Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy

Harry naturally hadn’t given that matter much thought. He tiptoed back to the Gryffindor common room, planning to get a good night’s sleep.

The next morning, it was still Potions class.

But now, he finally understood why Professor Snape treated Gryffindor so harshly. His feelings toward Snape were complicated, to say the least.

At the very least, that night, Snape had come.

Hmm… But who was the other person? The one calling out for his father…

Rubbing his eyes, Harry failed to notice that Professor Snape was calling his name.

“Potter!” Snape narrowed his eyes, his tone full of displeasure. “Do you think stopping Quirrell’s scheme makes you some sort of hero? Gryffindor will lose two points for your inattentiveness!”

Harry merely looked up and gave Snape a smile, but to his surprise, that single smile cost Gryffindor another three points.

The reason? Arrogance.

“My god, he really is…”

--

After class, back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Harry complained about Snape.

“I think he just has it out for you,” Ron muttered.

“Yeah, he definitely does. Because I look like my dad.” Harry shrugged. “Practically a carbon copy, except for the eyes.”

“But why?” Hermione asked in confusion. “Didn’t you say your parents were good friends with Professor Snape? Why are you saying this now?”

It was dinnertime, and with Seamus and Neville nowhere in sight, only the three of them remained in the common room.

So Harry didn’t bother keeping things a secret. He told them what his father had done.

--

“Oh my.” Hermione’s mouth fell open. “Now I understand why Professor Snape hates Gryffindor so much. Honestly, if I were him, I’d probably resent the entire house too…”

“You mean like how you hate Slytherin?” Harry gave Hermione a pointed look.

Hermione didn’t respond, tacitly admitting he was right.

Ron didn’t know what to say. After thinking for a long time, he finally blurted out something he probably shouldn’t have: “So what are you going to do? Apologize to him?”

Harry rolled his eyes at that.

“Oh, sure, Ron. What do you expect me to do? Walk up to Professor Snape and say, ‘Oh, Professor Snape, I’m terribly sorry that my father hung you upside down while other students—especially my mother—saw your filthy, unwashed underwear that had turned black from dirt’? Mate, do you think that’s an apology or a provocation?”

“I have no doubt that if you said that, Gryffindor would lose ten thousand points.” Ron swallowed hard.

At noon, Harry had taken a trip to the Forbidden Forest but hadn’t been able to find Poppy.

When he returned, Hermione informed him that she had been the one to tell Poppy about Harry fainting.

Hermione had initially planned to bring some food for Poppy, but Poppy decided to come find Harry at the edge of the Forbidden Forest next week instead.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. He had been worried something had happened to Poppy.

--

That morning’s classes ended, ushering in the final exams.

Final exams didn’t allow students to bring their own quills and parchment; all supplies were provided by the professors, complete with anti-cheating enchantments.

In addition to written tests, there were practical exams.

For Charms, the tiny Professor Flitwick had students enter the classroom one by one to demonstrate whether they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk.

Harry had a great time with that one—not only did he make the pineapple dance, but he also synchronized its movements perfectly to the rhythm of the record Professor Flitwick had put on.

Transfiguration was another practical exam. Professor McGonagall watched as students transformed mice into snuffboxes—the more exquisite the box, the higher the grade. If the box still had whiskers, points were deducted.

During Potions, students racked their brains to recall the proper procedure for brewing a Forgetfulness Potion.

Snape loomed behind them, scrutinizing their every move. They could practically feel his breath on the backs of their necks, making them all incredibly nervous.

Honestly, who wouldn’t be tense with a giant, greasy-haired, black-cloaked bat hovering behind them?

Nobody wanted to be subjected to one of his venomous outbursts—especially Harry, who felt like Snape was clinging to him like a ghostly specter.

Finally, they reached their last exam.

The weather was stiflingly hot. The classroom was even hotter than outside, and on top of that, the subject was History of Magic, making the whole ordeal feel even more unbearable.

Harry and Hermione sweated over their exam papers, but to everyone’s surprise, Ron—who usually had zero interest in History of Magic—was furiously scribbling away, his quill flying across the parchment.

