The Rebirth of Harry Potter

A gentle breeze rustled the neatly trimmed hedges lining Privet Drive, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the leaves, casting speckled shadows on the pristine ground. Everything appeared unchanged, as if time had stood still. Yet, under its relentless march, a decade had nearly passed.

And soon, Harry Potter would be celebrating his long-awaited eleventh birthday—the day that would lead him into an entirely new, wondrous, and magical world!

The sun had risen high over the rooftops, its warm light spilling over the gardens and into the house. Inside, the bright living room was filled with framed photos of the Dursleys: Dudley riding his bicycle; Dudley on a merry-go-round; Dudley playing computer games with his father; Petunia kissing Dudley… Every image suggested that only these three people lived in the house.

However, everyone on Privet Drive knew that No. 4 was home to an extraordinary, well-mannered, and charming young boy—a child who always greeted people with a smile, instantly making a good impression.

And that child's name?

Harry.

At this moment, inside the smallest bedroom of the Dursley house—yes, a bedroom, not the cupboard under the stairs—a boy was admiring himself in the mirror.

Harry stood before a full-length mirror propped against the wall, stroking his chin with satisfaction. "I think I've gotten taller again," he mused, a hint of delight in his voice.

The reflection staring back at him was indeed impressive. For an eleven-year-old, Harry was noticeably taller than most of his peers—by nearly half a head. Of course, this was the result of a proper diet and regular exercise.

Dressed in a crisp, black, wrinkle-free casual outfit, Harry appeared neat and composed. The well-fitted clothing subtly accentuated his slim yet well-proportioned frame. His youthful face retained its boyish innocence, yet there was a faint trace of maturity in his expression.

Perhaps due to his past experiences, Harry's appearance wasn't entirely Western. His facial features combined the sharp, chiseled structure typical of Westerners with the smooth, refined contours more common among Easterners. This harmonious blend, coupled with his brilliant emerald-green eyes, gave him an undeniable charm.

But two things about Harry stood out the most.

The first was his thick, jet-black long hair.

Harry had no intention of growing his hair to waist-length like a girl, but after enduring countless frustrating experiences where his hair magically grew back overnight no matter how often he cut it, he had given up altogether.

At one point, in sheer frustration, he had even shaved his head completely—only to wake up the next morning to find that his hair had not only grown back but had gotten even longer!

Harry had never known the joy of having a typical boy's short haircut. And yet, he also despised the shoulder-length style that made him look like an eccentric artist.

"I'm not an artist! Why do I have to keep my hair like this?"

Eventually, Harry simply stopped caring. He discovered that once his hair reached a certain length, it grew at a normal rate. And so, he let it be, sporting a thick mane of Pantene-commercial-worthy hair.

Of course, Harry wasn't about to tie it up in some elaborate goddess-style braid or pigtails. He wasn't that insane. Instead, he loosely gathered it at the midpoint of his hair with a simple black hair tie—not at the very top like a girl would.

And really, plenty of people in the wizarding world had long hair—Professor Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy… So why should he care?

The second distinctive feature was the silver lotus tattoo at the center of his forehead.

This shimmering silver tattoo had a mesmerizing quality—anyone who saw it would feel inexplicably drawn to it.

Originally, Harry's forehead had been marked with an unsightly lightning-shaped scar, an odd contrast to his otherwise attractive face. He had tried countless ways to remove it, but nothing worked.

So, after much deliberation, he came up with a brilliant solution—one that only a true genius could devise.

A tattoo.

Using most of the scholarship money he had painstakingly saved over the years, Harry got a tattoo inked over his scar earlier that year. He had spent ages choosing the right design before settling on a lotus flower. For some reason, he just really liked it.

As for why he chose silver ink?

Well…

Red? Absolutely not. He wasn't a lunatic—why would he want something so flashy?

Black? Nope. He wasn't trying to join some creepy cult.

White? Definitely not. He wasn't from the White Lotus Society, either.

"Silver might still be considered 'Silver Lotus Cult'…"

…Sorry, what did you say?

…I didn't hear you. Could you repeat that?

…Nope, still can't hear you.

Feeling particularly satisfied after checking himself out in the mirror, Harry glanced over at the calendar on his bedside table. A bold red circle had been drawn around a specific date—

September 1st.

The start of term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"…A little over a month left…" Harry whispered, his voice trembling with barely contained excitement.

After all, who wouldn't be thrilled about entering a hidden world of magic?

Especially someone who had spent their entire life trapped in the mundane world of Muggles.

Harry had already encountered the wizarding world on multiple occasions. For instance, while walking down the street or riding the bus, he would sometimes come across strangely dressed people who would remove their hats and bow to him.

