The Rebirth of Harry Potter

That morning, as Harry was having breakfast in the Great Hall, another airborne delivery made its appearance.

A large parcel, carried by six owls, was dropped right onto Harry's table, attracting a fair amount of attention. However, seeing that Harry had no intention of opening it, people quickly lost interest.

Harry glanced around and, as expected, saw Professor McGonagall sitting at the teacher's table, smiling as she gave him a polite nod.

Immediately, his head started aching.

It had been three days since flying class, and he hadn't expected McGonagall to act so fast. This was practically forcing him into a corner!

She had definitely studied Chinese culture—

Not only was she familiar with Water Margin and its infamous "forced to become an outlaw" story, but she was also well-versed in "Strike First to Gain the Upper Hand", one of the Thirty-Six Stratagems.

Harry shoved the parcel-wrapped broomstick under the table and handed the accompanying letter to Hermione.

Hermione tore it open immediately, and after reading it, she gasped in shock.

"It's a Nimbus 2000!"

She then turned to Harry with a questioning look.

"So… what are you going to do?" She already knew his thoughts on the matter.

"Who knows? But I need to figure something out soon." Harry sighed in frustration.

Hermione's eyes suddenly lit up, and she excitedly changed the topic.

"It's almost snowing! I can't wait to see what Hogwarts looks like covered in snow."

Harry perked up at the thought.

"Yeah?"

Just talking about snow sent a wave of excitement through him, and he couldn't help but imagine the entire castle and surrounding mountains blanketed in white.

Without realizing it, time had slipped into late October.

The climate in the UK and China was quite different.

In China, this time of year wouldn't even be considered late autumn—usually, that title was reserved for the end of October.

But in Britain, winter had already officially begun.

There was no snow yet, but the gradual drop in temperature and crisp chill in the air were clear signs that the silent embrace of winter was fast approaching.

Getting out of bed in the mornings had become a challenge for Harry.

After all, laziness and cold weather were an unbeatable duo.

On rare occasions, when he went for a morning run, he would spot a thin layer of white covering the castle grounds—frost.

A barn owl suddenly swooped down, carrying a letter.

Harry, feeling curious, tore it open.

He had assumed it was from Hagrid, but surprisingly, it was a letter of thanks from Neville's grandmother.

She expressed her deep gratitude to Harry for saving Neville a few days ago, and she also humbly requested that he look after Neville at school.

Harry's heart felt heavy.

Neville was the son of heroes too.

His parents had fought against Voldemort and had paid a terrible price.

Yet, because of Voldemort's choice, it was Harry who became the "Chosen One."

Of course, it was also his mother's sacrifice and the power of love that had saved him.

But thinking about Neville's home, where only an elderly grandmother and a lonely child remained, Harry felt that he had to do something.

After finishing the letter, he glanced over at Neville.

Neville, having already spotted his family's owl, had been watching Harry anxiously.

But when their eyes met, Neville's face flushed red, and he quickly turned away.

Too embarrassed to thank me himself, so he had his grandmother do it instead?

To be honest, ever since meeting Neville on the train, Harry had wanted to help him.

But even after thinking about it for a long time, he still had no idea how—

Not even what he should help Neville with.

Neville was completely different from Malfoy.

Malfoy needed discipline—whips, candle wax, whatever it took.

But Neville… Neville was too sensitive for that.

Yet just now, a brilliant idea suddenly flashed through Harry's mind.

A plan so clever, it was practically legendary.

And, of course, a plan this great deserved a proper name—

The Assistance Plan! (Luo Bei: …)

"Why do you have that smug, 'everything is under control' look on your face?" Hermione suddenly asked.

Harry leaned in and whispered his plan to Hermione.

Her eyes lit up as she swung her fork in excitement.

"That's brilliant! It's absolutely perfect! This might actually work…!"

Harry tilted his chin up arrogantly—because really, who else could come up with something this genius?

That afternoon, Harry headed to the library.

He needed to borrow Herbology and Astronomy textbooks for third-years and return the books he had finished.

Harry never just memorized books.

Otherwise, given his near-photographic memory, he would have already read through the entire library by now.

When Hermione heard that Harry was borrowing even more books, she was incredibly envious.

She even said that Harry might just be the smartest student Hogwarts had ever seen—

It had only been two months since school started, and he had already self-studied everything up to third-year material.

But Harry simply said, "Not necessarily. There's still another genius in this school."

Hermione, skeptical, asked who it was.

Harry just smirked—

"You'll see the proof for yourself soon enough."

Harry wasn't entirely confident that he could master all seventh-year material while still a first-year,

But Snape had done exactly that.

And when it came to Potions, even though Harry performed exceptionally well,

He knew that compared to Snape, there was an impossible gap.

At the very least, Harry could never do something as insane as modifying potion recipes.

That was true talent.

A real Potions prodigy.

So, really—Snape was just a reclusive tech geek.

Always locked away in a dim underground lab, analyzing potion effects,

Pouring powders bit by bit into a boiling cauldron,

Watching bubbles burst, releasing their strange, magical aromas…

If that wasn't the definition of a shut-in nerd, then what was?

At the Library

Madam Pince spotted Harry and immediately guessed why he was here.

She gave him an approving nod.

"I never expected you to finish those books so quickly."

Harry smiled.

"I just think Merlin's words make perfect sense: 'I don't have extra time—I just use the hours others waste on Wizard's Chess to read instead!'"

(Hermione: Keep up the act, Harry. Just keep acting…)

Madam Pince smiled and nodded.

"You're right. Merlin's success wasn't due to his talent—it was due to his effort."

She carefully recorded the new books on a parchment scroll.

Harry politely bid her farewell.

As Harry walked along the long tables, ready to leave,

Something caught his attention—

A girl sitting by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She was seated far away,

Since Harry was walking through the central aisle,

While she sat at the outermost row, near the sunlight.

At a certain point, their positions aligned perfectly—

Harry.

The girl.

The setting sun.

And because of that alignment,

Harry's peripheral vision noticed her presence.

And the moment he turned his head—

He was captivated.

He couldn't look away.

He hadn't even seen her face yet—

But he was already drawn in by her quiet, serene aura.

She sat perfectly upright, poised and elegant,

Completely immersed in her book,

As if the outside world did not exist.

The golden sunlight bathed her figure,

Making her appear hazy, mysterious,

Her loose hair catching the light,

As if dyed in gold.

Harry shifted slightly, trying to see her face clearly.

She had hair as black as ebony,

With evenly trimmed bangs framing her delicate features,

Giving her a quiet, refined charm.

Her oval face was perfectly symmetrical,

With clear, transparent eyes,

Lips as soft as rose petals,

And dimples at the corners of her mouth,

Adding an undeniable sweetness to her beauty.

She was flawless—

From every angle.