Even when the time came to hand in their papers, Ron was beaming.

Why? Because the exam covered the Goblin Rebellions.

After spending so much time around Harry, Hermione, and Poppy, and listening to endless stories, even a pig would have remembered some of Poppy’s tales.

Not to mention that the protagonist of those stories was Harry Potter—the person who shared a name with his best friend.

His fondness for Harry had inadvertently made Ron pay extra attention in History of Magic.

Lying on the grassy banks of the Black Lake, Ron took a deep breath, stretching out his arms and legs like he was swimming in the air. “This is great—no more studying!”

“Yeah, great indeed.”

A lilting voice sounded nearby.

“Poppy!” Ron cheered.

Harry sat up and turned to look at Poppy.

“Uh… What are you doing?” he asked, watching in disbelief as Poppy bent down to nibble at the grass.

“Hermione said unicorns should eat some grass,” Poppy replied cheerfully, munching away.

Hermione looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it like that, Poppy…”

“Oh, it’s fine! I’ve been eating this stuff in the Forbidden Forest for years, haha!” Poppy giggled, then trotted over to Harry, nudging against his chest. “Harry, I heard you fainted! Did you really faint?”

“It’s nothing serious, Poppy.” Harry reached out and rubbed Poppy’s head. “But now, I can finally remove the curse on your wound.”

As he spoke, he drew his wand, pointed it at Poppy’s still-bleeding wound, and chanted the dispelling incantation.

Perhaps due to the immense magical energy from the Philosopher’s Stone, the spell worked. Poppy’s wound closed up completely, good as new.

“You did it!” Hermione cheered. She couldn’t bear to see anyone suffer, not even a unicorn.

“Yay!” Poppy jumped up and down excitedly, then bent her legs and beckoned to Harry. “Harry, Harry, hop on—”

“Huh?” Harry was stunned.

“Come on—let’s go for a ride!” Poppy said happily.

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry swung himself onto Poppy’s back, waving at Hermione and Ron, who were watching with extreme envy.

“I’ll be back soon!”

Unicorns ran so smoothly that there wasn’t even the slightest bump—completely different from what Harry had imagined.

He wrapped his arms around Poppy's neck and said to her, "Poppy, I found Veratia."

"Huh?" Poppy stopped in her tracks. "Where? Where?"

"The Map Chamber," he replied succinctly.

"Oh, the Map Chamber." Poppy sounded a little disappointed. She told Harry, "The Veratia there is just a painting. I thought you actually brought her back..."

"But now we have a lead, don't we?" Harry said with a grin. "She even gave me the key to the vault. Inside, there's a portion of the materials needed to summon her back... Oh, but I'm still missing something called a 'Basilisk Fang.' Since you're an expert on magical creatures, do you know where I can find one?"

"A Basilisk?" Poppy shook her head. "I did hear that customs once confiscated a juvenile Basilisk, but it was destroyed long ago. If Cassandra were still around, she might have something from a Basilisk in her collection. I suppose... you could ask her descendants?"

The moment she mentioned it, Harry immediately thought of Draco’s notebook.

He made up his mind to ask Draco about it when he got back—he needed to get to the bottom of that notebook.

"But… Cassandra, huh." Poppy whistled. "Do you remember our fourth year? That time you and Cassandra had that huge argument? I recall her mentioning that her family had a collection of rare magical creature artifacts."

"Ah." Harry vaguely remembered.

---

Back then, for some reason, Cassandra had gotten angry with him and ignored him for a long time.

Harry had thought he’d be thrilled—after all, that annoying, arrogant, insufferable Cassandra would finally give up on making him her lackey.

But to his dismay, he found that his life suddenly felt... incomplete.

That day, Harry spent hours in the underground training chambers, tirelessly practicing spells, trying to shake off that strange feeling.

"Whoa!" Poppy gasped as she watched Harry furiously blasting apart a training dummy. "You're really going all out!"

The Hufflepuff girl beamed at him, radiating warmth like winter sunshine, as if her presence alone could dispel loneliness.

