People have always played games. Some did so to pass the long hours, others to distract themselves from the weight of a tiresome life. Games, in their simplest form, were escapes—moments carved out of routine where laughter, rivalry, and chance took hold.
Across the world, games took many shapes. Some were honored on the grandest stages, played before cheering crowds at international tournaments, even at the Olympics, where athletes strove for glory and nations celebrated their champions. Others were quieter, born in backyards, alleys, or village squares. These local games had no medals, no prizes beyond the joy of play. And yet, they lasted—passed from one generation to the next. Their creators forgotten, their rules a mystery, still they survived, etched into culture like old songs whose composers no one remembers.
But not all games were kind. In a quiet corner of Surrey, another kind of game was invented. Its name never spread beyond the neat rows of Privet Drive. It was not meant for joy, nor for camaraderie. It was cruel, born from the laughter of bullies. Dudley Dursley was its proud founder, and he gave it a name that made him snicker each time it was called aloud: Harry Hunting.
To Dudley, it was simple fun, another way to lord his size and strength over the smaller, stranger boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs. But to Harry Potter, Harry Hunting was no ordinary pastime. It was the first challenge of his life, a game in which survival was the only prize. What Dudley could never have known was that this cruel invention would change the life of Harry Potter in ways no one could have imagined. For this story is not about just any game. This story is about the greatest game of all.
"There he is!"
Malcolm bellowed, his voice bouncing off the schoolyard walls as he jabbed a thick finger toward the underbrush near the fence. Malcolm, nearly as round as Dudley himself, was always loud but never dangerous. He didn't throw punches—he shouted them from the safety of the back, trying to stay relevant in Dudley's gang. He wasn't fast either, and he didn't have to be. His role was to point, laugh, and follow the others' lead.
From the underbrush burst a blur of limbs and oversized fabric—seven-year-old Harry Potter, eyes wide, breath ragged. His heart thudded like a drum as he skidded into the open, only to find himself face-to-face with Piers Polkiss. Piers was thin and sharp-edged, with a face like a rat and the reflexes to match. He was Dudley's right hand when it came to cruelty, always the one to grab arms and hold victims in place while Dudley delivered the beating. He grinned now, reaching out.
Harry didn't wait. He bolted. His legs pumped furiously beneath him, and his body twisted through the air like a kite caught in a storm. His clothes—oversized hand-me-downs from Dudley—billowed behind him like tattered wings. The trousers flapped comically, the sleeves hung past his hands, and his trainers—three sizes too big—slapped the pavement with every desperate step before one of them slid off entirely. He could hear Dudley's wheezing breath getting louder behind him, too close for comfort.
With panic surging, Harry darted between two buildings, squeezing into a narrow alleyway barely wide enough for a child. But it was a trap. The path ended abruptly in a brick wall. A dead end. Harry spun around, gasping, the sound of pounding feet echoing closer. His eyes widened in terror—no way out. Then it happened. A sudden, crushing sensation, like being pulled through the eye of a needle. His ribs compressed, his lungs froze, and with a sharp, echoing CRACK, Harry Potter vanished into thin air.
One moment he was cornered in the alley, the next he was stumbling into existence atop the school roof. His head spun, his stomach lurched. The sudden teleportation left him dizzy and unbalanced, the world around him tilting violently. Before he could even steady himself, his foot slipped on the slanted tiles, and gravity took him.
He remembered the fall, the air rushing past his ears, the sensation of weightlessness giving way to darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, everything had changed.
Harry found himself lying in a small circular clearing, surrounded by tall trees shrouded in thick, pale fog. The forest was unnaturally quiet, the silence broken only by the faint rustling of leaves. The air was cool, and the light was soft, hazy, like twilight pressed through a veil. Harry sat up slowly, mesmerized by the strange beauty around him.
Then came the scream.
A high-pitched, shrill wailing snapped him to attention. He looked down—and froze. On the ground, writhing on a patch of grass, was a baby. No, not a baby. It had a small, malformed body, pale grayish skin, slitted eyes, and no visible nose. A long tongue flickered out from between its gums. It looked like something between a human and a snake—unsettling, unnatural.
Harry hesitated, but then crouched down and gently picked the creature up. It was warm, squirming weakly in his arms. He held it carefully, unsure of where he was or what he was supposed to do.
That was when the fog parted.
