The early morning sun bathed the streets of New York in amber hues as the silver Mercedes glided down the avenue, humming softly over the pavement. Traffic was light, the city only beginning to stir, and the air buzzed with that peculiar blend of coffee steam, honking horns, and the ever-present thrum of movement.
Harry sat in the passenger seat, eyes wide behind his glasses, glancing from street sign to street sign, memorizing landmarks and counting blocks.
"So the school's what… twenty minutes from home?" he asked.
Dudley, hands confidently on the wheel, nodded. "If you don't hit traffic. You'll need to practice this route if you want to drive yourself someday."
Harry smirked. "Hopefully without driving into a lamppost."
Dudley grunted. "You're not that bad."
They drove in silence for a few moments more, the road stretching ahead beneath a cloudless sky. Harry leaned his elbow against the window and let the wind tousle his hair. For the first time, the thought of attending school—an actual Muggle high school—didn't fill him with dread. It felt like the start of something… new.
And then he saw it.
His body went rigid. He blinked twice.
No, it wasn't a trick of the light.
There's no way.
A massive creature—twice the size of a lion, with a sleek body covered in sandy, scaly fur—walked casually down the sidewalk like a stray cat. Its muscular limbs moved with the grace of a jungle predator, and its tail, long and barbed like a scorpion's, flicked lazily behind it. The creature's face was disturbingly intelligent, its amber eyes scanning the crowd with eerie calm.
Harry gasped, sitting up straight.
"What is it, Harry?" Dudley asked, glancing sideways.
Harry didn't answer at first. He pointed, hand trembling slightly.
"Right there. On the sidewalk. Tell me you see that."
Dudley followed his line of sight and squinted at the passing pedestrians. "What, the woman in the green coat?"
"No! The manticore! Right beside her! It's walking in the open—right through a group of people!"
Dudley looked at him like he'd just sprouted antlers. "Mate, I don't see anything. You're not having a panic attack, are you?"
Harry kept staring. "You really don't see it?"
"There's nothing there, Harry. Just people. Maybe a dog. What's a… mantis-corpse?"
"Manticore," Harry said, breathless. "It's a magical beast. Very rare. Extremely dangerous. Its sting can kill a person instantly."
"And you think it's walking to school with us?"
Harry didn't answer. He couldn't. His eyes were locked on the beast.
The manticore was calmly strolling along the pavement, weaving between oblivious pedestrians like a tourist out for a morning walk. It didn't touch anyone. It didn't snarl or hiss. In fact, it looked… tame.
That's not right, Harry thought. That's not right at all.
He instinctively reached for his pocket—only to find it empty.
His wand. Bloody hell, he had left it at the mansion. It had felt too risky to bring it to school. Too out-of-place. He wasn't in Hogwarts anymore, and he wasn't sure how American wizard laws worked. But now, with a manticore casually meandering down Lexington Avenue…
"I should've brought my wand," Harry muttered.
Dudley turned into the school's parking lot and killed the engine.
"Okay," he said slowly, "either that's some weird wizard animal thing, or you seriously need to lay off the coffee."
Harry opened the door and stepped out cautiously, still scanning the street.
"It was real," he said firmly. "I've seen enough magical creatures to know. But what I don't understand is how no one else saw it. Not even you."
"Maybe it's under a spell? Like one of those notice-me-not things?"
Harry frowned. "Could be. But the spell would have to be powerful. Strong enough to fool hundreds of Muggles walking past. And that takes skill. Which begs the real question…"
He turned and looked toward the avenue where the creature had disappeared into a crowd, unnoticed and unbothered.
"…why isn't the American Ministry doing anything? A manticore shouldn't be in New York. They're not native, and they're too dangerous to roam free. Someone should've seen it. Someone should've reacted."
Dudley scratched his head. "Maybe they're asleep on the job."
Harry stared a moment longer, his brows drawn together.
"I don't think this is a simple case of a rogue magical pet."
"You think someone put it there?" Dudley asked. "Deliberately?"
Harry didn't answer.
He didn't know.
But his gut told him this was just the beginning of something far stranger than he had anticipated when he signed up for a quiet Muggle education.
And somewhere behind the veil of this ordinary city…
Magic was waking.
The silver Mercedes rolled past the front gates of Harrison Wells Memorial High School and merged into the controlled chaos of an American school morning.
The lot was a swirl of activity—cars pulling in, honking lightly, students hopping out with half-zipped backpacks and fast-food breakfasts, others arriving on bikes or on foot. Music thumped from a few car speakers, and laughter and chatter filled the cool morning air.
Harry leaned closer to the window, watching it all with a twinge of anxiety tightening in his chest.
There were so many people.
Dudley navigated through it with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times. He spotted a parking spot along the third row and slid into it effortlessly, cutting the engine with a satisfied smirk.
"You alright?" he asked, glancing at Harry.
Harry didn't answer at first. He gripped the seatbelt still locked across his chest and stared out the windshield.
He wasn't afraid of dark wizards, of duels, of prophecies—but this?
This was unfamiliar territory.
"It's been a long time since I went to school with Muggles," Harry admitted quietly. "And even back then, I wasn't exactly paying attention to algebra or American history."
Dudley chuckled. "You'll be fine. You've done scarier things than calculus."
Harry turned to him with a weak smile. "I'm not so sure. I don't know what senior students are supposed to know. My knowledge… it's shallow. I might not be dumb, but I feel like I've skipped half the steps everyone else has taken."
"You didn't skip steps," Dudley said, undoing his seatbelt. "You were just on a very different road."
Harry opened his mouth to respond—but a sharp knock on the window beside him made them both jump.
A teenage boy stood just outside, arms crossed and a cocky grin on his face. His light-brown hair was tousled, his hoodie half-zipped, and his dark eyes sparkled with mischief.