"Don’t distract me. I'm working on spell combinations—go over there." Harry waved her off impatiently.

"Oh!" Poppy's face lit up with realization. She clasped her hands behind her back, skipped over to Harry's side, and cheekily popped her head into his view. "You got dumped! Cassandra dumped you!"

"I did NOT!" Harry snapped instinctively. "I wasn’t dumped—"

"Ohhh, so you abandoned her?" Poppy playfully bounced over to his other side, grinning mischievously. "Tell me, how does it feel to ditch a wealthy young lady?"

Harry scowled and lashed out with another spell, blasting the training dummy apart.

"Confringo!"

"It's nothing like what you're imagining!" he huffed.

"Hee hee, well then, while I'm still here, why don’t you cry on my shoulder?" Poppy bent down, propped one hand on her knee, and tapped her shoulder with the other. "Here—shoulder, all yours!"

"Cry? About what?!" Harry demanded.

"Come on, it's Christmas!" Poppy straightened up, tilting her head as she clasped her hands behind her back. "Everyone in your dormitory has gone home, right? When you return and find yourself all alone, then what? You’ll end up hiding under the covers and crying—way more pathetic than if you just do it now."

Harry lowered his wand and rolled his eyes.

"Even if I jumped off a tower, I would never cry!"

"Then you could at least talk to me. You know, Cassandra isn’t quite the way you imagine her..." Poppy hugged her arms, her bright eyes twinkling as she looked at him.

"I'd rather confide in Sir Nicholas. Or have an emotional chat with the Bloody Baron." Harry flicked his wand again, sending another spell crashing into the training dummy.

Poppy puffed out her cheeks and kicked at the ground aimlessly. "Wow! I came here to comfort you, and you don’t even appreciate it! You’d rather talk to the Bloody Baron than to me?"

"Yes!" Harry declared. No distractions, just magic.

He imagined the dummy was Cassandra and continued practicing his spell combinations.

Poppy, seeing that Harry was ignoring her, swayed playfully from side to side. Then, her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I see…"

"Leviosa! Accio! Depulso!"

Harry repeated his spell combinations over and over, trying to push aside his lingering frustration over Cassandra.

He was running from it.

"Oh?" Poppy’s expression turned sly, like a little fox. She pulled out her wand, pointed it at her throat, and cast a Sonorous Charm to amplify her voice. Then, standing behind Harry on tiptoe, she whispered dramatically over his shoulder:

"Practicing magic with such intensity… our poor little Harry must be using it as an outlet for heartbreak!"

"A shattered heart—who will it love next? The pain of rejection—when will it fade? Only by turning grief into power can he—"

Poppy suddenly leapt onto a chair, throwing her arms up theatrically as if reciting a Shakespearean sonnet.

"—unleash his sorrow through magic!"

Harry finally lowered his wand.

"Oh my!" Poppy pressed a hand to her chest and stretched out the other dramatically. "Could it be that little Harry is finally exhausted? Has he realized something at last? Will he now seek out Cassandra and have a heartfelt talk—"

She stopped abruptly when she met Harry’s gaze, suddenly feeling sheepish.

In her flustered state, she lost her balance and wobbled.

"Leviosa!"

Harry flicked his wand, suspending Poppy in the air just before she could fall flat on her back.

"Thanks, Harry—" Poppy grinned sheepishly.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. And in that moment, he understood what she was doing.

"I should be the one thanking you, Poppy," he said warmly. "Thank you. I feel much better now."

Later, it was Poppy’s words that helped him realize where the real issue lay.

***@@novelbin@@

"I remember." Harry reached out and gently stroked Poppy’s neck. "If not for you, Cassandra and I might never have become friends again..."

"Haha..." Poppy tilted her head up. "But honestly, even if you hadn’t gone to her back then, she probably would’ve come to find you herself, all high and mighty, and said—"

She cleared her throat and mimicked a haughty tone: 'Potter! My little sidekick, how dare you defy me?!'

"You know her well," Harry sighed.

---

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