Harry figured it out fairly quickly: in this world, it was better not to stand out.
Unfortunately, he had already done exactly the opposite.
He'd been walking for a while now, trying to move as calmly as everyone around him, though inside he still felt an uncomfortable tension. The city was loud, alive, and yet... strangely ordered. Even after what had happened only minutes before, people didn't look frightened. They simply went back to their business, as if it were part of everyday life.
And that was what unsettled him most.
Harry found himself noticing details without meaning to. The longer he watched, the more obvious it became: strangeness was the norm here.
Someone with wings was calmly crossing the road.
Another person's skin looked as though it were made of stone.
A third had eyes that glowed with a faint light.
No one reacted.
No one was surprised.
"So the problem isn't them," Harry muttered quietly. "The problem is that I don't understand what's going on."
He stopped at an intersection, letting the flow of people pass, and paused to think.
He needed to make sense of the situation. Find food. Figure out where, exactly, he was. And, if possible, avoid drawing any more attention.
A reasonable plan.
Actually carrying it out — that was a different question.
A sharp crack pulled him from his thoughts.
Harry turned toward the source and frowned. A crowd was beginning to gather somewhere ahead, and that rarely meant anything good.
He moved closer, carefully threading between people, and soon saw the reason.
A man.
If it could even be called that.
His body looked distorted, as though someone had tried to change its shape and stopped halfway. His arms stretched out, growing disproportionately long, his movements sharp and unnatural.
And, worst of all, he was clearly not in control of what was happening to him.
"Keep your distance!" someone in the crowd shouted.
Harry stopped, assessing the situation.
This was nothing like a street fight or a mugging. There was danger here — uncontrolled, chaotic.
He let out a quiet breath.
"Of course," he muttered. "Why not make things even more complicated."
He hadn't planned on getting involved.
Really.
But his gaze lingered on the nearest people who hadn't managed to move far enough away.
And that was enough.
Harry stepped forward, trying not to make any sudden movements.
"Hey," he called, trying to get through to him. "Listen, calm down."
No reaction.
The man lurched sideways, catching a nearby car. Metal groaned.
Harry gritted his teeth.
"Fine. Negotiation's off the table."
He raised his hand and tried to focus.
The magic responded, but with a delay, as if resisting. He had to practically wring it out of himself.
A weak pulse.
Barely perceptible.
But it was enough to make the man stop for a moment.
And turn his attention.
The head swung sharply toward Harry.
"Well then. Introductions made," he said quietly.
The attack followed almost immediately.
Harry managed to throw himself sideways, but he knew he couldn't get by on reflexes alone.
His opponent was too fast.
"Alright," he exhaled, trying not to panic. "Think."
He scanned his surroundings quickly, looking for any kind of advantage.
Cars. Lamp posts. Narrow space.
The environment could be used.
In theory.
He moved to the side, deliberately drawing attention.
"Come on then, over here," he muttered, leading his opponent after him.
Another blow struck empty air.
Harry changed direction sharply and, at the right moment, tried to use his magic again.
The pulse was weak, but precise.
The man stumbled.
And crashed into a parked car with a dull thud.
Harry stopped, breathing heavily.
"Better," he muttered.
"Everyone, stand back!"
A new voice rang out — sharp and confident.
Harry turned around.
And for the first time, he saw them.
People in suits that somehow didn't look absurd despite their bright colours. On the contrary — there was purpose in how they looked.
Practicality.
Symbolism.
Confidence.
They moved quickly and in unison, as if following a practiced routine.
One went toward the source of the danger, another held the crowd back, keeping people from getting too close.
Harry stood still, watching.
"That's no coincidence..." he said quietly.
What followed happened fast.
Without unnecessary noise.
Without chaos.
They didn't use magic — Harry was certain of that. But what they did had the same result.
Control.
Suppression.
Within a minute, it was over.
The man had been restrained.
The crowd was slowly dispersing.
Harry stayed where he was, watching carefully.
This was a system.
Organised.
Practised.
And he didn't fit into it.
Not yet.
"Hey."
Harry turned.
One of them was looking directly at him.
The gaze was attentive, measuring.
"Were you here from the start?"
A pause.
Harry narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Just passing through," he replied.
Not quite a lie.
But not the truth either.
The gaze lingered on him longer than it should have.
Harry noticed.
And filed it away.
"Be careful," the man said at last, and turned away.
Harry stayed where he was for a few more seconds.
Gathering his thoughts.
Piecing together what he'd seen.
He looked down at his hands.
The magic still felt strange — unstable, as if he were only just learning how to use it again.
Then he looked back toward those people.
Strong.
Prepared.
Certain of what they were doing.
"So there are rules here," he said quietly.
A pause.
"I just don't know them yet."
He turned and walked on.
But differently now.
More attentively.
More carefully.
And with far greater awareness than before.