The next morning, while everyone was eating breakfast in the Great Hall, Astoria once again ran over to Harry's side.
Others were curious about who she was, but no one came over to ask.
As Harry was sipping his porridge, hundreds of owls flew in, dropping letters and packages all over the hall, causing a commotion before flying back out.
Chubby Neville received a bunch of items he'd forgotten to bring at the start of term. He was always forgetting things—some things just never changed.
Harry could help Neville adjust his personality, but as for his memory issues, there was nothing to be done. That was a hardware problem.
Professor McGonagall made her way along the tables, distributing each student's class schedule for the term.
Hermione, holding a piece of fragrant toast in one hand, had her nose buried in a book titled Voyages with Vampires.
"These stories are actually quite good," she murmured, completely absorbed.
Harry didn't deny how gripping these stories could be.
Otherwise, Lockhart wouldn't have become a minor celebrity just by publishing these so-called adventures.
When Professor McGonagall reached Harry's spot, she glanced at Astoria but said nothing, simply handing her a first-year timetable.
After McGonagall walked away, Astoria stuck out her tongue and whispered, "Auntie Minerva is kind of scary."
Harry stared at her in surprise. "What did you just call her?"
Astoria blinked. "Auntie Minerva."
"How… how do you even know her like that?"
"Oh, that!" she said brightly. "My mum told me to call her that. I met her at my eleventh birthday party, along with that white-bearded grandpa from yesterday."
Harry was dumbfounded.
How powerful was this girl's family if they could invite Dumbledore to a child's birthday party?
Dumbledore wasn't exactly someone who showed up for just any occasion. His titles and reputation were considerable:
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, former Transfiguration professor, recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, founder and secret keeper of the Order of the Phoenix, Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and multiple-time nominee for Minister for Magic. Widely regarded as the greatest wizard of the age.
Some of those were official titles, others more informal.
If the wizarding world were a country, Dumbledore would easily be the equivalent of a senior statesman, holding multiple top positions—especially Minister of Education, in a manner of speaking.
So, not just anyone could casually invite Dumbledore to their home for a birthday party.
Then again, Dumbledore didn't really hold any real power.
Partly because he despised ambition and power-hungry politics, and partly because the Ministry had no interest in someone so capable meddling in their affairs.
...
Thinking about it more carefully, since the Malfoy family was on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, perhaps the Greengrass family was too.
Harry froze in realization. This was like one of those melodramatic novels from Taiwan:
The male (or female) lead's father is the chairman of a prestigious academy, and at any moment the lead can shout, "No school today—my dad owns the place!" Then they go flirt with the cold, proud love interest, and eventually the wealthy pair end up together, rolling around in bed for chapter after chapter.
Harry hesitated for a second, then blurted, "Astoria, does your family need a son-in-law?"
Yes, this was a revealing moment for our protagonist's lack of shame. Normally masked by a cold and aloof demeanor, his true personality leaked out here.
"Pffft—cough, cough!" Hermione was so shocked by Harry's shamelessness she choked on her food. She grabbed her drink, but that only made it worse—her face turned bright red.
Harry muttered a strange incantation that sounded suspiciously like "I want a sweet potato," and just like that, Hermione recovered.
Apparently, this "sweet potato" incantation was designed specifically for dislodging stuck food.
As for why such a ridiculous spell even existed—Harry had no idea.
Why couldn't they invent spells that could destroy mountains instead?
Harry looked unhappily at Hermione.
He wiped his face. Anyone would be irritated if someone spit food all over them.
Wait… something was tickling his lip.
He licked it by instinct, swallowed… Sweet. Not bad, actually.
"You're the worst!"
Hermione's face went crimson. She jumped to her feet and shouted, knocking over her chair.
"Brother… why is Hermione angry?" Astoria asked quietly, helping Harry wipe off his face with concern.
"Maybe because I stole her food," Harry replied seriously.
Thud!
All around them, people toppled out of their chairs laughing.
The two of them walked out of the Great Hall, and Astoria's soft voice came again.
"Brother, what's a 'son-in-law'?"
"It's someone who makes you happy, tells you stories, eats with you, protects you, and... cuddles with you when you sleep."
"Like in that song…"
Spring, we walk through blooming flowers hand in hand
Summer nights, we watch the stars blink together
Autumn dusk, we wander golden wheat fields
Winter snow, with you it's warmer than ever…
"Brother, I want you to be my son-in-law."
