Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy

A century ago?

That legendary wizard... Harry Potter?

Harry glanced at Draco and saw that he was staring back with an expression of extreme anticipation.

It was as if he were silently urging, Come on, admit it, Potter! You’re the wizard from a hundred years ago!

See? My parents don’t trust me—go ahead and shock them!

Seeing him like this, a mischievous amusement suddenly rose in Harry’s heart.

“How could that be?” Harry said with a cheerful smile. “What I told Draco earlier—I was just teasing him.”

“So that’s how it is.” Lucius’ expression turned to one of understanding. “I thought so. Time travel might be conceivable, but turning from seventeen back to eleven—that’s simply impossible!”

It was understandable that Lucius found it hard to believe. The idea was far too outlandish.

Draco looked utterly stunned before fixing Harry with a gaze full of grievance and accusation.

Harry gave Draco a deliberately mischievous grin. To Lucius and Narcissa, this only reinforced the impression that Harry had just been playing around with their son.

They didn’t mind, though—after all, Harry had practically saved Draco’s future.

“By the way, there’s another private matter I came to discuss at Malfoy Manor,” Harry suddenly said.

“Please, go ahead,” Lucius responded, leaning forward slightly. “As long as it is within the power of the Malfoy family, we will spare no effort.”

Harry took out two documents from his wallet and handed them to Lucius.

“These are letters from Gringotts and the Lestrange family concerning the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Gringotts has transferred their seat to me,” Harry said in a relaxed tone.

Lucius’ heart jolted as he carefully examined the documents, confirming their authenticity.

This...

This young Potter—how has he managed to achieve so much at such a young age?

Lucius re-evaluated Harry, taking a deeper measure of him.

Not only was he powerful, but his connections were vast. On top of that, he was Dumbledore’s Golden Boy...

Lucius had to admit—he was wavering. Perhaps placing an early bet on Harry wouldn’t be such a bad move.

Maintaining the principle of not prying into matters that weren’t his business, he said, “So, Mr. Potter, you wish for my assistance in securing you a seat on the Hogwarts Board?”

“No, it’s for my friend,” Harry said breezily. “I’m just a student—being on the Board doesn’t mean much to me. It would be better for my friend to take the seat for now.”

“No problem.” Lucius nodded. “As long as the documents are in order, with the Malfoy family’s influence, we can certainly secure the seat for your friend.”

“It’s just that…” Harry changed his tone slightly. “My friend’s identity might be... a bit troublesome.”

“A bit troublesome?” Lucius chuckled inwardly. No matter how troublesome, could it be worse than being a Death Eater?

“Please, do not worry, Mr. Potter,” he said reassuringly. “May I ask who your friend is?”

“A unicorn,” Harry stated, his words stunning everyone present. “A unicorn from the Forbidden Forest.”

“You mean—a unicorn?” Lucius asked again, unwilling to believe what he had just heard.

“Yes.” Harry nodded. “Is that going to be difficult?”

“No, not difficult at all.” Lucius took a deep breath and forced a smile. “If they are a friend of yours, Mr. Potter, then I am more than willing to support this unicorn.”

“Her name is Poppy, and she can talk,” Harry said with a grin. “Rest assured, Mr. Malfoy, she won’t put you in a difficult position.”

“Very well.” Lucius nodded.

“However…” Lucius hesitated before asking, “Forgive my curiosity, Mr. Potter, but isn’t it said that unicorns only approach the purest-hearted young maidens? Why would she befriend you?”

Harry sighed. “Because I was serving detention in the Forbidden Forest when I happened upon her being attacked by Voldemort. He was trying to drink her blood to sustain himself—I drove him off and saved her. That’s how we became friends.”

The mere mention of Voldemort’s name sent another wave of shock through the room.

That name—

No one dared to say it.

Some avoided it out of ignorance, while others avoided it out of fear.

But the young man before them clearly fell into neither category.

As a Hogwarts Board member, Lucius had his own sources of information. He was aware of the events that had taken place at the school.

Considering how Harry had defeated Voldemort at the end of the school year, it wasn’t mere bravado when he claimed to have driven him away in the Forbidden Forest—it was entirely believable.

