Harry Potter: From Baldur's Gate to Hogwarts

With his cheek pressed against the smooth wooden floor, Harry stared at the star-and-moon designs nearby. His gaze drifted to the dark oak-paneled walls, a large carved fireplace pressed against one side, and, in the corner, an enormous malachite cauldron bubbling with some mysterious substance.

He couldn't help but marvel at someone daring to light a fire directly on a wooden floor without any precautions.

But Harry's most pressing concern wasn't fire safety—it was how to survive under the watchful eyes of the long-bearded old man sitting behind the desk.

For reasons unknown, Harry still retained the mental power of a Level 12 Sorcerer. (Casting spells drained mental energy, and his reserves could sustain up to seven sixth-circle spells.) Despite this, in his earlier skirmish with the greasy-haired man, Harry had briefly held the upper hand using cantrips and first-circle spells.

However, this wasn't Faerûn—his home turf.

As he had soared through the air, evading invisible attacks with his spell Gust of Wind, a rope had emerged out of nowhere, slipping into Harry's blind spot and winding around him.

The nimble rope, seemingly alive, swiftly coiled around every movable part of his body. Tied up like a dumpling, Harry Potter plummeted from the air and landed hard in a pile of leaves.

His vision blurred. When it cleared, he was shocked to find himself on a street that bore a faint resemblance to those in Faerûn.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to shake off the feeling of being forced through an overly tight rubber tube. As he began scanning his surroundings for any soldiers or figures of authority, he quickly realized that many passersby seemed well-acquainted with the greasy-haired man. They greeted him politely.

From their conversations, Harry learned where he was and, unfortunately, where he was being taken.

What baffled him most, however, was why this Severus Snape had decided to bring him to a school's headmaster rather than a local prison.

The answer became painfully clear the moment Harry locked eyes with the white-bearded old man sitting behind the desk. A powerful force surged into Harry's mind. Had his mental strength not remained at pre-suicide levels, his every secret would have been laid bare before the man named Albus Dumbledore.

Breaking eye contact, Harry began to wonder where his corpse might have been dumped. It wasn't that he didn't want to escape—it was just that he saw no way to leave this room alive. Especially not with an apparent eighth-circle mage in front of him and a fifth-circle practitioner standing guard.

Dumbledore studied the man Snape had dropped onto his office floor. He found it curious that such a powerful wizard—capable of wandless casting—had appeared out of nowhere. Yet, these mysteries paled in comparison to Harry's safety.

Given that Snape had encountered the stranger outside Harry's aunt and uncle's home, and considering how the man avoided Dumbledore's gaze, the headmaster had every reason to suspect this wizard's involvement in Harry's disappearance.

Unfortunately, the stranger was exceedingly wary, his mental strength formidable. Even Dumbledore managed only to glimpse the image of a woman within his mind.

"Severus, I believe you have some Veritaserum?" Dumbledore asked.

After his failed attempt at Legilimency, Dumbledore turned to Snape. Using Veritaserum without authorization was illegal, but he wasn't particularly concerned with legality in this situation.

Snape shot him a long look before silently leaving the office.

As Dumbledore noisily chewed on a Cockroach Cluster, the door creaked open once again. This time, Snape returned with Minerva McGonagall in tow.

"This is the wizard who may be connected to Harry's disappearance?" McGonagall asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she scrutinized the bound man on the floor.

In all her years at Hogwarts, she didn't recall this face belonging to any student. "A wandering foreign wizard, perhaps?"

"I'm not certain," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. "His mental power is extraordinary. Without eye contact, I cannot perform Legilimency. It seems Veritaserum is our only option."

"Even you couldn't manage it?" McGonagall looked from Dumbledore to the squirming figure on the floor. After a moment's thought, she nodded. "It seems we have no other choice."

"Severus, please."

Dumbledore removed the binding from the man's mouth, nodding at Snape. With a scowl, Snape retrieved a small vial of Veritaserum from his robes and approached the bound wizard.

"Wait! I'm Harry Potter! The Harry Potter you're looking for! Don't pour that stuff down my throat! Please, stop!"

The bound man's desperate plea caught everyone off guard.

"You're claiming to be Potter?" Snape sneered, flipping him over with a kick. "Potter is eleven years old. Are you seriously trying to convince us that you, a master of wandless casting, are an eleven-year-old boy?"

"I am eleven! Please, you have to believe me!" Unable to break free of his magical disguise, Harry was drenched in sweat, terrified of consuming the Veritaserum.

After all, his mind harbored countless secrets from another world—secrets he couldn't afford to reveal. (Like building sandcastles with Shadowheart, swimming with Shadowheart, or lying on a moonlit beach with Shadowheart...)

"Do you take us for fools?" Snape snarled, grabbing the struggling wizard and uncorking the Veritaserum.

Just as Snape prepared to administer the potion, a tapping sound came from the office window.

Dumbledore walked to the window and opened it. An owl flew in, dropping a letter onto the man Snape had been holding down.

Dumbledore picked up the letter, his curiosity piqued. When he saw the familiar Hogwarts crest—its lion, eagle, badger, and serpent—his confusion deepened.

And upon reading the recipient's address, even Albus Dumbledore began questioning reality.

"To: Harry Potter, the Floor of the Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts..."

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