1 The Boy Who Was Reborn

Lucas's eyes snapped open as his body stiffened, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The hard surface beneath him and the crisp night air against his face were a stark contrast to the comfort of his apartment. He lay still, bundled tightly in blankets, as his mind worked to make sense of the situation.

A street lamp cast a dim glow over the doorstep where he found himself. Lucas turned his head, the movement restricted by the swaddling, and noticed a strange crest adorning the blankets - a lion, snake, badger, and eagle encircling a prominent letter 'H'. The symbol tugged at his memory, but he couldn't quite place it.

The creak of an opening door drew his attention. A thin woman with sharp features peered out and her eyes quickly widened when they fell upon the bundle at her feet. "Vernon! Come quickly!" Her voice cut through the quiet night.

Heavy footsteps approached, and a large man appeared beside the woman, a confused expression on his face. "What is the meaning of this, Petunia?"

"It's...a child," Petunia said with trembling hands as she lifted the bundle containing Lucas. "There's a letter --"

She retrieved an envelope from the blankets and began to read, her eyes darting across the parchment. Lucas watched as his body went tense with apprehension. A child? The situation grew more perplexing by the moment.

Petunia's hands shook violently as she finished the letter, and tears spilled down her cheeks. "It's...it's Lily's son. Harry Potter. She's...dead."

Vernon's face twisted and his body recoiled from the letter. "You mean...your sister and that good-for-nothing husband of hers...they're gone?"

Petunia nodded, clutching the baby -- Harry -- tighter as she wept. "Murdered...by that dark wizard."

Vernon's jaw clenched while his eyes narrowed. "Those freakish people and their hocus pocus!"

The words struck a chord within Lucas, the pieces falling into place with a sickening clarity. The blankets, the letter, the talk of magic...it couldn't be. This had to be some bizarre dream.

But as he gazed at his tiny hands and felt the weight of the blankets encasing his diminutive form, a cold realization settled in his gut.

Harry Potter...I've been reborn as Harry bloody Potter.

oo0ooOoo0oo

Petunia held the small bundle with shaking hands. She looked down at her sister's sleeping baby boy, her nephew, with many conflicting feelings inside her.

Lily. Her bright, pretty, lively little sister who first showed...strange abilities. Odd, unexplainable things always happened around Lily when they were girls. At first, Petunia was happy, thinking they had been blessed with special gifts. But they quickly discovered that Petunia had no such special gifts.

From that day, a gap grew between the sisters, getting wider as Lily went to that weird school. Petunia had dreamed of going too, of seeing the wizarding world herself. But she was only a Muggle, as unimportant as dirt in that world's view.

As years passed, Petunia's jealousy turned to anger, even hatred, towards Lily and her casual power. She had scorned magic, treated it like a bad word, just to spite her sister. And now that hatred stretched to this orphaned boy before her - this magic child who had also lost a mother so cruelly.

A stab of grief hit Petunia's heart as she remembered how different their lives became. While she had grown up, married Vernon, and lived an ordinary life...Lily had been struck down young, hunted like an animal by that murderous freak.

Lily is dead, Petunia thought with a shudder. The finality of it struck her hard, reopening old hurts she thought had healed long ago. The little girl who used to chase her through flower fields, the young woman who had smiled so brightly at her wedding...gone forever.

Without meaning to, hot tears slipped down Petunia's cheeks, splashing onto the blankets below. "Oh Lily..." she rasped in an anguished voice. "What am I to do...?"

In the sitting room, Vernon Dursley paced angrily. That his sweet, ordinary wife should be tainted by this offspring of those freakish people! It was unacceptable, unthinkable. He thought they were free of that world when Petunia cut ties with her wretched sister.

His flushed face burned with rage as he recalled the long-buried memories - the unnatural events, the robed weirdos intruding in their lives, even pigs being inflicted on his poor beloved at the wedding. All because of this...magic.

Vernon grimaced as if the word tasted foul. That Petunia's own flesh and blood could carry this abnormal curse sickened him. Would the boy grow wings next? Spew slugs from his mouth? God forbid! He would not allow it, not under his own roof!

