennefer said with certainty. "He still appears, every now and then, in the most unexpected places. Many times, he appears in hospitals or plague-stricken villages and just… starts healing people, often performing feats that even the most powerful mages on the continent would deem impossible."

"No sorcerer or sorceress has ever managed to catch him, though, never gotten to properly talk to him. He seems to have a kind of sixth sense for avoiding us, for disappearing the moment any of us get too close. I'd… I'd kill," she said, her voice turning almost bitter, "to have just a few moments to talk with him."

Geralt looked at her, a flicker of confusion in his eyes, before it dawned on him. Of course. This "Black Mage" sounded like an expert magical healer, a master of life and restoration. 

And perhaps, Yennefer thought, he might be able to help her with her own problem, with her infertility, with her deepest, most painful desire to have a child.

"Perhaps you could try tracking him down," Geralt suggested, his voice softer now.

"I doubt I would be successful," Yennefer said with a sigh of resignation. "He is, by all accounts, remarkably, almost supernaturally, good at hiding and covering his tracks."

"Well, you have to start somewhere," Geralt insisted. "What do you know about him? Anything in that journal of his give you a hint, anything at all, that we could use to track him down?"

"We?" Yennefer asked, a small, knowing smirk finally appearing on her lips. "Are you trying to tell me you want to come with me, Witcher?"

Geralt just shrugged, a gesture of casual acceptance. "I don't have any other plans at the moment," he admitted, which was his way of saying 'yes'.

"Well…" Yennefer said, a thoughtful look on her face. "There is one thing. In a recent entry that I have just read, he mentions a particular, rather… unique ability he has. He seems to have found a way to magically turn into another creature. A full transformation."

Geralt immediately thought of a certain green-eyed, infuriatingly cheerful mage he knew, who just so happened to turn into a massive dragon in his off time. 

Still, he knew that transformation magic, becoming an animagus, was an ability that other powerful sorcerers could, with enough skill and practice, accomplish. So perhaps it was just a coincidence.

"What animal?" Geralt asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"Well, that's the thing…" Yennefer said, her violet eyes gleaming with a mixture of disbelief and excitement. "He claims… he claims that he can turn into a dragon."

Geralt's stomach dropped. "…Oh, hell."

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1262, Cintra

Harry's POV:

Harry watched silently, from his hidden vantage point in the deep, verdant shadows, as Geralt of Rivia and a young, ashen-haired girl, as well as another, older man that he did not recognize, walked into the hidden Dryad village deep within the heart of Brokilon forest. Harry knew exactly what was about to happen here. 

Eithné, the wise and stubborn Queen of the Dryads, would no doubt see the immense, raw potential in the young girl, Ciri, and she would try to turn her, to make her into one of her own people. 

And nothing Geralt could or would say, no amount of pleading or reasoning, would be able to change her mind once it was set.

Harry, on the other hand, was very different. He knew there were things he could, and absolutely would, say that would most certainly change Eithné's mind.

By this point, Geralt and Ciri had been taken before Eithné herself. Geralt made a polite, if somewhat stiff, gesture of respect to the ancient Dryad Queen, while Ciri stood behind him, looking as if she desperately wanted to be anywhere else but there. 

Eithné started to speak to them, her voice calm and serene as always, as another one of her Dryad attendants stood silently by her side. 

Harry smiled briefly to himself at the fact that Eithné could no longer pull off such a convincingly serene look when he was around. 

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