The Rebirth of Harry Potter

The long line of first-years followed Professor McGonagall toward the Great Hall.

Hermione glanced around—corridors, stone pillars, fountains, rooms—but there was no sign of Harry!

"Little Cutie, where are you? It's time to eat. Meow! Come out already." A voice echoed from who-knows-where.

The students poured into the hall, and then—stunned silence!

Calling this a "room" didn't quite do it justice—it was massive, like an entire plaza enclosed in stone walls. The most striking part was the ceiling.

In an ordinary building, the ceiling is the first thing you notice upon entering. It gives a sense of confinement. But not here. This hall was so vast and open that its ceiling could only be seen if one deliberately looked up. And even then, what they saw was not a ceiling at all—it was the night sky! A vast, breathtaking expanse of stars, making them feel as if they were standing beneath the heavens themselves.

Above them, four banners floated in mid-air, each representing one of the four houses. The Great Hall contained only four long tables, where the returning students were already seated. Before each student was a neatly arranged set of gleaming silverware and goblets.

At the front of the room, on an elevated platform, stood another long table—clearly the faculty table, much like the principal's seat during assemblies in Muggle schools.

Professor McGonagall walked to the front of the faculty table, where a single stool stood. She placed a shabby, ancient-looking hat upon it.

Then, to everyone's amazement, the hat began to sing, its voice ringing across the hall:

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps in Slytherin,

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none),

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The entire hall erupted into cheers, clapping so loudly it seemed the enchanted ceiling might shatter.

Professor McGonagall retrieved a parchment scroll. "Once you put on the hat, it will determine which house you belong to. Now, I will begin calling names."

The older students watched the first-years with amusement and nostalgia. Ah, I remember when I was in their shoes…

Hermione, on the other hand, was burning with anxiety. She had assumed the Sorting would take place after the school's welcoming speech and the feast. But no—it was happening right now!

"That idiot!" Hermione thought, her frustration bubbling up. "Why am I even worrying about him so much?"

"Hannah Abbott."

A nervous girl hesitated before stepping forward and placing the Sorting Hat on her head.

"…Hufflepuff!"

One of the tables erupted into cheers. It was the Hufflepuff table. If Harry had been watching, he probably would have commented: "Wow, they're really excited over just one new student."

"Susan Bones."

"Terry Boot."

…

One by one, names were called, and with each name, Hermione's heart leapt in suspense, fearing that Harry Potter would be next.

"This was supposed to be an exciting moment. But now, not only am I missing out on watching his Sorting, but I'm also getting dragged into his nonsense!"

Finally…

"Hermione Granger."

With a resigned sigh, Hermione walked up to the stool, sat down, and placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat shouted, assigning Hermione to her house. However, she felt no excitement or joy—almost dejectedly, she walked over to the Gryffindor table.

Professor McGonagall scanned the last names on her parchment and then called out loudly:

"Harry Potter!"

The Great Hall erupted into chaos.

"What did she just say? Harry Potter? Which one?"

"Could it really be the Harry Potter—the one who defeated You-Know-Who? Ow! Why did you hit me?"

"Can you not say that name? You nearly scared me into arthritis!"

"But I was just—"

The murmurs didn't die down—they grew louder.

Because…

Harry wasn't there.

Not a single person had stepped forward!

The students exchanged glances, whispering among themselves, speculating.

"Did You-Know-Who kidnap him?"

"…Wow, you really went there."

"I've never seen someone be absent for their own Sorting! This is insane!"

McGonagall, realizing no one was stepping forward, instinctively turned toward the center of the faculty table—toward the old man sitting there.

Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles reflected the light, obscuring his expression.

Just then—

"Creak… creak…"

The massive doors of the Great Hall slowly swung open.

The sound was so distinct that every student turned to look.

The doors cracked open just enough for a single silhouette to appear.

Harry sighed. It's not that I don't want to push them open all the way… I just… don't have the strength left. Who the hell designed these damn doors?

It was a moment of absolute focus. The entire school locked their gazes onto one person.

Even Harry felt a little overwhelmed.

Stay calm… Stay calm! I'm supposed to be the man who will become the King of the Pirates!

He strode forward, his long black hair swaying behind him, a small white cat perched elegantly on his shoulder. His mixed-blood features held a composed smile—completely different from the nervous expressions of every other first-year.

All eyes were on him.

A living legend had just entered the hall.

Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, Malfoy glared daggers at the goose emblem on his plate.

"Look at you, showing off again! Look at you!"

Underneath his collected demeanor, Harry was thinking: This entrance might not match up to Li Qiye, but I've definitely surpassed the likes of Long Aotian and Ye Liangchen! Gotta keep up the good work!

Reaching the stool, Harry looked at the Sorting Hat and frowned. This thing is filthy…

Then—to the shock of the entire hall—he picked up the Sorting Hat and slammed it against the stool several times. Dust flew into the air!

McGonagall, Snape, Hagrid, Dumbledore—

All turned to stone.

Harry covered his nose, waiting for the dust to settle, before finally placing the hat on his head.

"I'm going to Gryffindor. Not Slytherin. You hear me?" Harry muttered.

"Hmm… but I think you'd do well in Slytherin," the hat responded.

Harry chuckled darkly. "If you don't want me to throw you into a bonfire, go ahead and try. Just a friendly reminder—this is absolutely not a threat, darling!"

The Sorting Hat: "…"

No one knew what was being whispered beneath the hat, but Dumbledore's amused smile said it all.

As Harry made his way to the Gryffindor table, the entire house stood up, cheering.

He was, after all, the famous Boy Who Lived.

Spotting Hermione, Harry sat down beside her.

"Who told you you could sit here?" she asked, clearly annoyed.

Harry blinked. "What did I even do to you?"

"Hmph!" Hermione simply turned away with a scoff.

Of course, she definitely wasn't upset over the way half the girls in the hall had been whispering about making Harry their boyfriend. Not at all!

After briefly handling the swarm of admirers, Harry turned his attention to the faculty table.

Hagrid waved at him, and Harry returned the gesture.

Snape, on the other hand, was glaring.

Quirrell—ugh, that pathetic excuse for a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—was sitting there with a stupid grin.

You think I don't know what kind of snake you are? Keep up your little act, but you're not fooling me, pal. You're no Yu Zecheng!

Just then, Harry leaned toward Hermione with a mysterious smile.

"Do you know what Dumbledore is going to say in a moment?" he asked.

"How would I know?" Hermione huffed.

Harry nodded sagely. "I bet he'll stand up, give everyone a hug, and then say something ridiculous like: 'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!' Wanna bet?"

Hermione scoffed. "If you were actually right, you'd be the most famous prophet in the entire wizarding world!"

Harry just smirked.

Then—Dumbledore stood up.

And then—he did exactly as Harry predicted.

Hermione's eyes widened. Her long lashes fluttered as she stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

"You—you—how did you know?"

Seeing her utterly dumbfounded expression, Harry couldn't help but think: She's so cute.

"If you kiss me, I'll tell you," he teased.

"As if!" Hermione huffed, turning away.

"Ahaha! You're totally being tsundere!"

"W-Who's tsundere?!" Hermione snapped.

As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, the feast began.

Food appeared out of thin air, covering the tables. It was an actual banquet!

Before Harry, his plate overflowed with dishes: roast beef, roasted chicken, pork chops, lamb, sausages, steaks, baked potatoes, fried chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, tomato sauce…

Harry swallowed.

So. Much. Food.

How was a proud glutton like him supposed to resist?

So—

He didn't.

Eat. To. Your. Heart's. Content.

(Author's Note: When you read the list of food, did you get hungry? 😏)