The Rebirth of Harry Potter

Shopping.

It's a sport dominated by women, one that drives them into a frenzy.

A sport so time-consuming and physically exhausting, it has left countless men in fear.

But in reality?

Men love shopping too.

The only difference is—

They don't enjoy it unless they're filthy rich.

When a man has money, shopping is no longer a chore.

It becomes a joyous experience.

Hagrid stretched his neck and said to Harry,

"I need a drink at the Leaky Cauldron to wake myself up.

You go ahead and buy your school robes at Madam Malkin's."

He pointed to a clothing shop nearby.

Harry nodded.

"Alright."

Then, he walked into the store alone.

Meeting Madam Malkin

Madam Malkin was a plump witch dressed in purple, with a kind and welcoming smile.

She radiated a warm, motherly aura.

At least, that was how Harry felt when he saw her.

"Ah, dear, you must be here for your Hogwarts school uniform?"

She greeted him enthusiastically.

"That's right."

Madam Malkin's eyes twinkled as she examined him.

"My goodness! If it weren't for your plain clothes and young face, I'd have thought you were a second or third-year student!"

She leaned in slightly, then added,

"And that mark on your forehead—it's stunning!"

Harry grinned.

"Thanks for the compliment."

"Come along, dear," she said cheerfully.

"There's another first-year inside, already getting his uniform fitted.

Who knows? Maybe you'll end up in the same House!"

A Familiar Blond Aristocrat

Inside the shop, a pale, thin boy stood on a stool, having his measurements taken by a witch.

He had platinum blonde hair, so brilliantly bright it seemed to glow.

His eyes tilted slightly upward, his lips curved in an arrogant smirk, and his expression radiated impatience.

He looked like a kid who found the entire world beneath him.

Harry's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Well, well, well… What a fateful encounter."

"Draco Malfoy, your face is practically begging to be punched. Where did you learn this hatred-attracting skill?"

Yes, this was Draco Malfoy—the second-biggest antagonist in the entire Harry Potter series.

Harry's lifelong rival.

What?

You think Voldemort is his greatest enemy?

Pfft.

Did Voldemort spend seven school years locked in a never-ending rivalry with Harry?

Nope.

That's what we call a real bond.

(Author's Note: I love ruining canon like this!)

The Malfoy Family

Draco Malfoy: The only heir to the Malfoy family, one of the wealthiest and most influential pure-blood families in the wizarding world.

Lucius Malfoy: His father. A high-ranking member of the Ministry of Magic's Board of Governors. A born politician.

Narcissa Malfoy: His mother. A legendary actress—one of the greatest manipulators in the wizarding world.

As Harry thought about the Malfoy family, he casually walked over and stepped onto the stool beside Draco.

Height Matters

The moment he stood up, the difference in height became painfully obvious.

Draco glanced at Harry, then quickly looked away.

But—

He was still a kid.

And kids can't resist talking to their peers.

Trying very hard to sound cool, he asked,

"Oi. You going to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," Harry replied casually, holding back a laugh.

At that moment, Harry suddenly recalled all the nicknames the internet had given Malfoy:

Prince Draco

Little Dragon

Draco

Mr. Arrogance

"Damn, they all suit him perfectly."

Draco spoke again, his tone dripping with superiority.

"My father is next door, buying books.

My mother is out looking for wands."

He dragged out his words, speaking slowly and lazily—so much so that it was downright irritating.

"And after this, I'm dragging them to check out the broomsticks.

I don't see why first-years aren't allowed to have their own broomsticks.

I'm going to force my father to buy me one—then find a way to sneak it into Hogwarts."

Harry almost laughed.

Classic Malfoy catchphrase: "My father…"

"I like broomsticks too," Harry said.

"Flying in the air is really fun."

Draco seemed pleased by this.

"Have you ever played Quidditch?"

"Eh… not really."

"I don't care much for the game—I just like the feeling of flying."

Draco whipped his head around, looking genuinely offended.

"A wizard who doesn't like Quidditch?!"

His expression screamed betrayal.

It was as if Harry had just insulted his entire belief system.

Harry sighed.

"Seriously? It's not that deep."

Draco huffed before changing the topic.

"Which House do you think you'll be in?"

"I know I'll be in Slytherin.

My whole family was in Slytherin.

If I get put in Hufflepuff, I'd rather drop out."

"Malfoy, you're really this arrogant in public? No regrets?"

Harry smiled.

"I'm mainly considering Slytherin or Gryffindor."

"I hope I get Gryffindor—"

Then, lowering his voice, he added,

"After all… there's a really cute girl named Hermione there."

Only Harry heard his own words.

