“You really think I’d agree to that?” Gryffindor looked at Witt with open contempt.
“Hard to say.” Witt chuckled.
“What if you’ve got a screw loose and actually agree?
I’d make a killing.” “All it costs me is one question.
That’s a lot easier than trying to ambush you again.” Gryffindor was rendered completely speechless.
A screw loose?
Keep talking and I’ll punch the screws out of your skull.
At this point, Gryffindor was beginning to understand why he found Witt so irritating.
Perhaps it wasn’t the strange magic around him at all.
Maybe the brat’s personality was simply that obnoxious by nature.
After taking several deep breaths, Gryffindor decided not to lower himself to arguing with a child.
He took out his wand and released Witt from his restraints.
“Go back and tell Ragnuk that if he dares send anyone to steal my sword again, I’ll personally take his head.” “And if the goblins try to stop me, I’ll kill every last one who gets in my way.” Gryffindor’s voice was thick with killing intent, his confidence overwhelming.
He spoke as though he weren’t threatening an entire goblin kingdom, but a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered.
“Don’t be like that.” The instant his restraints vanished, Witt not only refused to leave but actually shuffled closer to Gryffindor.
“Since I’m a Gryffindor student and all, couldn’t you lend me the sword for just a moment?
Just one moment.” If Witt carried Gryffindor’s message back, it would effectively mean abandoning the Quest.
And then the entire goblin race would hunt him down.
Witt didn’t possess Gryffindor’s strength.
He couldn’t threaten an entire goblin kingdom by himself.
There was absolutely no way Witt intended to give up.
“Don’t try getting friendly with me, brat.
I know every student at Hogwarts, and I’ve never seen you in my life.” Gryffindor gave him a disdainful look.
Worse, failing the Quest meant the goblins in the real world would be the ones coming after him.
“Even if you wanted to attend Hogwarts, there’s no chance I’d let you into Gryffindor House.
Don’t even think about it.” “Gryffindor has a reputation to maintain.” “Heh.” “That’s not really up to you.” Witt puffed out his chest.
“As it happens, the Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor yesterday.” “Yesterday?” Gryffindor burst out laughing.
“You really are shameless.
You don’t even pause for breath when you lie.” “Hogwarts doesn’t open for another month.
Where exactly did you get Sorted yesterday?” Witt tilted his head and thought for a moment.
“You probably won’t believe me, but I come from a thousand years in the future.
Right before I came here, I attended the Hogwarts Sorting Ceremony.” “That was yesterday.” Witt spoke with complete sincerity.
Gryffindor didn’t believe a single word.
The brat was plainly treating him like an idiot.
Leaving aside how unbelievable time travel already sounded, there was an even more obvious problem.
A Gryffindor student from a thousand years in the future had travelled back through time, and the first thing he’d done was launch a shameless sneak attack on the founder of his own House?
Who would believe that?
Gryffindor certainly didn’t.
His House could never produce such a spectacularly unfilial little bastard.
Witt hadn’t expected Gryffindor to believe him immediately, anyway.
But he had a way to prove it.
“Could I borrow that sword for a moment?” Witt cautiously edged closer and reached straight for the Sword of Gryffindor hanging at the man’s waist.
His movements were smooth and practised.
Not the slightest hint of embarrassment.
Thump*.* A good head made a satisfying sound.
Gryffindor punched Witt straight onto the ground.
Witt climbed back up, clutching his head and looking aggrieved.
“If you don’t want to lend it to me, just say so.
Why hit me?” “Get lost.” Gryffindor waved him away impatiently.
“If you weren’t a child, you’d already be dead.” “I only need the sword to prove something.” Having apparently learned nothing whatsoever from the previous punch, Witt reached out again.
Gryffindor casually punched him to the ground a second time.
“Stay away from me.” Not one sentence in ten that came out of this brat’s mouth was true.
How could someone like this possibly have been Sorted into Gryffindor?
His courage, admittedly, was undeniable.
“Surely the great Godric Gryffindor isn’t afraid I’ll run away?” Witt got up and once again stretched out his hand with suicidal determination.
“Even if I got hold of the sword, you could take it back from me whenever you wanted.” This time, Gryffindor didn’t strike him.
Not because he believed Witt, but because he wanted to see what the brat was actually planning.
Witt’s wand had already been confiscated.
Gryffindor had also searched everything on him and found nothing except ordinary clothes.
A young wizard of Witt’s age was little different from an ordinary Muggle without a wand.
There was no possible way he could escape.
Witt’s hand finally closed around the sword.
His heart leapt.
He smoothly drew it from its sheath.
The gleaming silver blade was magnificent, beautiful and deadly all at once.
“Mr Gryffindor.” Witt reversed his grip on the sword.
“See you tomorrow.” Then he plunged it straight into his own heart.
It happened so suddenly that Gryffindor didn’t even have time to intervene.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The next second, Witt reappeared at Hogwarts, gasping desperately for air.
It hadn’t been a real death, but the suffocating sensation in those final moments had felt completely genuine.
