But no one noticed that at the doorway of the third-floor Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Professor Quirrell was quietly standing by the railing, staring fixedly at Mr. Potter, who was surrounded by the crowd.
On his somewhat twitchy, neurotic face, the muscles jerked faintly. Through his shabby glasses, his gaze locked tightly onto Harry in the middle of the students.
"Hmph, just a lucky brat," Quirrell ground his teeth so hard they creaked. "Why does he get all this attention, while I can only hide in the shadows and be treated like some insignificant extra?"
But on the back of his head, Voldemort, the second Dark Lord, reacted completely differently.
Sharing Quirrell's line of sight, he looked at the humble yet vibrant smile on Harry's face, and, unexpectedly, thought of his own youth.
Back then, he had been just like Harry— the center of attention, brimming with endless talent and potential.
It was as if he had crossed over more than ten years of time and seen his younger self!
Suddenly, Harry, who had just broken free of the crowd, seemed to sense something and snapped his head around, looking toward Quirrell.
When he turned his eyes that way, what he caught was Quirrell guiltily jerking his head aside.
That made Harry shake his head with a faint, amused smile. Such a timid little mouse— not even worth mentioning.
It was the same familiar Transfiguration class, but not the familiar "kitty professor".
The Kitty Professor did not transform into that British Shorthair-looking cat that seemed to be wearing glasses. Instead, she stood on the podium in her original form, watching every student who came in.
When she saw Harry, her eyes narrowed slightly. It was obvious she had remembered the experience of almost being picked up and cuddled.
She was still having aftershocks over it. If Harry really had picked her up back then, how was she supposed to show her face ever again?
Worst of all, if some shameless newspaper got hold of it— say, something like the Quibbler— her later years would probably be anything but peaceful.
With that thought, Professor McGonagall's expression grew even sterner, which made Ron a little scared; he couldn't help wanting to edge farther away from Harry.
Miss Otter, on the other hand, reacted in the exact opposite way. To her, Harry was her one reliable support in the wizarding world. So even though she was nervous, she actually shuffled closer and closer to his side.
Harry also noticed Professor McGonagall's unfriendly gaze. His back snapped straight, his posture became perfectly proper, and he didn't dare relax in the slightest.
Her eyes made him think of the Sorcerer Supreme.
The Sorcerer Supreme was not a "serious" person at all— on the contrary, she was very "playful".
Whenever Harry made a mistake or did something that displeased her, she would use all sorts of ways to make Harry "happy".
That was a spell called the Laugh-and-Cry Charm; just like the name said— you laughed and laughed until you cried.
Once, he'd gotten into a fight with an Asgardian. He really wasn't a match for that green-clad Asgardian at first.
He got so angry that he tried to forcibly control his uncontrollable magic, which caused his power to run wild.
Although, relying on his overwhelming magic, he did give that Asgardian, and the other Asgardian who rushed over afterward, a thorough beating, his magic almost completely lost control as well and nearly wiped out Asgard.
The Sorcerer Supreme had been absolutely furious back then and made him laugh for a full twenty-four hours.
He still remembered Wong coming to plead for him, and the Sorcerer Supreme saying, "Look how happy he is right now— he's so happy he's crying. I'm sure he's deeply moved!"
It wasn't until the punishment was over that Harry found out those two Asgardians were the god-king's eldest son, Thor the God of Thunder, and his second son, Loki the God of Mischief.
No wonder he couldn't beat them at the start.
Still, that battle wasn't without its rewards. At one point he had Loki pinned down and almost beaten into tears. From then on, Loki earned himself a nickname from Harry: the little Asgardian princess who cries easily.
Haha, the supposedly "innately evil" God of Mischief hadn't been able to hold his head up properly in Asgard ever since!
In order to win Professor McGonagall's favor, Harry behaved with exemplary diligence in Transfiguration, perfectly completing the assignment she gave in class— and even overachieving. He enlarged a stool and turned it into a round table.
Professor McGonagall was pleasantly surprised by this and immediately awarded Gryffindor five points. After class, she even invited Harry to join the Transfiguration Club she had founded.
The Transfiguration Club created by Professor McGonagall was dedicated to exploring and practicing Transfiguration. They met every Tuesday evening in the activity room next to the Transfiguration classroom.
Professor McGonagall would be there as well. She would answer the students' questions, and could even provide guidance in becoming an Animagus to small wizards whose Transfiguration skills had reached a certain level.
Professor McGonagall was one of the very few Animagi in the wizarding world, so her guidance was especially precious.
Seeing the faint smile finally appear on her face, Harry quietly let out a breath of relief.
The groundwork was laid. As long as he showed off his extraordinary Quidditch talent later, he should be able to ask Professor McGonagall for a permission slip to the Restricted Section.
Herbology and History of Magic both passed as usual. With his magical AI Hedwig, these memory-heavy subjects couldn't have been easier for him.
Herbology also required him to analyze the magical properties of various plants and see whether he could combine them into entirely new potion recipes, so Harry did at least listen seriously in that class.
But in History of Magic, he deliberately picked a seat in a back corner by the window, took out a piece of scrap paper, and started doing a massive amount of calculations.
His railgun research was proceeding in an orderly fashion; he had already completed twenty to thirty percent of it. He needed to pick up the pace and hopefully finish it before his next jump.
The next time he crossed over, he would have to head to Harlem to protect Peter. He didn't yet know what had caused that explosion, but anything that loud had to be the work of someone very strong.
Though he was powerful, Harry had never considered himself invincible. In the multiverse, there were far too many things that could kill him— entities on the level of the Vishanti, for example, could definitely do it.
And in his normal state, when he was fighting purely with the controllable magic in his body, he was much weaker. High-ranking abyssal demons already required him to go all out— especially high-ranking succubi, who took so much effort that he'd only barely manage to handle them after fighting until his waist ached and his back was sore.
So perhaps the culprit behind the explosion would be an opponent no weaker than a high-ranking succubus?
Besides that, there was another urgent reason he wanted to complete the railgun.
Very soon he and Tony would be heading to Asgard to buy a large quantity of Uru metal, and there was a good chance they'd run into that annoying Loki.
In his ordinary state, he had never been able to beat Loki before and had always been mocked by that so-called God of Mischief. Once the railgun was finished, he was definitely going to give Loki a "surprise"!
If he didn't beat Loki until he was going "ying ying ying", then he wasn't Harry Potter!
With the crisp ringing of the History of Magic dismissal bell, the classroom instantly became lively.
After History of Magic on Tuesdays came the first-years' favorite class— Flying.
The young wizards formed groups of two or three and, like a flock of cheerful little birds, chirped and chattered their way toward the flying lesson grounds in front of the castle.
Along the way, sunlight spilled down on them, lighting up the excitement and anticipation on their faces— the pure longing for that first true flight.
Today's flying lesson was different from the first two. The vast majority of students could already skillfully call their brooms up into their hands.
With that foundation in place, Madam Hooch was finally going to let them try actually taking off.
Like the other students, Harry was very much looking forward to it. He was already pondering which advanced maneuvers he should use to show off the dashing style of a savior on a broom— and completely win over the adorable Kitty Professor.
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