Harry Potter

Yulian's gaze seemed focused, as if genuinely interested in Dudley's shallow insights. In reality, he subtly scanned every corner of the living room, every closed door.

Harry Potter. The name echoed in his mind. The legendary boy—the boy who lived, should be right here, at Number 4 Privet Drive.

"Oh, did you watch the boxing championship last week? Tyson's left hook was textbook," Yulian said conversationally, making small talk.

Dudley's eyes lit up. "You actually know about boxing?! I'm also a big fan of..."

(Yulian's inner monologue: I don't know jack about boxing. All I know is you'll be wetting your pants from Dementors next year.)

Searching GOOGLE TWKAN

The living room was filled only with Dudley's boastful voice and the Dursleys' boring conversation about stock prices and suburban property values, maintained with deliberate effort. There wasn't the slightest trace of that boy's presence.

Until—

During tea, Aunt Clara Rossi gently tapped her exquisite porcelain cup against its saucer, producing a crisp sound. She turned to Petunia Dursley, who was serving a second scone, her tone soft and curious as she casually brought up an old acquaintance:

"Dear Petunia, I remember you had a younger sister... Lily, wasn't it? We used to play together when we were little."

At the mention of Lily's name, the air suddenly froze.

Uncle Vernon let out a loud cough, choking on his tea, his face turning a beet-red color.

Aunt Petunia's hand, mid-way through handing over a scone, froze in the air. Her slender neck tensed, her lips pursed into a pale, unfeeling line. The gold necklace on her neck swayed slightly.

Dudley also stopped his description of the boxer's punch power, looking confusedly at his suddenly petrified parents.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Aunt Petunia abruptly retracted her hand, nearly dropping the scone. She then said, as if nothing had happened:

"Lily? Oh... her." She paused. "It was many years ago. A car accident. With her husband. They died."

Clara covered her mouth, letting out a soft, apologetic gasp. "Oh, my goodness... I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked. That's so sad. So... I heard she had a child?"

Aunt Petunia's face turned even paler. Her sharp gaze swept over Clara's concerned face, as if judging whether this concern hid an unfamiliar inquiry from that "abnormal world."

Finally, she took a deep breath, mustering all her strength to maintain a dignified coldness, and spat through gritted teeth:

"Yes. A boy. Named Harry. Harry Potter." She could barely bring herself to utter the surname. "Now... we are raising him."

She didn't say "living with us," but "raising him," as if stating a legal obligation she had to fulfill.

Uncle Vernon let out a heavy grunt, breaking the silence, trying to steer the conversation back to "normalcy." "Let's not talk about these dreary things! Dudley, haven't you shown Yulian your new Nintendo game console yet!"

But Yulian's eyes brightened slightly. He maintained a proper expression of sorrow and said softly, "This cousin Potter... is he here too? Perhaps Dudley could introduce us? Maybe people our age..."

Dudley's face immediately fell, and he mumbled, "Him? He always hides in the stairwell, keeps out of sight."

Aunt Petunia's expression was as if she had been forced to swallow a fly. She reluctantly turned towards the stairwell and shouted in her sharp, emotionless voice:

"Harry! Come out! We have guests who want to see you!"

A moment later, a small, thin figure cautiously appeared at the top of the stairs. Yulian knew he should be the same age as himself and Dudley, but he was much thinner than his peers.

He wore a T-shirt and jeans that were clearly too big and old-fashioned. His thin face was largely obscured by a pair of worn glasses held together with many layers of tape, but on his forehead, beneath a lock of perpetually messy black hair, a peculiar, lightning-shaped scar was faintly visible.

Most striking were the boy's eyes. They were a pair of green eyes, so bright they were almost transparent, like emeralds after a rain. They held a hint of timidity, yet concealed a subtle trace of stubbornness, and bore a strong resemblance to Yulian's own eyes.

It was Harry Potter.

Yulian's breathing hitched almost imperceptibly.

The boy before him was not yet the brave and resolute Savior of Hogwarts he would become. He looked more like a startled young animal, exuding a cautious distance, clearly not at ease in this home.

Harry had clearly noticed Yulian as well. His steps faltered, and a flicker of surprise and curiosity appeared in his green eyes. His gaze fell on Yulian, with a hint of probing. He seemed unaccustomed to guests, especially children his own age.

"Oh, this is Dudley's cousin, Harry," Aunt Petunia introduced him dismissively, her tone carrying a clear impatience, as if mentioning Harry was a troublesome chore. "Harry, come and say hello. This is Aunt Clara and her son, Yulian."

Harry pursed his lips and walked over cautiously, stopping and lowering his head slightly. His voice was small, "Hello, Aunt Clara, Yulian... hello." His fingers unconsciously fiddled with the hem of his shirt, appearing very reserved.

Yulian suppressed the emotions churning within him and offered Harry a gentle, sincere smile. His tone was soft, deliberately lowered, so as not to intimidate him. "Hello, Harry. My name is Yulian, it's nice to meet you."

His smile was clean and friendly, lacking the arrogance of the Dursleys or Dudley's meanness.

Harry blinked slightly, then looked up. A flicker of surprise crossed his green eyes before he quickly lowered his gaze again. Yet, the corners of his mouth curved upward ever so slightly, as if touched by this unexpected kindness.

"We bought some pastries for the children as a treat," Clara said, handing over the pastry box. Clara had likely sensed Harry's situation, but not knowing the details, she didn't say much more.

She simply smiled at Petunia. "Yulian and Dudley are about the same age, they can play together."

Petunia took the box, offering a perfunctory "Thank you," but her eyes flickered to Harry, and her tone was cold. "Yes. Let the children amuse themselves."

Yulian paid no mind to Petunia's attitude, his gaze fixed on Harry.

He could sense a faint but pure fluctuation of magical power emanating from Harry—an innate magical talent that couldn't be entirely concealed, even when suppressed in the Muggle world.

Harry seemed to feel a sense of inferiority from Petunia's tone, lowering his head even further.

Yulian gently touched his arm, lowering his voice slightly, with a hidden warmth. "It's okay, shall we go for a walk in the garden? The sun is lovely here."

Harry suddenly looked up, his green eyes filled with surprise, as if he couldn't believe someone would invite him. He hesitated for a few seconds, then, seeing the sincerity in Yulian's eyes, he finally nodded slightly, his voice barely a whisper. "Okay."

"Dudley, want to come for a walk?" Yulian turned to Dudley.

"No, my 'tank battle' is still paused." He had no interest in playing with that weirdo Harry. Well, except when practicing boxing.