A shape-shifting troublemaker.
This reminded Harry of shapeshifters, a humanoid race that could become like anyone, and even simulate the thoughts, voice, and expertise of the shapeshifted person.
Gryffindor is really interesting.
Harry didn't think too deeply about this. He asked, "Mr. Hagrid, do you know a blacksmith?"
"I'm sorry, little Harry, I don't know him." Hagrid shook his head in embarrassment, feeling ashamed for not being able to help. He quickly said, "But Professor Flitwick, your future Charms professor, has some goblin blood. Maybe he knows a master blacksmith."
Harry nodded.
"Why... do you want to make a sword?" Halfway through the journey, Hagrid hesitated, but still gritted his teeth and asked.
Harry deadpanned, "When I was shopping for clothes just now, Madam Malkin said that Gryffindor was a wizard with a long sword. I think I can be a wizard like that."
Hagrid was excited: "Oh, yes!"
"Harry you really are a natural Gryffindor."
"Your parents are also from Gryffindor House. I am also a Gryffindor, and so is Headmaster Dumbledore."
He talked incessantly, introducing Hogwarts.
Harry just felt that he had put too much subjectivity into it.
Slytherins are a group of sinister and cunning people, Hufflepuffs are all stupid fools with no sense of existence, and Ravenclaws are wooden stakes who only know how to read.
Harry added silently in his mind.
Perhaps in the eyes of other houses, Gryffindor is just a group of mindless and exaggerated troublemakers?
I always feel that...
Hogwarts may not be a peaceful place.
For more than a month, Harry stayed with the Dursleys - he actually wanted to leave and find another place to live, because the Dursleys didn't like him.
But at the age of eleven, his body was inconvenient, so he had to stay unwillingly.
Apart from eating and exercising, Harry almost never left his new room, and Petunia had cleaned up the house before he returned from Diagon Alley.
Harry named the owl Hedwig, a name he found in A History of Magic - she was a great witch who protected young wizards during the dark witch-hunting era and taught them to prevent them from becoming Obscurus.
Magic is everywhere in this world.
At the moment of naming, an aura emanating from Hedwig wrapped around Harry, establishing a connection between the two of them.
It is not a contract consisting of words or legal provisions.
It is a passive, magical contract in the blood.
How interesting...
Harry became more interested in the magic of this world, and he couldn't wait to flip through the books.
The magic of wizards and the sigils of demon hunters are very similar - spells, gestures, and firm beliefs.
After reading "A Study of the Development of Modern Witchcraft" and "Important Magical Events in the 20th Century", Harry finally had a general impression of the wizarding world.
The lifespan is very short. Normal wizards only live about a hundred years. The longest-lived wizard, Nicolas Flamel, took a magic potion called "Immortality Elixir" and extended his life to over 600 years.
In the Demon Hunter world, warlocks and demon hunters have a long lifespan.
Mentor Vesemir lived to be over two hundred, almost three hundred years old, but he looked like a middle-aged man, at least younger than Uncle Vernon.
But magic is very powerful.
The first Dark Lord Grindelwald burned half of Paris with the Fiendfyre. In the world of The Witcher, this powerful magic would require the collaboration of multiple warlocks to unleash.
And "Animagus".
A master who is proficient in transformation can master the form of an animal. The only flaw is probably that the type of animal transformed is random.
But this is not an unacceptable shortcoming.
What Harry is most concerned about is "Potions" - to be an excellent witcher, his abilities come from swordsmanship, sigils and potions.
Every witcher is an excellent herbalist and potion maker, and Harry is no exception.
But the potions in the magical world are more like "medicine".
Grow older, tell the truth, increase brain power...
Most importantly, it is almost non-toxic.
Ordinary people cannot take the witcher's potions because the powerful toxicity contained in them will destroy his body in an instant. Even witchers who have mutated and are immune to all poisons cannot take multiple potions in a short period of time.
But potions in the wizarding world have no such restrictions.
A new and useful field of potions, Harry was addicted to it almost instantly.
The only downside...
Just as Harry expected, the herbs in the two worlds had nothing in common. Even the "Mandela" with the same name was very different.
The Dursleys lived in fear during this period.
They always see...
Harry was wielding a small stick, making tables and chairs fly around, or trying to cut up magazines and mend them again.
Or, huddled in the attic, with gurgling steam, someone knows what potion is brewing.
Until the day before school starts.
On the dinner table.
"My dear uncle, I may have to trouble you to take me to King's Cross Station tomorrow." Harry said after finishing a large piece of steak.