Just before everything went dark, Witt thought he’d seen Gryffindor casting spells in an attempt to save him.
Unfortunately, once a sword had gone straight through your heart, those spells were destined to be useless.
Witt shook his head.
“After trying so many different ways to die, Avada Kedavra is still the most comfortable.” “Whoever invented the Killing Curse must’ve been a truly wonderful person.” He took a sweet from his pocket and popped it into his mouth.
The sugary taste gradually chased away the darkness lingering in his mind.
As Witt unlocked more and more methods of dying inside dungeons, he had found himself becoming increasingly fond of sweet things.
Sugar brought happiness.
It helped dull the unpleasantness of death.
On the System interface, the dungeon had already entered its cooldown period.
He wouldn’t be able to enter again until tomorrow.
So far, Witt had encountered two broad types of dungeon Quests.
The first was a Persistent Quest.
If he failed an attempt and entered again later, the previous dungeon progress would remain.
The people inside would remember him and everything that had happened before.
The second type was a Reset Dungeon.
The Myrtle Quest had been one of those.
Every time Witt failed that Quest, Myrtle died.
If the dungeon simply continued from that point, the Quest would become permanently impossible to complete.
So the dungeon reset instead.
Every entry became a fresh beginning.
That didn’t mean everything played out identically, however.
The characters’ reactions could change, and performing the same action didn’t necessarily produce the same outcome every time.
Regardless of which type of dungeon it was, one thing remained certain.
As long as Witt didn’t choose to abandon the Quest, it wouldn’t count as a failure.
He wouldn’t suffer the penalty.
But at the same time, the System would remain locked onto that single Quest, effectively disabling his own greatest advantage until he cleared it.
No matter what Quest the System gave him, Witt would always do his best to complete it.
Unless it was genuinely impossible.
Like the first one.
Witt sat up on the bed, opened the window, and took a deep breath of fresh air, expelling the lingering heaviness in his chest.
Gryffindor was far too strong.
The angle of Witt’s ambush had been exceptionally tricky, and Gryffindor had been drunk on top of that.
Yet he’d still reacted in time.
With the simplest possible movement, he’d drawn his sword and blocked the Killing Curse.
For a Persistent Quest, the first encounter was always the best opportunity for an ambush.
Next time, Gryffindor would already know him.
He would be prepared.
Trying another sneak attack would be dramatically more difficult.
Fortunately, Gryffindor hadn’t killed him outright and had been willing to speak with him.
That gave Witt room to work with.
Now that the ambush had failed, trying another one was clearly pointless.
If Witt wanted to change Gryffindor’s opinion of him, he needed to do something that completely exceeded Gryffindor’s understanding.
Only then could he increase his own importance in Gryffindor’s eyes.
After considering all his options, Witt realised that the only truly extraordinary card he possessed was the immortality granted to him inside the dungeon.
Compared with that, claiming to come from a thousand years in the future was almost irrelevant.
Words would never have the same impact as undeniable reality.
Especially since, at the time, Witt had no way to prove that he really came from a thousand years later.
So Witt had chosen to kill himself.
And he had deliberately left Gryffindor with a final— See you tomorrow.
Curiosity alone would be enough to keep Gryffindor around for another day.
When Witt appeared before him again tomorrow, everything else Witt said would suddenly become much more believable.
Use one indisputable fact to lend credibility to several less believable claims.
Witt had chosen this approach because it suited the Quest.
All he needed was Gryffindor’s sword.
If they talked enough times, perhaps Gryffindor might eventually hand it over.
That was completely different from his first Quest.
That one had demanded Grindelwald and Dumbledore’s lives.
There was nothing to negotiate.
No matter how nicely you asked, nobody was going to hand over their own life.
Something relatively unimportant, however?
Say the right things and someone might simply give it to you.
But if you wanted something genuinely important, you needed leverage.
The more valuable the prize, the greater the leverage required.
Even the cleverest trick still needed something to work with.
The problem was that Grindelwald and Dumbledore were both men and didn’t even have children.
Where was Witt supposed to find leverage against either of them?
He couldn’t beat them in a fight, and there wasn’t even an obvious opening he could exploit.
So naturally he’d been forced to admit defeat.
Which was how Grindelwald had ended up coming to this world.
After a quick wash, Witt finally felt properly awake.
Then he remembered that he still had lessons today.
Transfiguration, apparently, was in the afternoon.
Professor McGonagall was the Head of Gryffindor House.
Perhaps she knew some embarrassing old stories or little secrets about Godric Gryffindor.
If Witt could use one of those as leverage, it might just increase his chances of completing the Quest.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 📣 Announcement!📣 I just uploaded another new story, it’s still a Harry Potter fanfiction!
The story is called Harry Potter: I Maxed Out Humanity, Then I Found Magic.
This will be the last Harry Potter fanfiction I upload before I move on to another fandom next week.
If you enjoy Harry Potter fanfiction, don’t forget to check it out!
I hope you enjoy the new story!
⚡✨ CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Hidden_Quill Thank you so much for reading!