Harry Potter, the savior of Night City

After the Quidditch match, Marcus wanted to invite Harry to celebrate, but Harry refused. He, Ron, and Hermione were going to Hagrid to talk to him about something.

"It was Snape, it was definitely Snape." Ron firmly expressed his strong prejudice against Snape.

"Not necessarily, it could also be Quirrell," Hermione said, having seen the magical path. "I saw it, and you know Quirrell couldn't possibly undo the spell on Harry."

"What if Quirrell wants to use Harry to get something, so he can't kill Harry?" Ron countered.

"This..." Hermione was speechless; it was indeed possible.

"It was Quirrell who did it." Harry put down the half-eaten rock bread. "Quirock tried to attack me. I saw Quirrell strike first." Harry decided to tell a small lie first, since explaining the Machine Soul thing was too troublesome.

"Impossible, why would Quirrell and Snape target you?" Hagrid, true to his simple-minded nature, remained silent.

"Quirok probably wants me to go find the Philosopher's Stone," Harry said, dropping the bombshell.

"I...you...this..." Hagrid's eyes widened, and he couldn't think of anything to say for a long time. He could only say, "I'm going to find Dumbledore," before getting up to leave.

"Dumbledore already knows." Harry dropped another bombshell.

Hagrid's brain was about to overheat; he couldn't figure it out after thinking for a long time. Finally, he slumped into his chair and thought, "Dumbledore must have his reasons for doing this."

"So, Hagrid, Dumbledore has already told Harry about the Philosopher's Stone, so can you tell us what the Philosopher's Stone is?" Hermione asked hastily, seizing the moment when Hagrid seemed lost in thought.

"That was an agreement between Professor Dumbledore and Nick Flamel. Nick Flamel created the Philosopher's Stone... No, why am I telling you this?" Hagrid suddenly realized that Hermione had tricked him into revealing information.

"Don't worry about this, and don't fret about it. Dumbledore will handle everything, understand?"

"Hmm, probably." Harry smiled, stuffed the remaining rock cake into his mouth, and left with Hermione and Ron, leaving Hagrid to ponder what Dumbledore was up to.

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Christmas is approaching, and snow has accumulated on the grass outside the school, and the lake has frozen over.

"Ha, Harry, aren't you cold?" Ron asked, looking at Harry who was still wearing only a thin robe. Even the lake was now covered with ice. Was he still human?

"This? I guess it's just the extraordinary physique of Night City people." Harry smiled mysteriously. Laughable, at least 60% of his body is made of prosthetics, even his skin is realistic, used to cover his subcutaneous armor. How could he be afraid of the cold?

"Harry, you keep talking about Night City, but what is it?" Ron was very curious about Night City, which Harry was talking about. He had never heard of such a city. Even when he asked Hermione, she said she had never heard of it either.

"City of Dreams, City of Desire, City of Shattered Dreams, City of Hell, whatever, I'm leaving now." Harry replied to Ron perfunctorily with a few words, then got up and left.

"What is it?" Ron sat in his chair, completely baffled.

On the Christmas registration form, Harry signed his name, since he couldn't go back anyway. Ron also signed his name. When Ron signed, Malfoy was trying to cause trouble again, but as soon as he saw Harry, he ran away faster than a rabbit.

Ever since Harry and his friends obtained the valuable information from Hagrid, the three of them have been investigating Nicolas Flamel in the library, but without any results. They've practically turned over every single book in the library. The only one who has made any progress is Hermione. While Harry and the others weren't looking, she managed to get a few more books on "Soul Alchemy" from the restricted section, and the blue light barrier around her is becoming increasingly solid.

Soon, the holiday arrived.

Harry had never had such a comfortable Christmas. No commissions, no gangs, no corporate dogs, not even much noise. The only downside was the lack of alcohol.

"Ah, if Dad knew how comfortable life is here, he'd probably be envious," Harry murmured. "Speaking of which, why am I starting to miss Night City again?"

On Christmas morning, Harry got out of bed and yawned. His dorm room was now all to himself again. His roommates rarely interacted with him, and unsurprisingly, they had all gone home for Christmas.

Harry stood up and found a small pile of gift boxes next to his bed, which surprised him quite a bit, as he didn't recall many people giving him gifts.

Looking at these gifts, Harry recalled that in Night City, the Christmas presents he received were crosses, submachine guns, and the like from the priest. When Old Vygotsky learned that he had become a mercenary, he also gave him his first pair of mantis knives.

Harry shook his head, ending his reminiscence. He took down another gift box from the top of the box, which Hagrid had given him. Inside was a handmade flute made by Hagrid, and the sound it made was somewhat like an owl's call. It was a pity that Hedwig was in the school's owlhouse, otherwise he would have liked to go to the owlhouse and sing a duet with Hedwig.

Harry pulled the largest paper package from the pile of gifts, opened it, and found a bright green hand-knitted sweater and a large box of fudge. He took out a note next to the box, which read, "Merry Christmas, Harry," and was signed, "Ron's mother, Molly."

"It looks really nice." Harry picked up the dress and held it up against his body a few times. Although he hadn't had much contact with Ron's mother, he was certain that she must be a gentle lady like Mrs. Wells.

Next came the Chocolate Frog from Hermione, the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from Ron, and another unexpected gift from Snape—a stack of potion recipes with a note that read, "I believe our dear Savior will learn these and won't have to make his poor old professor come panting and out of his way to teach him."

"What an awkward fellow," Harry muttered, picking up the last, very light package. He opened it, and a silver cloak, as liquid as water, slid to the ground.

"What is this?" Harry picked up the thing in confusion. He spread it on his hands and was surprised to find that the color of the cloak had disappeared along with his hands. He then covered his arms with the thing, and his entire arms disappeared as well.

"Optical camouflage?" Harry looked at it, then draped it over his body. From the head down, he disappeared completely, without a single flaw. "Wow, awesome! This is better than optical camouflage!"

Harry looked at the box, wondering who had sent it, but unfortunately the note inside was unsigned, only stating that it was an invisibility cloak and belonged to his father.

"My father?" Harry asked, puzzled. He still didn't know who his biological parents were, and even Hagrid, that big sieve, avoided the topic.

Harry stopped thinking about these things, put away the Invisibility Cloak, put on the sweater Mrs. Weasley had given him, and left the dormitory.