The Rebirth of Harry Potter

Do you know what it feels like to be famous?

Do you know what it's like to have a crowd of fans?

Do you know what it's like when everyone who sees you stares as if they've just spotted an alien?

Harry understood perfectly now. As he walked through the halls, everyone who knew who he was whispered about him—and they didn't even bother lowering their voices.

Celebrities always say fame is annoying, and Harry had always thought they were just being dramatic. But now that he was a big star himself, he had to admit—they were bloody right!

Enduring the constant stares from his classmates, Harry silently thought to himself:

If I were given another chance, I'd definitely choose—

"I still want to be the Chosen One!"

Yeah, that's right. Only an idiot wouldn't want to be the Chosen One!

Hermione frowned, clutching her books tightly as she glared at a student who had been staring at Harry with intense curiosity. "Doesn't this bother you?"

Harry sighed helplessly. "There's nothing I can do about it. These people grew up hearing my story. It's only natural they'd be curious when they finally see me in person. But this won't last forever. Once they realize I'm just another student, always around, their excitement will fade."

"Of course, if I accidentally do something impressive, their curiosity will evolve into admiration, then reverence… and eventually, they'll push me into the ranks of legendary wizards, just like Professor Dumbledore!"

Hermione scoffed sarcastically. "You want to be compared to Dumbledore? Who knows how long it'll take for you to even come close to that?"

Harry didn't mind. "It's just a matter of time. After all, my natural aura is something everyone already knows about."

——

"Alright, we're here!" As they spoke, they arrived at the Potions classroom.

First-year students only had seven subjects: Flying, History of Magic, Potions, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration.

This was their first Potions class, and it had taken them a while to find the classroom—since it was in the dungeons, cold and damp.

Rows of desks filled the room. There was a small blackboard at the front, making it look similar to any other classroom. But on either side, wooden shelves were lined with glass jars of various sizes, containing animal organs preserved in liquid and all sorts of bizarre plants.

Harry and Hermione found their seats. Soon, the other students arrived, and as expected, upon entering, everyone instinctively rubbed their arms, trying to warm up.

The desks were arranged in two sections with an aisle down the middle. A shadowy figure emerged from the back, striding forward. He had sleek, greasy black hair, and his long black robes trailed along the floor like rolling waves.

(Author's Note: These two features are probably Snape's most iconic traits!)

Snape took large strides, exuding the presence of a dark overlord. The moment he entered, an oppressive atmosphere settled over the room. No one dared to speak.

His cold gaze swept over the class, and under his scrutiny, no one dared to lift their head. His black eyes gleamed like twin vipers.

Then, he spoke—his voice like a siren's call, drawing them into the world of Potions.

His brief introduction not only highlighted the wonders of potion-making but also made his overwhelming authority crystal clear.

Without any expression, Snape pulled out the class roster and began calling names. As expected, when he reached Harry Potter, he paused. His lips curled into a faint, mocking smile as he stared at Harry.

Harry smiled back.

Let's see if you can really stay indifferent when looking into these eyes that are exactly like my mother's!

Turns out, Snape really was a master of deception.

His voice was hollow. "So… the famous Harry Potter."

The Slytherin students snickered. Malfoy laughed the loudest.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, if I were to add powdered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, what would I get?" Snape suddenly asked.

The students were caught off guard, scrambling to recall anything relevant—but all of them looked utterly clueless.

Just as Snape's smug expression hinted that he was about to mock them, a calm voice interrupted him.

"Powdered asphodel combined with wormwood creates a powerful sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death."

Harry turned to Snape with a deliberately taunting look. "Professor Snape, was my answer correct?"

Snape's face twitched slightly. He quickly continued, "If I asked you to retrieve me a bezoar, where would you find one?"

"Obviously, from the stomach of a cow."

Snape's voice suddenly grew louder. "Mr. Potter, then tell me—what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"In fact, there is no difference at all, Professor," Harry answered immediately.

Snape's face twisted with anger, but he had to hold it in. Instead, he turned and roared at the rest of the class. "You idiots! Do you all know this? Why aren't you writing it down?!"

"Sit down!" Snape ordered coldly.

"But shouldn't that earn Gryffindor points?"

Snape's sharp gaze snapped to Harry. "Speaking out of turn—five points from Gryffindor!" The little lambs in the class all flinched.

Hermione instinctively started to raise her hand, but Harry quickly stopped her. If she stood up now, she'd only be giving Snape more excuses to deduct points.

Unfortunately, this was just the beginning…

Snape soon moved on to the practical lesson, pairing students into groups of two. Harry glanced at Neville with concern—Neville was naturally cursed when it came to Potions. Who knew how many times he'd blown up his cauldron, how many mistakes he'd made, or how many scoldings he'd endured from Snape? It was a tragic history. Because of this, Snape had become the person Neville feared the most!

"Seamus, your fire is too high—one point from Gryffindor."

"Ron, look at what you've done—one point from Gryffindor!"

Boom! Neville's cauldron finally exploded!

"Idiot! Take him to the hospital wing immediately. Five points from Gryffindor!"

——

By the end of class, the Gryffindor students left the room in a state of deep sorrow.

Hermione fumed. "Why does he get to take so many points from Gryffindor?! Slytherins made mistakes too! And your potion was perfect, but he completely ignored it. It's so unfair!"

Harry patted Hermione's shoulder and spoke in a solemn tone. "Little one, let me tell you something important—remember this. To Snape, Slytherins can do no wrong. But when Gryffindors are right, that's the real mistake!"

Hermione fell into deep contemplation.

Two Gryffindor students behind them overheard this and were instantly moved to tears. Before long, this phrase spread throughout Gryffindor, becoming a legendary warning that countless young lions lived by!

Snape was truly not someone to mess with!

——

Author's Note: Some readers suggested that Harry should learn novel-style magic and completely destroy old Voldy! Haha… yeah, no, that would go against the spirit of this story. But even without forbidden spells, Harry is still going to crush Voldemort!

Today, let's talk about why Malfoy and Ron are natural enemies! Here's an essay I found online:

Every time they argue, we immediately think of their families—the Malfoys and the Weasleys.

This rivalry is actually a subconscious idea planted by J.K. Rowling, influenced by historical British culture.

The first time Ron and Malfoy met on the train, they started arguing right away. Malfoy spoke to Ron with an arrogant attitude—but why? Malfoy was prideful, but he wasn't usually that aggressive for no reason.

His insults started with Ron's red hair—but why attack that specifically? The answer lies in British history.

Modern Brits mainly descend from two groups: Germans (conquerors) and Celts (conquered people). The difference between them is even reflected in their physical traits. Celts were known for having red hair, while Germanic tribes came from the Baltic region, where there was little sunlight—so their hair was much lighter.

So in this dynamic, Platinum-haired Malfoy represents the victors, while red-haired Ron represents the defeated.

But why didn't Malfoy show the same hostility toward Harry at first?

Think about it—Harry has black hair. And what does that represent?

Britain's earliest civilization began with the Roman Empire, and even today, European nations take pride in their Roman heritage. Harry's black hair is a sign of his noble lineage—he has the same hair color as Julius Caesar himself!

As a descendant of Germanic conquerors, platinum-haired Malfoy naturally looked down on red-haired, Celtic-descended Ron. But in front of Caesar's heir—black-haired Harry—he couldn't flaunt his bloodline superiority anymore!

Got it? Consider this a little lesson in British history!