Harry Potter: Returns Back From Game of Thrones (ASOIAF) - 18

Chapter 18: The Returning Traveler

Steam from the locomotive billowed over the chattering crowd; cats of various colors weaved between people's feet. Amid the crowd's buzzing conversation and the clatter of dragging heavy luggage, owls screeched shrilly in response to each other.

Harry just found them noisy. That ancient philosopher mentioned in textbooks was absolutely right about crowds.

He should have been happy to successfully reach the platform, but after an unexpected crossing lasting two and a half years—neither long nor short—his mood was quite complex.

In that other world, he'd also made some friends: the academic achiever who helped him with classical literature, teammates, and, though very unaccustomed to it, adoptive parents who were more like real family than the Dursleys.

Growth was limited there. That world's main storyline was King of Academic Power, not school bully, with attribute points earned through various academic tests.

Moreover, in that magic-less background, supernatural skills couldn't increase proficiency, and there were no potion ingredients.

Each world had limits. Harry couldn't grind combat skills to divine levels in low-tier worlds, but his skill levels only rose, never fell—once proven, forever proven, never retreating.

He could freely use magic in daily worlds like [Asian Parents] and could bring power intact from high-limit worlds into low-limit ones.

Then he'd bully the weak with strength, manifest divinity before mortals, and farm attribute points ruthlessly.

Participating in ordinary people's sports competitions felt like bullying.

Counting multiple crossings, Harry's real age was over twenty. If his first crossing had been to that world, perhaps he'd truly have considered that ordinary middle-aged couple as parents rather than uncle and aunt.

He'd have to find ways to visit again someday, along with friends from the A Song of Ice and Fire world...

When crossing, he should return directly to the departure point; no need to worry about changes from being gone too long, Harry thought as he boarded the train.

The first few carriages were packed with students—some leaning out windows talking to family, others roughhousing in seats.

Harry looked for an empty seat. As he passed, a round-faced boy said, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard an old woman sigh.

Harry glanced back at the round-faced boy—young, with an innocence untouched by knowledge, completely different from Harry, whose brain was currently bulging with crammed knowledge.

Also a first-year?

Intuition suggested he wasn't as ordinary as he appeared, perhaps achieving great things in future—just Harry's high-Charisma inspired flash of insight, not necessarily accurate...

"No prophets among my wizard subordinates. Could I have prophetic talent? I'll take Divination elective in third year."

Speaking of which, in the [Asian Parents] world, Harry discovered it was the 21st century and searched for Harry Potter legends in Britain, finding nothing.

Not only that—while the two worlds shared similar allusions, myths, history, and modern celebrities, most contemporary literary works differed. He hadn't found [A Song of Ice and Fire] either, only something called [Roar of Blood and Water] that seemed similar.

If he could find stories of his own world, he'd definitely surpass any contemporary fortune-teller prophet.

Seven hells, Harry had learned some impressive exclamations during his time away—words that perfectly captured overwhelming amazement at something's sheer magnitude!

Harry really wanted to kick those bloody arses with his boots!

Lost in random thoughts, Harry squeezed through the crowd and found an empty compartment near the train's rear.

He first put Hedwig up, then single-handedly lifted his trunk onto the overhead rack.

Sitting quietly, Harry noticed many people recognized him along the way. He let his hair fall to cover the lightning scar on his forehead, consciously restraining his charisma—after all, in this crowded situation, it wasn't a good time for fan meetings.

Including the red-haired family who'd entered the platform together, four school-age boys had boarded successively. The twins had seen his scar, then got off to tell the little girl.

She should be his devoted fan, clamoring to board and meet him, but her mother stopped her.

That plump lady also warned the twins not to disturb Harry, not to make him think of "that thing" on his first day—a kind-hearted woman.

A whistle sounded.

The train started.

Harry looked back out the window, seeing the red-haired children's mother waving. Their little sister was crying and laughing, running alongside the train until it accelerated, leaving her behind, still waving toward the train's direction.

Harry suddenly felt a chill. That little sister wasn't waving at him, was she?

Though Harry appeared only eleven, his wisdom was extraordinary—he definitely wouldn't like children that young.

Before long, the compartment's sliding door opened. It was the youngest of the four red-haired brothers.

"Excuse me, do you mind?" he asked, pointing to the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head, drawing his wand. A levitation charm placed the boy's luggage overhead.

Though one finger had more strength than a simple Wingardium Leviosa, since Harry was already seated, magic was more convenient.

The child, thinking the obviously more mature Harry was a baby-faced upperclassman, didn't find it strange that Harry knew magic, thanked him, and sat down.

"Hey, Ron."

The twin brothers also came.

"Listen, we're going to the middle carriage now. Lee Jordan's got a really big tarantula—oh, it's you."

"Who?" Ron mumbled.

"Hello, I think you're Harry," said the other twin. "We haven't introduced ourselves, have we? Fred and George Weasley. This is Ron, our little brother. Mum told us not to bother you, so we'll see you at school."

"Goodbye." Harry nodded as the twins casually slid the compartment door shut.

"Ah? Harry, Harry Potter, are you the famous Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

"Yes, if there's no second Harry Potter in the magical world."

Harry brushed aside a lock of hair from his forehead, revealing the lightning-shaped scar.

This scar might be equivalent to his authentication mark in the magical world?

"That's what You-Know-Who did?" Ron no longer cared that Harry, as a first-year, knew magic—after all, he was the famous savior, so knowing magic was normal.

"Yes," Harry said. "This is the result of Voldemort's Avada Kedavra conflicting with another spell. I'm still researching it."