The next morning, when everyone woke up, they immediately noticed something had changed.
They sat nervously at the long tables, eating breakfast—perhaps their last at Hogwarts.
But the professors' expressions were entirely different from the previous day. They seemed happy, as though celebrating something. Professor McGonagall looked like she could burst into laughter at any moment—only Snape remained as gloomy as ever.
Could something have turned around for the school? Some of the more observant students began to suspect so.
While everyone was still eating, Professor McGonagall could no longer hold back. She had intended to make the announcement after breakfast, but she just couldn't wait to tell the students the good news.
She stood, gazing intently at the four house tables. Though silent, her emotions were plain on her face.
Slowly, she announced: Hogwarts would not be closing. The Chamber of Secrets incident had been resolved, the petrified students would recover in a few days, and Professor Dumbledore had been reinstated by the Board of Governors. Finally, due to the events of the term, all final exams were canceled.
It was a lot to process. The students sat stunned for a moment, until a single cheer broke out—followed by a chorus of jubilant shouting.
None of them had ever experienced such relief. With the pressure of exams lifted, they were finally able to enjoy themselves as students.
For second-years, the most important task now was selecting courses for third year.
It was a big deal, determining the direction of their studies—and possibly even their future.
There were core and elective courses.
Core subjects: Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Astronomy.
Electives: Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy.
Hermione was deep in thought, unsure what to choose. Given her love of learning, giving up any subject was unthinkable. In the end, she ticked off every elective on the list.
She craned her neck to peek at Harry's choices.
Just then, Ron received a parcel delivered by owl.
Ron was quite popular at the moment—his fear of being expelled had proven unfounded. Dumbledore even used Ron's experience to warn other students about the dangers of magical objects with sentience.
Everyone knew now that Ron had been controlled by the Heir of Slytherin through dark magic. They pestered him with questions, eager to hear what had really happened. Ron, no longer afraid, boasted about what "he" had done over the past few months—relishing his newfound fame as the key eyewitness.
Inside the parcel was a brand-new wand and a note. Ron read aloud:
"Willow wood, fourteen inches, core of unicorn tail hair."
"Wow, Ron, now you can finally toss that old busted wand!"
"That must have cost a fortune. Did your family buy it for you?"
Ron looked puzzled. "There's no name on it. But I'm sure it wasn't from my family. They'd just make me use one of my brothers' old wands—unless Dad won the lottery or something."
Harry looked away—that was his way of making it up to him.
Harry had chosen Care of Magical Creatures. If all went as expected, the current professor would meet with some unexpected misfortune, and Hagrid would end up teaching the class.
"You need to pick two electives," Hermione reminded him. "Divination might actually be fun." She marked it on Harry's form for him.
Harry hated that loony Divination professor, but it was undeniably the easiest class—a perfect excuse for some free time. Sure, whatever.
…
Fred and George watched as Ron loudly bragged about all the things he'd done while under control—how he opened the Chamber, unleashed the basilisk, and petrified students. The twins exchanged a glance of pity.
They had already figured out the secret Percy had tried so hard to hide: he'd been pursuing Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect. But Penelope clearly didn't reciprocate—Percy's constant fretting made that obvious. And once she recovered from being petrified and learned it had been Percy's brother who caused it all, well… there'd be no hope left for that relationship.
And yet Ron was still oblivious, completely wrapped up in his own pride.
How would Percy get his revenge? The twins smirked at each other with mischief.
…
Dumbledore and several professors ventured into the Chamber of Secrets.
All they found was the grotesque corpse of the basilisk. Dumbledore declared that the Chamber would be sealed permanently.
The body had been crafted by Harry using the basilisk's previous shed skin. Whether it fooled Dumbledore or not—Harry didn't really care.
The real basilisk had been released into the Forbidden Forest, and had instantly become its new apex predator.
…
After the truth about the Heir of Slytherin was revealed, many students felt awkward around Harry. Some of them had said pretty awful things.
Those with a conscience came to him shyly to apologize. The thick-skinned ones just acted like nothing had ever happened.