Of course, Harry knew exactly who they were. Rather than being caught off guard, he would simply return the gesture politely.

The result?

The wizards in question would practically shake with excitement...

Harry thought about it carefully. Actually, it wasn't straight to Hogwarts after buying his school supplies in Diagon Alley. He would still have to spend over a month in the Muggle world before the term officially began.

Which meant…

His Hogwarts acceptance letter was about to arrive any day now!

Clenching his fists in excitement, Harry gave a small victorious punch to the air before heading downstairs.

As he descended the staircase, his eyes flickered toward the cupboard under the stairs.

Unlike in the original story, he hadn't allowed just anyone to push him around.

When Uncle Vernon had first told him to live in the cupboard, Harry hadn't argued.

He hadn't said a single word.

He had simply stared at him—calm, silent.

Then…

The overhead lights had suddenly flickered, dimming and brightening erratically, as if there were a power surge.

In the kitchen, utensils clattered, windows rattled, and glass trembled.

Dudley, meanwhile, had screeched like a dying seagull in sheer terror.

Harry would never forget the look on Vernon's face—how it drained of all color, turned beet red, and then black as coal in sheer frustration.

Honestly, Harry had thought at the time, if Vernon ever pursued face-changing performance art, he could probably become a grandmaster at it.

Of course, in the end, nothing actually changed.

But that night, Vernon must have given Dudley a memory he would never forget.

Why?

Well, who knew?

O(∩_∩)O Haha~

That day, Petunia had just returned home with Dudley's Smeltings Academy uniform.

Dudley was in the living room trying it on.

To be fair, Smeltings' school uniform was quite elegant for an average person.

The boys wore a maroon tailcoat, bright orange knickerbockers, and a flat straw boater—complete with a knobby wooden cane that could definitely double as a weapon in a schoolyard scuffle.

It was the kind of outfit that could make a student look distinguished and polished.

…Unless that student was Dudley Dursley.

In his case?

It was pure comedy gold.

The fat Dudley strutted around the living room in his school uniform, his chest puffed out, a grin plastered on his face.

Then, dramatically, he raised a thumbs-up to his chest.

Petunia immediately took a photo, her eyes brimming with tears.

"This is the proudest moment of my life!" Vernon declared hoarsely.

Petunia, still snapping pictures, sobbed, "My baby… My precious baby has grown up… And he's so handsome! I can hardly believe it!"

"⊙﹏⊙b"

Harry nearly burst out laughing on the spot.

"Good thing I've trained myself!"

He struggled to contain his amusement.

"Thank you both for curing my long-standing indigestion!"

Professional comedians had nothing on these two.

When Harry came downstairs, the Dursleys' expressions soured instantly.

Harry shook his head slightly.

Honestly… Are they still upset about that thing at the zoo?

All that had happened was that a giant python had accidentally slithered over Dudley.

Was that really such a big deal?

And besides…

That had absolutely nothing to do with me!

Really.

Truly!

I swear on my dignity!

Petunia handed Harry a package.

"This is your school uniform for Stonewall High," she said coldly.

Harry smiled and accepted it.

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia."

Petunia snorted.

Honestly?

Compared to the other Harry, this Harry had it far better.

The Dursleys weren't nice to him, but at least they didn't bully him.

And unlike in the original timeline, his uniform wasn't made up of Dudley's oversized old clothes.

As for the whole 'Dudley torments Harry' thing, leading to a tragic childhood?

Harry could only respond with:

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

If anything…

Dudley… Oh, Dudley…

Who is the person you fear most in this world?

Harry.

Harry Potter.

Hehe… Hehehe…

The psychological scars Harry had left on Dudley's childhood were permanent.

Of course, Harry felt deeply ashamed about this.

After all…

Was snitching to teachers and parents something an adult could ever consider an honorable achievement?

Absolutely not.

Despite everything, Harry was still grateful to the Dursleys.

After all, they had raised him for nearly ten years.

Sure, they never let him eat his fill… Sure, they made sure he was physically weak, hiding his inner potential…

Uh… cough cough…

Still, Harry had already decided—once his Gringotts vault was available to him, he would take some money and gift something to Aunt Petunia.

…But that could wait a few more days.

Stepping outside, Harry checked the mailbox.

…Nothing.

Just disappointment.

"Bloody hell!"

"Can't they send my letter already?!"

Harry sighed heavily, not even sure who he was cursing at.

Author's Note (洛北):

"I always thought it was interesting how, in the original story, Harry's hair kept growing back rapidly because of his magic. So in this version, I decided—Harry keeps his long hair."

"Also, in canon, Harry's lightning-shaped scar is on the right side of his forehead. But for story purposes, it's been moved to the center."