"…You mean my being your mother's son-in-law." sweatdrop
"Oh…"
Harry's first class of the new term was Herbology, shared with the Hufflepuffs.
They passed through the castle, across the vegetable garden, and arrived at the greenhouses where all kinds of magical plants were cultivated.
The professor for Herbology was Professor Sprout. Harry had once helped her with a small task (see Chapter XXX for details).
In front of the greenhouse, the students were waiting.
Professor Sprout was striding quickly across the lawn toward them, her face slightly red, as if a wild boar were chasing her.
Harry glanced past her with interest—following her was the ever-dashing Gilderoy Lockhart.
Now, Professor Sprout was perhaps the most gentle-natured of all Hogwarts professors.
She mostly worked with plants, was always smudged with soil or leaves, and had the patience of a saint.
Even with Neville Longbottom—who could barely go a day without causing trouble—Sprout rarely got truly angry.
So if something had managed to irritate her this much… it had to take real talent.
Lockhart, beaming, greeted the students and proudly announced his latest achievement:
"The Whomping Willow—the school's most precious plant—was injured by some beasts from the Forbidden Forest. Fortunately, I've encountered a few of these trees in my travels. I happen to know a bit about how to treat them, so I offered to help Professor Sprout. Of course, I wouldn't claim my Herbology knowledge surpasses hers…"
Hermione was still fuming at Harry and wore a serious pout. Suddenly, she cut in sharply:
"Excuse me, Professor. But as far as I know, there are only three known Whomping Willows left in the world. One was sent to Hogwarts, one to Beauxbatons Academy, and the last one is kept by the International Confederation for the Protection of Magical Plants. So where exactly did you encounter several in your travels?"
Harry stared at Lockhart's always-grinning face and couldn't stand it anymore.
He should just get "Spring Breeze" tattooed on his forehead—it'd match his fake smile perfectly.
Harry badly wanted to punch him twice just to see if that smile could crack.
At least for now, it was cracking.
Harry shot Hermione a look that said, Nice one.
Hermione pretended not to notice.
Harry felt emotionally wounded.
Lockhart, seeing it was just a young girl questioning him, relaxed slightly and forced his smile back.
"Books don't always tell the full truth. Do you know how vast the world is? Do you know how many places I've traveled, how many magical plants I've seen? Some flora believed to be extinct by most wizards might still grow wild in forgotten corners of the world."
It was a clever response—questioning her knowledge, asserting his own experience, and even throwing in a hint of wisdom. He was quite proud of it.
Sure enough, some of the students who'd begun to doubt him looked reassured.
But Hermione wasn't finished.
She gave a cold smile.
"Really? Then do you know why the ICMP gave the two trees to schools? Because Whomping Willows have extremely strict growing conditions—rainfall, soil composition, nutrients, constant supervision. They didn't have the manpower to maintain them. That's why they gave them away. Wild specimens? The species has been in decline since it was discovered over a thousand years ago. There are no more in the wild."
Lockhart's mouth hung open. He was about to respond when—
"Greenhouse Three. Class is starting," Professor Sprout called, opening the doors.
Everyone filed inside.
Lockhart spotted Harry and his eyes lit up—he was just about to strike up conversation when Harry darted away like a bolt of lightning.
Professor Sprout was clearly in good spirits. In fact, she began the class by praising Hermione's impressive Herbology knowledge and awarded Gryffindor five points.
Harry, meanwhile, was busy transplanting young Mandrakes — also known as "screaming plants" — while still thinking about the Whomping Willow incident.
In the original timeline, Harry and Ron had arrived at Hogwarts in a flying car after Dobby had blocked their entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. They had accidentally crashed into the Whomping Willow and injured it.
But now that this never happened, the tree still ended up damaged.
Could this be what people called a convergence of world lines?
A fixed point in the universe that must happen?
Harry drifted deeper into thought as the high-pitched wail of a Mandrake echoed through the greenhouse.
-
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THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER
⚡🦉 THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER 🦉⚡
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📢 MAGIC REBORN! 📢
The Rebirth of Harry Potter has 100+ chapters ahead available on Patreon! ⚡📚
The wizarding world is changing.
Old destinies twist, familiar names return under new shadows, and magic itself may follow a different path this time.
🪄 A second chance.🌙 A different fate.⚡ A wizarding world reborn.
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