Harry Potter and the Rebirth

This is a house hidden in a Muggle neighborhood. In the silent night, the dim street lights flicker. Occasionally, pedestrians walk hurriedly, wrapping their clothes tightly in the cold wind, lowering their heads, and walking quickly towards home.

Jielan has been waiting here for an entire afternoon, from dawn to dusk, from the bright sun to the rising of the moon. Thinking that he hadn't brought lunch for Harry yet, Jielan hesitated. Should he go here or go back first?

Soon, the little Jie hidden in Jielan's sleeve became restless. He immediately perked up and comforted the pet in his sleeve. Based on his years of experience with it, this should be something approaching quickly. If it was still in Knockturn Alley, he should have flown away immediately.

Gradually, there were fewer people on the street. Jielan held his breath and added a few anti-spying spells around him. Only then did he feel a little safer.

Soon, the surrounding street lights went out one by one in an orderly manner. The Muggles in the house didn't seem to notice anything unusual here. Harry, who had grown up, approached. Jerry looked at him from a distance. His body shape was not at all similar to the sickly one in the house.

The golden pendant hanging around Harry's neck was particularly eye-catching in the dark night, and he was playing with a silver object in his hand. This, Jerry narrowed his eyes, should be a de-luminator. Its original owner was Dumbledore, and later gave it to Ron in his will.

Jie Lan saw that just as Harry approached, another group of people came up. It seemed that they were not in the same group as Harry, and his faces could not be seen clearly.

Inside the house, a neatly dressed man was sitting on the sofa in the living room. He seemed to have expected Harry's arrival, and there were even two cups of steaming chocolate cocoa on the table.

"Welcome Mr. Potter—"

The man seemed to be entertaining his relatives and friends, with a gentle attitude and a soothing tone. He picked up the cocoa on the table, took a sip, and sighed deeply, "This is really delicious."

Harry raised his wand vigilantly. He had not told anyone about his itinerary for the day. He originally wanted to take him back alone. The prisoner was neither extremely vicious nor extremely evil. He just resisted the Ministry of Magic's law enforcement for some reason.

Harry wanted to talk to him in person, but he didn't expect that there would be no fierce confrontation, but instead a long and calm talk.

"Do you believe in fate?"

The cup of hot cocoa on the table was replaced with a cup of hot tea. The man drank the tea in one gulp, revealing the tea leaves stuck to the wall of the cup. The tea leaves formed a strange pattern. The man raised the cup, looked at it twice, and then handed it to Harry.

Harry didn't take it immediately. He looked at the tea leaves warily from a distance. It looked like a big black dog with a bat following it.

Memories of the third grade came flooding back, along with pain and longing. The pendant on Harry's neck flickered slightly. The man looked at it with some surprise, but he did not tell the person involved about it. Instead, he sighed softly again.

"Maybe."

Harry's answer was ambiguous, just like the unusually accurate prophecy made by Sybill Trelawney. This prophecy took everything that followed into account, just like the predetermined track of fate, and derailment would be a fantasy.

"That's a difficult problem." The man seemed a little embarrassed.

"Sorry, sir."

Harry realized that he had taken the initiative in the conversation. "I'm here to ask you to come with me to the Ministry of Magic."

Harry took out a few pieces of paper from his pocket and placed them in front of the man. There was a letter of denunciation and a few secretly taken animated pictures. There was a person's arm with the inherent mark of Death Eaters on it.

"Would you mind letting me examine your arm?"

Harry was very polite. In the past, he would never have learned these roundabout ways.

This gentleman belongs to one of the ancient pure-blood families and is the only heir now, but due to the decline of his family, he is now in an awkward position.

It was an invisible rule that one could not lift the sleeves of pure-blood family members against their will, otherwise Lucius Malfoy would have certainly not escaped punishment as early as when Voldemort died for the first time.

The man sneered a few times.

He was unusually generous, and as soon as Harry finished speaking, he spread out the sleeves of both arms, revealing the mark of the dark lord, but now it had become particularly dim.

"I tell you the truth, I made that letter and those pictures myself."

Harry stood up suddenly, gripping his wand tightly.

"You're a hero, Harry."

The man was extremely serious, with a barely perceptible trace of pity and helplessness in his eyes. Harry felt extremely annoyed. This look, this feeling -

"What do you mean?!"

The situation here was a bit tense, but outside, there was an eerie calm. The group of men in black robes came here and fiddled with something for a long time. A few of them stayed behind, and one of them lifted up his clothes, revealing short red hair and a face covered with brown spots.

Jerlan's eyes widened.

Is this Harry's response?

The red-haired man moved closer to a man in a black robe. Since they were too far apart, Jeran couldn't see clearly.

At this moment, in the dim little house, Harry's figure gradually became somewhat transparent. Only a quarter of the food for lunch was touched. Solidified grease stuck to the plate, and some frost condensed on the green leaves. Harry stretched out his fingers, and a faint flame emerged from his fingertips. He wanted to heat them up, but -

The flame struggled in the cold air for only a few seconds before it went out. Harry stared at the finger in a trance. He was now unusually calm. He reached out his hand, grabbed a few solidified leaves, and stuffed them into his mouth.

Then, relying on the little remaining temperature in his mouth, he chewed it again and again and swallowed it.

The burning stomach pain seemed to ease a little.

There was still some illusory body for a moment, but then it returned to normal. Harry looked normal and stuffed the remaining food into his mouth bit by bit.

Some of the ice chips on the food entered the mouth before they had time to melt, leaving countless bloody marks on the delicate palate.

The entry of liquid finally made the food slightly softer, and Harry's esophagus felt better.

Feeling a little sleepy, Harry could no longer wait for Jerlan. He supported the table with difficulty with both hands, then stood up tremblingly and moved little by little to a small corner next to him where a wooden board was placed.