Harry Potter

Yulian's gaze seemed focused, as if he were genuinely fascinated by Dudley's shallow opinions. In reality, he was discreetly scanning every corner of the living room and every closed door.

Harry Potter. The name circled in his mind. The legendary boy—the Boy Who Lived—should be here, at Number 4 Privet Drive.

"By the way, did you watch the boxing championship last week? Tyson's left hook was textbook perfect." Yulian was just making conversation.

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

(Yulian's inner monologue: I don't know jack about boxing. I just know that next year you'll be so scared of a Dementor you'll wet your pants.)

The living room held only the sound of Dudley swaggering and the Dursleys' deliberately maintained, tedious conversation about stock prices and suburban property values. There wasn't the slightest sign of the boy's existence.

Until—

At tea time, Clara Rossi lightly tapped her fine china cup against its saucer, producing a crisp chink. She turned to Petunia Dursley, who was handing out a second buttered scone, and casually brought up an old acquaintance in a gentle, curious tone.

"Dear Petunia, I remember you had a younger sister... Lily, was it? We used to play together when we were little."

At the name Lily, the air suddenly froze.

Uncle Vernon let out a loud, choking cough, his face turning beet red.

Aunt Petunia's hand froze in midair as she offered the scone. Her long, slender neck tensed, and her lips pressed into a bloodless, merciless line. The gold chain around her neck swayed slightly.

Dudley also stopped describing the force of a champion's punch and stared in confusion at his suddenly petrified parents.

After several painfully awkward seconds, Aunt Petunia snatched her hand back, nearly dropping the scone. Then she spoke as if nothing were amiss.

"Lily? Oh... her." She paused. "That was a long time ago. She was in a car accident. With her husband. They died."

Clara covered her mouth and gave a soft, apologetic gasp. "Oh, my goodness... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked. How awful. And... I heard she had a child, too."

Aunt Petunia's face paled further. Her sharp eyes swept over Clara's concerned expression, as if trying to judge whether there was some unfamiliar curiosity behind it, some interest in that "abnormal world."

At last, she drew a deep breath and forced herself to maintain a dignified indifference. The words came through gritted teeth.

"Yes. A boy. His name is Harry. Harry Potter." She seemed almost unwilling to utter the surname. "We're... raising him now."

She didn't say, "He lives with us," but "We're raising him," as though describing an unavoidable legal obligation.

Uncle Vernon gave a heavy snort, breaking the silence as he tried to drag the conversation back to "normal." "Enough of this unpleasant talk! Dudley, you haven't shown Yulian your new Nintendo game console yet!"

But Yulian's eyes brightened slightly. Keeping his expression appropriately mournful, he spoke softly. "This Potter... cousin of yours... is he here too? Maybe Dudley could introduce us. We're about the same age, so perhaps..."

Dudley's face immediately fell. "Him? He's always hiding under the stairs. He doesn't want anyone to see him."

Aunt Petunia looked as if she'd been forced to swallow a fly. With great reluctance, she turned toward the stairs and called out in a sharp, utterly emotionless voice.

"Harry! Come out! We have a guest who wants to meet you!"

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

He wore an old T-shirt and a pair of jeans that were clearly too large and out of style. His thin face was mostly hidden behind a shabby pair of glasses, held together with several layers of tape, but on his forehead, beneath a tuft of unruly black hair, a strange, lightning-shaped scar was faintly visible.

The boy's eyes were what stood out most. They were bright, almost translucent green, like emeralds after the rain. There was a hint of timidity in them, along with a barely perceptible stubbornness. They looked very much like Yulian's own.

It was Harry Potter.

Yulian's breath caught almost imperceptibly.

The boy standing before him didn't yet resemble the brave, steadfast Savior he would become at Hogwarts. At that moment, he seemed more like a startled little animal, radiating a wary distance. It was obvious he wasn't comfortable in this home.

Harry had clearly noticed Yulian too. He stopped, surprise and curiosity showing in his green eyes as he studied him cautiously. He didn't seem used to having visitors, especially children his own age.

"Oh, this is Dudley's cousin, Harry," Petunia said offhandedly, with unmistakable impatience, as if mentioning Harry were a dreadful nuisance. "Harry, come and say hello. This is Aunt Clara, and her son, Yulian."

Harry pressed his lips together and walked over cautiously. He stopped and lowered his head slightly. "Hello, Aunt Clara. Hello, Yulian," he said quietly. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, making him look very self-conscious.

Yulian pushed down his emotions and gave Harry a warm, sincere smile. His voice was gentle, and he made a point of keeping his manner unassuming so Harry wouldn't feel pressured. "Hi, Harry. I'm Yulian. It's nice to meet you."

His smile was open and friendly, nothing like the Dursleys' arrogance or Dudley's nastiness.

Harry paused, then looked up. Surprise flickered in his green eyes before he quickly lowered his gaze again. But the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, as if this unexpected kindness had touched him.

"We brought some pastries for the children to have as a snack." Clara held out the box of pastries. She had probably sensed Harry's situation, too, but she didn't know the details and said nothing.

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

Petunia accepted the box and muttered a perfunctory "Thank you," but glanced at Harry and replied coolly, "Yes. Let the children amuse themselves."

Yulian paid no attention to Petunia's attitude. His gaze remained fixed on Harry.

He could sense a faint but pure magical energy radiating from Harry—the innate gift for magic that couldn't be completely concealed, even when suppressed in the Muggle world.

Petunia's tone seemed to make Harry feel even more inferior. He lowered his head further.

Yulian gently touched his arm and lowered his voice, making it soft and warm. "It's okay. Want to take a walk in the garden? The sunshine's lovely."

Harry jerked his head up, his green eyes full of surprise, as if he couldn't believe someone had invited him along. He hesitated for a few seconds, then looked at Yulian's sincere expression and finally nodded. His voice was almost too soft to hear. "Okay."

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

"No. I've still got my 'Tank Battle' paused." He had no interest in playing with Harry, the freak. Well, except when they were practicing boxing.