Harry Potter, the savior of Night City

"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?"

Three boys pushed open the door to the private room. The boy in the middle, with blond hair and a pale face, looked at Harry with great interest. His tone annoyed Harry even more than Hermione's. This guy was a complete corporate dog, the kind with a bounty on the middleman's head.

"So, what do you want?" Harry sat in the chair, leaning against the wall, his hand behind his head, looking at the boy with undisguised contempt.

"What's with that look?" The boy was clearly provoked by the look. "I'm Draco Malfoy, the heir to the Malfoy family. Does following that disgrace of the purebloods make you think they're better than us?!"

"What do you mean by that?!" Ron was clearly provoked and stood up, shouting at Malfoy.

"What do I mean? Don't you understand?" Malfoy said to Ron in a condescending tone, "The Weasleys are all redheads, they have so many kids they can't afford to raise them all, and your parents are practically goblins..."

Seeing the tension between the two sides escalating, Harry rolled up his sleeves above his elbows and reached out to press down on both of them.

"Don't be nervous, everyone, relax, okay?"

Ron slowly sat back down, but he couldn't hide the anger in his eyes. His face was flushed red with rage, and you could even see the veins throbbing on his forehead.

Malfoy turned to Harry and said, "If I were you, Potter, I wouldn't hang out with such scumbags, lest you follow in your parents' footsteps. They were equally ungrateful. I heard you've been adopted, but I wonder what kind of lowlife they are who let you hang out with people like that every day."

Malfoy, with his two burly henchmen, turned to leave when Harry called him back.

"Malfoy"

As soon as Malfoy turned his head, he saw a black and red dagger approaching his forehead at an incredible speed, the tip of which finally lightly touched between his eyebrows.

"Never...in front of me...insult a priest!" Harry stared into Malfoy's eyes, his murderous intent radiating outwards without reservation. Malfoy was terrified, paralyzed on the spot. His two henchmen didn't dare to move either, fearing that Harry might use the knife that grew out of his forearm to stab Malfoy's head if he was displeased.

Harry took a few deep breaths, sheathed the mantis knife, sat back in his chair, and waved his hand.

"Get out of here, you company bastard."

Malfoy collapsed to the ground, his limbs trembling uncontrollably, as if the knife was still pressed against his forehead. This was probably the closest Malfoy had ever come to death.

"What are you two doing? Why aren't you dragging your master away?"

The two henchmen then realized what was happening, and they quickly lifted Malfoy up on either side and left the private room.

"My God, Harry, you're amazing!" Ron exclaimed, as if waking from a dream, looking at Harry with almost worshipful eyes. "What was that knife that popped out of your arm? Some kind of magical artifact?"

"That might be true for people of your generation," Harry said, giving Ron amusement.

Ron didn't understand what "people of your time" meant; he could only express his admiration for Harry.

"What happened?" Our Miss Beaver came back to touch him, but this time her tone was much better. It seemed that she was able to reflect on her own problems. However, she still didn't dare to look Harry in the eye. "I heard what sounded like an argument."

"Oh, you can't believe it, the Malfoys came here looking for trouble, and Harry scared them all away with... some kind of magical artifact."

"Okay, that should be fine. The train is almost here, you can change now," Hermione said hastily, glancing at Harry before quickly leaving. Before she did, she said to Ron, "By the way, you have something dirty on your nose."

"That girl's pretty smart," Harry shrugged. "At least she knows how to read the room."

"I don't like her," Ron said.

The train arrived at the station quickly. Harry changed into his school uniform and, together with Ron, disembarked with the crowd. The crowd stopped in front of a small, dark platform, and a loud, familiar voice shouted, "First-year students! First-year students, this way! Harry, are you alright?"

Hagrid's massive frame stood out in the crowd as he smiled at Harry.

"Come on, follow me, watch your feet."

They followed Hagrid, stumbling and struggling, until they finally arrived at a vast, black lake. On the opposite shore, atop a high hillside, stood a majestic castle, larger and more imposing than any building Harry had ever seen. Even the hundred-story-tall Abandoned Tower paled in comparison in its imposing presence. The castle was atop a forest of spires, each towering like a colossal pillar reaching towards the starry sky.

"Only four people can sit on each boat!" Hagrid shouted.

Harry and Ron boarded a small boat, and coincidentally, Hermione was there too, along with a chubby boy, who must have been Neville, the man Hermione had mentioned.

The small boat sliced ​​through the starry sky on the lake and soon arrived at the castle. After Hagrid confirmed that everyone had arrived, he knocked three times on the castle's massive oak door with his fist.

The doors swung open, and a witch in a long, emerald-green robe, with a solemn expression, stood before them. Hagrid greeted her.

"Professor McGonagall, a first-year student."

"Thank you, Hagrid."

She thanked Hagrid, then led all the new students into the castle. Standing in front of the hall, Professor McGonagall gave the new students some instructions, and finally said:

"You will be sorted into four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Every action you take will add or subtract points from your house score. At the end of the year, the House Cup will be awarded based on your scores." She paused. "Now, you can take your time to prepare yourselves."

Soon, Professor McGonagall announced loudly, "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. Line up in a single file and follow me!"

The auditorium roof was enchanted, and a starry sky, like clouds, could be seen above the high dome.

Professor McGonagall brought a chair with a dirty hat on it. A crack appeared in the middle of the hat, from which came a sawing sound.

"Although the singing wasn't great, the lyrics were quite interesting," Harry mused.

When the song ended, Professor McGonagall unrolled the parchment scroll. "Whoever I call, come and put the Sorting Hat on your head."

"Hannah Abbott!"

A blonde girl with two braids ran over and put the hat on her head.

"Okay, okay, you belong to Hufflepuff!" the Sorting Hat shouted.

The people at the Hufflepuff table applauded in welcome.

Susan Bornes

"Hufflepuff!"

......

Ron Weasley.

"Gryffindor!"

Hermione Granger

"Gryffindor!"

"Harry Potter".

The Great Hall suddenly fell silent. Harry walked to a chair and sat down under everyone's gaze, putting on the Sorting Hat.

"Okay, let me see." The Sorting Hat began to examine Harry's memories. It saw young Harry sleeping peacefully to the sound of a priest reading the Bible, saw Harry holding a crucifix in one hand and a "Kill" shotgun in the other, smashing a scavenger's head, and saw Harry speeding through the Santo Domingo district with a military-grade tech company dog ​​tied up like a dumpling in the back seat...

"Azkaban! Drag this thug to Azkaban!" the Sorting Hat shouted in terror.

"Calm down, Sorting Hat, calm down," Professor McGonagall reassured the Sorting Hat.

Dumbledore watched this scene from the podium, seemingly deep in thought.

"I advise you to hurry, or I'll tear you to pieces." Harry said with a dark face. He could feel the tattered hat reading his memories, so it was no surprise that Azkaban was definitely not a good place.

"Huff, huff, okay, okay." The Sorting Hat, under Professor McGonagall's reassurance and Harry's threats, forcibly maintained its composure.

"Alright, alright, then...you go to Slytherin!"

Dumbledore and a professor on the professor's desk who looked somewhat like a bat suddenly widened their eyes.