Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World-Chapter 421: Curse

They ventured deeper into the swamp, down a path strung with human ears.

The Crones hadn't seemed to notice them.

The trail wasn't long.

Soon, the sound of children laughing drifted to Harry's ears. Gradually, a chilling nursery rhyme followed, reaching Hermione and the others.

"My mother, she killed me.

My father, he ate me.

My brothers and sisters sat below.

Picked the bones from the bloody floor.

Buried them beneath the cold marble stone." frёewebnoѵēl.com

The children's voices were crisp and innocent, but the lyrics...

They turned a bend.

Beyond the ear-trees stood three dilapidated thatched huts. A few children clustered around a fire pit.

Deep in the fog-shrouded swamp.

"This place feels wrong," Hermione murmured, drawing her wand and flicking it.

The memory of the mist wraiths on the Isle of Mists still lingered. Fog now made her wary of monsters lurking within.

A cold breeze scattered some of the mist, and the sunset broke through.

"Someone's coming," one child called out.

The singing stopped.

They stared at the newcomers, wide-eyed and wary, slowly edging back.

"We don't know you. Go away," a brave little girl said, baring her teeth and pointing toward the marsh's edge.

The baron blinked. "Why are there children here in the swamp?"

"They're Anna's children," Harry answered.

The baron's eyes widened in disbelief. "No—Anna's only been gone a short while. How could they be... that old?" He stammered, gesturing wildly.

The children looked about seven or eight. Impossible.

"We're not Anna's children!" one girl snapped defiantly, avoiding Harry's gaze.

"Where are your parents?" Hermione asked gently.

"We're orphans," one child replied, shaking his head.

"All of you?" Hermione was surprised.

They all nodded.

Hermione's heart ached—but the others, including the children, seemed entirely unbothered.

"Where there's war, there are orphans," a boy said boldly.

The baron furrowed his brow. "So Anna took them in?"

"More precisely, the Crones took them in," Harry corrected.

"They're not Crones! Grandma's strict, but she's kind!" one girl shouted.

"She won't let us near the bog. It's dangerous. My brother Mick wandered in once. Grandma said he got lost... she cried for days."

They were innocent.

But none of the adults—and barely-adults—around them were.

Especially after that macabre nursery rhyme.

A dark thought struck Hermione.

"Harry?" she said, raising her head.

Harry nodded. "I'm afraid Mick was eaten by the Crones."

The little boy's mouth fell open.

The others were stunned.

Footsteps approached. An older woman strode out, muttering irritably. "What are you lot jabbering about? Didn't I tell you not to talk to strangers? And you—swords?"

She stopped five feet away.

The baron spun around faster than Harry.

He knew that voice too well.

"Anna," he said softly, full of longing.

Her face was startled. "How did you find me?"

Anna was not a beautiful woman. Older than the baron, with sagging skin and coarse, dead-white hair—like dried weeds. Her face looked cruel and haggard.

"Guess I was wrong," Harry murmured.

Hermione gave him a mild smack on the back.

The baron took a deep breath, trying to sound calm. "I met a remarkable witcher. He knew where you were and brought me here." He gestured to Harry. "Him."

"Anna, come back with me. We can start an orphanage at Crow's Perch. Money's no issue."

"I swear, I've quit drinking. The witcher can vouch—"

"No!" Anna snapped. "I'll never go back! Get out! Don't ever show your filthy face again!"

The baron's face crumbled.

His pleas met only with a torrent of vitriol, so vile it stunned even the children.

"She doesn't want to leave," Harry said quietly, "because she can't."

Anna froze mid-rant, staring at him.

"She's bound to the Crones by a pact," Harry continued. "If she leaves the swamp, they'll curse her. She'll die."

Anna's face turned panicked. She looked around wildly, mouth opening—but said nothing.

"How do you know?" she asked after a moment.

"Grandma, did the Crones really eat Mick?" the boy asked sadly.

Anna didn't answer.

"I'm a witcher," Harry said calmly. "I can take you out safely."

Anna shook her head. "They have a lock of my hair. It won't work."

The baron's eyes lit up. "Anna, look!" He ripped off his hat. "The witcher has an amazing hair tonic! After just two days—look at this glorious mane!"

"Don't worry—"

"No, Philip," Ciri interrupted. "That's not what she meant."

"It's a curse. The Crones enchant a doll and bind a person's hair to it. That gives them power over the soul."

Anna's voice softened. "Smart young lady... but it's worse. I'm their puppet forever."

"There's no such thing as 'forever' in magic," Harry said.

He drew his wand and pointed it at Anna.

"Will it hurt her?" the baron asked, worried.

"No," Harry said firmly.

Hermione drew her wand too.

Together, they chanted.

Anna froze, like time around her had stopped.

Reducio.

Harry whispered the final spell, flipped open the Sorting Hat, and Hermione flicked her wand.

A thumb-sized Anna floated into the hat.

At that very moment—

One of the nearby huts shuddered.

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Powerstones?

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