The topic changed abruptly.

The Baron's brain was not able to catch up. He stared at Harry stupidly for a long time before shaking his head: "The hair issue is not important at all now."

Except for those high-ranking nobles, few men in this world care about their appearance.

Compared with the exaggerated appearance.

The military power in one's hands and how much property one has are what a man should care about.

"You need to clean up your act and start a new life," Harry said softly.

The Baron was stunned and tilted his head to look at the bottle.

Only then did he understand what Harry meant.

"You have a point, witcher," he whispered.

Harry wasn't letting him actually grow hair.

But to change your lifestyle.

"How much is your shampoo?" The Baron clenched his fists. He was determined to give away his treasured collection of liquor.

The witcher was right.

If you dwell on the mistakes you have made, you will never be able to get out of them.

A few minutes later.

Harry stuffed a bag of crowns into the Sorting Hat and Apparated with Hermione to Novigrad.

The Baron stared at the three small bottles on the table, lost in thought.

Ten kroner a bottle.

Will it really work?

Novigrad was still in a state of disarray.

"Aren't we going to look for Priscilla and the others now?" Hermione turned around, took out her wand, and cleared the memories of several innocent passers-by around her.

They did not end up at the inn where Dandelion stayed.

But in a remote alley in the city.

"Ciri is in Skellige." Harry shook his head. "Dandelion and the others can't help much."

Harry led the way, and Hermione followed, all the way to the harbor.

Skellige is an archipelago in the sea.

It's far from Novigrad.

"Are we going to take a boat?" Hermione frowned as she looked at the wooden boats.

"We are wizards." Harry shook his head.

He took out his wand and waved it gently.

Two brooms flew out of the hat, both were Firebolts - this was not Harry's intention. Although he was rich, he was still a very frugal person. But Sirius was different. He had been rich since he was a child and had never had a hard life except in Azkaban. He would never put himself in a difficult position in life, let alone Harry.

Buy the best.

In a wizarding society that has not yet been polluted by commercial sales knowledge, the best also means the most expensive.

Knowing that Harry might need a broom as a means of transportation in another world, Sirius waved his hand and bought five Firebolts for Harry, including the one he already had, a total of six Firebolts.

Harry is not alone, there is also Hermione, and Hermione will also be needed.

Two are used, two are kept as spares, and the last two are kept as spares for spares.

"No need for the Disillusionment Charm?" Hermione was a little surprised.

Harry smiled, "We're not going to Temple Island this time."

"Let's just leave. The people from the Eternal Flame can't catch us. This will also serve as a way of saying hello to Dandelion and the others."

Hermione nodded and straddled her broom.

The two of them were dressed strangely and were holding extremely exquisite brooms that looked like they could not sweep the floor.

Weird.

The guards' attention was drawn.

In this world, "strange" is neither a positive nor a neutral word. It can almost be considered a "negative word" that is full of malice. Normal people will not feel strange. If they do, it is either because they have met a sorcerer or because they have been manipulated by a monster.

They gradually gathered around.

"Who are you?" someone asked after the team grew bigger.

Harry didn't look back. He lightly kicked his feet and flew out like an arrow.

Hermione followed closely behind.

She wasn't very good at flying and didn't dare to speed up too fast.

"It's warlocks! They are warlocks!" a guard exclaimed.

Someone has already raised the crossbow in his hand, aimed in the direction, and shot.

but……

The Firebolt is by far the most powerful broom ever made, capable of accelerating to a speed of 150 miles per hour in just ten seconds.

Even if Hermione slowed down a bit.

In the blink of an eye, just one or two seconds, he jumped nearly a hundred feet.

The range of a crossbow arrow is not that far.

It drew a beautiful arc in the air and fell into the water with a splash.

“Quick, go to Temple Island.” A guard gritted his teeth, “Tell the witch hunter about this.”

At the port of Novigrad, two sorcerers, a man and a woman, appeared. They openly and ostentatiously cast evil magic in the city and flew into the sea.

The Temple Island was intended to be sealed off, but too many people saw it.

It fermented for a whole afternoon and spread throughout the entire city.

In the Vanilla Hotel.

Now this shop has not reopened yet. Dandelion plans to transform it into a dance hall. It will have the best male and female bards in Novigrad, and it will soon become the best dance hall in Novigrad.

"Those two warlocks must be Harry and Hermione." Zoltan listened to the conversation of the workers who came to work on the project and pulled Dandelion aside.

Dandelion nodded. "Broomsticks, flying, it sounds ridiculous, but haven't we seen it with our own eyes?"

"Only the two of them can do this."

"That bastard Harry didn't even come to say hello to us when he returned to Novigrad." Zoltan muttered.

Dandelion shook his head. "They are busy. They are looking for Ciri now."

"You don't have to worry about them either."

"Harry is very powerful. I don't think Geralt is his match right now."

"A witcher who can do magic, who do you think of?"

Zoltan was stunned. A handsome but not very sensual name appeared in his mind.

Will Giffords.

A gifted, talented warlock.

Of course, he is not a demon hunter, but as a warlock, his skills are not worse than those of a demon hunter, and he is even better than them. Geralt has suffered a great loss at his hands. In a head-on confrontation, Will Giffords subdued Geralt with two sticks and broke his leg.

From then on, Geralt paid close attention to his legs and rarely jumped directly from a high place.

"Harry..." Zoltan whispered, muttering his name.

Dandelion shook his head: "Harry is very mature now."

"He's not the impatient, timid boy he used to be. He's very powerful, and can even capture the Wild Hunt. Don't worry, he doesn't need our protection."

"Zoltan, stop worrying about this and come and help me."

"If we can finish it today, we can have a nice celebratory drink!"

“Come quickly!”

Zoltan put his worries aside, nodded, and immediately followed Dandelion to help the workers.

Harry and Hermione continued to fly.

At the fastest speed of Firebolt.

One hundred and fifty miles per hour, galloping across the sea.

Occasionally some sirens or islands would notice them, but they flew past so fast that they couldn't even see clearly what was flying past them.