From the trees stepped a woman. Her presence warmed the space like sunlight breaking through clouds. She had vivid red hair that spilled over her shoulders, a soft smile, and eyes the exact shade of Harry's own—emerald and filled with tears.
"My baby… you've grown so much," she whispered.
Harry's voice trembled.
"Mum?"
He didn't need her to answer. He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around her. She held him tightly, her touch both soothing and surreal. For a moment, all the pain and fear melted away.
"Stay strong," she said gently. "Life won't be the same… but your time will come. Good days are ahead."
Harry looked up at her, heart pounding.
"Am I dead too?"
Her smile dimmed slightly, but her tone was firm.
"No, you're not. And I don't want to see you here anytime soon. Live as long as you can, Harry. Live happily. Your father and I are watching over you."
She leaned down and carefully took the strange baby from his arms, cradling it with a kind of maternal sorrow that made Harry's chest tighten.
"What do I do now?" he asked.
She looked into his eyes and gave him a smile filled with strength.
"Now you wake up… and play the game."
The forest faded. The fog swallowed the trees, and her image dissolved with the wind.
Harry groggily opened his eyes. He was lying on cold pavement, the sky above him cloudy and gray. His head still throbbed, but something new hovered just before his vision.
A translucent blue box blinked into view:
[You have woken up on the ground.]
[HP and MP restored: 50%]
Harry had no idea what was happening to him. His heart raced, his palms were sweaty, and his thoughts spun wildly. Was he hallucinating? Had he gone mad? The blue box hovering in the air didn't make sense. It didn't belong in the real world. And yet... there it was.
He was panicking now, struggling to breathe properly. Then, with a faint ding, another blue screen appeared in front of his eyes.
[New Quest Created]
[Objective: Find out how the game works]
The screen hovered insistently, refusing to fade. No matter how much Harry blinked or waved it away, it stayed fixed in the air.
[Accept Quest? – Yes / Yes]
Harry sighed and mentally clicked the only option it offered. Immediately, the box vanished, replaced with a soft chiming sound in his ears.
Trying his best to appear normal, he made his way to class. He took his seat, kept his head down, and pretended to pay attention. But his eyes kept darting toward the blue-tinted notifications flickering just at the edge of his vision.
"Mr. Potter!" the teacher barked. "Are you even listening?"
Harry flinched and muttered an apology, but even as he did, another notification slid into view.
[New Skill Created: Observe (Lv. 1)]
[Allows basic visual analysis of people, creatures, and objects.]
Instinctively, Harry activated it. Suddenly, text labels floated above every classmate's head—names, small tags of information, and colored bars. He could see their names, race, level, title, and even reputation—most marked as [Neutral] in gray letters.
Then he noticed one entry that stood out.
[Jacob Wells – Human – Lv. 4]
[Title: Game Addict]
[Reputation: Neutral]
A flicker of hope sparked in Harry's chest. If anyone could help him understand what was happening, it was someone whose literal title was Game Addict. He decided right then—he'd ask Jacob for help after class.
When the final bell rang, Harry approached him nervously.
"Hey, Jacob," he began. "I, um... I got this new game recently. Kind of weird, actually. I don't really get how it works. Think you could help me figure it out?"
Jacob blinked, surprised at being approached, but after Harry explained what he was seeing—leaving out the teleportation and creepy forest—Jacob's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Mate," he grinned, "you've got yourself an RPG. A proper Role-Playing Game. You're basically in a stat-based simulation. Stats, quests, skills, levels—it's all there. Come on, I'll walk you through it."
Jacob spent the next fifteen minutes excitedly explaining the basics: leveling up, skill progression, EXP, inventory management, quest chains, and the golden rule—always read the fine print. Harry tried to follow, absorbing as much as he could.
When Jacob finished, another blue screen popped into view:
[Quest Complete: Find out how the game works]
[Rewards: 25 XP, £10 (added to Inventory)]
Harry slipped into a secluded corner of the library, hidden between tall bookshelves thick with dust and silence. It was one of the few places in school where Dudley and his gang never bothered to look. The perfect spot to test whatever strange thing was happening to him.
He glanced around once, then whispered,
"Status."
Immediately, a glowing blue screen appeared in front of him, hovering in the air like a hologram from a science fiction film.
[Name: Harry James Potter]
[Level: 1]
[Class: ???]
