NOVEL NEXT Chapter 3: Chapter:3
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Steven stepped into the park, the cool breeze brushing against his skin as he approached the familiar figures of Dudley Dursley and his cousin. Dudley, round-faced and red-cheeked, reminded Steven of the wealthy, spoiled kids he'd seen back in the States. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who had never wanted for anything, his shirt slightly strained against his pudgy belly as he chased Harry around in what seemed like playful irritation.
Steven greeted Dudley with a smile. "Hey, Dudley! How's it going?"
Dudley stopped mid-chase, grinning at the sight of Steven. "Happy birthday, mate!" he said, his tone friendly but slightly dismissive. It was clear Dudley saw himself as the ringleader in any group of kids.
Then Steven's eyes fell on Harry.
The boy stood slightly behind Dudley, skinny and unassuming, his wild black hair sticking up in all directions. His glasses, taped at the bridge, sat crooked on his nose. There was a timidness to him, a wariness that spoke of a life far removed from Dudley's.
Steven felt his stomach drop as realization dawned. This is Harry Potter. The name "Dursley" should've been the giveaway, but seeing Harry up close confirmed it. The Boy Who Lived. The savior of the magical world. The kid who will one day face Voldemort and win.
Right now, though, he wasn't any of those things. Harry was just a quiet, slightly awkward boy the town had labeled as "the madman." Dudley's mother, Petunia, had likely fueled those rumors. Even from the memories of the body he now inhabited, Steven could only recall seeing Harry twice before. He'd been a fleeting presence, always in the background, never invited to play or join in.
But now, standing a few feet away, Steven realized the stakes. If he wanted a long and successful life in this magical world, befriending Harry would be crucial. His future was bound to Harry's success if he play a major role in the world. But there was one glaring issue—Steven hadn't received any sign he was magical. No owl, no letter, nothing. He was an outsider looking in.
No use worrying about that now, he thought. Focus on laying the groundwork.
"Hey, Harry," Steven said with a polite smile, keeping his tone light and friendly. "Want to come to my birthday party tonight?"
Harry blinked in surprise, as though no one had ever invited him to anything before. "Me?" he asked, glancing at Dudley, who immediately frowned.
"Yeah, of course you!" Steven replied, injecting a note of cheer into his voice. "I've got cake, games, and plenty of room. You should come."
Dudley scowled, crossing his arms. "Why invite him? He's just... you know, Harry."
Steven shrugged nonchalantly. "The more, the merrier, right? Besides, he's family, isn't he?" He saw the brief flicker of annoyance cross Dudley's face but ignored it.
Harry's face lit up with a shy smile, and for a moment, Steven felt a pang of guilt. Back in his previous life, he'd seen too many kids who carried that same look—hope mingled with disbelief, like they were waiting for the world to take back the kindness.
"Thanks," Harry said softly.
"Cool! Let's play some tag while we're here," Steven suggested, clapping his hands together. The kids nodded, and the game began.
The next hour passed in a flurry of running, laughter, and carefully calculated interactions. Steven made sure to include both Dudley and Harry in the game, keeping the balance so neither felt excluded. He even "accidentally" tripped Harry at one point, making it look like a natural fall, just to keep Dudley from feeling overshadowed by his cousin.
By the time Steven waved goodbye to both boys, Dudley was mildly appeased, and Harry looked happier than he'd probably been in months. A good start, Steven thought as he walked back home, his mind already strategizing the next steps.
Back at home, Steven's mother greeted him warmly, ushering him to the dining table where lunch was already waiting. His father, a chartered accountant at a major bank, was at work as usual, leaving just the two of them.
"Did you have fun at the park?" his mother asked, setting down a plate of sandwiches.
"Yeah," Steven replied, smiling. "I invited a couple of friends to the party tonight."
"Good boy," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately. He felt another pang of emotion—her love and kindness stood in stark contrast to the abusive, neglectful father he'd grown up with in his past life.
Lunch passed quickly, and Steven excused himself to his room. The spacious, well-furnished space was a far cry from the cramped quarters he'd known as John Stein. He eyed the sturdy wooden frame of the door and decided to test his new body's limits.
Dropping to the floor, he began a series of push-ups. One. Two. Three. Four. Five— His arms gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor with a groan. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his muscles trembled.
"Well, that's pathetic," he muttered, lying flat on his back as he caught his breath. He was no soldier anymore, but he was determined to rebuild his strength. If he couldn't wield magic, he'd have to make up for it with physical ability.
As he stared up at the ceiling, the faint tapping of something against the window caught his attention. He sat up, confused, and turned toward the sound. An owl was perched on the windowsill, pecking insistently at the glass.
His heart leapt. Could it be?
Rushing to the window, he opened it, letting the owl flutter in. It dropped an envelope onto his desk before taking off again. Steven stared at the letter, his hands trembling as he picked it up. The parchment was thick and creamy, the address written in elegant, looping script:
Mr. S. Hart
Second Floor Bedroom
21 Meadow Lane
Godric's Hollow
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the letter. Then, with a deep breath, he tore it open.
To be continued.