Harry rolled the window down slowly.
"You should move your car," the boy said casually. "That's Dudley's spot."
Harry blinked in confusion, then turned toward Dudley.
Dudley let out a booming laugh. "Collins! You idiot."
The boy—Collins—looked genuinely stunned. "No way. You ditched the truck?"
"Just for today. Wanted to make an entrance."
Harry glanced between them as Dudley opened the door and stepped out. Collins stepped back with an impressed whistle.
"Damn, Dursley. You pullin' up like a Bond villain now?"
Dudley clapped him on the back. "This is my cousin—Harry. Just moved here from England."
Harry stepped out of the car, slightly self-conscious under the weight of eyes from all directions. The moment he emerged, a ripple of whispers seemed to pass through the nearby crowd. Several girls standing near the walkway paused mid-conversation and glanced over.
He heard someone whisper, "That's the guy Dudley…" and another say, "He's cute."
Harry tugged his sleeves down awkwardly, trying to adjust the collar of his jacket. He wasn't used to being looked at like that—not as a savior or a celebrity, but as something… intriguing.
"Harry, this is Collins," Dudley said, gesturing. "And over there's Gerald and William."
Two more boys approached—one lanky with a camera bag slung over his shoulder, the other stocky and dressed like a walking football locker. Both looked impressed by the car and equally curious about Harry.
"So, you're the rich cousin," Gerald said with a grin.
"Yeah, we thought Dudley made you up," William added.
Harry raised a brow. "I hope I live up to the legend."
"You've already surpassed it, mate," Collins said, eyeing the car again. "Did you import that Mercedes or pick it up here?"
"Uh… I let Dudley handle the car part," Harry replied, feeling slightly overwhelmed.
"Come on," Dudley said, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder. "We've got time. Let me show you around before the bell rings."
They started walking toward the main entrance. Students turned to watch them pass—Dudley towering beside Harry, the new kid with the British accent and mysterious past. Even a few teachers standing near the doors gave them curious glances.
Harry whispered, "Are they always this… interested?"
Dudley grinned. "Only when someone shows up in a car that costs more than the principal's salary."
Harry groaned. "Great. I wanted normal. Not celebrity transfer student."
"Well," Dudley said, clapping his back again, "too late for that."
As they passed through the front doors of the high school, Harry felt his heart beat a little faster.
This wasn't Hogwarts. There was no magic, no spellbooks, no wands… and yet, he couldn't shake the sense that something otherworldly was watching him all the same.
Something hidden.
Something that hadn't taken its eyes off him since the moment he arrived in New York.
Harry had braced himself for the worst—a stuffy headmaster, apathetic teachers, glares from strangers, and that icy feeling of not belonging. But to his surprise, the school faculty welcomed him warmly. Smiles were genuine, handshakes firm, and every teacher seemed pleased to have an international student in their classroom.
Unfortunately, that was the last comforting thing about the day.
Because the moment class began, Harry realized—he was completely lost.
The first period was something called "AP Government," and the teacher spoke so quickly that Harry wasn't sure whether he was explaining the U.S. Constitution or reciting a poem. The students nodded like they understood, some scribbling notes with frightening speed. Harry, meanwhile, blinked at his notebook, struggling to remember what a "filibuster" was.
In Math, it was worse. Letters were dancing with numbers across the board, and Harry began to suspect the equations were more cryptic than most runes he'd encountered. He sat there, nodding occasionally, pretending to follow the discussion on derivatives. At one point, the girl beside him whispered, "You get this?"
Harry smiled politely. "I think so," he lied.
By lunch, it was clear—he was completely unprepared. But oddly… he didn't care.
He wasn't here to become a Muggle scholar. He didn't need a diploma or career prospects. He was here for something no textbook could offer.
He was here for life. For normalcy. For the teenage experience he never had.
That thought comforted him as he sat down at a cafeteria table, his tray untouched. Around him, the low hum of chatter filled the air, but he couldn't help noticing how many heads kept turning his way.
Most of them were girls.
A group of them had already approached him earlier between classes.
"Is that your car?" one asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes," Harry had answered, unsure whether to feel proud or embarrassed.
"It's so sleek! Like something out of a movie," another girl added. "How much did it cost?"
Harry had paused. "I… don't really know. When I moved here, I bought a mansion."
Several of them gasped.
"And the car?" one asked eagerly.
"There were three cars. Part of the deal."
"You have three cars?" another girl squealed.
Harry nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, though inside he was sinking with discomfort. He'd never been the center of attention like this, at least not without a wand in hand or a prophecy looming over him.
This was different.
The attention wasn't hostile, just… intense.
And the strange thing was—no one tried to challenge him. He'd half expected some cocky upperclassman to make a snide comment, maybe try to push him around and test the new guy. But the looks he got were all curious, sometimes cautious, but never threatening.
That's when he realized why.
Dudley.
Everyone here knew Dudley Dursley.
The school's boxing champion. A known name. And now that everyone knew Harry was not only Dudley's cousin, but his rich cousin—well, it made sense. No one wanted to risk getting on the bad side of someone connected to a local legend and a pile of money.
And, Harry thought dryly, in a school where the headmaster accepted bribes for enrollment, being rich might be the greatest protection spell of all.
Still, it was… strange. Friendly classmates. Curious stares. Whispers of interest rather than fear. It wasn't what Harry had expected from "normal school life." But he supposed this was as normal as it got—for someone like him.
As he leaned back in his chair, watching a group of boys flick cards across a table and a circle of girls giggling beside a vending machine, Harry let himself smile faintly.
He didn't understand his classes. He didn't know the layout of the school. He had three cars he barely knew how to drive.
But for now, none of it mattered.
Because this was his life.
Chosen. Free.
And he intended to live it fully.
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