Chapter 1:Death and A Boy Who Lived Again

In the bustling, cacophonous embrace of New York City, Alex treaded the familiar paths of an ordinary life. A guy with unassuming features, he reveled in the escapism offered by films, anime, and history. These fictional realms provided a refuge, an escape from the mundane.

One evening, with headphones firmly in place and comfortable clothes, Alex embarked on a stroll through the neon-lit streets. Little did he know, this night would become a defining moment, transcending the ordinary into the extraordinary.

At a seemingly innocuous crossing, where the city's pulse reverberated through the asphalt, Alex halted at a traffic light. The transition from one world to another was as swift as the blink of an eye. A truck, an anomaly in the prohibited lanes, careened into his reality.

Pain. A sudden, searing sensation coursed through Alex's being. Disorientation engulfed him as he grappled with the disconcerting reality — a truck, an entity not meant to be there, had violently disrupted his ordinary existence.

"I didn't even cross, I stood," he thought, his mind grappling with the absurdity of the situation. People spoke of life flashing before their eyes in the moments before death, but for Alex, there was no grand cinematic montage. Instead, a bizarre amalgamation of unrelated thoughts invaded his consciousness.

The pain, initially intense, began to subside, leaving behind a peculiar numbness. Fatigue set in, the kind that beckons sleep, and Alex felt a surreal detachment from the chaos around him. As consciousness waned, the city's symphony faded into a distant murmur, and the line between wakefulness and dreams blurred.

I found a mirror. Looking in the mirror, I saw a fragile boy with glasses and a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead. It dawned on me: I am now the Boy Who Lived. Trying to clear my mind like the characters in the stories I love, I found some relief. Surprisingly, it didn't work quite as expected. Instead of achieving mental clarity, my thoughts became more intense. I found out that I was reborn here, but I felt as if I had just woken up.

Life in this new world was not like the stories I had read. I forgot a lot of things most of my life and the story of the Boy Who Didn't Die I don't remember everything. There, the Dursleys were far from good people, they used the boy as a house elf but did not go overboard.

But in this new life of mine everything seems gloomy. I can't speak for the other characters, but the Dursley family is especially cruel. Hunger, confinement in closets and beatings are a daily occurrence. any ordinary boy would have died long ago, but everything healed quite quickly and fasting was easier to survive. The last beating I suffered was brutal and caused significant damage. It seems that magical intervention prevented my death and, in the process, brought back memories from my past life.

A year ago, Dudley and his gang were playing their cruel game: to catch up with Potter and beat him up. As usual, I tried to escape, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. One of those fateful days, they were hot on my heels, and I turned into an alley. To my surprise, there were apparently hungry and angry dogs wandering around there. Dudley and his gang instantly disappeared at the sight of the aggressive dogs, leaving me to fall to the ground, shocked but unharmed. It was then that I first became aware of the unusual nature of the force within me, reminiscent of the quirk of an overhaul. During this incident, when a dog attacked me, an instinctive reaction took over. Without understanding how, I split a nearby stone and quickly turned it into a spike, causing injury to the attacker fang. The other dogs, frightened by this unexpected turn, hastily retreated. Despite my attempts to reproduce this extraordinary ability, success eluded me. However, over time, I was able to arrange small objects - a piece of earth, a flower stem or a branch. The process proved difficult, and I devoted myself to secretly honing my skills, using my aunt's garden as a discreet training ground. I tried to hide my newfound strength from prying eyes. Although my abilities were strikingly similar to the Overhaul Quirk, there was a subtle but distinctive difference between them. Wanting to test my newfound strength, I went to the garden. My anticipation fueled my excitement, and to my surprise, creating a small spike out of dirt was surprisingly easy—much easier than my previous attempts.

Making a small spike from the ground turned out to be much easier than my initial attempts. As I continued to experiment with my newfound power, I noticed an intriguing occurrence in the garden. There was a subtle glow emanating from the flowers, and upon closer inspection I noticed that when I picked some of them, the radiant light within them diminished. Oddly enough, the place where the stem broke released the collected light into the air.

Looking at the other flowers, it became apparent that they all seemed to have a complex network of blood vessel-like channels for the flow of light from the ground to the flowers. While some flowers glowed more noticeably, others had a faint, barely noticeable glow.

Contemplating this phenomenon, I wondered: "Life energy or magical energy, why do these flowers glow more than others? It's because of me?" It dawned on me that my presence and activity in the garden might have influenced this enchanting spectacle.

Choosing my workouts in a secluded part of the garden provided a degree of privacy, protecting my activities from the prying eyes of relatives and neighbors. The magical influence of my training began to transform the flowers in this secret corner, making them more receptive to my abilities. Naturally, the question arose: why could I feel these changes? Was this a result of my near-death experience and past life memories? Or maybe this was a common occurrence for all magicians, accessible to everyone related to magic? Another possibility remained - could this be attributed to my heritage as a Potter, and did being part of this wizarding family somehow improve my connection to such phenomena?

Although the answers remained elusive, a resolve was born within me. I may not reveal the truth right away, but I was determined to explore these mysteries and find the answers that lay hidden in the intricate dance between my newfound powers and the magical world around me.

As dawn approached, I realized that it was time to return, avoiding any suspicion from relatives and neighbors. A question popped into my head: "What year is it now?" A quick glance at the kitchen calendar revealed the date: June 10, 1988. Hogwarts lay three years in the future.

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Well, I hope it turned out not bad, but I want to warn you, I'm writing just for everyone's sake and because I want it and English is not my native language and I use a translator and I'm sure there will be grammatical errors and all that.

I write everything that comes to my mind, so if you see inconsistencies, it wasn't like that in the movies, I haven't read the book at all and it will seem absurd to you; you don't have to read it, but if you want, read it.

And finally, have a nice day everyone.