“No wonder,” Lucius sighed. He glanced at Draco, who was gazing at Harry with something close to admiration, and shook his head helplessly.

Forget it.

With other children, if the gap wasn’t too big, perhaps there was still a chance to push them harder.

But this? This gap was already despair-inducing...

Lucius was simply too exhausted to care anymore.

--

After the banquet, Lucius did not rush to send Harry away. Harry, too, was in no hurry to leave.

Lucius had Draco take Harry on a stroll around the manor.

Mr. Potter had never visited the manor before—it was only proper to show him hospitality.

Draco stood up and gestured for Harry to follow him outside.

As they walked through the manor’s grounds, Draco suddenly frowned.

“Harry, why didn’t you tell my parents the truth?”

“What truth?” Harry grinned.

Seeing that mischievous, almost childishly teasing expression, Draco felt a surge of frustration.

“That you’re the Harry Potter from a hundred years ago!” Draco demanded.

“Take a guess.” Harry chuckled.

Draco’s eye twitched. He muttered under his breath, “Saint Potter.”

“You know,” Harry suddenly said, “you remind me a lot of your great-aunt.”

Draco blinked in confusion.

“She used to call me that, too—Saint Potter. Let me think… I believe it was back in my second year.”

“Can you tell me about her?” Draco, still a child at heart, was easily drawn in.

In truth, he was quite interested in the stories of legendary wizards—especially those connected to his own family.

“There’s not much to say. I first met her on the train,” Harry said, his gaze growing nostalgic. “Just like how you came to find me on the train back then. But to be honest, Cassandra had much better manners than you. She never judged people based on their character or family background. The worst she ever did was call me lazy and arrogant.”

Draco opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words.

“Do you know why I punched you back then?” Harry asked, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“Why?” Draco asked warily.

“Because you reminded me of her,” Harry said. “You had the same last name, the same hair—but you were truly insufferable. At that moment, I thought I’d teach you a lesson on her behalf.”

"Uh, then I really must apologize." Draco scratched his head.

"Yeah, you should feel sorry." Harry snorted. "The so-called pride of pure-bloods you speak of is completely different from what it was a century ago—do you know? Your great-aunt’s pure-blood pride wasn’t just about blood status; it came with the responsibility of caring for Muggle-born wizards like me."

"Aren't you really powerful? Why would she still…" Draco asked curiously.

"That was a long time ago." Harry sighed slightly. "Does your family still have anything related to her? To be honest, I kind of miss her…"

"I don’t know." Draco shook his head. "No wonder, after using Legilimency back then, you immediately realized that Merope wasn’t Cassandra. Turns out, you two were that close."

"Close?" Harry thought for a moment. "She actually always looked down on me."

"I don’t think so, Harry." Draco suddenly said. "I believe she must have really liked you. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?" Harry asked.

"I can't say for sure, just a gut feeling." Draco shrugged.

Harry suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked at Draco seriously.

"The reason I’m telling you all this is that you are her descendant. I hope you can be proud yet principled, just like she was, rather than holding onto nothing but empty pride. I hope you’re not beyond saving—otherwise, I’ve wasted all these words today."

"I will, Harry." Draco said earnestly. "You’re a legendary wizard—I’ll definitely listen to you."

"Well then," Harry continued, "you should know about Cassandra’s father, right? Mr. Septimus Malfoy?"

"He was my great-great-grandfather," Draco replied. "You knew him too?"

"This isn’t my first time at Malfoy Manor. The last time I visited, the head of the Malfoy family was Septimus Malfoy," Harry said. "I’ve heard that families like yours tend to keep portraits of their ancestors. Do you have a portrait of him? I’d like to talk to him."

Draco immediately perked up.

Great! If he could see Great-Great-Grandfather, then that would prove Harry’s identity beyond a doubt!

See him!

He had to bring Harry to see him!

With that in mind, Draco quickly said, "I know where it is. He’s in a room on the third floor. I’ll take you to him."

Without another word, Draco turned and strode off.

Harry chuckled to himself. This impatient kid…

He followed Draco up to a room on the third floor, where they pushed the door open.