Because if Malfoy had heard that—

He would have looked at him like trash.

And that would have been a tragedy.

Draco perked up the moment he heard Harry mention Slytherin.

He seemed genuinely happy.

Oh, kid…

You are so naïve.

Harry chuckled inwardly.

If he hadn't already lived a previous life, he might have been just as overwhelmed by Draco's talk about Quidditch and Hogwarts Houses.

Meanwhile, Madam Malkin draped a black robe over Harry's shoulders.

It fit perfectly.

"Since first-years vary in height, we usually leave extra fabric and adjust accordingly," she explained.

"But this is just the right size for you—how unusual!"

She sounded genuinely impressed.

Harry looked down at his robe.

It was black, soft, clean, and comfortable.

"Thank you, Madam. I really like it."

He then proceeded to buy the rest of his required clothing—as well as a pointed hat.

Draco Being Draco

Suddenly, Draco snapped his fingers and gestured toward the entrance.

"Look at that guy over there," he said, lowering his voice.

"I heard he's Hogwarts' servant—and really stupid."

Harry's smile vanished.

His brow furrowed slightly.

It seemed breaking Malfoy's arrogance would take some serious work.

"That's Hagrid," Harry said, his voice calm but firm.

"He's the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.

He's not a servant.

And what right do you have to call him stupid?

At the very least, he's not a coward who talks behind people's backs."

Harry's tone was measured—

But it carried weight.

Each word was clear and deliberate.

Though his voice wasn't loud, there was an undeniable authority behind it.

Draco stiffened.

For a brief second, his expression faltered.

There was even a hint of unease in his eyes.

Because—

For just a moment, Harry's presence reminded him of his father's.

Draco had no idea why,

But he suddenly felt…

Intimidated.

His voice dropped.

"I mean… I'm already a coward."

Harry: …

"Right… He probably doesn't even understand what 'coward' means."

Harry sighed and softened his tone.

"Just… don't speak badly about people behind their backs anymore."

Draco hesitated for a moment.

Then, just as quickly, he snapped back to his usual arrogant self.

"And why should I listen to you?"

Harry accepted his packaged robes, turned to Draco, and—

Smiled.

Then, with zero warning—

He reached out, grabbed Draco's face, and pinched both his cheeks—

Hard.

"Such a naughty little thing," Harry said playfully as he twisted Draco's cheeks before turning around and walking off.

With that—

He left the shop, robes in hand, looking calm and carefree.

Like a true legend, leaving behind nothing but chaos and confusion.

Meanwhile, Draco…

Draco stood there, completely frozen.

Expression blank.

Mind shattered.

It was as if his soul had been swept away by the wind.

A few moments passed before—

Rage.

His eyes burned with fury as he glared at Harry's retreating figure.

At that moment, the shop door opened again.

A tall man and a woman walked inside.

The man had platinum blonde hair, slicked back perfectly.

Not a single strand was out of place.

Lucius Malfoy.

Seeing Draco's red face, Lucius frowned.

"What happened to your face?"

"…Nothing."

Draco's eyes darted away.

He clearly didn't want to answer.

Lucius stared at him for a moment before turning away,

Expression calm, but thoughtful.

Shopping Spree Continues

Meanwhile, Harry continued his shopping spree.

Flourish and Blotts: The Bookstore

The bookstore was—

A mess.

There were barely any bookshelves.

Instead, books were piled in stacks, reaching all the way to the ceiling.

It was organized chaos—

But it had every kind of book imaginable.

Some books were as big as paving stones, bound in leather and gold trim.

Others were as small as postage stamps, with delicate silk covers.

Some had strange, glowing runes inside.

And others…

Were just blank.

The Perfect Book

As Harry browsed, one title caught his eye—

"Curses and Counter-Curses" by Professor Vindictus Viridian

(With the Latest Revenge Spells: Hex Your Friends, Curse Your Enemies—Make Them Bald, Break Their Legs, Bind Their Tongues, and So Much More!)

"Now this is magic!"

"Way more useful than the Killing Curse!"

Harry's excitement skyrocketed.

He eagerly picked up a few more interesting spellbooks.

More Supplies

After buying all the required books, Harry moved on to stationery and tools.

Quills? Get a dozen—the fanciest ones.

Parchment? Only the highest quality—ten pounds of it.

Color-changing ink? Twenty bottles—this stuff was too fun to ignore.

Scales? Only the best ones.

Telescope? The most expensive model available.

Cauldron? Hmm… Gold was too tacky. Let's go with silver—shiny, but not too flashy.

"I really don't want to show off…"

"But what can I do? I'm rich."

"I'm rich. I do what I want. I endorse myself!"