[Title: The Boy Who Lived]
[HP: 120 / 120]
[MP: 100 / 100]
[Strength: 7]
[Dexterity: 9]
[Intelligence: 7]
[Wisdom: 9]
[Luck: 15]
[Charisma: 8]
[Reputation: Unknown]
Harry blinked at the screen. His eyes were immediately drawn to the title.
"The Boy Who Lived...?" he mumbled.
He didn't understand it. It sounded important but no one had ever called him that. Not in school, not at the Dursleys'. The title gave him a strange feeling in his chest—like he was missing something big.
Then he noticed the "Class" section. It was listed as [???, as if even the system didn't know what to make of him yet.
Curious, he said,
"Inventory."
Another screen popped up, this one showing a neat grid with empty slots. But in the top left corner, something did appear—a crisp, freshly printed £10 note.
[Inventory Item: £10 ]
Harry reached into the glowing outline and, to his amazement, pulled the ten-pound note right out of thin air. It felt real. It was real.
He smiled.
The inventory had dozens—maybe twenty—free slots waiting to be filled.
"This is insane," he whispered, holding the note tightly. "But kind of brilliant."
Just like always, Uncle Vernon came rumbling into the school parking lot in his thick, mustard-colored car. Dudley and his gang piled in noisily, laughing and shoving each other as they claimed the back seat. Vernon didn't even look at Harry—just glared until the door slammed shut and the car pulled away.
Harry didn't mind. In fact, it suited him perfectly.
He set off down the sidewalk alone, glad for the peace. As he walked, a small notification blinked into view.
[Skill Up: Walking (Lv. 1 Lv. 2)]
[5 EXP]
Harry blinked in surprise. Just walking earned him experience? Curious, he broke into a jog.
[Skill Up: Running (Lv. 1 Lv. 2)]
[6 EXP]
[Dexterity 1]
He grinned, feeling lighter on his feet. His steps grew more confident as he ran a few blocks without stopping. The system seemed to reward effort—maybe that was something he could use to his advantage.
Soon, he slowed to a walk and turned into a small local grocery shop. The place was quiet, the aisles narrow and filled with the scent of fresh bread and floor cleaner. Harry wandered through carefully, scanning shelves like he'd never had the chance to before.
He picked up a bag of apples—two full kilograms, enough to last several days. Then he added six loaves of white bread, still warm and wrapped in thin paper, and two jars of strawberry jam with red-checkered lids. It was the most food he had ever bought for himself, and it felt surreal.
At the counter, he handed over his precious £10 note.
[£6.00 removed from Inventory]
[Items Purchased: Apples (2 kg), Bread (x6), Fruit Jam (x2)]
[Remaining Currency: £4.00]
He clutched the bulging paper bag tightly as he stepped out of the shop. His stomach growled at the scent of warm bread, but he smiled to himself. The Dursleys couldn't starve him anymore—not with this system helping him.
Quietly, he whispered,
"Inventory."
A screen appeared, and he carefully placed the bag into the glowing interface. It shimmered and vanished into a storage slot.
[Apples (2 kg), Bread (x6), Fruit Jam (x2) added to Inventory]
Harry arrived at Privet Drive later than usual, his steps slow but steady. The sky had turned a soft gold as evening settled over the neighborhood. As expected, Aunt Petunia stood at the door, arms folded tightly across her chest and lips pursed.
"You're late," she snapped.
Her voice was sharp, but Harry barely reacted. A faint shimmer appeared beside her face, and a blue label hovered just within view.
[Aunt Petunia – Reputation: Unfriendly]
Harry didn't mind. That reputation status had never changed much, and now that he could actually see it, it almost felt like proof he wasn't imagining her coldness.
She pointed toward the hallway.
"Leave your things in the cupboard. Then come help me in the garden."
Harry obeyed without a word, slipping his shoes off and placing his school bag beneath the stairs. The garden was already half-shadowed when he stepped outside. Petunia handed him gloves and told him to clear the weeds along the back fence.
As he worked, a notification blinked into view.
[Skill Up: Gardening (Lv. 1 Lv. 2)]
[3 EXP]
By the time they finished, the sky had dimmed, and Dudley had already rushed inside without acknowledging Harry. Moments later, Harry could hear the buzz and pop of video games coming from Dudley's room upstairs.