Thank God!
This plague god is finally leaving!
This was the only thought in Vernon's mind, but he still said stubbornly: "It's ridiculous to take the train to the wizard school. Are all their blankets rotten?"
"If there are better means of transportation, why not use them?" Harry asked as a matter of course.
If the Witcher world had cars, trains, and planes.
Whether it's the warlock or the witcher, they should all raise their hands and celebrate. To be honest... the feeling of the portal is really uncomfortable. If the situation is not particularly urgent, Harry, like other witchers, would rather ride a horse and continue on.
"Which platform?" asked Vernon again.
"Nine and three quarters," Harry answered.
Fenon sneered, and the fat on his face and stomach trembled: "There is no such platform at all. I said that group of crazy people..."
Harry waved his hand.
Vernon shrank his head like a frightened bird.
Nothing happened. Harry just picked up the glass of milk. "Wizards have their own magic. Since they can make ordinary people unaware of their existence, then naturally... they can also hide the wizard's train station in ordinary people's train stations."
Drink up the milk in big gulps.
I went back to the house and prepared everything, including the three potions that I had made over the past month - two bottles of forgetfulness potions and one bottle of stimulant.
the next day.
We set off at 7:30 and arrived at King's Cross Station after three hours of bumpy ride.
There was a constant stream of people and passengers coming and going.
"Okay, kid, you're here." Vernon helped Harry move his luggage out of his car, like he was driving away a plague. "Platform nine, platform ten, this is where you need to go."
"Use your wizard's tricks to find your train!"
"Goodbye!" The last words were followed by the sound of a heavy door closing. Vernon placed the cage containing Hedwig on the luggage cart, quickly closed the door, stepped on the accelerator, and disappeared from Harry's sight in an instant.
Harry took a deep breath and opened his senses.
A complex human scent...it doesn't matter.
A foul, disgusting smell - it was like the body odor of those corpse-eating creatures, but it was a long time ago, and there must have been a large number of corpse-eating creatures here.
And most importantly, the smell of magic.
Harry pushed the cart, following the scent of magic, and soon came to a wall - the wall between the ninth and tenth stations.
This is the entrance.
Harry reached out and touched the wall. It was solid, not an illusion.
It seems there is a special way to enter.
There were no traces of wand hitting the wall, but on the ground, he lowered his head and saw obvious footprints and cart tracks, which went straight to the other end of the wall.
The footsteps were far apart, forceful, and rapid.
Harry followed the mark, starting about three metres away.
so……
The way to pass is to run up and hit the wall?
Harry thought about it, pushed the cart to the beginning of the mark, and trotted forward - through the wall, the cold magic sinking into his body.
At the other end of the wall is also a platform with a sign that says "Platform Nine and Three Quarters".
Many of them were dressed like ordinary people, like himself, and many were wearing wizard robes.
Check your ticket and get on the bus.
Harry waved his wand, carried his luggage, and walked through the crowd. Finally, he found an empty compartment at the end of the train. He didn't like to force himself into other people's social circles.
I just sat down for a while.
There was a knock on the carriage door, and it opened with a hiss. A red-haired head came in. "Excuse me, the carriages outside are occupied. Can I come in?"
Harry nodded. "Of course."
The red head breathed a sigh of relief: "That's great."
He opened the carriage door and moved his luggage inside with great effort.
Harry took out his wand and waved it lightly, and the luggage flew automatically to the corner.
"Oh... you're a senior?" The red head became more reserved, sitting down opposite him with his head lowered, "I thought... you were a freshman like me."
Harry smiled and shook his head, "No, I'm a freshman too."
"But how do you know magic!" The red-haired girl tilted her head back in surprise, "I asked my brothers to teach me, but I couldn't learn it."
"I learned it by reading books on my own," Harry said simply.
The redhead rubbed his messy head: "Then you must be a Ravenclaw."
"Let me introduce myself, my name is Ron, Ron Weasley."
"We will definitely become good friends. Compared to my brothers at home, I am not smart at all. You have to help me with my homework."
Harry introduced himself: "Hello, my name is Harry Potter."
Ron jumped up and his eyes widened. "Your name is Harry Potter? Is that the Harry Potter from Harry Potter?"
He said, his eyes dropping to Harry's forehead.
Harry raised his hand and pushed his hair aside, "Yes, that Harry Potter."
In the world of demon hunters, he hasn't even earned a title like "The Butcher of Blavikan" like White Wolf.
I didn't expect to be so famous in this world.