The Rebirth of Harry Potter

After Transfiguration class, the students shuffled out of the classroom in small groups. After such a "memorable" lesson, it was unlikely that anyone would be in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Seamus patted his chest. "I used to think Snape was the scariest professor, but I was wrong. You don't understand—Professor McGonagall was staring at me the entire class."

"Well, maybe that's because somehow, in a Transfiguration lesson, you managed to make a matchstick explode!" Neville, ever the honest one, pointed out.

Seamus, still covered in soot with his hair standing on end, looked even darker when he heard this. His face was practically the same shade as burnt coal. "Neville, are we friends?"

"I… guess so?" Neville looked up and thought about it before answering.

"Then have you ever heard the saying, 'If you see through someone, don't say it out loud, or you won't be friends anymore'?"

Neville: b(￣▽￣)d…

——

A large group of students behind them sighed in frustration, occasionally shooting envious glances at the two geniuses walking ahead.

Harry and Hermione… why are they so smart?

Merlin, why are you so biased toward them?!

If Hermione could hear their thoughts, she would probably respond sternly:

"I'm not a genius! I just use the time you all spend playing Wizard's Chess, practicing prank spells, eating pudding, devouring cheese, munching on pies—"

(At this point, the other students would be sobbing: "Princess, please, that's enough!!")

But the students would argue back:

"But while we were playing Wizard's Chess, practicing prank spells, eating pudding, devouring cheese, munching on pies… Harry wasn't studying either!"

Hermione would just roll her eyes and scoff, "You lot are just trash, and yet you dare compare yourselves to a genius? Clearly, none of you are fully awake yet!"

Critical hit!

The students clutched their chests, blood pouring from their imaginary wounds. Struggling to crawl away, they cried, "Why?! Life is already hard enough, why must you expose the truth so mercilessly? Agh—pfft—"

——

Harry turned to Hermione. "Wanna go to the Great Hall together?"

"Hmph, as if I'd go with you!" Hermione huffed proudly.

Harry chuckled. "Did you forget what I told you? You'll never be more tsundere than Misaka Mikoto."

"Who's being tsundere?!" Hermione flared up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

Harry grinned. "Alright, then explain—why don't you want to? Didn't we used to go everywhere together like a model couple?"

Hermione shot him an exasperated look. She was already used to his casual attitude, so with a sigh, she admitted, "The girls in my dorm keep pestering me every night, asking about our relationship, trying to get information about you. It's exhausting."

Harry rubbed his chin. "Didn't think I was this charming."

Seeing the smug expression on his face, Hermione gave him a look that practically screamed, I should have known you'd react like this.

In the end, the two still went to the Great Hall together.

The dining hall was set up just like the massive hall they had seen on their first day—long tables, separated by houses.

When Harry first arrived at Hogwarts, he had spent several days searching for the Great Hall but couldn't find it. In the end, he had to sacrifice his dignity to get someone to reveal its location.

Like every day, during mealtime, a large number of owls swooped into the Great Hall, finding their owners and dropping off their packages. Chaos ensued—food spilled, drinks knocked over—because owls never bothered to land before dropping their deliveries. Instead, they simply let them fall mid-flight!

But, of course, there were exceptions…

Somebody suddenly shouted, "Look! That looks like Harry's Optimus Prime!"

Among the countless owls, one massive eagle stood out, several times larger than the rest. Many people recognized it—it was Harry's personal pet, a truly unique bird.

After spotting Harry, the eagle glided low across the table, its wingspan making several students instinctively duck. Then, it dropped a black package in front of him before soaring away.

Hermione sipped her soup and asked curiously, "Who's sending you stuff?"

Harry picked up the tightly bound package and held it up for a closer look. It was cubic in shape, not very large, but from the way he handled it, it was clearly quite heavy.

"I bought it myself," Harry replied.

"Hm?" Hermione's curiosity was fully piqued. "What did you buy?"

As Harry unwrapped the packaging, the contents were revealed—inside was a wooden box filled with dozens of identically sized stones. They were each about the length of a finger, shaped into perfect cubes.

Harry nodded in satisfaction. "This is it. I had Old Tom from the Leaky Cauldron help me purchase them. And don't ask me what they're for just yet—I'm still working on them. But in a few days, they should be ready."

Hermione could only suppress her growing curiosity.

At that moment, another owl flew in and dropped a letter in front of Harry.

Opening it, he quickly scanned the contents before handing it to Hermione.

"Hagrid wants us to visit him this Friday," Hermione said excitedly. It was clear that she was going stir-crazy from being cooped up at school.

"I was just wondering when we should go see him—this works out perfectly."

"Oh? Need Hagrid's help with something?"

"A little something, yeah," Harry answered vaguely.

——

Author's Note:

I came across a Harry & Hermione story online that really moved me.

At first, we thought Sirius would accompany Harry until the end, but in the end, he fell behind the Veil.

At first, we thought Dumbledore would be there for Harry until the end, but in the end, he fell at the base of the tower.

At first, we thought Ron would stay by Harry's side until the end, but in the end, he disappeared into the rain of the Forbidden Forest.

In the very end, the only person who remained by Harry's side from beginning to end was her.

He was the Savior of the Wizarding World—she wasn't.

He carried the burden of defeating darkness—she didn't.

So why? Why didn't she leave? Why didn't she go home? Why did she take on his responsibilities as her own?

He never asked. And so, she never answered.

Does he love her? Does she love him?

We don't know.

All we know is…

She was the first to believe him when everyone else doubted he had put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

She was the one who, amidst the chaos of fleeing Death Eaters, remembered to slip his Invisibility Cloak into her beaded bag.

She was the one who poured everything she had into building an army that was loyal to him.

She was the one who flung herself into his arms, crying uncontrollably, when she thought he'd be expelled.

She was the one who, in his darkest days, took him back to his homeland for the first time, placing flowers on his parents' graves.

She had her own little moments, too.

She interrupted his date with Cho.

She told him to "behave" when he stared at the Veela.

She kissed his cheek when he needed encouragement the most.

She pouted and refused to change the topic when he wanted to avoid something.

So, in the end, do they love each other?

They aren't just friends.

They aren't lovers.

They aren't something in between.

There simply aren't words to define what they are.

Because he is her Harry.

And she is his Hermione.

That's all that matters.

And so, Dumbledore accepted it without question—"I shall use Miss Granger to restrain you," he told Harry, because he knew that Hermione was Harry's wisdom.

Cho accepted it without question—she knew that "his dear Hermione" was someone she could never compete with.

Bellatrix Lestrange accepted it without question—because when that "Mudblood" was missing, Harry and Ron had no soul left. They would have never escaped that dungeon without her.

And Harry accepted it without question—time and time again, they held hands and faced impossible challenges together.

And in the end…

When Harry walked to his death, the first name he thought of—before anyone else—was Hermione.

Perhaps it meant nothing.

But then again, perhaps it meant everything.

Because some love doesn't need to be spoken.

And some love can't be spoken.