Dinner preparations began, and once again, Petunia called Harry into the kitchen. He peeled potatoes, cut vegetables, and stirred sauce under her watchful eye.
[Skill Up: Cooking (Lv. 1 Lv. 2)]
[4 EXP]
When the table was set and dinner was finally served, Harry received his usual—one small spoonful of vegetables and a piece of dry bread. He didn't complain. He had a secret stash now.
After the meal, he retreated into his cupboard. The single bare bulb hanging overhead flickered to life, casting a weak glow against the walls. Once safely inside, Harry whispered,
"Inventory."
He reached into the blue square hovering in front of him and pulled out a crisp red apple. It was sweet, cool, and satisfying—better than anything on his plate tonight.
He didn't usually read much. But Jacob's voice echoed in his mind from earlier that day:
"Early levels are easy to raise. Just read, solve puzzles, do anything that forces your brain to work. But once your Intelligence gets higher, it'll take forever to push it up even one point."
So, Harry picked up a worn paperback mystery novel someone had once tossed out. It wasn't magical. But it was enough.
Under the dim light, curled beneath an old blanket, Harry read.
[Intelligence 1]
[Skill Gained: Reading Comprehension (Lv. 1)]
[5 EXP]
After that day, something changed in Harry.
He began living his life differently—more consciously, more deliberately. The more he learned about the system, the more he liked it. It was no longer just a strange glitch in his reality—it was a guide, a tool, a quiet promise of something more.
His mind felt different now.
[Passive Skill Gained: Gamer's Mind – Lv. MAX]
[Effect: Mental clarity. Immune to psychological status effects. Emotions stabilized.]
The constant whirlwind of anxiety that usually lingered in the back of his head was gone. His thoughts were clearer, more focused. Even Aunt Petunia's nagging, which once stirred up frustration or bitterness, now felt like background noise.
His body felt different too.
[Passive Skill Gained: Gamer's Body – Lv. MAX]
[Effect: Wounds and fatigue removed upon sleep. Physical recovery accelerated.]
When he woke up each morning, the bruises and soreness from the previous day were gone. His legs, usually stiff from chores or schoolyard sprints, were light and strong. For the first time, Harry began to enjoy running. He made it a routine—sprinting to school, then racing back home when the day was done. It wasn't just for speed—it was for growth.
[Skill Up: Running (Lv. 2 Lv. 4)]
[12 EXP]
[Dexterity 1]
[Endurance 1]
The chores, once dreaded, became opportunities. As he chopped vegetables, stirred sauces, or scrubbed dishes, small blue notifications continued to appear.
[Skill Up: Cooking (Lv. 2 Lv. 5)]
[Recipe Unlocked: Petunia's Roast Carrots]
[Recipe Unlocked: Basic White Sauce]
He even started reading Aunt Petunia's old cookbooks when she wasn't looking, memorizing measurements and mastering techniques.
By the end of the week, after dozens of micro-improvements, a new notification blinked before him.
[LEVEL UP!]
[You are now Level 2]
[5 Stat Points Earned]
[Name: Harry James Potter]
[Level: 2]
[EXP: 5 / 150]
[Class: ???]
[Title: The Boy Who Lived]
[Race: Human]
[Age: 7]
[HP: 140 / 140]
[MP: 110 / 110]
[Stamina: 100 / 100]
[Strength: 8]
[Dexterity: 11]
[Intelligence: 11]
[Wisdom: 10]
[Endurance: 9]
[Luck: 15]
[Charisma: 8]
[Available Stat Points: 5]
[Skills]
– [Observe Lv. 2]
– [Cooking Lv. 5]
– [Running Lv. 4]
– [Gardening Lv. 2]
– [Reading Comprehension Lv. 1]
[Passive Abilities]
– [Gamer's Mind – MAX]
– [Gamer's Body – MAX]
[Inventory: (7/100)]
– Apples (2 kg)
– Bread (x6)
– Fruit Jam (x2)
– £4.00
[Quests]
– (None active)
Harry sat in his cupboard that night, the glow of the system screen bathing his face in soft blue. He stared at the unassigned points with curiosity—but didn't spend them.
Jacob's words echoed in his head.
"Don't waste stat points early. Save them for when it matters. You'll know when."
So, Harry waited. He trained. He worked. He prepared.
Sooner or later, he knew—the game would become something far more interesting than chores and cooking.
And when that day came, he would be ready.