Muttering under his breath, Vernon clenched his fists. "I'll stamp that nonsense out of him from day one. No nephew of mine will be tainted with such strangeness as long as I live..."

When his wife's muffled sobs filtered in from the hall, Vernon felt a twinge of discomfort. He knew how much that freakish sister of hers had once meant to Petunia, long ago before the rift. Perhaps he should try to be...understanding.

No, he thought, mouth setting in a hard line. I'll have no more of this magic poisoning my family. These people did us a favor by sending the boy here. We'll straighten him out right from the start.

After all...he's just a baby.

oo0ooOoo0oo

Lucas was wrapped up tight in the dim nursery, the Dursleys' loud snores coming from down the hall. Even though he was just a tiny baby, his mind stayed sharp and clear. He wiggled his chubby fingers, feeling the weight of being reborn settle on him. His consciousness, his soul, had moved from one life into another.

I'm actually in the Harry Potter world, he thought while his bright green eyes scanned the shadowed room with quiet intensity. This is really happening.

Memories of reading the books and watching the movies came flooding back. A magical world, with witches and wizards fighting the evil Voldemort. The story he loved was now his reality. But he wasn't just Harry Potter. He was Lucas - reborn into this body.

My soul must be real. How else could I keep my adult mind, all my memories and experiences intact?

Lucas frowned while his tiny forehead creased as he considered the deeper meaning. To be reborn - his very existence proved the soul journeys beyond the physical body. 

To be reborn changed everything. He didn't know if he'd reincarnate again with his memories after dying. He would do all he could to gain as much magical power as possible and through that power, achieve immortality.

With a nod, Lucas closed his eyes and focused inward with slow and steady breathing.

oo0ooOoo0oo

Lucas sat on the living room's plush carpet with his small hands resting on his knees as he watched Vernon and Petunia dote on toddler Dudley. The couple's voices rose and fell in exaggerated tones as their faces contorted into comical expressions that seemed almost caricature-like to the reincarnated man trapped in a child's body.

"Who's mummy's good little boy?" Petunia cooed while her bony fingers ruffled Dudley's wispy blond hair. The toddler giggled as his chubby hands grasped at the colorful toys scattered around him.

"More! More 'oys! Dudley demanded with his face scrunching up in a petulant pout.

Vernon chuckled, wagging a thick finger playfully. "Now, now, pumpkin. Don't be greedy. We've already gotten you plenty."

While the Dursleys lavished attention on their son, Lucas's green eyes drifted to a forgotten fork on the dinner table, its tines catching the morning sunlight. With a subtle twitch of his small fingers, he coaxed the utensil into a lazy loop above the oblivious family's heads.

Dudley's eyes widened as he spotted the floating fork. "'Ork! I wan' 'at 'ork!" He pointed a pudgy finger insistently.

Petunia began to turn, but Lucas was faster. A flick of his wrist sent the fork gliding silently back to the dinner table, landing precisely where it had been, as if it had never left its resting place.

His easy command of magic was the result of three devoted months of relentless focus and training. As he watched the Dursleys, his mind drifted back to those early days when he first began to explore his newfound abilities.

Lucas sat cross-legged on the floor of his small bedroom, a plastic toy soldier positioned before him. He stared intently at the figure as his emerald eyes narrowed in concentration while he willed it to move. The soldier remained motionless, its painted features frozen in a stoic expression.

For seven frustrating nights, Lucas had attempted to control his magic through sheer willpower alone, but each effort ended in disappointment. The soldier's stubborn immobility seemed to taunt him, a silent reminder of his limitations. A nagging thought whispered in the back of his mind, insisting that he was approaching this incorrectly. Magic, it seemed, required more than just mental commands.

With a slow breath, Lucas allowed his eyelids to drift shut, turning his focus inward. He reached for the memories of that fateful night when he first woke up in this new world—the overwhelming sense of loss, the fear that gripped him as everything he once knew slipped away. He shaped those intense emotions, allowing them to swell within his chest like a rising tide.

'I refuse to be powerless again.' The thought reverberated through him, a silent declaration of defiance against the cruel hand fate had dealt him.

