Harry Potter, the savior of Night City

Late at night, in Hufflepuff dormitory.

Serena nestled in the covers and quietly pulled a pure black notebook from her bag, laying it out on the bed. The pages of the notebook emitted a faint glow, allowing Serena to see them.

"Brother Riddle, are you there?" Serena wrote. She got this notebook during the summer vacation. It fell out of the hands of a blond man when she was buying a wand in Diagon Alley, and he picked it up by chance.

"I'm here, lovely little Serena." Serena's handwriting disappeared from the notebook, replaced by a line of beautiful handwriting: "What's wrong, lovely little princess? Is something troubling you?"

"Brother, I'm being sorted into my new department today," Serena wrote in her notebook, clearly annoyed. "I told you before, did you forget?"

"Oh, my lovely little sister, please forgive your foolish brother. I'm getting a little disoriented in this dark and gloomy notebook."

"Okay..." Serena pouted, then continued writing, "I've been assigned to Hufflepuff! But, brother, didn't you say Hufflepuff wasn't a good place...?"

"Oh, little Sena, beautiful little princess, the Hufflepuffs do have some redeeming qualities. If I can build a good relationship with them, their intelligence might just help me escape this dark and hopeless notebook..."

"Really!?" Serena was overjoyed, happy that she could help her brother Riddle. "I'll definitely go!"

The notebook seemed quite satisfied, but then suddenly remembered something and wrote in it, "Watch out for that Harry Potter, okay? He might not let my brother out."

Serena was puzzled. She had just picked up her pen to ask a question when she felt a wave of drowsiness wash over her. She fell asleep on the notebook without even closing it.

Beside her bed, a dark figure slowly materialized. It was a boy, his cold eyes fixed on Serena, who was curled up like a little dumpling under the covers.

"My dear sister? My lovely little princess? Ha." He reached out, which could no longer be called a hand; it was a disgusting mixture of claws and tentacles. Then, mercilessly, he stabbed Serena in the bed, the claws sinking into her body and piercing deep into her soul.

Serena's face was contorted in pain, as if she were experiencing extreme agony. She let out soft moans, but she couldn't wake up, left to watch as her soul was riddled with holes.

"Damn the founder of the academy! I finally managed to weaken her soul so much, and I was just a little bit away from controlling her. Now I have to start attacking again." The shadowy figure said angrily, its tentacles constantly drawing power from the girl's soul.

"My lovely little sister, since you love your brother Riddle so much, you must be willing to sacrifice yourself for his resurrection, right..." Riddle chuckled softly, muttering to himself.

"God of Eternity and Life, thank you for the power you have given me. As long as I have eternal life, your faithful believer will always be loyal to you, great—compassionate Father..."

......

The next day, Harry sat at the table in the Great Hall, looking at the food in front of him, but had no appetite at all.

Who in their right family eats canned herring for breakfast?!

Harry wrinkled his nose at the stench; who invented this disgusting thing?

He put down his cutlery, straightened up, and thought, "Hmm, even Hufflepuff can't stomach this stuff."

Harry stood up from Slytherin and sat down next to Hermione and Ron from Gryffindor.

"You can't eat either?"

"We want to eat it too, but this herring is just too smelly," Ron said helplessly. He wanted to eat the sausages and fried eggs on the table, but the stench of the herring would only become more pronounced if he put those foods in his mouth.

"Never mind that," Hermione said, her nose covered by a small blue barrier so she wouldn't smell the herring on the table. "You still haven't told me what happened to your hands," she said, pointing to Harry's golden hands.

Harry switched places with Ron, letting Ron and Hermione block his way, and then pulled up his arms, which were covered by his sleeves.

"Oh my god..." Hermione exclaimed.

"This, this is so cool!" Ron exclaimed, glancing discreetly at his arm.

"Back home, my arm got chopped off, so I had to get a replacement." Harry pulled his sleeve back up.

"It was...cut out?" Hermione's CPU was clearly unable to accept this explanation and was struggling to load.

"So, do you still have your original arm?" Ron asked. "Your side is so... amazing, you can even reattach severed arms, right?"

"It's possible, but the original arm has already suffered tissue necrosis, so there's no other way but to remove the prosthetic and replace it with a new one."

"Necstasy? Organization?" Ron, who grew up in the magical world, clearly didn't know what these two words meant.

"All you need to know is that the arm is useless," Harry said succinctly.

"Harry, she's here." Hermione shook Harry's shoulder and pointed to Serena, who was walking unsteadily. "You can see the magical circuits too, you should have seen them yesterday, right? She's in even worse shape today."

"Yes, I saw it yesterday." Harry followed Hermione's hand to look at Serena, who was enveloped in a thick black aura, with some dark green mixed in.

In Hermione's eyes, Serena's pure white soul was riddled with holes, each from which grew disgusting green spikes and tentacles. The white light emanating from her soul dimmed, and the disgusting black snake that had been brutally beaten by the four Houses began to run and gnaw at her body with impunity once again.

"What are you guys talking about?" Ron was completely bewildered. How come his best friend and he were on completely different wavelengths?

"That girl, the one with the white hair, do you see her?"

Ron followed Harry's gaze and saw Serena on the Hufflepuff table, her hair standing on end, her eyes sunken and bloodshot, her complexion terrible.

"My God, is she sick?" Ron asked. It wasn't anything else; anyone could tell that Serena looked unwell.

"Sickness? Ha, Voldemort is much worse than sickness," Harry sneered.

"We have to think of something, or she's definitely in grave danger," Hermione said, feeling sorry for the poor child.

"God? The Mysterious Man!?" Ron was terrified. He never imagined it was because of Voldemort. "She's the Mysterious Man!?"

"My God..." Hermione covered her face, speechless at Ron's brain.

"Voldemort did something to her," Harry explained. "Just like Quirrell."

"Then, then hurry up and go find the headmaster! Professor Dumbledore must have a solution!" Ron was startled, but quickly came up with the safest solution.

"Yes, indeed, I'll go find him." Without another word, Harry stood up and decided to go talk to Dumbledore.

Just then, a whooshing sound rang out, and thousands of owls flew in through the windows, bringing letters to the students and professors.

Ron's owl, that very old one, had just flown to the Gryffindor table when it flapped its wings and crashed headfirst into the white porridge on the table. The letter it was delivering also fell out and landed right on Fred and George's faces.

It was a huge red letter addressed to Fred and George.

Fred and George exchanged a glance and said resignedly.

"We're doomed."

"Roaring Letter".