Harry Potter, the savior of Night City

night......

Harry lay on his bed in the Leaky Cauldron room, looking at the ticket in his hand: King's Cross Station, Platform 9¾, thinking about what Hagrid had told him that morning.

"Harry, something came up at Hogwarts, so I have to go back first. Keep your train ticket handy. I've booked a room for you at the Leaky Cauldron for the next few days. Just go directly to the address on your ticket."

Harry looked at the ticket and asked Hagrid, "What does this 'nine and three-quarters' mean?"

No one responded.

Harry looked up and found that Hagrid was no longer there. With no other choice, he could only return to the Leaky Cauldron to settle down.

Back to the present, Harry sat up in bed, reached for his wand and examined it closely. He then gently waved it, trying to recapture the feeling of first receiving the wand. Unfortunately, no matter how he waved it, the wand only emitted a little blue light at the tip. Harry shrugged, put the wand back in, and lay back down on the bed to process the day's events.

"With all this commotion, I felt like I was in a dream movie."

————————————————————————

Six days passed in a flash. During these days, Harry did nothing but read the books he bought and go out for a stroll in Diagon Alley. The bar owner refused to serve him drinks, saying that he was still a minor. Good heavens, he had been drinking since he was five years old, although he was tricked into drinking by Valentino and his gang.

It was indeed very pleasant to have savings without having to make any commissions, but Harry still couldn't get used to it. Instead, he started to look forward to the start of the so-called magic school.

King's Cross Station.

"Nine and three-quarters, nine and three-quarters, where else would you put this shabby station?"

Harry pushed his luggage cart around and around the station, but still couldn't find that damned platform. Just as he was sitting helplessly by the pillar at station number nine, he saw a group of red-haired people walk up to a pillar, and then a pair of twins pushed their cart straight through it. They passed right through the wall, as if there had never been a wall there.

Harry finally found a place to go in, and pushed the cart to the side of the plump, red-haired woman. Before he could speak, the red-haired woman spoke first:

"Hey, darling, is this your first time at Hogwarts?" the woman said, pointing to the boy beside him. "Ron is a freshman too."

"Then what should we do...?"

Before Harry could finish speaking, she immediately pointed to the wall and said, "Just walk straight to the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten. Don't stop. If you're scared, you can close your eyes and run in."

"Okay, thanks." Harry shrugged, thanked him without uttering a complete sentence, and walked straight toward the wall. His luggage cart bumped into the wall, then passed right through it, followed by his hand, his body, until he was completely submerged in the wall.

Behind the wall was a crowded platform where a deep red steam locomotive was parked, its sign reading: The Hogwarts Express, departing at 11:00.

Harry pushed his way through the crowd and finally found an empty compartment at the back of the train. He gently placed Hedwig's birdcage on a chair, then lifted the suitcase with one hand. Just then, a familiar voice rang out:

"Hey, need some help..." It was one of the twins from the red-haired family who spoke, staring in disbelief as Harry lifted the suitcase with one hand.

"My God, you're so strong." He regained his composure and held out his hand. "George, George Weasley."

"Hey, me too, I'm Fred, Fred Weasley." George's brother came over as well.

"Harry Potter".

The two brothers froze, both eyes fixed on Harry's face, making Harry feel slightly helpless.

"Hey friend, can you stop staring at me like that?"

"Oh, sorry," George said with an apologetic smile.

"We're getting a little excited," Fred said, scratching his head.

Harry didn't mind and sat in the box teasing Hedwig with his wand. Shortly after the twins left, another red-haired man came over. I think his name was Ron.

"Hey, I see all the private rooms are full. Can I sit here?"

"Go ahead," Harry replied, then fell silent again.

The quiet atmosphere in the private room made Ron feel a little awkward. "Um, my name is Ron, Ron Weasley. And you?"

"Harry Potter".

"You, you're Harry Potter? The Harry Potter who defeated the Dark Lord? The savior Harry Potter?"

Harry glanced up at him. "I don't know where I got so many titles from, but I think they must be."

"So, you really have this?" Ron pointed to his forehead. Harry understood what he was talking about and nodded in agreement.

"Wow, was that really done by the mysterious person?"

"I don't remember."

"You really don't remember anything at all?" Ron pressed, completely oblivious to Harry's growing impatience.

"Kid, didn't your mother tell you not to be curious about everything?" Harry glanced at Ron and said casually.

"Oh, okay, sorry." Ron sat back down dejectedly and didn't ask any further questions.

The silence in the private room lasted for several hours. Neither the witch pushing her snack cart nor Ron's attempts to make conversation could break the atmosphere, until…

Ron took out Scabbers, his pet mouse. "Hey Harry, want to see the magic my brothers taught me?" Before Harry could answer, he pulled out a worn-out wand with a few cat-like hairs sticking out from one end.

"Daisies, sweet cream, and sunshine, turn this silly, fat mouse yellow." He pointed his wand at Scabbers and recited this somewhat fairytale-like spell.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville lost a toad." A girl who looked somewhat like a beaver opened their box door and said in an arrogant tone that made Harry very uncomfortable.

"We didn't see..." Ron was interrupted by Harry before he could finish speaking.

"Miss, this is our private room. Could you please leave?" Harry said, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Unfortunately, the girl didn't appreciate his efforts and rattled off a string of words: "Oh, are you casting spells? It doesn't look very good, does it? I tried memorizing some simple spells at home, just for practice. Nobody in my family knows magic. When I received my acceptance letter, I was both surprised and happy. I mean, I know this is the best magic school. My name is Hermione Granger. By the way, what are your names?"

"Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Miss, I hope..." Harry maintained a smile that seemed ready to crumble at any moment, but before he could finish speaking, Hermione interrupted him.

"Hey, I know you. You're Harry Potter. I know everything about you. I bought a few extra reference books, like 'A History of Modern Magic'..."

"Fuck you, get out of here!" Harry couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed Hermione by the back of her collar and threw her out of the box, then slammed the door shut.

"Isn't this a bit too much?" Ron looked at Hermione, who was sitting blankly at the door of the private room and then burst into tears, and felt a little sorry for her.

"Oh, her tone was so hurtful, I couldn't help myself," Harry said calmly, glancing at Hermione who was sitting outside crying. "Also, you should keep quiet from now on, unless you want to go out and keep her company."

Ron reached out and made a zipping motion over his mouth before sitting down.

Harry was amused by his actions, shook his head, and sat down.

Two more hours passed. Hermione had long since left, and Harry no longer resisted Ron's attempts to start conversations. Of course, it was only a matter of not resisting, so Ron entertained himself most of the time.

Ron was telling Harry about Quidditch, and Harry was inexplicably interested in this wizarding sport. Just as Ron was getting to the most exciting part of the game, the door to the box opened again.

"Oh, everyone on the train is talking about how Harry Potter is in this compartment and made a Mudblood cry. So, it must be you, right?"