Harry's first eleven years of life were far from ideal.
He lost both his parents at a young age and was raised by his Aunt Petunia's family, spending every long night in the cupboard under the stairs. His aunt's family rarely showed him any kindness, and his cousin Dudley bullied him without the slightest hint of guilt.
Once, Harry's greatest desire was to own a watch. At night, in the pitch-dark cupboard, he couldn't tell the time and had to wait until the late hours—when his aunt's family was fast asleep—to sneak into the kitchen and find something to eat.
Everything Harry ate, wore, or used was handed down from Dudley.
Dudley was a boy as fat as a pig, with no part of his body free from excess flesh. His life revolved around three pleasures: eating, sleeping, and beating Harry.
Thanks to Harry, Dudley became quite skilled at fighting and strutted his prowess among his peers.
Harry's glasses were held together with countless pieces of tape, and his nose had been broken several times—all consequences of being caught by Dudley.
Though Harry felt anger and sadness, he didn't resent his aunt's family. To him, the fact that his aunt and uncle were willing to take him in and give him a place to stay was an indelible act of kindness.
[It's okay; things will get better when I grow up.] Harry often comforted himself with these words.
In truth, he didn't even have to wait until he grew up. At the age of eleven, the door to another world opened for him—a letter of invitation from Hogwarts.
No one could know how overjoyed Harry was when he learned that the magical world truly existed and that he would become a part of it.
Through this, Harry met Hagrid and learned the truth about his parents' deaths from him. He visited Diagon Alley and Gringotts, catching a glimpse of the magical world. He acquired his own wand and arrived at Hogwarts—the finest magic school in England.
He truly believed that his days of hardship were over, and good times lay ahead.
But it seemed that God had opened more than one door for him.
While awaiting the sorting, he felt Hogwarts Castle—or perhaps the entire world—tremble. His soul spun, and when he regained consciousness, he found himself in a completely different world—Scotland's Highlands in 2006.
He struggled in this utterly unfamiliar Britain for nearly a year, enduring hardships he didn't want to relive. Had his magical power not awakened, enabling him to fend off a few drunks, Harry might have met a tragic end on the streets of Inverness.
That was until a handsome old man in a suit, hailing from America, recognized his talent and brought him to the United States for training. Only then did Harry's life of wandering come to an end.
The handsome old man was named Hilbert Jean Angers, the principal of Cassel College. Cassel College was a school dedicated to dragon slaying, where all the students were mixed-blood species from around the world—hybrids of humans and dragons.
Harry wasn't sure if he, too, was one of these so-called mixed-blood species; perhaps "mixed-world species" would be a more fitting term.
Maybe the overlap of souls from two worlds had caused some mutation deep within Harry's bloodline, awakening his talent. Mixed-blood species called their abilities "Word Spirits," but Harry, hailing from the magical world, named his ability "Witch Spirit."
The Witch Spirit was akin to an enhanced version of the bloodline engraving "Mirror Eye." Angers called it an "ultimate" ability, for it was powerful enough to take on a Dragon King single-handedly.
The Witch Spirit embodied Harry's absolute rationality, granting him extraordinary analysis and replication capabilities. It allowed him to store every ability he had ever witnessed in his mind. However, this required the user to possess a foundational knowledge base; things entirely foreign or beyond his comprehension could not be analyzed.
If the user understood enough and analyzed deeply enough, the replicated ability could even surpass the original.
But there was a significant limitation—magical power. The Witch Spirit's operation demanded a constant supply of magical energy. Though Harry's magical reserves were abundant for his age, they still fell short of the Witch Spirit's immense consumption.
Angers claimed that Harry was the only one with the power to confront pure-blooded dragons, and thus spared no effort in teaching him every ounce of knowledge and skill related to dragon slaying.
Under Angers' covert guidance, Harry took part in capturing and killing a few high-risk Deadpools and mixed-blood species.
Three years later, at the age of fifteen, Harry officially enrolled in Cassel College. In the same year, there was a big boy from the East named Lu Mingfei.
Over the next three years, they faced the White Emperor City beneath the Three Gorges Reservoir, the Nibelungen within Beijing's subway, the endless rain atop an elevated bridge, the Deadpool nest in Japan's Takamagahara, and the final battle against the White King Herzog above the Red Well.
That battle was perilously close—if Harry had been a moment too late, that red-haired girl would have slept forever in the depths of the Red Well.
After the war, they returned to Cassel College. Eri, who had just awakened from severe injuries sustained in Japan, kept sending messages begging to play games. Harry stayed up with her until late at night before falling into a deep sleep.
He never expected that when he awoke, he'd find himself in yet another world.
…
"Analyze."
Harry selected the Sorting Hat as his target and muttered softly.
In an instant, blue data text flowed like water across his retina.
[Name: Sorting Hat]
[Species: Legendary Magical Item]
[Material: Low-bloodline dragon skin mixed with unknown biological fur]
[Functions: Legilimency, Divination, Space Magic, Memory Palace, Defense Against the Dark Arts (Master Level)…]
[Current Analysis Progress: Legilimency 0.01% (Unusable), Divination 0.01% (Unusable), Defense Against the Dark Arts 0.05%…]
[Continue Analysis?]
[No.]
Harry's heart tightened, and he halted the analysis.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, sneaking a glance at the Sorting Hat was one thing, but using the Witch Spirit for an extended time? He couldn't guarantee that others wouldn't notice.
After all, nearly every professor in the school was present, and Harry's every move was under their scrutiny.
"It seems you've had quite an extraordinary adventure, child…"
At that moment, a faint voice sounded in Harry's ear. "Though I can't see it clearly, the mere glimpse I caught is enough to land you in Azkaban, enjoying a lifetime of deluxe single-room accommodations."
"Azkaban? Is that the fifth house of the school?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"It's the most famous prison in the British wizarding world, on par with Nurmengard," the Sorting Hat explained in a hushed tone, its voice tinged with hesitation. "Though your memories are dark, bloody, violent, and brimming with destructive desires—and there's a power within you more mysterious than dark magic—I can still see that the core of your soul is pure. Someone has used the greatest magic to shield your mind exceptionally well."
Harry closed his eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"Since Dumbledore allowed you to enroll, there must be a reason. Let's discuss which house might suit you best," the Sorting Hat continued, rambling on.
"Slytherin is undoubtedly your top choice. They're ambitious and cunning, capable of helping you reach the pinnacle."
"Ravenclaw is wise but solitary. You possess exceptional intellect, but I wonder if you have the patience to explore the path of magic alone."
"Hufflepuff is loyal and upright, mostly pursuing steady growth."
"Gryffindor is brave and resolute, always pressing forward. Its founder was known for wielding a wand in one hand and a sword in the other to battle dark wizards… Oh, you're intrigued?"
"Then, as you wish, child."
…
In the Great Hall, everyone gazed at the boy in the center, eagerly awaiting the outcome.
All four houses vied for the Boy Who Lived. It would be a weighty boast when they graduated and stepped into the wizarding world: "Hey, you know Harry Potter? He was my classmate/junior!"
After a full ten minutes, the Sorting Hat's shrill voice finally rang out.
"Gryffindor!"
"Gryffindor deducts five points!"
An impatient voice followed immediately after.