Come on—it was just a few rumors. Harry Potter was fine, wasn't he?
Hermione suddenly remembered something. "I heard Filch found another cat. Someone said they broke a rule and ended up in Filch's office, where they saw a hideous cat with a broken tail and short legs."
Harry didn't think much of it at the time. But that night, lying in bed, Hermione's words echoed in his mind.
It struck him—he hadn't seen his cat in days. (Author's note: I never wrote it explicitly, but just assume the cat used to appear regularly around the main character.)
Harry vanished from the dorm with a pop. Ron, Seamus, and the others stared in shock.
"H-He just disappeared…"
…
In Filch's office, a cat was chained to the leg of a table. Its left hind leg was broken, the tail was reduced to a stump, most of its fur was burned away—raw flesh exposed, some wounds oozing pus. The filthy environment had turned its coat a grayish color. Its eyes, once bright, were now dull like dusty beads.
When the cat saw Harry, it whimpered and shed a tear—like it understood.
Filch stood beside it, holding a bowl of bubbling green sludge, trying to force-feed the creature, a disgusting grin on his face.
A cold voice came from behind him. "Filch…"
His hunched frame trembled. He turned and found Harry staring at him with icy eyes.
"You deserve to die."
Filch wavered—but steadied himself. This was the school, after all. What could the boy do?
"Harry Potter," he said with a sneer. "Out after curfew? That's a violation of school rules."
"I used to pity you," Harry said. "But you tortured my cat. You think I can't do anything to you?"
Looking at the pathetic state of his cat, Harry felt only disgust toward the vile man—he didn't want to waste a single more word.
Crucio.
Filch collapsed, writhing in agony. His bloodshot eyes bulged. His long, untrimmed black fingernails clawed at his own body, tearing flesh from his face, screaming in pure agony.
"Aaahhh! Help me—!"
"You can scream louder," Harry said calmly. "I've already cast a silencing charm. Let's see if anyone hears you."
He tapped his wand and broke the iron chain. He had named the cat "Sweetie" for its snow-white fur and beautiful eyes—but now it looked like a demon from hell.
Harry cradled it gently. His hatred for Filch reached the breaking point.
"Neville's parents were tortured into insanity by the Cruciatus Curse. They've been in St. Mungo's ever since. Let's see how long you last."
Filch clawed his way toward the door, still screaming.
Harry pointed his wand at Filch's legs. Bang! Bang! Both thighs exploded, blood spraying everywhere. The pain actually dulled the rest of the curse's agony—for a moment.
Harry disappeared again.
…
Madam Pomfrey was tending to the petrified students when Harry reappeared, startling her.
She examined Sweetie's injuries and said they weren't caused by magic. The leg and tail could be regrown. Only then did Harry relax.
Sweetie clung to Harry's robe, whimpering pitifully. He cast a sleep charm to calm its emaciated little body.
After Madam Pomfrey treated the wounds, she noticed something odd: the petrified Mrs. Norris was missing.
…
Back in Filch's office, the man was now beyond recognition. His face had been shredded down to exposed bone.
He no longer had the strength to scream for help—only low, bestial growls. When he saw Harry enter, he rasped, "Kill… me…"
"No rush. Savor it."
Harry smiled coldly. "See this?"
Even with his blood-filled vision, Filch could make out what it was—his beloved Mrs. Norris, now a statue.
"No… please…" he begged.
Harry placed the stone cat on the table and lightly tapped it with his wand. Crack. A spiderweb of fractures appeared—and then it crumbled into gray dust.
Harry blew gently, scattering the ashes into Filch's ruined face.
"There you go," he whispered. "Now you can die with your mongrel."
"You… you're a monster…" Filch wept, filled with regret.
Harry sat in a chair and calmly watched him. The more he screamed, the more satisfied Harry felt. The bloody scene didn't bother him at all.
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THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER
⚡🦉 THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER 🦉⚡
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📢 MAGIC REBORN! 📢
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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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