Harry Potter, the savior of Night City

"It's snowing..."

Harry stood in the school's central courtyard, reaching out to catch the falling snowflakes. This sight was extremely rare in Night City. Years of air pollution had led to global warming, and Night City had never seen snow fall naturally. Harry had, however, witnessed a wealthy corporate hustler create artificial snow for his daughter's birthday celebration during a theft commission. At the time, the little girl thought it was natural snow and jumped for joy.

Harry opened his mouth and caught a snowflake; the cool sensation felt comforting.

"Actually, this place is pretty good too." There are no giant corporations, no homeless people everywhere, no mountains of garbage, and no cyberbullying that could appear at any time. Oh, there is one similar one, that mysterious man, I think his name is Voldemort, that guy is indeed crazier than a psychopath.

"Harry, it's time for training." Ever since Marcus learned that Harry was a good player, he has been particularly attentive to Harry's training. He always greets Harry with a smile and takes good care of Harry, the living Quidditch cup, in every way. If you didn't know better, you would think they were brothers.

"Three minutes and fifty-five seconds, Harry, you're amazing! I dare say your talent is absolutely the strongest of all Quidditch players in history!" Marcus looked at the timer in his hand, smiled and patted Harry on the shoulder. Three minutes and fifty-five seconds, almost twice as fast as Slytherin's Seeker.

"Marcus, when does the match start?" Harry was quite interested in this Quidditch match, after all, the feeling of flying was really great.

"Two weeks from now, on Saturday," Marcus said. "Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Harry, this time Professor Snape asked you to play, so do your best for your first time." Marcus's eyes had already turned into the shape of the Quidditch cup.

"understood."

The training ended quickly, and Harry had just sat down in the Great Hall when a book slammed down in front of him with a "bang." Harry was so startled that he almost dropped his mantis knife. He turned around and saw that it was Hermione and Ron, and then he relaxed.

"You scared me!" Harry took a sip of juice, put down his glass, and asked, "What's this?"

"We heard you're going to be the Seeker, so to help you do better in your first game, here's some Quidditch fouls and other knowledge for you." Hermione then gave Ron a disgruntled look. "Ron knows you're playing against Gryffindor, and he doesn't want me to give you the book."

"It's alright." Harry understood Ron's behavior at his age, then turned to look at the book, which was thicker than his arm, and swallowed hard. "These...?"

"Yes, I want to read them all," Hermione nodded confidently.

"God..." Harry began to make the sign of the cross over the book, praying that he wouldn't die from reading it.

"Oh, by the way, any news about the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry changed the subject.

"We didn't get any useful information. We consulted many books and asked many people, and in the end, we got some information from Hagrid, but before we could even ask him, he pushed us aside." Hermione said, then looked suspiciously at Snape sitting in the teachers' seat. "To be honest, I feel like Snape might know about this too. Last time I saw him talking to someone, and he mentioned 'that thing' or something."

"It shouldn't have anything to do with Snape. Although he doesn't seem like a good person, he's actually quite reliable in some matters, and old Dumbledore trusts him quite a bit." Harry knew that Snape was trustworthy enough, so he didn't mind helping him with some troublesome matters.

"Dumbledore can be wrong too," Ron said at that moment.

Harry glanced at Ron, then at Hermione, who also seemed skeptical, and decided to give up.

"Alright, alright, that's settled then." He decided to open up about helping Snape out of that predicament. He didn't know who Snape had offended, but whenever something bad happened, he was always the first suspect. "But Quirrell is the main focus right now. He's definitely involved; Dumbledore admitted it."

"No, your focus right now is..." Hermione pointed to the Quidditch book on the table, "Quidditch."

"Alright, alright, I know. How come you're just like Mrs. Wells?" Harry resignedly opened the book in front of him.

"Mrs. Wells?" Hermione was puzzled by the name, but didn't think much of it.

"Oh, by the way, Harry, this is for you from Hagrid," Ron said, handing Harry the large bag he was carrying. "Hagrid said he made some more pumpkin and other flavored rock cakes, and he wanted you to try them."

"Please thank Hagrid for me," Harry said, opening the bag, which was full of rock bread. "And thank you all for your help."

"It's alright, shall we go now?"

"walk slowly."

After Hermione and Ron left, Harry munched on a rock bread while reading. As he read, he found the book quite interesting, unlike the boring one he had imagined. It contained stories about referees mysteriously disappearing in the Sahara Desert, players being cursed and forced to run naked on the field during award ceremonies, and a character who particularly liked to slap GG during his acceptance speeches. It completely satisfied Harry's inexplicably burgeoning gossip urge.

"It seems that abstract people will exist in every era," Harry remarked.

－－－－－－－－

"Potter, come to my office tonight for solitary confinement," Professor Snape said to Harry expressionlessly. The reason was that Harry had used an extra white sage when making potions, but Harry didn't think it was solitary confinement. If nothing unexpected happened, it was probably because Snape wanted to see him.

That evening, Harry went to Snape's office and saw Snape applying ointment to the wound on his leg. The wound was large and looked like it had been torn apart by some kind of creature.

"Professor, what brings you here?" Harry ignored Snape's leg wound. He shouldn't ask questions he shouldn't ask; this was a lesson Night City had taught him.

Snape glanced at Harry, then said casually, "Go and cut up those potion ingredients over there. Each one should be five inches long; any more than that will be wasted."

Harry had no idea what Snape was up to, but in order to get more information, he went to start cutting the potion.

Upon receiving Harry's request, the prosthetic eye's mechanical spirit immediately created a length-measuring function. With the prosthetic eye's enhancement, Harry cut very quickly. At that moment, Snape, who was checking potions for the older students, spoke up.

"What kind of mess is this? Even a first-year student could make something better. He used far too little juice from the sleep beans. Doesn't he know that squeezing the sleep beans with the side of a silver knife will produce a lot of juice?"

"This isn't much better either. It's been stirred too many times. The Living Hell Potion can be stirred in the opposite direction seven times before it can be stirred in the forward direction."

.............

"Is this...is this some kind of special treatment for me?" Harry thought. To be honest, he was speechless at Snape's awkward personality, but it didn't matter. Everyone has a different personality, so it was understandable.

Next, as Harry was cutting potions, he listened quietly to Snape's private instructions. He had to admit that Professor Snape was indeed a genius. The potions that Harry had made before were all perfected by Professor Snape, and even the handling of materials benefited him greatly.

Soon, the clock struck twelve, and as Harry was about to leave the office, Snape revealed the new information.

"Harry, Quirrell already knows that the Philosopher's Stone has been in Hagrid's hands, and he will definitely go to Hagrid."

"So, Old Deng wants me to help Hagrid?"

"No, he wants you to give Quirrell a push when the time is right, to lure him into our trap."