Harry drew his wand and lit the lamps in the room.

"I should warn you—someone is sleeping here."

A familiar voice rang out, deep and gentle.

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry greeted.

The voice hesitated for a long moment after hearing Harry’s words.

"This voice… sounds familiar?"

Harry stepped forward, locking eyes with Septimus Malfoy, who was seated in a chair.

Septimus was silent for a moment before his gaze sharpened instantly.

"Potter!"

Harry barely suppressed a snicker at the nasal emphasis on the "t."

Alright, it really was the Malfoy family—every single one of them pronounced "Potter" exactly the same way…

It wasn’t surprising that Septimus hadn’t recognized him immediately. After all, the last time Harry had visited Malfoy Manor was during the summer before his fourth year.

But the moment Septimus saw him, he knew exactly who he was!

"Potter! You dare show up at Malfoy Manor?!" Septimus was clearly suppressing his anger, his platinum blond hair practically floating from sheer fury.

Draco lowered his head, watching the exchange with a fascinated "whoa" expression.

"Apologies, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, a little surprised. "I didn’t expect you to remember me, let alone recognize me at first glance."

"Recognize you?" Septimus let out a laugh, but it was more pained than amused. "Potter, even if you were reduced to ashes, I would still recognize you, you insufferable brat! What in Merlin’s name did you do to Cass? She was obsessed, utterly bewitched—she wanted to travel through time just to find you!"

"I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy." For once, Harry didn’t retort. He was indeed in the wrong this time.

Because the man before him wasn’t just any Malfoy—he was a father who had lost his daughter.

"Sorry?!" Septimus laughed bitterly. "Do you think a simple apology can make up for it? I lost my daughter! My beloved daughter! And now she’s probably dead, chasing after some unattainable dream!"

Harry opened his mouth but had no words.

He could only lower his head, allowing Septimus to vent his grief and anger.

He deserved this.

After a while, Septimus seemed to calm down a little.

"At least I can find some comfort in the fact that you, a Muggle-born brat, haven’t completely forgotten your debts—you still had the decency to come to Malfoy Manor to see me."

Septimus snorted, his eyes full of the reluctant fury of a father who had lost his "precious cabbage to a wild boar."

"Uh, Mr. Malfoy," Harry suddenly said, "I actually just found out—I belong to the Potter family. I’m not from the Muggle world."

The moment Harry said this, he clearly saw Septimus’s entire demeanor shift.

"Ha, so you’re saying you’re a Potter?" Septimus stood up excitedly, pacing back and forth, murmuring to himself.

It wasn’t that he was pleased that Harry was a Potter—it was simply the fact that Harry wasn’t a Muggle-born but a pure-blood wizard that brought him some solace.

A small, bitter consolation.

"Well, at least that’s a silver lining, Potter." Septimus huffed. "But that doesn’t absolve you of your irresponsibility. After you perished along with Ranrok, Cass went mad. She begged me to introduce her to the Seer Cassandra Trelawney so she could learn prophecy—she thought she could use it to find your whereabouts…

"Oh, right." Septimus gestured toward the back. "Behind that picture frame, there’s a letter Cass received. Back then, she… well, never mind. Read it yourself. If you still have a shred of decency left, I trust you’ll try to find Cass."

Harry froze for a second, then immediately conjured a stool, stepping up to reach behind the frame.

Sure enough, he felt an envelope.

He pulled it out, opened it, and sat down, unfolding a crumpled letter inside.

The ink was smudged, as if it had been wet, but the words were still legible:

Miss Malfoy,

I regret to inform you that you are no longer my apprentice.

I apologize—I misjudged your divination potential. I hope you understand that even the most gifted Seers make mistakes.

At least now, you no longer need to concern yourself with your incompetence. You may pursue a more suitable path—perhaps carpet weaving.

Unfortunately, I don’t know any carpet weavers, nor do I have the time to write you a recommendation.

Please return to Wiltshire at your earliest convenience upon reading this letter.

Cassandra Trelawney

---

you can read more advance chapter & Fast update on my patreon. com/windkaze