NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: CH 1
Seven-year-old Harry Potter stared at the hundred-dollar note clutched in his small hand. This had to be a trick, right?
First, Uncle Vernon allows him to come along on his business trip to the United States, of all places. And then, after an especially rotten deal fell through, he told Harry he'd buy the boy's passport off him for a full hundred dollars!
When Harry produced said booklet, his uncle actually forked over the money as promised, right before he, Aunt Petunia, and Cousin Dudley got in the car and drove to the airport to go back home.
So here he was, standing on the doorstep of the hotel they had been staying in, clutching a hundred dollars, watching the car disappear into New York traffic.
To the average seven-year-old, this situation would be a combination of terrifying and exhilarating. Terrifying because his primary caregivers had just taken off, and exhilarating because one hundred dollars is a lot of money! As he wandered the streets of Manhattan, he had found some of the most iconic buildings in the world; the magnificent Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, the iconic flatiron building that everyone knew by sight but almost none knew by name, and finally… the Empire State building.
When he set his eyes upon it, something drew him closer; a gut feeling, an instinct, that told him that this building was more than it appeared to be and that its secrets would be revealed to him if only he knew patience.
He started to realize that he was in deep trouble, especially now that he had no passport, and his hundred dollars wasn't going to last him very long, especially as he couldn't keep eating hot dogs every day. No matter how good they were. And they had sauerkraut on them, so they were healthy, right?
He bought another hot dog from a different vendor. He loved how every street corner had them, what a big difference to Surrey!
The sun had completely disappeared by now, and he had no idea where he was going to sleep tonight.
For a moment, he thought about asking that pair of police officers he saw walking down the street. Then he noticed the guns, and he remembered how Uncle Vernon had warned him that police officers would put little orphans like him in jail, so he decided against the idea. Better be cold than in jail.
As Harry wandered through the city, trying not to be noticed, he kept his eyes open. Apparently, he wasn't the only one without a place to sleep, as he saw quite a few other people making do with cardboard boxes or newspapers.
The luckier ones had actual blankets!
Although sleeping in the big park looked a bit iffy to him. He was more inclined to try the alleys, as some other people did.
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Two weeks later, Harry had no money, but he did have a large rolled up blanket under one arm. He hadn't had a bath in a while, or a meal, but he had learned quickly how to survive, and the large skips that dotted the back alleys were an ever-abundant source of both food and useful items. Harry wasn't picky, he hadn't been in a position to be picky at the Dursleys, and that experience helped him now on the streets. He heard the guard step out and walk the visitor to the elevator. The ting of the arriving cart made Harry look up from his magazine.
Wait, his instincts urged him. Wait!
He waited.
The guard stepped into the elevator and did something, but the next moment, a very angry man stepped out from another elevator and called the security guard over. He was obviously trying to remain diplomatic in the face of the torrent of abuse hurled at him by
He walked up to the building and waited in as nonchalant a fashion as he could, leaning against the façade with his rolled-up blanket tucked out of sight behind him.
He waited, patiently. He had learned to listen to his instincts, especially after the second night when he had ignored them. A strange man had offered him food and a place to sleep, and he had been hungry, and tired, and cold, and so he ignored the voice of his gut telling him to make a run for it.
Harry had barely escaped when the guy suddenly drew a knife after taking him to an apartment, and giving him food.
His side, where the knife had scraped, twitched in memory. The wound had closed but hadn't fully healed just yet.
That night, Harry had promised to himself to always listen to his gut. And his gut told him to wait outside this building, so he waited.
Suddenly, he felt the urge to go inside.
He frowned in confusion. Why would he need to go inside? They were going to catch him, hand him over to the police, and throw him in jail!
But, he had promised, so he pushed off the wall and calmly walked to the front doors of the Empire State.
Once inside, he took a good look around, and that same voice told him to walk to the waiting area across from the guard's station, as if he were waiting for someone to come down.
The guard station was manned lightly, apparently, and the single guard was busy with a visitor so Harry walked to the comfy seat and sat down. He picked up a magazine and hid himself behind it. Apparently, it wasn't, as the stones beneath his feet felt as solid as any walkway on earth was.
Just where was he?
Dragging his eyes away from the floating walkway, and Manhattan below it, he looked to where it went.
Apparently, the stone path ended in a set of white marble steps that curled around a cloud, up further into the sky. Somehow, Harry realized that this was both real and solid – and out of this world.
the newcomer, while the visitor stood a few paces away, staring awkwardly at the confrontation.
Harry's instincts urged him on. He stood up and walked to the elevator abandoned by the guard, as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself.
A keycard was in the slot of the elevator, and a big, red, shiny, button was visible way at the top of the panel, reading '600'. Harry didn't need an incentive from his mysterious 'gut' to push it. Immediately, the doors closed and the elevator started climbing.
Raindrops keep falling on my head…
Harry tapped his foot impatiently. That elevator music was horrible. The numbers climbed. Harry's foot tapped. The music kept playing.
Finally, the elevator ding-ed its arrival, and the door slid open. Harry stepped out straight away, not a fan of tight and enclosed spaces since his stay in the cupboard underneath Aunt Petunia's staircase, and immediately wished he hadn't done so.
He was standing on a narrow stone path that was somehow suspended in the middle of the air. He could see straight down, Manhattan lying deep below, nice and safely on the Earth. He jumped up and down once, just to make sure that the mysterious force keeping up the ancient stone walkway wasn't going to let up just as he was crossing it.
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