Lucas's eyes snapped open just as the plastic toy soldier wobbled and rose shakily into the air while its limbs quivered. His intense emotions had unleashed his magic, but he immediately realized the danger of relying solely on his feelings to wield this power. The stories he had read in his past life warned of the instability and potential corruption that came with depending on emotions alone. But with no other choice at the moment, he knew he would have to continue experimenting.

Over the next few weeks, Lucas tried various methods of attempting to control his magic. He started by focusing on his breathing, taking deep, steady breaths as he visualized the toy soldier rising from the floor. Minutes turned into hours, but the soldier remained firmly in place, mocking his efforts.

Undeterred, Lucas turned to meditation, hoping to find a sense of inner peace that might unlock his magical potential. He sat in silence while his mind grappled with the complexities of this new world. But no matter how long he meditated, the toy soldier remained stubbornly still.

As the days wore on, Lucas grew increasingly frustrated. He tried chanting made-up incantations, mimicking the wand movements he remembered from the Harry Potter books, and even attempting to channel his magic through various objects he found around the house. Each attempt ended in failure, leaving him exhausted and disheartened.

On a particularly challenging evening, as the toy soldier lay motionless on the floor, despair overwhelmed Lucas. The weight of his situation came crashing down—the realization that he was trapped in a world he didn't fully understand, torn away from the family and life he once knew. Hot tears stung his eyes as he clenched his small fists while his body trembled with grief and frustration.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?"

While the tears streamed down his face, Lucas felt a sudden surge of energy coursing through his veins. The toy soldier jerked upward, hovering unsteadily in the air as if pulled by invisible strings. Lucas watched in astonishment with his sorrow momentarily forgotten as he realized that his emotional outburst had triggered his magic.

Wiping away his tears, Lucas focused wholeheartedly on the soldier. He reached for the anger and despair that still lingered within him, channeling those emotions into his intent. The soldier's movements became more controlled, its plastic limbs moving in response to Lucas's silent commands.

It was a bittersweet victory, tinged with the realization that his magic was intimately tied to his emotions. Lucas knew he would have to find a way to harness this power without relying on the volatile feelings that threatened to consume him. But for now, as the toy soldier danced through the air, he allowed himself a small moment of triumph.

Over the following weeks, Lucas continued to experiment with his magic, using his emotions as a catalyst to do more things. He discovered that sorrow and melancholy lent themselves well to levitation while his lingering grief was channeled into gracefully lifting toys from the floor. Anger and fury, though more challenging for his calm nature, fueled his banishing spells. The fleeting flashes of rage he managed to summon propelled objects away with startling force.

Each new magical effect began with the same ritual—isolating a specific emotion and fully immersing himself in its depths. Only by being completely consumed by that state would his magic respond. As each 'spell' became second nature through relentless practice, Lucas started to slowly break away from that emotional dependency. It was extremely difficult at first, maintaining the magical manifestation while gradually stripping away the raw emotion that drove it. But with each passing night, he chipped away at the reliance, replacing it with intent and will.

It was a gradual transition, using his emotions as a magical catalyst before replacing them entirely with a specific intent. He would start by sinking into profound sadness to levitate an object, then progressively dial back those melancholic undercurrents until only an intent to levitate that object kept it aloft. After months of steady training, he had trained his magic to associate a desire, an intent, with the required emotion. Because of this, he no longer needed to feel grief to levitate something; his magic already knew what he wanted to achieve just with the intent to levitate.

Lucas watched the Dursleys fawning over Dudley with unfocused eyes as a lone coin floated nearby, spinning lazily in the air. His mind drifted to the mystery surrounding his reincarnation. What force could guide such an extraordinary event? His rebirth as Harry Potter, in the Wizarding World he once read about, seemed too improbable to be mere chance. A higher power, an entity capable of dimensional travel, must be responsible for this somehow.

Not just immortality, then, he thought to himself. I'll add dimensional travel to my ambitions as well. Being immortal in one world would be boring when I can be immortal and travel to various worlds. And I might be able to find my family...