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Harry Potter In The Witcher [3]
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 13:49:47 +0000 UTCHarry moved fast up the stairs, not quite running but close enough to it. His heart was beating a little too quickly, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the urgency or just nerves. He reached the guest room he had asked Kreacher to prepare and pushed the door open.
The girl was lying on the bed, deathly still. Pale. Too pale.
Harry stepped into the room quietly, almost cautiously, and walked up to her side. Kreacher had already started dressing her wounds, her white blouse was gone, but not in a way that made Harry uncomfortable at first. The wrappings on her upper body started just below her shoulders, thick layers of cloth soaked with potion and blood. It wasn’t until Harry pulled back the covers completely that he got a full look at what he was working with.
Her tan trousers were still on, but they’d been rolled up to her knees, the left leg wrapped up from calf to ankle. Blood was still leaking through the dressings. Too much blood. That meant the wounds were deep. Maybe even hit an artery.
“Damn it,” Harry muttered under his breath and summoned the potion chest Kreacher had brought. It landed softly next to him.
He knelt beside the bed, biting the inside of his cheek before slowly starting to unwrap her wounds again. He tried not to look anywhere he shouldn’t, really tried, but he was still a teenage boy and her body was literally right there. The wrappings kept things modest, but his face still flushed a little anyway. He shook his head, annoyed at himself, and focused back on the blood.
He raised his wand and began muttering the few healing spells he knew, ones that at least slowed the bleeding. They weren’t advanced, but they were enough to buy her time. When he saw the blood finally slow down, he reached into the chest and pulled out a small purple potion.
He uncorked it and let a few drops fall around the entrance of the deeper wounds. It sizzled slightly against her skin, but that was normal. It meant it was working.
With her upper body stable, he moved down to her legs. That’s when he realized the blood had soaked further up her thigh. The trousers had to come off. He hesitated a moment, then nodded to himself and carefully removed them, doing his best not to look at anything unnecessary. Thankfully, she was wearing underwear, so at least that wasn’t going to add to his already growing guilt.
Her legs were strong. Long. But also a mess.
Another wound had been missed entirely, probably hidden under the fabric earlier. A thick splinter of wood was lodged deep in her thigh. Harry winced just looking at it, then took a breath and slowly pulled it out. She didn’t stir.
He cleaned the area, applied more of the potion, and moved on to the worst part: her calf.
His stomach twisted.
It wasn’t just a bite, it looked like something had tried to tear a chunk out of her leg. The skin and muscle were mangled, chewed up like raw meat. There was no way he could heal that. Not with what he knew. Not with what he had.
Harry swallowed hard.
He had two choices. One: leave it and risk her never walking properly again, maybe losing the leg to infection or worse. Two: cut below the knee and regrow it.
He hated both.
He held his wand steady. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not even sure if she could hear him. “This is going to suck. But you’ll thank me later.”
He hesitated one last second, then flicked his wrist. A slicing charm flashed out and cleanly cut through her leg below the knee. Her body jolted. Harry quickly hit her with another numbing charm before the pain could reach her.
He grabbed the vial of Skele-Grow and poured a careful amount onto the stump. The bone would come first. Then everything else.
Or… it would, because he had something better.
From the bottom of the chest, Harry pulled out a tiny glass vial. The Elixir of Life. A gift to the Potters ages ago from Nicolas Flamel himself. No idea why, or how, but right now Harry was thankful for the mystery.
He opened her mouth and gently poured the silvery liquid in. She swallowed instinctively.
That would do it.
Between the Skele-Grow and the Elixir, her leg wouldn’t just heal, it’d be like new.
Harry re-wrapped the stump and moved on to the rest of her injuries, doing what he could. Some cuts were minor, others needed a bit more potion. Eventually, everything was sealed and covered. He sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. The hard part was over.
Now came the cleanup.
He levitated her carefully off the bed and vanished the blood from the mattress. A few quick cleaning spells took care of the rest. He laid her back down gently and covered her with a fresh blanket.
Her clothes he gathered into a bundle. They were bloody and torn, but he could fix them. Clean them at the very least.
He shrunk the potion chest, tucked it under his arm, and stood at the door. He glanced back at her one more time.
Still asleep. Still breathing.
“Rest up,” he said softly. “You’ve earned it.”
Then he closed the door behind him.
~~~~
Ciri’s POV:
Her entire body ached.
Not the kind of ache from training or falling off a horse, this was deep, like every muscle had been chewed on and spat out. Her eyes blinked open, squinting against the bright light filtering into the room.
She groaned softly and blinked a few more times before her vision cleared.
Where… was she?
The bed was massive. Comfortable. Too comfortable. The sheets smelled like something clean and soft, and there was actual sunlight spilling through the window. Her eyes moved around the room.
She wasn’t in a castle. That much was clear.
It looked like one at first, but castles were usually higher up. Hills. Mountains. This place was low to the ground. The window gave her a full view of a quiet clearing, thick trees and bushes with flowers blooming wildly. The air even smelled fresh. Untouched.
Her body still hurt, but she pushed herself slowly into a sitting position, wincing as her muscles complained.
Okay. Definitely not dead.
She scanned the room. It was… nice. Really nice. There was a sense of wealth to it, sure, but not the kind that screamed “look at me.” No walls covered in gold, no paintings of smug noblemen. Just one painting on the wall, a peaceful hill under a soft blue sky.
The furniture was simple but made with care. No carvings or gold trim. Just strong, clean wood. The kind that said “I could last for decades” without needing to brag about it.
It reminded her a little of Cintra. Before the fire. Before the fall.
Her eyes flicked to the nightstand, and there it was. Her sword. Leaning gently against the side. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
Good. Whoever had taken care of her hadn’t taken everything.
Still, her body screamed every time she moved. Even just sitting upright made her feel like she’d run ten miles through a forest full of monsters.
She looked around once more. Everything about this place told her she wasn’t a prisoner. Not yet, anyway. It was quiet. Clean. Soft.
A manor, maybe? It had that feel. But not like the other manors she’d been to, full of painted ceilings and people who smelled like greed.
This place felt… grounded.
Like someone lived here. Really lived here.
She leaned her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the light warm her face. Her leg still throbbed a little, but she could feel it. Move it. That surprised her more than anything.
That was when she heard footsteps outside.
And a soft knock on the door.
Her host had finally arrived.
