Harry Potter: Returns Back From Game of Thrones (ASOIAF) - 20

Chapter 20: Potter's Favour

Ron's spell failed completely. The elaborate rhyme about daisies and butter was obviously a prank—Fred and George had fooled him again. Real transfiguration charms didn't work like nursery rhymes.

Ron had probably wanted to show off in front of the girl, and now pride wouldn't let him back down. So he stubbornly recited the nonsense spell anyway.

Transfiguration charms naturally didn't require such long incantations. Most transfiguration charms, once a wizard became slightly proficient, didn't require verbal spells at all.

Transfiguration was very ancient magic. In mythological times, the witch Circe, who lived on the Greek island of Aeaea, was famous for turning lost sailors into pigs, leaving her name in Homeric epics. She could even cast transfiguration charms into food, permanently transforming those who ate it. Clearly her love for pigs exceeded Neville's love for toads and Ron's affection for Scabbers.

Harry realised too late that this rat was unusually difficult to transform. The struggle nearly embarrassed him in front of Ron.

Though just a fat rat, it had remarkably high magical resistance. Even changing its fur colour proved challenging—Harry had to channel his magical will more forcefully, overpowering Scabbers' natural defences until the creature yielded to the spell.

Seeing the rat actually turn yellow, Hermione looked startled.

The textbooks she'd previewed mentioned no such simple spell, so she looked at Harry. "This is actually a real spell. I'll remember it. I'm Hermione Granger. By the way, what's your name?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron mumbled. Hermione ignored him.

Harry didn't give his name immediately. "Before answering, I must ask—why didn't you knock before entering, Miss Granger? The boy beside you came earlier seeking his lost pet. Despite his distress, he did not forget to knock."

Harry had heard footsteps approaching long before they arrived. He wasn't particularly concerned about etiquette for its own sake—but perhaps the girl could benefit from learning proper manners.

"Oh, this..." Hermione blushed. She wanted to explain she was just trying to help, but finally lowered her head under Harry's steady gaze.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was too hasty. Neville's pet couldn't be found anywhere."

Harry nodded, accepting the apology. "He still hasn't found it?"

He hoped the toad hadn't died somewhere. Then again, wizards' pets weren't ordinary animals—they all had some magical power. The toad was probably just good at hiding.

"Does it have a name?" Harry looked at the boy called Neville.

"Trevor, sir. My toad is called Trevor." Neville felt Harry's presence when he stopped concealing his Charisma was overwhelming, like standing before royalty. He lowered his head, not daring to look directly at Harry.

"Trevor sounds like a good dog's name... Fine then—Accio Trevor!"

Harry waved his wand.

Magic was extremely useful at times like this.

Again, he felt slight resistance—that toad really did have some hidden magical abilities, though far less than Ron's rat. His Charisma overwhelmed the weak resistance easily.

The toad soared through the air, landing in Harry's palm.

His fingers closed around it—or near it, rather. He held the creature suspended just above his skin, avoiding the cold, damp texture.

Not from any concern about toxins; simply because he found the sensation disagreeable.

Handing the toad to the profusely grateful Neville, he glanced at the girl named Hermione. "Potter. Harry Potter."

"So it really is you?"

Hermione asked, her eyes widening. "I know all about you, of course—I bought extra reference books: Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. All those books mention you."

"Mention me? Because of Voldemort? Fine."

Harry felt nothing. This world's combat record wasn't truly his own—it felt somewhat hollow.

Conversely, the bards' praises in the A Song of Ice and Fire world would make him laugh heartily and drink deeply.

Hermione felt Harry seemed to regard the infamous Dark Lord with complete indifference, making his bearing even more impressive. She led Neville away, both of them still stammering their thanks.

Ron belatedly felt very embarrassed, especially losing face before Harry. "When we reach school, we'll be sorted into houses. Whichever house I'm in, I hope I'm not with her... That spell—I was probably too inexperienced; that's why it failed—"

"Not your problem. That spell was useless to begin with. Better not to recite it at all."

Ron froze. Even he, however inexperienced, could realise Harry was protecting his pride.

Would such an important figure consider someone like himself as a friend?

An indescribable feeling of genuine respect filled his heart.

Especially remembering Harry's concentrated expression when transforming Scabbers, Ron didn't think that was Harry's fault—definitely the fake spell's problem.

A thought flashed through his mind: sworn loyalty to Lord Potter.

Ron stared at Harry for a long moment before stammering, "So... so the spell was completely fake? George told me... he probably knew it was rubbish all along."

"Which house are your brothers in?" Harry asked.

"Gryffindor," Ron said—his whole family was Gryffindor. It would be too strange if he didn't go to Gryffindor as well.

Ron thought Ravenclaw wouldn't be particularly bad either. Just not Slytherin.

Harry looked at his innocent smile and said nothing more.

Later Ron discussed recent major magical world news—the Gringotts heist.

The Daily Prophet was filled with it—several upper-level dusty old vaults had been blasted open, gold coins swept clean.

Someone had also attempted robbing the highly secure underground vaults, but the robbers went in and got out unscathed, taking nothing.

Everyone said only the most powerful dark wizards could manage escaping Gringotts pursuit.

Harry laughed awkwardly, not wanting to continue this conversation.

Who the accomplice who aborted the lower-level robbery was, Harry didn't know.

The perpetrator of the completed upper-level robbery was himself.

Harry cleared his throat. "So, Ron—do you know anything about Quidditch?"